Stars come out (to light our way)

Don’t take this from us.
As the heart hovers and throbs.
An unending passion that is born in the slightest smile.
And the most agonising cry.
Your words caved in as the world collapsed.
Ushering happiness and banishing the ghosts.
What worlds do we hope to die?
Which ruins threaten to drag us down?
You meet me on the dock, that inches out into space.
Into time, dappled in joy and the yet to become.
Like a swirling candied apple planet in our hands.
And we dip our feet into stars.
Watching it all from above.
This sudden shudder and retract.
Of a past that wishes to bury itself.
In a book so eager to close.
The whisper in my ear as, the night fades, is you.
Promising me tomorrow.
As dawn washes into my eyes.


TAKEN FROM Everyday Miracles – OUT NOW

 

I came to disappear

Through wanderings of a hallowed heart.
That blesses the soil it treads upon.
Within it tolls a silent bell.
Which calls for time and distance.
And leave me not in that harried place.
Of ill begotten souls and woe.
That race about like dying rats.
And burn the imaginative pith to shadows.
We come alone, and all in pieces.
Figuring out where it all began.
I came out of the dark,
Yet too close to the sun.
Struggling to find a path.
Now watch me disappear.

Forever winter (Part 20)

The Story so far or Listen to this episode


Dropping of veils

There is a sound that can scare you and at the same time, wash you with peace.

Silence.

The blissful, fearful sound of nothingness. Not even the blood coursing through your own body can be heard in your ears. Though, for the girl from Europa, she did not really have blood as it appears on earth (hers was more like powdered crystals).

In the void of the nothing, she opened her eyes. She felt a piercing sting as something flooded her vision, like cold air on wet skin. She could see below her a vast blue jewel, throbbing in rotation. She knew it was the earth, this planet she had come to. It rotated slowly, yet assuredly beneath her, her feet almost skimming the topmost atmosphere. Her skin prickled, the scales of shapes fluttered an array of colours, but no one saw them. She was alone here, watching it all from space.

It began then, a tiny flickering. With it came little static crackles of sound. She saw it emanating from a point on the earth, a point she knew where she had just left. The flickering built more intensely, a tiny thread of white and blue light snaking its way up towards her. She felt safe here and knew no harm would come here. Inside this was what she had longed for, and now it was occurring she felt nothing but a kind of joy in her heart.

The thread of light found its way up to her, it touched her gently, little sparks spluttering off into the darkness around her. Then, quick as a flash it sped around her entirely, encasing her in a brilliance that felt magical to her touch. Slowly it began to pull her downwards, back towards the earth. Images began to be projected in her mind; her home, her mother, the creatures she had encountered on earth, her journey from Europa, and the lady of the jars. They mangled themselves into one another, a mixed dream of colour and movement. Her eyes closed and she felt herself falling, deeper and faster; descending again towards a planet she had not yet called home.

Ezra was walking around the stone, looking for something, though he did not know what. All looked the same to him, yet something felt different.

“So, what do we do now?” He called to the lady, inspecting the stone a bit closer. She stood with her bag open, digging inside for something.

“Well, to be honest I’m not sure. But perhaps, something will come to us.” She said, casually. Ezra shook his head in frustration.

“We can’t just sit around and have tea you know. Something needs to be…” He started but had noticed a tiny crack at the base of the stone. He stepped closer, almost fearful to touch the giant mass before him. As his fingers met the cold stone, a little electric pulse jumped from him and slithered into the crack, illuminating it in a blue light.

“I think this is something…” He called off to her. The lady peered around the stone to see him; her bag still clutched in her hand.

“See, I told you something would come along.” She smiled.

“Yes, only because…. oh never mind. Come and look.” He said to her.

She walked around the stone, coming up next to him. Out of her bag she pulled a little glass vial. Inside it a crackling lightning bolt hummed.

“Excellent Ezra, you might have cracked this.” She said, knowing he would love the pun.

“Just get on with what you’re doing.” He said, tautly.

She pulled the stopper out of the top, and the crack in the stone seemed to illuminate. The little lightning bolt zipped quickly out of the vial and into the crack, crackling and spreading through the stone like blue veins. It travelled up to the top, pulsing and humming. From a distance the blue veins made the stone look like a giant eye, the neon light glowing from the surrounding snow.

“So, what is this doing?” Ezra asked, watching the light dance and ripple through the stone.

“Well, years ago there was….” But Ezra cut in.

“We don’t have time for any of that. What is it doing and how can we get the girl back?” He asked. Ezra was very loyal and protective, an aspect of the Lady of the jars which seemed to shine strongly within him. He was the course of agency manifested from her, and he hated dithering or waiting around for things to happen.

The lady of the jars looked up at the stone, which shone with the blue light veins.

“Well, this Reppaehi; it’s a bit complicated, hence the explanation, but basically it is remembering the before, and repairing where possible and restoring.” She said, proudly.

“But how is that going to help when she is gone? The stone isn’t broken is it?” Ezra asked, uncertain.

“No, the stone cannot be broken, but the connection with the girl seems to have given it a power charge that has moved things to another plane. The light will repair the realms, allowing her to return back to the form she chooses.” The lady said.

“Wait, so the stone didn’t destroy her?” He asked.

The lady of the jars shook her head. “No, it didn’t destroy. The stone only ever wants to give, it cannot take. The girl I fear, was holding on to something much bigger than we knew. Her power, her need to change was stored inside her, like a huge well of energy. The connection with the old magic intensified and took her away, off this plane to a place where the worlds can find a balance. That is what I’m guessing anyway.” She said, touching the stone herself now, caressing the blue light that streaked through it.

Ezra gave her one of his sceptical looks.

“But how is this going to help us, how is this going to make things better?” He asked her. He hated not knowing. The lady then turned to him; her eyes looked suddenly sad.

“There is much darkness here, this world that I try to blanket in white lighted snow, there is still much pain and imbalance. It gnaws at me; I feel and see it still in my mind. I may have escaped my own pain, but that suffering, and sorrow still goes on elsewhere, hidden behind doors and buried under ground. Self-serving creatures, those people who have turned away from the light, those only caring for themselves. This darkness can be transformed. It was once light; it can again be restored.” She said, tears coming suddenly to her eyes.

Ezra stared at her, her heart and his were the same, and he knew what she meant and how her own pain had its own little reservoir. She wanted balance and equality; this world was still very much out of balance.

“So, she will change this?” He asked her.

“She is here to shed a veil of herself. And by doing that, will bring about a power that will be the balm to this world’s pain.” She replied.

“We are lucky she came to us then, I guess it’s been written that she would?” Ezra asked.

The lady nodded.

“For some time. This cycle is not new. But I hope this is the last time we need for it to happen. But yes, we are lucky she came to us.” She said.

“Came to me at least!” Said a voice from behind them.

They both turned quickly, to see the gentleman of the boxes standing tall before them, his arms outstretched, two little boxes in his hand. In a flash he flicked the boxes open with his thumbs and out poured a black smoke which covered them both in an instant. They hit the ground before they even knew what was happening.

The girl descended back towards the earth, the thread pulling her back towards the Mondol stone which glowed like the giant eye on the land. Her mind was racing, the images and thoughts blurring and fuzzing into one another still. Time was suspended and she had conversations there with her mother. Beautiful flowery words of hope and direction. She felt a veil begin to be pulled away, revealing another world that lay beyond space and time. She could feel and touch the wonder and was charged in the knowing that she would bring about a change of such importance. Her decline down towards the stone filled her up more and more with the knowledge she needed, whilst jettisoning what she no longer did.

She suddenly came down through the thick clouds that still hung with snow, despite early efforts to dismiss this weather, and touched her bare feet onto the summit of the stone. It felt warm and welcoming, like the Olpie rock pools they had back on Europa. Her feet even gripped to the stone like a suction, binding her to the material as the energy coursed through her. The steam which had welcomed her return dispersed, and she long fully looked for her friends. But she found the clearing empty of anyone. At the brim of the woods however, she saw a mass of green light and energy. She knew the Dimian were there now, gathered and hungry. But where were Ezra and the lady of the jars?


snowflake up close

愛 (Love)

I dare not touch, a hair upon your head.
Or your skin that falls like rain.
Into my arms I dream you would tumble.
Kissing your lips that welcome me like a traveller’s light.
Burning out of the darkness.
Threatening sweet cherry deliverance.
I would peal back your skull and dive into that sea of thoughts.
Swimming with you in circles.
Hand in hand on a celestial ocean of knowing.
To know you. To touch you.
To take the pain you feel and burn it within my own bones.
I place this pedestal only for you.
Keeping you safe and aloft, closer to the heavens.
Where you belong.

21:09

Staring down the dark street, he watched as the lampposts flickered in and out of light. Luminous reflection seeming to be running off an invisible heartbeat. Stuttering. Struggling.

He felt the same. He was tired. He’d run the last two miles and his calf muscles now ached. He’d stopped momentarily to ease the stitch that was spreading in his side. Stabbing needles from Satan’s fingertips.

Nearly there.

He saw the traffic had built up on Bower Street, he’d actually heard the car horns and the angry shouts before he saw the rows of taillights snaking away. A great stationary monster of red eyes going nowhere.

Turning left he hurried away from the angry voices and quickly checked the time. 20.45. It had taken longer than he’d expected. The transport had imploded on itself and the city was heaving in unpreparedness that night. He felt the sweat on his forehead, the stingy sizzle of desperation and determination. A light rain now flecked onto his skin as he passed by houses. The glow of life inside reminded him what he was doing this for. The eyes of the buildings glowed with little tears from the rain, happy that people were inside. All together for the first time in years.

He sprinted, tripped and surged on. Finally getting to the door five minutes later. Too little, too late?

Better late than never he supposed, rapping frantically on the door.

The door swung open hastily. The smell of candles and coffee greeted him along with the flood of a welcoming light and a relieved smile.

“Thank god.” They said to him, as he collapsed into their arms.

Tears, sweat and rain ran unabashed down his cheeks. His heart, which had threated to give up on him, pulsed to a different beat. The feeling he got whenever he saw them. The tingly skin sensation that tickled around his ears and neck. He smelled them, hugged them. Taking these new feelings deep within himself.

“I can’t believe it.” They said as they broke apart and he stepped inside.

The small house threw its arms around him, beckoning a safety.

“It’s pandemonium out there”. He replied, stepping further in and following them up the stairs. He glanced quickly at the front room; the warming sweet-smelling candles flickered within while the television screamed out silently with the volume down. The news informing no-one to things that everyone already knew.

“I’m glad you made it; I was getting worried it would be too late.” They said, settling down onto the bed. He took in the vision, the moment and tried to keep himself together.

He followed, not bothering to take off his shoes but throwing off the jacket which the light rain had clung to.

The clock on the side clicked over to 9pm.

They drew into one another, kissing tenderly. Touching each other’s hands and diving deep into one another’s eyes. Tears swelled, wiped away by fingers that trembled with tenderness in the glowing room.

“I had to be here. I had to come.” He said. Knowing that they already knew.

“I didn’t expect it to be like this. I’m just glad you’re by my side.” Their voice stuttered. “I love you.” they said, as they closed their eyes. Not out of shame, but to a sad realisation it would be the last time.

“I love you.” He replied. “And I will find you again.”

They held each other closer as the lights died.

21:09, the time the world ended.


Taken from Dislocated: A Short story collection – Out now

Baptised by you

That endless world they talk of.
A Drowned world.
It opened in my heart when the starry waves washed inside.
When you looked at me.
With that light of god in your eyes.
And in that moment, like that pebble in your hand.
You grasped at the infinite.
You consumed my soul.
And we would remain forever bound.
Like that pebble in the ferocious stream.
Washed endlessly by the cosmic current.
Until clean.

Nuclear

Empty and scorched. Your fingerprints all around me.
The metal heart buckles as it burns.
A hollowed out feeling.
A holocaust beginning.
That day you left, the skies got dark.
Which substance feeds this pain?
Gasoline for despair, welled in the pit of truth.
Nuclear burns and white light.
The spreading pain of a headache that never fades.
Brought on by crying deep into the night.
The day masked in the dark. A perpetual darkness.
Here, nothing grows.
Inside the husk, no flowers will bloom again.
This skin is toxic.
This mind now rotten.
And empty shade of loss.

The Majesty of mystery

Stolen time which seeps out of blackness.
Returned like pearls to the sea.
All we know, we have forgotten.
Clearing the realms for wonders to birth.
We close our eyes and catch the breath that escapes.
The Sustaining mist of God.
As this mind coughs up havoc, with its mystery of the unknown.
That pulls with a gravity to the dark and tragic.
God cradles us in feathery hope.
Kissing promise once more into our blood.
Gravitating away from grief.
Running water of certainty in our blood.
For we never truly know what exists.
Beyond the curtain of our eyelids.

Fundamentally a confused period of wheel spinning

A mud that clings, sticking like the saliva of sin.
Was just darkness.
Covering completely.
Rooted, yet lost.
What miracles could be made in the dark.
When we had forgotten how to spark.
Collectively they comforted.
Wrapping words around like arms to keep us safe.
Yet the fires were still burning.
The neon plumes of dangerous magic.
All out of control.
Nothing moved but danger.
Nothing thrived except fear.
And death crept on near.
Inactive seeds of hope.
Littered the floor once more.
Those hands of light crept back into the void.
And we were once more, covered in darkness.

Forever winter (Part 19)

The Story so far or Listen to this episode


in the blink of an eye

Darkness came, not brought on by any magical element but by the celestial dance of the sun and the moon. They had been walking for a long time now, and as the sun had slipped into its slumber, the trees around them awoke with nocturnal noises and eyes.

On they went, the girl from Europa fascinated by what she saw and what she felt. She could sense the determination, the spirit and also the slightest traces of fear in her companions. The lady of the jars was caught in-between feelings herself; she was anxious yet controlled, she also took some joy on their little expedition as it had been some time since she’d had a real adventure.

“Why did you leave Europa?” Ezra asked the girl suddenly, looking down from casting his eye to the sky above which was peppered with stars and clouds. The girl smiled at him.

“Many reasons led to my departure. I had become trapped by my life there in some ways, too big for it all.” She spoke. The lady nodded.

“Like a plant that outgrows it’s pot.” She offered. The girl looked at her, unsure.

“Don’t confuse things.” Ezra said, batting away her comment with his hand.

“We keep some plants in pots, indoors. Not like these wild ones here.” The lady said, casting her own hand around the wood.

“Oh, yes we do the same. Though they are more like creatures than plants, but we keep them in S’imboks, like crystal containers. They perfume and colour the air inside.” The girl said, almost thinking on it still.

“Like keeping a bird in a cage, sometimes the plant needs to fly.” The lady said.

“Now you’re mixing metaphors! Stop confusing things.” Ezra snapped.

“I’m just offering the notion that she outgrew her surroundings.” The lady said, curtly.

“We know that but let her finish at least.”

The girl smiled, she liked how they bickered.

“Well, yes I had outgrown a lot. But there was also a calling. A need to come here. Something was pulling me, a force that I feel stronger now I’m here.” She said, her skin suddenly shivered a dramatic red, her tealness flashing a crimson like a fish darting suddenly. “There was also another….” She began, but she stopped speaking as they had reached a break in the trees.

What struck them all was the moon, not the stone. It hovered off in the distance, bright and beaming, almost purposefully avoiding the clouds which rolled around it. It cast down a brilliant glow unto the snow which washed across the land before them. All except the stone. This was free of any snow, indeed the area surrounding it was clear and dry as if an invisible dome had been placed above it. Around them the trees lined the space in a horseshoe fashion, the stone in the centre. Towards the other side the land fell away onto a cliff’s edge, down to a valley below. It seemed to open up into the sky, but closer to the edge you would see off over the valley and the frozen rivers and lakes, the snow topped trees and the mountains beyond. By daylight you would also see the extent of the magic from her jars, as the snow faded off in the distance, blurring into a sandy threat of a desert.

The stone indeed did look much like a huge peach pit, almost oval in it’s form it dug into the ground from the narrowest tip, suspended upwards against gravity. At the right angle it could be seen as the shape of a heart. It dominated the space, at the height of the surrounding trees it caught the brilliance of the moonlight, reflecting off its mahogany colouring, more like wood than a stone.

“It’s wonderful.” The girl said, transfixed by the huge stone.

There was a silence that permeated the area before them, a quiet hush like that of a church. The girl was almost afraid to step forth, but the lady of the jars strode forth and the girl followed suit.

“This is such a sacred place, but the stone itself is a tool, a beacon even. It transmutes the energy and the magic from above and below. The good and the bad. Energy does not discriminate.” She said.

“How old is it?” The girl asked, moving towards it like a spectre, her eyes wide and her mind eager.

“About as old as she is.” Ezra said, looking around the edges of the trees, watching for movement or signs of danger.

The lady shook her head.

“Be serious and respectful you.” She said to Ezra, before continuing. “This stone is timeless, as is the magic. From time to time people come here to restore their own power, their own magical supply. It’s like a huge battery. But it can do many things.” She said as they approached the stone now.

The ground around it suddenly felt odd without the blanketing of snow they had become used to. The ground was dry and green, even in the moonlight it seemed to breathe out in its luxury of life. The girl noticed a pattern upon the stone, spiralling around and glistening, she noticed, in the light.

“Can I touch it?” the girl asked suddenly, almost surprised herself?

“Of course, yes do. No harm to be done. It belongs to everyone.” The lady said, setting her bag down on the grass and rummaging for something.

“Shouldn’t we…” Ezra began, but just as he said this the girl had reached up, her fingers drawn to the stone like a magnet.

Afterward, Ezra would say he heard what sounded like crystals smashing. The lady said she heard nothing but the whoosh of something giant above her. In the blinding light that exploded from the stone when the girl touched it, they both stumbled backwards falling to the ground. The space was enveloped in the light which seemed to splinter like a diamond, radiating shards of brilliance all around them. Though they could not see, the girl herself was cut through by this light. It did not travel within her but seemed to slice her into a thousand pieces. These pieces hung there for a moment before shooting upward, they span around the stone three times before disappearing into the top like a genie returning to its lamp.

Once the light had faded, both the lady and Ezra sat on the ground staring at the space where the girl had once been.

“What the hell was that?” Ezra said, blinking erratically to try and see through the light stains in his eyes. The lady sat, calculating what had happened.

“That, I think, was something very good or very bad for us. But it was not unexpected.” She said, quietly.

“What, you knew something like this would happen?” Ezra asked.

“Not exactly. But I cannot say there wasn’t a chance of this.” She said, now pushing herself up.

“Where is she?” He asked, a little trace of panic in his voice.

“That…I am not sure of just yet.” She replied, helping him up also.

“Wonderful.” He said sarcastically, almost used to her approach to matters.

“It is really. I’ve never seen it do that.” She said with a small curious smile.

The magical process of the disappearance of the girl from Europa was a coming together of many things. The old magic that lay in the stone and the world, the kineticness of her own energy brought to the planet across starry space. The moonlight and the zodiac position of the astral bodies. The makeup of the girl’s body, pressured in Earth’s atmosphere, and the consciousness of the girl herself who was longing to change and evolve. All these things came together that night at the Mondol stone. There was a book, kept at the back of a dusty bookshelf in the house of Jaered (The candle keeper). In this book there foretold all these happenings, from the girl’s arrival to her emersion into the stone. Prophecies are tricky things at the best of times, but all that took place was indeed there on those pages, tucked at the back. Jaered never knew of this of course, or he would have been very excited about what was taking place and would naturally know how it would all end. As it was, he didn’t and slumbered blissfully unaware many miles away from them, dreaming of cheese scones and pickle.


 

Forever Winter (Part 18)

The Story so far or Listen to this episode


THE MOUTH OF THE DRAGON

The gentleman of the boxes stumbled into the clearing, tripping over a branch that had been hidden in snow. “Damn it!” he yelled, falling face first into an unspoiled drift. He got to his feet, brushing off the cold white fluff that clung to his long coat. He shook himself much like a dog, clearing the remaining patches of snow and moved on into the clearing and towards the well. The group had not long left, he could make out their tracks in the snow heading off towards the break in the trees where the path led.

He approached the well, now blocked by the magic that the lady of the jars had performed. Though he too was practised in magic arts now, he did not know of this kind and he looked on in curiosity to the strange structured elements, tiny parts of the colo twinkling ever so softly; trapped now. He took out a small box from his bag, not much bigger than a match box. He scraped some of the residue off into the box, returning it to his bag. Then he looked up, and his curiosity once again turned to anger.

“That bloody woman!” he yelled, his voice reverberating around the clearing.

Above the now blocked well, a huge plump grey cloud floated, sprinkling out heavy drifts of snow which fell like cotton wool. The lady of the jars had also set a snow cloud to cover the well quicker and deeper in snow, another way to fight back she had thought.

“Not content with the whole land covered in her blasted snow, she pots about with extra clouds to madden us all!” He said, grabbing off a chunk from the well and sending it angrily up towards the floating mass. It fell softly through, hitting one of the trees not far from him.

He heard it then, movement from the direction of the hit tree as if an animal had scuttled out of sight. He heard another movement too, this time to the side of him. The gentleman of the boxes had lived in the woods for many years now and knew a lot about the habits of nature. He ducked down, reaching into his pocket for something. He watched silently, and then he heard another sound, a rustling in the same tree where the clump had hit.

He was quick and quiet as he lurched forward and threw out some tiny amber stones which seemed to hit his target. He approached cautiously, keeping his distance slightly. It was a Dimian, as he thought it might be due to the well. He did not fear these creatures, quite the reverse. He knew that they contained much power that could be extracted if you knew how. The amber stones he had thrown clung to the little black blob, pinning it down now like tree sap. Its eyes flashed in alarm, and it oozed some sort of green foam which stained the snow around it.

It was rare for them to be on their own, and the gentleman looked around him quickly, checking to see if there were others. Satisfied there were not, he approached the little creature.

“I guess you were attracted to the same thing I hunt too.” He said, opening his bag and reaching inside. It is true that the Dimian were tracking the girl from Europa, this one had become confused by the power the lady of the jars had used on the well. It had lingered and become lost, trying to return underground. The gentleman of the boxes took out a glass jar, and scooped up the creature, quickly stuffing a stopper in the top. The stones that had pinned the thing began to hiss and melt inside the glass now, and slowly began to turn into a soft brown liquid. The Dimian flashed its eyes once more before the liquid covered it completely, freezing it as the liquid solidified.

The man took out a small cardboard wrapper and covered the jar like a wine bottle. He preferred using boxes, naturally, and even using a jar irked him as it was a practice of the lady of the jars. But this was the only way he could preserve things alive, unlike his boxes of the dead that he handled usually. He smiled to himself in his successful capture, as Dimian are notoriously hard to catch and can always be quite dangerous. With a fresh spur of energy, he chased on after the group, embolden now to succeed.

The group had trudged on through the trees, the weather remaining more open and calmer to help their path. The girl from Europa took in all that she saw, for on her planet there were no things as trees, and the animals there were quite different. She spotted an owl in one of the trees she passed and asked the lady about them.

“Usually nocturnal, but I fear my incessant snow confuses the poor dears.” The lady had said, noticing how large the owl was.

“Nocturnal?” the girl asked curiously.

“Only out at night-time, sleeps all day. The lucky devils.” Ezra said, looking behind them to see if they were being followed.

“Oh, I see. Yes, we have creatures that have similar patterns. Our days are long there, but some only come out at certain times.” She said, somewhat dreamily.

“It’s interesting how so different, yet so similar things are.” The lady said, smiling at the girl. The girl smiled too, comforted by the familiarity. Even across the vastness of space, simple things connected them.

“I think there’s trouble brewing.” Ezra said, nodding his head back in the direction they had come. They all looked that way and could see some birds taking flight just off in the distance.

“Oh my, I thought we would have been there before he came along.”  The lady said.

“It’s that man, isn’t it?” The girl asked, closing her eyes and seeing the shadowy images now of both him and the Dimian. The shapes moved like clouds in her mind, one brighter due to its proximity.

“Yes, he’s a pebble in my shoe that’s for sure. But he has maligned intent on you I am afraid, and we cannot be doing with this now here in the middle of the woods.” She added. “Ezra, we need…”

But Ezra was already moving off down the path where they had come from.

“I’m on it.” He called back to them. He held out a little vial, the Dragon’s tongue that the lady had given to them all to keep them warm, and to add some light to their journey. Rushing now, he went down the path until he was in a dense spot of trees. The ones here seemed to clump together, throwing dark shadows, and casting much murky thoughts. Ezra stopped, looking around quickly. He could hear the movements coming off further, but he thought he could make out two groups of noises.

He did not hesitate, tipping out the Dragon’s tongue flame into his hands where it flashed in the air of the world. Tipping it back and forth like a hot potato, Ezra breathed onto the little flame, and muttered the incantation that he knew only too well. He was the keeper of the flame in his little post, protecting her cottage back home. The flame roared and grew upward and out, a real magical dragon soaring up to the trees. The red beast roared and sneaked around the trunks, gobbling the light up and creating a black void in its wake. Ezra turned and ran back to re-join the group as the dragon raced through the wood, destroying the light that lay hidden between the trees and cast down from the sky above. It was as if a huge hand was brushing a blackness over the wood. Not the kind where your eyes could adjust to, but a dark void that allowed no light to remain. The red dragon danced in spectacle and haste, snatching the light, and roaring its triumph. It raced back to Ezra, sweeping an emptiness around them as it shrank down and returned back into the little vial that he held out for it.

The lady of the jars held up her own little light, casting a beam off in the direction they needed to head.

“That should do it for now.” She said, nodding in satisfaction. The girl from Europa stood and smiled at Ezra.

“That was wonderful.” She said, having been transfixed by the dragon’s dance.

“It was nothing.” Ezra said, proudly. Whispering a gratitude to the Dragon’s tongue flame now residing safely back inside his little vial.

The blackness did its job. Not only had it blocked the way for the gentleman of the boxes, but it also permeated below the ground. Now, Dimian are used to underground conditions where there is little light, but the magic from the Dragon’s tongue flame does more than paint things black. It disables senses and orientation, and for them it overwhelms them with a pocket of energy from the spell. So, while they consume in their static state, they are completely disoriented, much like the little one that unfortunately found its way into the bag of the gentleman of the boxes. The man too was bamboozled by the snatched light. Now lost in the dark in the middle of the forest. He searched the depths of his own mind for a resource to help him, for he had had enough now of the woman’s meddling charms.


 

Forever winter – Between the jars (How to bottle weather)

The Story so far or Listen to this episode


How to bottle weather

The lady of the jars has many of nature’s wonders stacked and stored in her secret room, away from prying eyes (though she keeps the door unlocked, a sign of her gentle trusting nature). This magical art was not taught to her by anyone in particular. Which perhaps is a shame, as she does like company. Instead, she learnt how to do this from the Guāng-shu, her own little magic bible that was passed down through her family. Pages have been ripped out, new pages added. A suspicious crystalline stain permeates one of the sections towards the back which refuses to be cleaned. Though passed down through her family, the book was never intended to end up in her hands. This may have been to save her from her fate, or because of the doubt in her abilities. But through a series of events that still surprise her to this day, the book was hers when she was old enough to read and need it; and need it she most certainly did.

Jars fill her little cottage there by the stream, as the snow tumbles down incessantly outside. She is forever getting new vials, jugs and glass jars delivered. Not so much through her proficiency of usage, but lately, more to her failing eyesight which refuses to be remedied by the wearing of glasses. This leaves the broken jars tipped away in the rubbish, and many a swear word emanating from her little house. But she is at one of her happiest times when the world is chugging along outside her cottage and she is bottling her own little worlds there into jars. The colours, smells, (and at times) shocks, en-thral her still; bottling up such wonders and seeing the majesty and power there in those little jars.

To bottle the weather….

  1. Pick a day that the weather you wish for is at its most potent. The intensity leads to longer shelf life.
  2. Set your jar in a pool of water (this conducts the elements required for storage).
  3. Place a ‘Tan-ya’ stone in the bottom of the jar (imitation stones will not work).
  4. Recite the incantation located in the Guāng-shu. This might be hard at first as, depending on the type of weather system, as reciting the incantation while the elements swirl before you can be demanding. Most bottlers work alone, trusting few with the magic; though and extra pair of hands here could be of benefit.
  5. Channel the power down into the bottle, sealing it quickly. This may take some time depending on the nature of it.
    NOTE: Hurricanes are decidedly tricky.
  6. Once bottled, swirl the jar until the Tan-yastone breaks like an egg. This seals the condition inside and prevents escape or leakage.
  7. Store in a cool place where sunlight cannot enter.
    NOTE
    : Sunny weather systems will, ironically, pale if infiltrated by the sun’s rays.

As impressive as bottling the weather is, her favourite bit of magic has to be the ‘Dragon’s tongue’. A single little red flame that ignites and burns within one of her little jars with the ability heat at the strength of the smouldering centre of the earth. This she keeps tucked under the blanket in her bed. Her own little wizardry water bottle.


Forever winter (part 17)

The Story so far or Listen to this episode


SOMETHING WICKED

If you were ever to see a Dimian on its own, a rare thing indeed, you may be excused for assuming the little creature was harmless, desperate and even sweet. Though not being nocturnal, for their hunger drove them despite the hour, when they searched for the source of their sustenance they moved in the darkness and the shadows. Keeping out of sight to catch you unaware.

The danger of the Dimian were they did not discriminate. If you were in possession of some form of magic, then you were a target. Those wizened beings, or those fully empowered by the ancient world of wonder were like walking feasts to them, their soul desire in the world being to consume and retreat for their hibernation. You may think yourself safe if you were to be caught in places where they are known to be, for what magic do we truly possess unless we are in touch with the power? And for that belief, many have come a cropper. Dimian feed on ancient magic, power, and strength; and what is more powerful than hope and love? Those who have been in ecstatic state of love and belief have been befelled by these little creatures, hungrily consuming the light that dwelled within.

Dimian are small, little blobs of creatures who move en masses. They are small enough to fit in the palm of your hand, with their skin slick and black like a wet seal. They have eyes, which you will only see when it is too late, the glowing turquoise orbs appearing in the moment of devouring. These little beings move in droves, under the ground like moles; tunnelling through the landscape to find their source of food. Their senses attuned to frequencies that vibrate through the world all around them, fear directing them like road signs, power beckoning them like pleasure. Both the girl from Europa, and the lady of the jars were much too tempting to pass up.

“This is new to me.” The Lady of the jars said, going across to the well before them.

She looked inside, nudging some snow into the black opening and listening to it tuffly tumble into an abyss. The well was of a usual size, nothing unordinary about it. Its sides made of large grey stones which looked to have been settled there for years. No signs of recent activity led to, or from the well, and aside it’s appearance suddenly in her mind, the well was of little importance to the world.

“Maybe you forgot it was here, you’re not as sharp as you used to be remember.’  Ezra offered, shivering a little.

The girl approached the well, touching the sides. But instead of looking down as is usual, she looked up into the sky. The clearing naturally had a ring of trees around it, but the trees all seemed to hang back into themselves, as if pulling away from the well at the centre. The clouds hung low, and you could not see above the line of the trees that circled them. The snow had eased, but little flecks still fell on them silently. Both Ezra and the lady looked up also, following the girl’s lead.

It was slight, no more than a twinkle. Little dusty patches of green hung in the air above the well like motes. These could not have been seen from further away, only by being underneath did they glimmer dully in the cloudy grey above the well.

“Is that….?” Ezra said, and the lady nodded back.

“Yep, it is. Dimian colo.” She said, matter-of-factly.

The girl turned to her, quizzically.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

The lady pointed up towards the green dust above them.

“Dimian are little creatures who dwell under the ground, great masses of them. They feed off of magic and power, charging themselves up before hibernating for eons at a time. In their process of extracting the magic that they feed on, they discharge an element known as colo, which is what we are looking at here.” She said.

“Is it dangerous?’ The girl asked her.

“To some beings yes, but to you and I it will just give us a headache and feeling of sullenness.”

“It’s basically Dimian crap. This is where they dump it out.” Ezra said, turning his nose up to the well and the green sparkles above him.

“Yes, well thank you Ezra for being so literal. Actually, in some magical practises, colo is quite useful.” The lady said, looking on it curiously.

“It’s rather beautiful, hovering there in the grey.” The girl offered, her hand resting on the side of the well.

“If you like that sort of thing.” Ezra said, unamused by it all.

“Well, yes I can see why you would say that. What is troubling is that this is here at all, they have clearly created an outlet.” The lady said, now peering into the well again.

“Perhaps it was hidden under the snow, and the water source had shifted. The well might just lead down into one of their tunnels and they have tapped into the extraction.” Ezra said, peering down also.

The lady stood back, thinking this over.

“Well, yes. Either way, it indicates Dimian activity; and that’s not good for anyone.” The lady said, popping her bag up on the well wall.

“What will they do if they got us then, how do they extract this power from beings?” The girl asked her suddenly.

The lady rustled about in her bag, but spoke plainly to the girl.

“They leach it out of you, they have a power to pull the magic from the cells. They are most deadly in their groups, but on their own or just a few of them will try to extract what they need and leave you feeling weak and even unconscious. They aren’t evil creatures, just needful creatures. Ah ha!” She said and produced a small like jar that had been nestled in the bottom of the bag.

“They remind me of many beings I’ve seen across the cosmos. They move with short sighted intensions, consume and destroy as they go.” She said, her eyes pierced by a sadness that seemed to leak outwardly.

“Yes, actually much like humans indeed. I guess they don’t have the consciousness to change or to see what they do. But there are things we can do.” And with that, the lady of the jars poured a yellow mixture deep into the well. The yellow liquid disappeared down into the blackness, and the girl looked on to see what would happen. Ezra had backed away, and the lady advised the girl to move back too. Suddenly, there was a whooshing sound emitting from the well, and a huge foaming column bubbled and sped up out of the well like a sprouting tree. It glistened like a metal; its foaming branches reached upwards to where the green colo hung.

Like a huge sponge it sucked the colo into it’s folds, taking much of the cloud covering from the clearing in with it. Very briefly, the little group could see up into the sky, the dark navy sea that was splattered with stars. The clouds joined once more, wiping away the image of night and the foaming tree before reducing itself downwards until it stood about a child’s height out of the top of the well. It hardened and dulled, the metal shine fading to a bark like texture. A few stones fell away from the side of the well, crumbling to the ground.

“There, well at least this area will be safe again for a while.” The lady said, closing her bag up.

“Won’t they just move elsewhere?” The girl asked.

“Dimian never stop until they sleep, but we can make it harder for them at least.” The lady replied.

“Dimian are a pain, and they cause a lot of havoc to this place. They’ll move elsewhere, but the harder it gets for them, the more chance there is of them hibernating earlier. They don’t like hard work.” Ezra offered, clearly glad the well had been put out of use for them.

“Don’t feel sad or upset for them dear. Besides, what we are moving towards will put an end to these unbalances of power anyway.” The lady said, offering a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“We don’t have creatures like this on Europa. Everything assists something else. We’re all connected and reliant on others there.” She said.

“Ah, well I’m sure as you’ve seen here already, a great corruption has taken place. Things aren’t balanced like they once were.” The lady said, almost with a sigh.

The girl from Europa thought about this for a moment.

“You’re right. Balance is fairness too.”

“You got that straight!” Ezra said.

“What we are doing is important for all.” The lady said, shuffling passed the well now and leading them both onwards.

The girl remained just for a moment longer, before carrying on with them. The idea in her mind about balance and fairness seemed to lie heavily. As if this was a key to the understanding she had been trying to grasp.


 

Everything (सर्वेषां स्वस्तिर्भवतु ।)

When the world wind weeps around you.
May the universe dry your eyes.
And happiness make you smile once more.
Sarvesham Svastir Bhavatu.
I cannot keep you safe from the conflict.
Or the wars within you.
But I offer you peace, from that of which I’ve known.
Sarveśām Shāntir Bhavatu.
You are taken from the mountain,.
You come in pieces.
And I too, but together we are more than less.
Sarveśām Pūrnam Bhavatu.
And if you fall, I will not catch you.
But I will watch as you rise again.
And applaud your strength, with an outstretched heart.
Sarveśām Maṇgalam Bhavatu.
We are but pieces.
Love is the is the whole.
Versions of the same form, spun from the same gold.

Break the dawn

To kiss you into the night.
Would be more than I could pray for.
Lost in a world where you are my religion.
The transmigration I envisioned.
Waiting for that flash of crimson slitting the night sky.
Instead I made you cry.
As the ripe fruit of dawn broke over our lives.
I reached for it, I reached for you.
Finding only empty space.
And spent light.

Forever winter (part 16)

The Story so far or Listen to this episode


Adventure with swiftness

They set off in haste and excitement, the little band of new friends and old souls. What the lady of the jars had said about dying had stunned them, but she had refused to explain further. P’erl, naturally, was not used to earth’s customs regarding inquiry, and Ezra had not pushed the point. It was as if a part of him knew what she meant, but there was no sadness or sorrow, merely passive understanding. The girl from Europa knew of death and ascendance. Back on her planet passing was not the same as it was on Earth. When people moved on to the next stage, their energy was condensed into a small ball; the body reduced down to a spherical composition of life. These balls were then placed into ‘wattlers’, huge ice ducts that looked like frozen organ pipes which descended deep into the moon. These would then be absorbed by the giant machine of their ‘god’, the churning mantle of their lives, regurgitating new souls out into the world. All the energy that would ever be existed there, and nothing really died, it was processed and recycled over and over. The Europans believed that the soul moved into a different space, above their moonly material realm, and that the energy left began another life.

P’erl knew that a similar process happened all over the cosmos, though different entities practised different rituals around death. She knew the lady of the jars would pass in a similar way, and she knew that this was a stage, and was comforted really by the fact that she knew when she was going. Many did not.

The Lady of the jars did not wish to discuss her death, for though she knew it was all a part of her process, the manner in which she were to go had always been foretold as being painful; and her visions recently had not been clear. But she believed this was her fate, and the girl had come for this reason. She was saddened by it, as there was much she still wished to do in her life, but she understood that these things were destined.

They took the path leading away from her little cottage, trudging through the snow and the wind which was slowly dying down. Before leaving, and while the others put together little bundles of clothes and provisions, the lady had tempered the weather slightly, aiding their journey but also masking their intent to those who were to follow. For to follow them she knew both the Dimian and the gentleman of the boxes intended to, and away from the protection of her house she knew they were more vulnerable. She had some tricks up her sleeves of course, but it was best to be prepared, and swift as they could be though the Mondol stone was not close.

The path took them deeper into the woods, the silence of the snow and the encroaching trees made light scarcer. The trees seemed to be bunching closer together the deeper they went, as if looking for woody comfort in the cold darkness they created. The lady led the way, the top of her cane glowing in a luminous bluey white light that reflected off the snow below and all around. They moved through like little characters atop a Christmas cake, the path digging deep into the ground below them that seemed undisturbed. She knew the areas all around better than many, she knew the tracks and the concentration of the animals in certain parts. And she knew where the darker energies concentrated, these were the areas where the animals themselves would not venture.

“You know, with all your hot air about being such a great magic caster; is there no way you could’ve just sent us to the stone in a flash?” Ezra grumbled, his foot falling into a hidden hole beneath him which made him stumble.

The lady cast him a furrowed expression, shaking her head and turning to check on P’erl.

“You knew the journey and stakes before we left, don’t start complaining now.” She said, then asking the girl. “Are you alright still my dear?”

P’erl smiled and nodded, she had no qualm with the cold or the snow, and the connection with them both and the journey they were on were indeed the reasons why she’d come here.

“Yes, I’m taking everything I see around me in; this is truly a wonderful world.” She added, looking up into the trees as tuffs of snow fluttered down, a small invisible animal knocking it off a branch as it scuttled into more unseen branches.

“I just think you’re a bit of a fraud, if you can’t even get us there with any magic.” Ezra said, tightening up his huge jacket, the hood of which nearly made his face disappear.

“You know it doesn’t work like that, and besides, projections and transporting have never been my strong suit. Best we go like this and be safe. I wouldn’t want half of you ending up frozen under a bridge while the rest drips in a gooey mess all over the stone.” She said bristly.

Ezra thought over this and seemed to agree by his silence.

They went on further, the trees becoming denser and the land beneath them becoming bumpier, the giant roots sprawling up and around the pathway which struggled to make its way through. Not many used the route anymore, and the ill feeling of this part of the wood was another deterrent for many wishing to journey through. It was tough struggling through the heaps of snow, but the light that glowed from her cane seemed to melt the path slightly as it shone forth.

“How old is the Mondol Stone?” The girl asked, coming besides the lady, seeming to float alongside her.

“Almost as old as her.” Ezra said, clumping his way behind them. The lady ignored him.

“The Mondol stone, oh it’s very ancient. If you want the silly story, it is believed to be the peach pit once eaten by a huge giant who choked on it, falling to the ground. As the flesh and bones rotted away, the pit remained, calcified by the ancient magic of the giants.” The lady said, chuckling herself to the story.

“And if you believe that, then you’ll believe anything. Besides, everybody knows giants hate peaches.” Ezra added. The girl smiling at them both.

“But the stone itself is very interesting, and much of our magic and power emanate from it. The Kahall who bore our magic from the earth in the times of the great before, wrote their knowledge upon the stone in the beginning. All that we know came from that place. It is an energy centre, the navel of our land, where the energy and power intensifies. The stone is old and sacred, and much has happened there. There is an understanding through all beings, light and dark, that this place is of importance and is respected.” The lady said, the gravity landing on the words the girl heard.

On they went, passing through the trees which became narrower and narrower, trying to be quick despite the snow ladened path. With the glow from the cane leading the way, the lady of the jars was lulled into believing they were taking the quickest path through. But much had changed since she had been through here before. She realised this when they came upon a clearing that should not have been there, at least she had never remembered one on this path. And she would definitely have remembered a well in the middle. This was new, and alarming to her. It seemed to yawn upwards, swallowing in the sky above.

He had lost them for a while now, the glow of the cane had dimmed and extinguished before him as they had moved deeper into the woods. The gentleman of the boxes had tried to keep both his distance, and up with them, but he had lost them when a fork had appeared in the path. He felt within him a pulsing energy which spurred him on, the little chunks of the cocoon from the crash site vibrated in his pockets, almost yearning to be returned to her. He let them pull at him, directing him on deeper into the trees which hung low and dark, and silent as always in the snow-covered land.

Beneath his feet, in the underground tunnels that marked the underworld like veins, the Dimian too followed. Their little hungry eyes consuming the light given off by the girl from Europa, the magic from the lady, and fear from the gentleman of the boxes.


 

An inner choir sings

You do not find it in the brush strokes of the saintly.
Or willowing wisps of utterances in cold hallowed halls.
Do not look for god in pages of prejudice.
Or underneath the rocky souls of the holy.
Light a candle and feel me.
Peel back the bits of Christ to find me.
Swimming in the shallow cells of you.
Awash, in the DNA of God.

Echoes in arbitrary flow

Through this darkness, you felt your way.
Fingers in decay, while you groped for something.
I told you, you knew it then.
I would always be waiting.
As the moon rolled away like the end of a film.
And the sadness reeled you in.
You held your breath and counted the silence.
Little drops like chips in teeth.
Tiny shifts, the tectonic plates of deciding.
I hovered above.
My eyes light like a dove in its pirouetting flight.
I stripped your mind like a Christmas tree in January.
Shed. Cold. Naked.
And ready.
Placing candles in skulls to light your way.
The bodies of your old self, at use after all.
We swim out of the concrete and into the sky.
Minds now alive and deliberating.
Of which wing to fly upon.
Which sky to pull down and cover us.
To disappear into forever.

Forever winter (part 15)

The Story so far or Listen to this episode


Travel

She had been young, and younger still in her father’s eyes. She had longed for the journey, the trip off of their moon if only for one cycle. Nobody her own age travelled off the moon, that she knew of anyway, and many of them wouldn’t even want to. But her father was who he was, and as such, gave their family certain privileges. She had longed to travel ever since she could remember. Her father’s contraptions lying around had given her the peak into the rest of the galaxy, pulling back the black curtain of space to a forming mind.  Oh, such wonders she had seen through those tinkering mechanisms, and some things so close to her. She saw the treasure box of beauty through those glass eyes, the flaming ruby of Mars; the emerald sapphire that was Earth. Earth held a special place in her heart, it was where she knew her mother had gone. A place that she had not returned from.

Her father was visiting nearby Ganymede, which for Europan’s they called L’ochn. It was to be a quick trip, it being so close helped for swift passage to and from. The brewing sea at the centre of the moon housed one of the major cities in their region, and the inhabitants were known as being a welcoming group. Diplomacy aside, the trip was one her father always looked forward to, due to the hospitality that could always be expected. Three shinos, that’s all it took to get there. A blink of an eye really. No need for long distance cocoons that keep them tight and safe. They shinnod down, using vibration waves, into the vast city that stretched high into the inside of the planet, like the remains of an eaten apple.

The lofty parts looked out over the turbulent ice sea which raged and howled to its own delight. Much like their own city, L’ochn was a brilliantly white city, its walls and surfaces gleaming like a polished tooth. Parts of the city structure were transparent where the waters ran through like a living creature. It was a beautiful place and offered her a sense of calm and loveliness that had perhaps been absent for too long.

He of course would stay in the ambassador house, her father usually enjoyed royal like comforts on his diplomatic trips. And while he was away, P’erl was afforded the luxury of freedom. To venture to the other side of the moon if she wanted, or even down deeper into the ice tunnels which held mysteries and fossilized bones of creatures many knew not what of. Though left to herself, at home she was only alone in her own quarters; the palatial residence required many to help run it efficiently. Alone in her room, she found time to rest and sleep.

‘P’erl’ came the voice. Softly, like a snowflake landing on her ear. Her eyes were closed still, she felt the webbing around her body, keeping her in place. She was hesitant to open them, such dreams she’d had, and they were in danger of slipping away if she opened her eyes. It was so rare for her to sleep, and when she did, the night flashes came, robbing her of any peace. She was unusual for her kind. The rest of Europa never had dreams, never suffered the nightmares of other worlds parade across her mind like she did. Calling out in despair and anger. She’d learned not to sleep. She had learned a lot just to live.

It came again ‘P’erl’, a little stronger, this time the other side of her head. Her eyes flickered apart and scanned, she found no-one there. Her room lay beneath her empty and quiet. She hung up in the rafters, encased in the white webbing that held sleep, and dreamless sleeps for everyone but her. She knew the voice now; she had known it before. Her inner self telling her, it was time to go. The voice, tinged with that of her mother’s, whispering that now was the time.

She had made her plan quickly and quietly. She had read her mother’s journals, recorded tablets that were kept in their library. She had discovered the need in the blood they shared to explore, to grow and to see. Her mother had been quite open about the stages of her life, and how towards the transition, it was not seen as departure, but of a rebirthing into something else. Like a butterfly leaving a cocoon.

P’erl knew her father would understand, but she knew also that loss and sadness would wash into those parts of him that loved her. Her time had come to go to Earth, to set off and shed what had begun to stick too cumbersomely to her as the year cycles had rotated. She needed to change, to become what she wanted to be. Not held within the ice cage of necessity. What would happen, she was unsure of, but her mother’s hand seemed to be guiding her, telling her it was okay. Her father would understand, it had happened to her mother also. This calling from beyond.

In space, we dream. And indeed, P’erl had seen such vision as her transport shot through the blankness of the galaxy. Visions of her mother and father, voices from a new world that sung softly in her mind. She was being pulled by a need to change, not just herself, but others too. That long burning desire to alter other lives, not just her own was giving the weight it needed to grow into something. Her departure had begun a chain of magic events which, she hoped, would conclude with a changing of self into something beyond what she could limitedly comprehend, and to perhaps save a number of others who she’d never even met; but knew were on the brink of something terrible.


Forever winter (part 14)

The Story so far or Listen to this episode


Chaos cracked

The beam of golden light illuminated the front of the cottage. He saw it like a rising sun, casting deep shadows now over the backyard and the wreckage. His pockets were full, and his hands were numb. “Curse this coldness” He muttered, the snow continuing to fall. The light now snaked around the side of the building like a moving body, banishing the dark and the evil shadows. It crept closer and closer to him. He naturally began to edge backwards, as if a creeping hand of light was reaching for him, threatening to cast him into the open and explain himself. He backed up more and more before falling backwards into a huge snow drift.

The cold condensed snow stung his face and he scrambled to be free, like a cat stuck in a bag. “Curse you and your snow!” He spat towards the house. He turned hastily then and sped off into the woods. His pockets heaving and weighted down as if he carried gold, for the sapphire tears of the girl’s cocoon were heavy and clung to him like weights of guilt.

Ezra made his way quickly to the fire that still roared away in her little living room. Strong white and blue flames danced in the grate and he rubbed his hands hastily to warm himself. The girl watched him from the stairs, the small little boy in his pyjamas and his feet covered in snow.

“Next time, I’m wearing the coat before you freeze me back!” He grumbled. The lady hovered in the doorway smiling, the light from the flame in the jar dappled her face bringing forth a deeper warmth. Ezra concentrated on the warm fire. “So, you’re what all the fuss is about huh?” He said, not looking away from the fire. Theatrically shivering away. She was surprised he’d seen her but answered swiftly.

“I’m sorry for your coldness, I can help if you like.” She said, descending the little stairs and bringing forth a huge overcoat. Her skin shimmered in the light of the flames, and the closer she got it seemed to cascade away in huge chunks, repairing back like a tide of cells in different colours.

“Don’t go spoiling him now.” The lady said, going over quickly to the sideboard on the other side of the room. “A little cold never hurt anyone.”

“Thank you, glad someone has some manners.” He said, turning to the girl and taking the coat. He slipped it on and stuck out his hand. “I’m Ezra.” He said. She looked at his extended little hand curiously. He waved it a little impatiently.

“Nice to meet you Ezra.” She said, swooping down upon him and giving him a hug. This was unusual for both of them, but in the moment, it seemed like the better thing to do. Ezra was warmed further by her touch, and she was able to dive into his life in that short moment. She saw oceans of adventure and wonder, and little pools of sadness too.

“Well, you are the damsel after all. Even if you are much larger than usual. I suppose it befalls me to save you, and the old crone over there.” He said, stamping his feet now by the fire. The lady ignored him.

“Thank you.” The girl said, bowing humorously.

“My name is many things, but P’erl is one I wish for you to have.” The girl said, touching her heart with her forefingers and then touching his forehead. He smiled at this graceful and generous act.

“And you’ve come from the stars?” He asked. She nodded, smiling.

“Very well.” He said, as if used to the unexpected. “So, what is all the fuss?” He asked, turning to the lady, warmed now and eager to get started.

The lady of the jars was fumbling in the sideboard, reaching to the back of the cupboard now. She stuck her tongue out in an extended effort to stretch and reach into the very heart of the wooden beast.

“Well, we have to make our way to the Mondol stone. This is where the energy in this area pools and the magic is deep and expansive. You my dear will begin to change the closer we get,” She said, looking to the girl. “Layers will begin to lift, and meanings will come forth. You will evolve and reveal. Once there, I shall perform a rite of sorts, and if all goes to plan; what is meant to be, will be unleashed.”

“What do you mean, what’s meant to be? And that doesn’t sound too difficult, a quick trip in through the woods. Why do you need me?” Ezra argued, half-jokingly.

“Well, excuse me mister but I’ve never done this before you know.” The lady snapped, bumping her head on the cupboard and suddenly succeeding in her retrieval of a small box from within. “I’m not too sure what is to happen. I’ve only read about this in the book.”

“Well, that’s helpful.” He said. The girl laughed; she could see the ease between the two of them. She didn’t know it then, but Ezra had once come from the lady. A manifestation of a small part of her that she had conjured into being. The arguing, questioning side of her youth that was a source of strength and safety.

The Lady frowned.

“It will be some opening of portals and minds, a great wash over the land that will lift us all to new heights and banish that darkness. It will also bring forth her true purpose.” The lady said, peering now into the small box before putting it into the bag she had over her shoulder.

“In other words, you haven’t got a clue, but it’s something to be getting on with.” Ezra said, walking over to the door where a row of boots and shoes stood. “Sounds like a wild goose chase to me.” He picked up the brown hiking boots and begun to put them on.

The lady ignored him and bustled about the room putting things into her bag. The girl followed Ezra and chose a pair of boots also. She hadn’t need for them, but if she was here to explore and try different things, she could start by wearing shoes for the first time.

“Dimian.” The lady suddenly said.

Ezra looked over to her.

“Not them again.” He said, his brow furrowing.

“And the gentleman of the boxes.” She added.

“That old goat, what’s he up to?” Ezra asked.

“And I hadn’t mentioned it earlier, but we are also going to have to hurry.”

“Hmmm, because two challenges weren’t enough. Why the haste?”

The lady stopped and looked at them by the door, dressed now and ready to leave.

“Because, in two moons from now; I will have died”.


Forever winter (part 13)

The Story so far or Listen to this episode


Fishing for light

It was not the nature of the lady of the jars to be idle. Though she lived a somewhat relaxed life, she was never one to shy away from work. Though her magical abilities helped in many ways, she believed hard work and action were the routes to get things done. She respected the powers that had come alive within, the knowledge that had been entrusted with her. Which is why she was keen to spring to action in helping the girl who had fallen from the stars.

There in her small kitchen, she watched as the girl curiously looked over her book of magic, wondering what they could both share with one another before the end. For she knew an end was coming, and every end has a start.

“Right, I think we’re going to need a little bit of help.” She said, looking deep into the azure wells that seemed etched with blue veins, the lamp light catching her eyes in a hauntingly special way.

“What do you mean?” The girl asked, no fright or reservation gave way in her voice. Just curiosity.

“Well, though we are protected here in my little cottage; and the snow will offer us more protection, there are things outside that I’ve begun to notice that might try and make things a little tricky for us.” The lady said, looking out the windows into the darkened grey beyond.

“Where are we going then?” The girl asked, holding her wrist the lady noticed. Her thumb on her skin and the fingers fanned out underneath as if she were taking her pulse. The lady hesitated.

“Do you sense them too?” The lady asked suddenly. The girl blushed purple, or seemed to blush, for she was actually in the process of travelling beyond the walls of the cottage. Projecting a version of herself outside to look around.

“I see a man, and things I do not know of.” The girl replied, the colour draining now away from her face.

The lady sighed slightly.

“He will never learn I fear.” She said, going over to the window to take a look for herself. But the snow was thick and heavy, and obscured much of her view. She turned back to the girl. “We need to go to a place where the energy centres collide. We need to conjure something which is much beyond what I can store in a little jar. It’s a place not far, at the centre of the forest. There is a clearing with huge trees reaching up to the sky encircling it. You will feel it before you see it. It’s a very special place but I’m afraid it does not hold the type of protection my cottage has. This energy, this magic is not owned by anyone. It’s powerful and magnificent. Like the electricity that runs in the big cities. Anyone can tap into it. We can light a room or power a bomb, it’s how we use it that matters.” The lady said, pushing the rim of her glasses back up her nose.

The girl looked on, thinking suddenly of her home planet Europa. Where the ice coral was used to power and give life to the subterranean cities. This power was never abused but cherished; a blessing that had come to them. And then she remembered the coral she had taken the day she left. That which she didn’t need but had spirited away with her. Why she had, she still was unsure of. Something within her had told her to. The same conflicting voices that sometimes forced her to act in ways she knew were different from everyone else.

“Are you okay?” The lady asked. Noticing how the patterns on her skin had changed suddenly, taking on a metallic colouring, covering the skin in an almost armoury sheath.

“Yes, I’m fine honestly. Sorry, I was thinking about something.” She paused, as if still elsewhere, then asked. “This place we need to go to, is it far?”

The lady watched as the metallic colours shimmered away, and the aqua blue hues began to dance and sway once more. She was concerned, it was the first moment she had seen as if the girl was frightened.

“No, it isn’t far really. But we will need some help to get there, and to shake off that man who is outside and who you have now seen. He’s the gentlemen of the boxes and he thinks you are here to help him with something.” She said.

“Can I help him?” The girl asked.

“Yes, you can. But you shouldn’t my dear. For what he wants, helps no-one but himself. Before this is over, I think he will learn perhaps the biggest lesson. For wheels are in motion now that cannot be stopped, even if the destination is still unknown.” She replied, going now to the cupboards in her pantry.

“Oh, I see. It’s funny how we slide so precariously on destiny’s string.” The girl said. The lady turned and smiled at her.

“Indeed, destiny brought you here. And its destiny that we can still have a hand in. Come, there are things to be done.” She said, grabbing a bag that was tucked away under one of the chairs. “We need a few things, but I must quickly go and wake Ezra first.”

The lady of the jars opened her front door, pushing aside the drifts of snow which had built up during the day. Out of habit, she kicked off the snow which had collected over her doormat, revealing a ‘Welcome’ that had been hidden by the snow which the overhang had failed to protect from. Stepping outside, she got a greater sense of what was now out here. She had known the gentlemen of the boxes was around, she had sensed him earlier. But now she felt something else, and she reached quickly into her pocket and took out two coloured vials.

They glowed there in her hand and in the dark. She took the red one and popped the stopper out with her thumb. The contents rushed upward and dispersed into a small cloud in front of her. In the blink of an eye the red vapour sped away and around the house. It collected back in front of her and she could see then in the smoke what it was. They had left their mark, staining the ground and the space where they had been.

“Dimian” She said, her breath dispersing the red cloud in front of her which drifted quickly up into the sky, lost suddenly in the snow which continued to fall. Dimian were old, ancient creatures which dwelled in the ground. They weren’t necessarily bad creatures, just all consuming. They gobbled and swallowed all the power they needed for their epoch slumbers, consuming vast amounts of previous ancient magic to keep themselves sustained. They did not discriminate on who or what they devoured.

The Lady of the jars had her own protections against these creatures, but the sheer number of what she had seen in the cloud gave her pause for thought. Clearly the landing of the girl, and her cosmic concentration had woken them, fuelled them to seek out this treasure trove of power. She would have to be careful.

Inside the cottage the girl went about collecting the items the lady had asked for and adding further layers to her clothes in preparation for their journey. The lady now walked swiftly to the middle of her garden and took the other vial she had in her hand. This one glowed strong with a yoke yellow light. She reached a mound in the middle where a small statue of a boy stood, a fishing rod holding up a huge lantern that flickered out a warming flame in the dark. This was one of her protective elements to her cottage.

The boy stood as a guardian, casting his light and power around her little home. But he could also do more than that. She cracked the vial over his head, sending the snow that had collected there up into the air like yellow dust. The vial smashed, but like that of an egg, the yellow contents dripping down his head and covered his body. With a final flash of light, the stone broke away and the boy came to life.

“Ezra, good to see you.” The lady said, as the boy swung the lantern on the fishing pole over her head.

“Brrrrr, it’s always so cold! Don’t you ever have a taste for warmer climates?” The boy stuttered out in the cold air.

The lady laughed. “Well, you are only wearing pyjamas. But you know me…” She said, a twinkle in her eye.

“That I do.” Ezra said, smiling a little and looking around. “Which usually means there’s a perilous task for me, right?” He said.

“Got it in one, but this time there is a damsel in distress.” She said.

“Really. Well, I would have put you more in the spinster in danger category myself.” Ezra said, putting the fishing pole under his arms so he could rub his hands together.

“You know, I could move for a more Grecian theme to your statured state, sans pyjamas!” She said, mockingly. Ezra looked around into the billowing snow.

“Alright, alright. Who needs saving this time?” He asked.

“Come, you can meet her and then I’ll show you what we need to do.” She said, taking the fishing pole from him and opened the little door on the lantern. She tipped out a little flame which she hurriedly captured in a bottle she retrieved from her pocket. And placed it on the ground where Ezra had stood just before. It glowed in the dark and gave a warmth which melted the snow slightly around it, before illuminating all around. A sparkling amber jewel in a sea of white.


 

Forever winter (part 12)

The Story so far or Listen to this episode


Sunshine and sadness

The sunshine beat down, making the dead still air hum like static. Nothing moved. Nothing stirred. The whole forest and world rested in the maddening heat of the day. She looked up into the sky where this giant tangerine sphere blazed away, and she mopped her brow. She was hot and sweaty. Moving slowly back towards the sad little row of town houses where she called home. She heaved the panel of wood carefully and painfully slow to her house; the middle one in the row. The brightest of all the little homes, its white paint glistening in the hot sun. She thought of her house as the last good tooth in a rotting mouth. Rubbish and filth marked the other buildings, faulted by the need for their owners to work long hours just to survive rather than to maintain a nice home.

But she did, and she worked harder than any.

​She heaved the panel finally in through her door, propping it up for now in the hallway. She had gotten up early that day, putting her hours in early at the little shop in town where she worked, so she could leave before five to get to the wood shop before it shut. She knew the owner well enough, and knew he never did business out of hours. And she wanted the wood today. She wanted to fix the door tonight, while she knew he would be out.

​As she caught her breath in her little hallway, she sighed at the cliché of her life so far.

Married when she was just seventeen, to someone she never loved. Stuck, out of circumstance, to the man and the place for fear of having to start over with nothing. The money her parents had given her was swallowed up before she had even been married a year. Drinking and gambling away her inheritance it seemed was his favourite past time. And she let him; she knew she was indeed part of the problem. She allowed him to drink and stay out because it meant he wasn’t there, at home with her. Punching the walls and putting her down. Complaining and demanding things and putting his foot through the back door.

​She went now for a glass of water, fanning her arms to cool them down as best she could as she made her way to the tiny kitchen. Her house was cool, she made it that way the best she could, but in doing so it was dark and cave like, blocking out the scorching sunlight wherever she could. Their town: plagued by tropical heat and an unrelenting sunshine that cooked and boiled everything beneath it, was something she had come to despise.  She drank from a glass, looking now at the gaping hole in the door panel.

An easy fix and done before. This time she had made sure to get stronger wood, something that would   so easily be destroyed. But something had been different this time. A part of her heart had splintered and snared like the bits of wood that stuck out now like vicious thin teeth. Her heart, hardened over the years and placed under a cloud of criticisms and chaos, surprised her at making her feel something. Something where everything she thought was numb.

​But what was it; anger, remorse?

​She wasn’t too sure. Suffering so long in the dark, it’s painful to see the light after so long. She mistook the determination for her usual war-time mentality of getting things done, carrying on and making things right. Getting the wood panel for the door, fixing it so there was no longer the yawning reminder of the open wound that was her life. Letting the dank air in. Letting the light in.

Something within was screaming. Something determined to be heard and acted upon.

She filled her glass again from the tap, drinking down the cool water. Replenishing her fluids that had escaped in her long hike from the wood-shop, and the internal steam engine that was slowly gathering force to implore her to act.

And then she heard the door go.

​The front door slammed shut, not caught in any breeze that the deadened air around could muster. He was home early. Must have been a bad day. She heard the yelling in the hall, incoherent cries like the nightjars she passed on her way to work, gathering and chorusing in the trees above. Soon he was there in front of her, gesturing to the hallway, no doubt the wood panel caught in his way. He looked hot and red, his skin crumpled and dirty; burnt by the sun after the long day in the fields and the alcohol that dehydrated him. His hollowed cheeks, gaunt by a wicked life and bad teeth, threw shadows on his face making him look like an angry red skeleton fresh from the grave. He banged and blamed, flailing his arms around. Knocking things off the kitchen shelves. She would have to fix things, she always did. Clearing up his mess while he slept off his mood.

She ducked more than once, mindful not to be the target of his rage and waited for the storm to die. But she did something then she had never done before. The steam engine in her had reached its peak and burst, emptying out years of frustration and hatred in a single event. She launched the glass she held in her hand out into the air, and watched it sail over the kitchen and smash on the stone wall. She screamed loudly, like one would into a pillow, so loud it sounded like an air raid siren. Momentarily it confused him, like some animal. He stopped dead, unsure of what was happening. She was usually so passive. So subservient. Afraid to rock the boat which would lead her to drown in a deep sea of chaos.

But the mouse had roared.

​He acted fast, waiting for her screaming to subside. The chemicals inside kicking into gear to save his self-preservation of a life he had constructed. A life where he was the boss. He grabbed her roughly by the hair, spinning her around and pulling her backwards. He wasn’t a big man, or even strong. But fuelled by fury and drink, he handled her like that of a ragdoll, pulling her free of the safety of her little home. Their little home.

​Kicking free the remains of the broken door, and out into the scorching heat. Though the day was heavy, the sun drew up on them, an oppressive spectator in the unfolding drama. She didn’t cry out, too shocked and stunned into what was occurring. She was dragged out to the centre of the garden they had, and roughly shoved into the middle, finally free of his hands from her hair. He grabbed a chair that was propped up by the fence, unfolding the deckchair style and placing it on the grass that had shrivelled into a horrible rug of dirt and dry leaves.

​He pushed her into the seat. The silence signalling, she had gone too far with the glass. Too far, and too brave to have even begun a journey on him. She sat, motionless; waiting and watching to what was to happen. She watched him find some garden trellis string, some she had bought last year to help keep the cucumber plants steady and vertical.

He was quick tying her to the chair, binding her hands and then her legs to it. She began to protest, pleading half-heartedly that she wouldn’t do it again. A lie, she knew she would. She knew then that if there were ever a next time, she would smash the glass on his skull and be rid of him forever. But he was fast, and tied a rag in and around her mouth, keeping it in place with the string. The string, which she felt now digging into her wrists.

​When he was done, without a word, he stood back and quickly went back inside. She was left there, in the garden with the sun burning down on her, tied to the lawn chair. But his return was swift and carrying a bag of rubbish which he emptied all around and over her. Foul bits of food and muck covered her, lapped at her feet like a garbage tide. He returned two more times, fresh trash spirited from their neighbour’s houses, to be emptied on and around her. Crowning her as the queen of this new tragic kingdom. He threw the last empty bag away and came close, his eyes piercing hers as he bent low. Grabbing her cheeks between his fingers, pressing his dirty nails into her skin, he hissed at her.

“If you ever do that again, I will kill you.”

And he released his grip and stalked back inside the house. A diminishing monster, back into the depths.

The humiliation was as bad as the smell, but it was the flies and the sun which were the real torture. She was out there hours, cooking in a putrid heap as the flies nibbled and pecked at her like tiny vicious birds. The sun radiated an intensity that nearly caused her to faint, pushing down like the fiery hand of god.

But she survived.

Woken, out of the delirious dreamscape her survival mind had slipped her into reality, by a bucket of cold water thrown over her once the sun had set. He loosened her from the chair, not saying a word. Not able to look her in the eye. Before disappearing out, off to drink and spend more money.

In the aftermath, she collected herself best she could. She cleaned herself off and tidied the garden to keep the rats from overrunning the place. Despite her nausea, she had some bread to fend off the intense hunger and disgust that brewed and bubbled in her stomach. And then she went to her bedroom and began to pack. She did not want revenge, no good could come of that. But something had snapped within her like a broken twine around the wildflower feelings she had kept tightly bound. The spun sugar strand of patience had shattered.

She collected only what she needed, throwing it all into a bag and bringing the walls down to this part of her life. She cleared out the little box under the floorboards where he kept some money, the one he thought she didn’t know about. She put it back, empty, sealing the box to a grave of loneliness. She stripped the house of her, of the things she needed to go on with. Cutting the cord to an unhappy life there. She stood in the front room, wondering if all her life could really lie crumpled and stuffed in the small bag she held in her hand. And then she saw it, the snow globe up on the shelf.

Twinkling away through the dust at the higher realms of display. She had bought it herself, years ago. A winter market in one of the neighbouring towns had brought it into her life. She had been transfixed with the winter scene at the time, like bubbles of snow dancing in a small sea of dust in the wind. It was small, no bigger than her fist. And she had remembered placing it up on the higher shelf to give it a better chance in her life there, out of the danger zone of fists and fits.

She took it down now, unsettling the snow that had gathered in the bottom like pebbles in an aquarium. She couldn’t help herself, she shook it, making it and herself one with the disjointed feeling of a world in flux. How long she stood there, she didn’t know. No happy memories were there to be collected. Only dark shadows of the past that she wanted to put into the grave.

And then, she left.

The rest was a blur. She left the house, the street and the town. Traveling far on the little she allowed herself to spend. Finally settling in the little cottage that she lives in now, though much different from how it was when she arrived. Years of hard work had made it her home where now, she was, currently entertaining the girl from Europa. Unknowing, in part, of the little eyes who watched it all unfold, and the man of the boxes who skulked around her house.

​You may be asking yourself why she never used magic to save herself from a life so fraught at the beginning. Or why she never turned her husband fittingly to a bug to squash underfoot. That too is an interesting story. For you see, once she was married, she was taken away from her family and where she had grown up. The choking rights of marriage had labelled her practically property, and her husband had concluded that she needn’t have many things in their new home. His own were suffice. What her family didn’t know, and neither did she until later once she had left, was that he had used a bit of magic himself in the first place; to marry the lady of the jars who, at the time, was just the girl with the glass like beauty.

​This may sound all too convenient and easily explained away, but yes; sometimes life is that clichéd. He hoodwinked them all, sloppily as it turned out in the end. He had struck lucky one-night gambling and fretting away money that wasn’t his own. With a roll of unforeseen luck, he had acquired what he needed to enchant her and blanket them all with deception. It wore off of course, but by then she was cut off from her family and from the aged magic her own mother knew and possessed, which could’ve helped.

Things are sometimes hidden deep, before being rediscovered. Her mind had silenced all she had learned from her book growing up; and that’s the thing about the book itself, it needs to be with the owner. It needs to have a connection in order to tap that power and manifest. More importantly, it needs to come from a place of positivity. A submissive negative mind is not the soil in which miracles will grow.

But magic, and good magic, finds a way. Which is why the book came to her; posted by her mother when she knew she was safe and free. Knowing the how, or the why or the ways this magic helped find its way back to her, is inconsequential. Knowing why the sun sets and rises, won’t stop it doing so each day. What we do know is that once she was in possession again to such wonders, she did all she could to block out the sickening heat that reminded her of that horrible day. The magic she used for good, and to make an amends for the lost time where she was impotent of power which needed to breathe and thrive. Which is why it snows constantly there, and why she always feels happier cold and by herself rather than hot and suffering, surrounded by those flies.


 

Return

A life led well in good graces.
Smiling often, traveling places.
Banishing the darkness, only seeing the light.
Yet on the way she struggled.
Her heart and mind, forever muddled.
For in all that time she’d never found someone who was right.
People were kind, and she made them smile.
And she would stay for a little while.
Before the itch began to scratch underneath her skin.
Forever searching, but never finding.
That one to love, always hiding.
She wandered lonely still until a sudden call within.
Took her away from the crazy city.
The maddening pulse, of pride and pity.
And beckoned her back to the wild from where she’d came.
Through the trees and forests before her.
She made her way, the hidden eyes a stir.
Until she saw the tuffs and silk of a lycanthropic mane.
She felt at home in this new scene.
He wondered where on earth she’d been.
Reminding her that this had once been her home.
And in her smile there came a knowing.
A familiar feeling, a happiness showing.
That now back with nature, she would never be alone.