To Find a Home

Posted on 30th July 2010 in Writing
Number of View :53

The hopeful run to the gates of their kennel runs to greet each person to walk by, they clamor, frantic barking ringing off the concrete walls as they scream “pick me, pick me”. Some get lucky and their frantic barking and excited jumping catch the attention of someone walking through, others spent their time sitting quietly hoping to be noticed.

At one time I might have joined in the frantic activity, but as time has gone on I’ve lost hope of finding a home outside my concrete kennel. I haven’t always lived here but memories of home grown fainter as time goes on.

My first memories, after being separated from my mother, are of chaos and noise, too many people and too many overwhelming scents. And then just when I thought I’d be overwhelmed completely there came a voice that soothed my mind, I wanted to run up and claim the soothing presence as my own but my litter mates had similar thoughts. Looking up I found my companions in madness pressed up against the front of our enclosure vying for the attention of the soothing one. Thinking it hopeless I remained where I was, my head on my paws, my eye unconsciously begging for attention.

Something about me must have caught the soothing one’s  notice for I was soon picked up and cuddled close. Licking everything in reach in appreciation I took pride in being held and let my tail wag to show it. The soothing one continued to carry me and soon I had a stiff feeling band fastened around my neck with a soft metal jingle.

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Untitled #3

Posted on 24th July 2010 in Writing
Number of View :34

(I’m not sure if I even like this as it was an assignment for a writing class but we’ll see)

Mist blanketed the snow dusted landscape while the full moon played peekaboo with the heavy clouds above. Marring the white perfection of the snow a single set of foot prints leads away from a castle and towards a dark forest. The foot prints are tiny as is the figure that made them, a girl of about six. She is alone as she has always been. Her family sits in their castle enjoying all that money can buy, yet she is not welcome because she is different, something they fear. Her eyes set her apart from her family and show the world of her preordained destiny, she is never to be trusted for they show her to be one of the maidens. The maidens, feared because of their eyes which showed them as such and for their incredible magical abilities. To someone so young that legacy is just a story ,not the reason her parents and siblings would have nothing to do with her, to the extent of leaving the room should she enter it while they were present.

The girl, Aura, was on a self motivated adventure. She had been cooped up in the castle for days on end, her parents were entertaining guests. Not used to inactivity or being cooped up for so long she had chafed and rebelled against her parents orders, sneaking out into the night. No one had ever noticed what she did before she did not believe that they would start now. Her Mother and Father had abandoned her to the care of nursed and nannies the moment she opened her eyes, giving them a glimpse of what her future would hold, and her siblings had never taken notice of her except to torment her. Once she had reached the age of four they had mainly abandoned her to her own devices.

Reaching the edge of the forest Aura stopped and glanced back towards her family’s home, a look of longing spreading over her face. She longed to be excepted and made welcome, but even at her young age she knew that acceptance was not something that would ever come easily to her. Looking at the forest Aura felt a small thrill of excitement run through her, last night she had met the most wonderful beings and tonight she hoped to find them again. Without another backward glance she bolted into the forest, to find those who said they would be her friends.

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Choices and Memories

Posted on 24th July 2010 in Writing
Number of View :40

There are days that cause me to look back at my life and wonder at the choices I’ve made. To wonder if I made the correct choices or I should have taken the other road. I’m not saying that I’ve lived an unhappy life, I haven’t I lived a very fulfilling life filled with laughter, love, peace and an equal share of worry, tears and angry words to make sure I knew to what to appreciate. But there are days no matter what you accomplish, that you can’t seem to help yourself from looking back and saying “what if”.  As I sit here in my advanced age I have plenty of time to ponder, my children are grown and my children’s children are half grown and in no need of another person telling them how to grow and learn.  Looking back I have to admit that there is one moment that while I can’t regret it I do wish that life came with a do over option. I had a choice to believe and take something on faith alone and at the time I couldn’t do it, I wasn’t strong enough. Because of that inability of simply believe I lost a chance at what could have been either the beginning of one of the happiest lifetimes a person can lead or the beginning of one of the most miserable, but I’ll never know because I had no faith and that will always be at the back of my mind. Before you think I’m just some loony old woman rambling about a past only she remembers let me tell you a story. It isn’t my story, mine is nowhere near as interesting. This story has an importance beyond the words used to tell it. So please take a seat, get comfortable and for those who think “the proof is in the evidence” please try just for a moment to suspend your disbelief that this is more than just a bed time story for children to inspire pleasant dreams.

In the days of the past it wasn’t uncommon for a household with a daughter of marriageable age to wake to a gift from an unknown suitor upon opening their door in the light of dawn. Never would a name be left with the gift, instead it would be the daughter’s duty and right to search the gift for the unique symbol that denoted each individual suitor.  Tradition was that the symbol as much as the gift were designed to woo the daughter of the household with each tailored to be something to beautify the household, some luxury that the suitor wanted to show he could provide or something meant solely to entice the daughter into wanting to accept the suite.  Should one be accepted over all others his symbol would be placed upon the door of the household to show their favor and to request a more formal courtship arrangement.

So when a father woke one morning to find a wreath of pansies, heather, clover and ash wood he thought nothing of it. Though the daughter of the house looked she could not find a symbol to show who was courting her family’s favor, thinking nothing more than it had been carried off by the wind the family enjoyed the wreath and thought no more of it, expecting to find other such tokens upon the next dawn.  Upon the next dawn, the father opened the door and stepped over the thresh hold looking avidly for another gift to present to his daughter, hoping to finally gain a son through marriage should the gifts meet his daughters approval, only to find no gift waiting. Disappointment would soon give way to the need to carry on with the daily tasks of attending to crops and farm stock and the lack of gift was soon forgotten. This would repeat for several dawns until the father began to give up hope that someone was indeed seeking permission from the household to openly court their daughter.

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A Bed Time Story

Posted on 24th July 2010 in Writing
Number of View :156

(This story is going to be undergoing major re-writes at some point in the future, feel free to let me know what you like and what you don’t like about this version)

The night sky was lit briefly as a jagged bold of lightening flashed against the dark storm clouds, making Niamh look up from where she hid. The buildings between which she crouched sheltered her, to some extent, from the freezing rain pouring down out of the sky. The thick fur of her current form conserving what little body heat she had left; her coal-black coat of her wolf form concealing her deep within the shadows of night.
Waiting was not her strongest ability, nor was remaining still while cold. Tired of trying to count the number of raindrops hitting her, Niamh started fidgeting. She was the best hunter in the Queens service. Her name was whispered in fear by those she hunted, the practitioners of the dark arts. She hunted them down and brought them to atone for the evil of their actions, dead or alive, by order of the Isles Queen.
Straining the senses of her borrowed form Niamh tried to locate the scent of her prey, a man called Vache. As the cold rain water began to penetrate her dense undercoat she finally caught the scent of him. Pulling her paws beneath her body, Niamh silently pushed herself to her feet and began moving toward where the street met the alley in which she stood. Moving through the shadows, silent despite the garbage littering her path, Niamh approached the man from behind, catching him unaware. With the help of a small bit of magic she kept him from sensing her presence Pausing a few feet behind Vache she crouched down again, this time preparing to strike, even as she sent her senses outward, searching for anyone or anything close enough to interfere. Sensing nothing she gathered her magic around herself and sprang at the mans back, her momentum and weight toppling hit to the ground and pinning him to the ground, Niamh upon his back. .
As he lay there trying to gather his wits and fight the ninety or so pounds upon his back Niamh was already channeling power and translocating them from the dark, storm harassed alley to the middle of a cobblestone courtyard. Submersed in magic she barely felt the freezing cold of the magic induced passage or the momentary lack of oxygen. Withing a minuet of leaving the alley the destination had been reached. Under the close supervision of the palace sentries and guards she moved off the prisoners back and onto the ground. A moment later and Niamh stood in her true form, that of a rather petite woman.
Tossing her waist length braid of blue black hair over a shoulder, she watched as the prisoner was secured for transport to the magical detention center. Commotion at the other end of the courtyard caused her to look away from the scene before her and transfer her gaze to where a man was struggling in the grip of three guards. Recognition hit her almost the instant she met the mans eyes, denial following a moment later. Giving the immobile form of the dark practitioner a last glance Niamh flicked her right wrist outwards, a movement the Guard Captain at her side instantly recognized and acted upon. As the Captain began shouting orders for the prisoners transport Niamh felt the hair on her arms and the back of her neck stand up, and knew without a bothering to look that the man had thrown off the guards and was moving straight towards her.
Pivoting on her heel, calm as if she had an eternity to act, Niamh moved toward the archway separating the walled courtyard from the garden beyond, outside the castle walls. Darting towards the archway and the freedom beyond Niamh let he magic flow through her body once more, changing her form back into that of a wolf.
Running flat our through the formal garden Niamh scattered Nobles and Commoners alike with her appearance, as she ran towards the forest that stood tall and proud at the edge of the garden. She felt positive that if she could make it into the forests depths no one, not even Aidon, would be able to find her should she not wish it, after all he had been the one who had told her that it was impossible to track someone once they were in animal form.
Jumping over mossy logs and slipping under low hanging branches Niamh continued to put distance between herself and Aidon, until the sense of being hunted faded. Slowing her pace a fraction she changed from again, this time taking on the form of a panther, even as she leapt from the trunk of a near by tree. Claws digging into the soft bark she made her way up to a thick branch, some fifteen feet above the ground, stretched out on the limb and hidden from view by the thickness of the foliage Niamh began the painful task of trying to understand why he was back at court, after swearing it was the last place on earth he would want to be. Aidon, just the sound of his name was enough to reopen the wound upon her heart. He had shown her how to harness her magic and channel it to allow the changing of ones form. He had taught her how to fight, how to survive and she in turn had tried to teach him how to care for another person.
He had been a soldier for hire, a mercenary, caring only about when the next paycheck would arrive, when her aunt had hired him as an instructor for her ward. In a world where magic was common ever shape shifter was need to find the dark practitioners before they had a chance to do much harm. Knowing this her Aunt Margaret had only wished to provide Niamh with the skill need to survive and Aidon has seemed the best instructor of those skills. From the moment of introduction sparks had flown between them, both had thought they knew everything and need no help.
Time had moved forward and as the seasons changed so did their relationships, sparks of antagonism changing to sparks of attraction. Far too quickly the attraction had grown to love on her part and quiet indifference on his. She had once and only once tried to tell him of her feelings but when the man you love calls you kid and asks what the grown ups can do for you, it is a little hard to do more than fume. It had been then that Niamh had realized the way his feelings ran and that realization had prompted her to stay as far away from him as possible. Something he made easier by leaving just days after her attempt to tell him of her feelings.
In the face of her despair she had moved on, in order to keep her mind off of the way her heart was bleeding, she had joined the Queens service as was her destiny and begun the task of tracking down the most powerful of the dark practitioners. Her job gave her the needed outlet for her emotions and a place to utilize her skills but for every dark practitioner she was forced to kill she lost a bit more of her soul.
Twitching her tail from side to side Niamh scented the wind, not for a second trusting Aidon to give up once she was out of sight. Catching his familiar scent on the wind she stilled at once, hoping that she hadnt given away her hiding place with the thrashing of her tail. Had she but listened a bit more closely or used her magical senses to search the entire area around the tree Niamh would have found Aidon sitting on a branch above her in the form of an eagle.

* * *

Watching from above Aidon felt that sense of pride that fills a teacher when the student does as they have been taught. Finding her had not been easy for him, for in the past two years she had gotten far more skilled than he would ever have thought possible. Deciding it was time for them to talk about what had sent him running after she had come to talk to him. He had know what she was about to say, that she felt more than attraction towards him, and he had panicked. He hadnt know what to say to her should she say that and so had cut her off by calling her kid and had then let her leave fuming only to run a few nights after that.
Letting his own form transform Aidon waited for awareness to hit Niamh. With his back leaning against the trunk of the tree he was the perfect picture of outward calm but inside was nervous as a mouse sitting before a cat. He had seen her reaction in the courtyard and it had hurt him just a little to see her run from him, but he reasoned it was only fair since he had run from her.

***


Feeling the pulse of magic above her Niamh knew that he had found her, for all her skills Aidon had found her. Standing she didnt bother looking up, knowing if she did she might do something she would regret later, like gushing over how glad she was that he was back. Instead she leapt of the branch and to the ground using magic to cushion her fall even as she took on her true form again. With strides as long as she was capable Niamh started back towards the palace content to ignore him since hiding was now out of the question.
She hadnt walked more than five feet when she ran into a solid object that was warm and breathing. Looking up Niamh felt her breath catch as blue eyes met blue eyes and held. Even with him standing before her and his realness validated by the solidity of his chest Niamh had to touch him to make sure she wasnt dreaming, for even though he had hurt her badly she still loved him.
As her fingertips touched his face she suddenly knew the why behind his running, he had been scared of hurting her. Looking at him Niamh suddenly realized how much time they had wasted running from each other. Without thought she stood on her toes and used her hand to pull his head downwards, kissing him quickly before she could lose her nerve. Giving him a sly glance as warning Niamh let one of Aidons favorite personalities quirks shine through with a smile she ran her nails down his side, the one and only ticklish spot upon his body. With Aidon in the throws of unstoppable laughter Niamh felt a sense of contentment flow through her and felt the missing pieces of her soul return, everything would work out now that she and her mate were together.

***


Closing the storybook Rhiannon was stuck by how much her daughter resembled her Great-Grandmother Niamh. To the child the story was just that a silly bed time story, but Rhiannon knew better the tale was the beginning of a much greater story. But looking down at the innocence in her daughters sleeping face she knew that the rest of the tale would have to wait until Kalila was old enough to see the parallels between her life and that of her Great-Grandmothers, for Kalila was still too young to realize that she too had the ability to shift her form to anything she so wished.

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Walking to a Decision

Posted on 24th July 2010 in Writing
Number of View :70

(Ignore the typo’s for now I’m slowly getting them fixed and switching the Gaelic words switched back to English)

Watching the wind lift the red gold leaves from their perches upon the tree branches and scatter them across the grassy ground Raven felt a soft sigh escape her lips. It was a beautiful fall day with just the right amount of wind to fly and yet here she sat upon the ground while everyone else she knew was out enjoying the wind currents. Looking around her Raven wasnt surprised to find herself alone on the tulach.
Rolling onto her back she looked longingly at the sky. The sight of the clouds moving slowly across the multi shaded blue sky causing the need to feel the sharp bite of the wind to be even stronger than before. To feel the rush of air against her face and the currents surrounding her body was second only to the actual experience of soaring far above the earth. How she wished she could leap up, spread her wings, take flight and leave the earth behind for a time. But her right wing would not allow that just yet, the bones had knit themselves back together but as of yet were still too weak to support her in flight.
As afternoon began to turn to evening Raven could still be found lying on her back, delicate wings carefully wrapped around her slight form, starring up at the sky with longing. Finally the chill of autumn crept up her spine as a gentle mist began to cover the ground. Standing she took one last look at the sky before limping off towards a light shining in the distance.
The ground was damp and rocky making her progress across the land even slower than it had been that morning. Almost healed bones, muscles, tendons and ligaments crying out in pain as the damp chill set in for the night and the rocks tested newly formed connections between bone and muscle. Grimacing Raven pushed all thoughts of pain to the back of her mind, concentrating instead upon the trial of putting one foot in front of another in order to get home. Home, it was odd for her to think of a palace as home and the people there as family. She had been born to a poor farming family, or so she had been raised to believe. Her sixteenth birthday had brought with it the true tale of her birth as well as her true relatives. Now instead of being the daughter of a poor farmer she was one of the Banrions Elite Guard, a bodyguard, friend and niece. Her thoughts were soon interrupted by the rocks giving way to the soft sand marking t he path back to the palace and its surrounding village. Groaning softly from the agony of her still healing body, Raven stopped to lean against a tree, trying to regain her breath so she could keep moving. Resting her thoughts returned to what had brought about her injuries.
In the world there existed eight Faerie Kingdoms, of those eight scattered across the Mortal Lands six were eternally committed to a position of neutrality while war ragged between the other two. One kingdom pledged to the Bandia of Peace and Life, Ilona, and the other pledged to the Bandia of Chaos and Death, Ardis. It was assumed that battle between the two kingdoms had begun at the moment of creation, for no one could remember its true beginning. Slowly over the years the war had all but come to a stand still, with open hostility replaced by behind the scenes plotting a scheming, and sword to sword combat replaced by the unseen knives of assassins. While those of common birth had little to fear of an early death due to the war, it was a constant fear for the Nobility. As the number of assassinations and assassination attempts grew the rulers of the Faerie Kingdoms began tempting the most talented and loyal Faerie youth into their service as part of Elite Military Units. The youths would then under go a training regimen designed to turn them into loyal bodyguards and skilled assassins.
Raven had entered into the midst of the Rhine Court at the age of sixteen, after learning of her true parentage. Having had her world turned upside down by the news that Brenna of Rhine, sister of the Faerie Queen Rhiannon, was her Mathair, Raven had need a new purpose for her life. Hailed as the most talented Trodai of the time she had joined the Banrions Elite Guard, or Scail Coimirceoir as many called them. Her skill with a sword honed to its sharpest Raven had become her Aints most trusted guard and deadliest weapon. Dressed in the clothing of a noble woman no one had ever given thought to her place at her Aints side, in fact most never took notice of her presence until it became too late.
Her injuries were the result of the latest attempt on her Aint Rhiannons Life by assassins in the Service of Banrion Valda of Thyne. His Target had been her Aint, but as always before Raven had gotten in his way. Locked sword to sword the two of them had fought, wings beating madly as they moved across the sky. A quick thrust to an unguarded side had won Raven the sword battle, but the possibility of a magical aspect had been forgotten in the rush of combat. As the assassin had tumble from the sky, clutching his hands over the mortal wound, she had found her wings caught in a magical net. Unable to move her wings she was soon spiraling towards the earth with no way of preventing her impact. In vane she had tried every bit of magic she could think of in hopes of dispelling the net, but her decent rate had been too fast to find the right bit of magic in time.
Impact with the ground induced a state of unconsciousness. It had a been a blessing for while she was removed from all sense of the world and the pain invading her body the healers had been able to move her to a quiet room and begin the process of healing her broken body, without having to give her pain blockers, which more often than not ended up causing more damage than good.
It had taken the four Palace Healers almost a week to move bones, muscles, tendons and ligaments back into their proper places. Having accomplished that they had spent hours with each area of injure encouraging rapid healing. Drained of energy and magic they had then left the rest of the healing up to Ravens body.
Four months after the assassination attempt the healers had allowed her out of bed and today, the fifth month of her recovery they had allowed her to venture beyond the walls of the palace and village. Having already gone stir crazy due to the restrictions placed upon her Raven had not stopped to consider how far she had gone. Now as she stood leaning against the tree Raven knew she had walked too far for her first excursion alone since being injured. Catching a glance of the full moon floating through the clear night sky Raven was struck, again, with the longing to fly.
Pushing away from the tree slowly, Raven resumed walking, hoping that she could reach her home before too many people began to worry. Moving as quickly as she dared over the soft sand of the path Raven was for once struck by the loneliness of night across faerie lands. Few faeries possessed the skill to fly at night and few were willing to walk any distance if they could avoid I, to most faeries walking was an activity that was beneath them as they possessed the ability to fly. That left the sky and ground clear of faerie folk and what animals would fill the night with their presence normally had long ago been driven off by the magic infesting the air and land. As she walked there was no sound other than the soft thud of her feet upon sand to fill the night.
Walking, alone in the night, Raven was forced to face some things the healers had said and some things she had been thinking of. If the healers were right, and they seemed rather assured that they were, her body would fully heal, but it would never be as strong as it had been. Her wing would support her in normal flight but would more than likely never allow her to maneuver as quickly or as accurately as she had been able to in the past. Her leg and her arm would be much the same. The healers were confident that her arm would heal enough that she would be able to hold a sword again and perhaps be strong enough for her to fight briefly and her leg would heal to the point it could hold her during a training session. But all four Healers agreed that she would never again be strong enough to stand at her Aints right side, as her most trusted guard. While they had done what they could, the fall had cause too much damage throughout her body, enough that she wouldnt have survived if not for their skill. From the moment she had woken up she had been faced with two options, but she had avoided thinking about what she would do until now.
She could upon the healers declaration of fitness try and return to her position at the Banrions side or she could admit now that she would never be well enough to protect her Banrion. Option one held the appeal of not giving up, while option two held the appeal of her Aint being safe with a guard who they knew could protect her.
Walking down the sand path Raven began to understand why she kept avoiding making a decision. To choose either path would mean she had to admit that she was not as strong as she had been. To her that was in a way something of a death sentence. She had always been the smallest of the faerie at court, her small frame, emerald eyes and long black hair marking her as a curiosity among so many tall blue eyed blonds. Add to that the fact that upon entering the court she had been hailed as the best trodai at court and you have a recipe for denial should those skills ever be called into question. Protecting the Faerie Banrion had been her life since entering the court, her mission and now with her strength to do so called into question Raven was at a loss as of what to do. Sighing yet again she stopped to rest, sitting on a rock. Looking around she tried to find evidence of someone close by but all she saw was darkness and all she heard was silence.
The pain at bay again for the time being, she pushed herself to her feet, groaning as tired muscles protested yet again what she was doing. Placing one foot in front of the other she began walking again as thought of what to do romped in her mind. Time seemed to move slowly as Raven walked, weighing her options and trying to seek a balance between them. She was so lost in her thoughts that she walked by four dwellings without even noticing.
The moon was directly overhead, signaling midnight, when Raven reached a decision. It would not be right to return to her position at the Banrions side as a guard; even fully healed she would still have to many weak areas, but that didnt mean she would be leaving her Aint unprotected. In all her haste to reassure herself that she wasnt less of a trodai because she was weaker Raven had forgotten one of the most important lessons the man she though of as her father had taught her before his death, Those who cant do teach. That she realized is what she would do, she would become a teacher to those who joined the Banrions Service still protecting her Aint if only from a different angle.
With a lighter heart Raven picked up the pace towards home, ignoring the pain of her body in her eagerness to begin the next phase of her life. She had been offered a second chance, something not normally granted, and now she finally knew how she would use it. Passing through the village and into the courtyard surrounding the palace Raven was too absorbed in her excitement to notice much and so ran into the broad chest of one of her childhood friends, Adri.
Looking up into his clear blue eyes Raven was confronted with yet another set options, things she hadnt until this moment considered. Shooting Adri a sensual smile Raven raked her gaze from the top of his head to the tip of his toes, liking what she saw, before she slipped around him and into the Palace on her way to inform her Aint of her choice and to think on matters pertaining to the opposite sex, for it would be a shame to waste such a wonderful specimen of the male Faerie body on a air head of the court.

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Writing…

Posted on 24th July 2010 in Writing
Number of View :42

So I’m going to attempt to edit and finish some stuff in the hopes of being able to submit to some of the Short Story Contests put on by publishers so I’d like to Solicit any and all opinions and criticism (well as long as it’s constructive). To help I’m going to move some stuff I wrote a few years ago over to this blog as well so everything I’m working on is in one central location.

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