DON’T TURN THE PAGE

Getting back to writing. I’ve been writing various pieces to get back in the saddle and take back my life. Here’s something I completed recently that’s a little out-of-the-ordinary for me! It might freak you out. Sorry!

DON’T TURN THE PAGE – A VERY SHORT STORY BY WENDY ANNE DARLING

 

Chapter 13:

PROLOGUE

Be honest… the truth of the matter is that you wouldn’t have bought this book if it you didn’t believe it was about YOU.

Am I right? Or am I right?

“Come on!” you say, “I knew you had this kind of treachery in you! I knew you didn’t have what it takes. I knew you’d break down when the going got tough. I profiled you.”

It has always amazed me how your mind and body work as one to get what you need to survive. There’s a deep psychology behind that.

Did you know?

Yes – you. Did you know that?

Think about it. Come on – humour me! I’m not here for you to scream at any more – I am only words upon a page. You may feel free to curse this book until it quivers in its cover. You may throw it at a wall so many times the pages fall out.

But I am not there. I cannot hear you cursing.

And so… congratulations!

I can see you in my mind’s eye. As you have read these final lines, your fingertips caressing each personally printed line to help you keep your place and absorb my words – you have done just that – absorbed them.

I am grinning as I write this. I am imagining your eyes widening and your jaw dropping. Told you I was clever!

No – no point in stopping now. You don’t have time to wash the poison from your fingers.

Don’t you wish now that you’d been content with the Kindle version?

Farewell, my love.

XXXXXX

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Colleen’s Weekly Poetry Challenge: Magic’s Bonds

https://colleenchesebro.com/2017/10/31/colleens-weekly-poetry-tuesday-challenge-recap-a-month-of-november-poetry-prompts/

This week’s challenge; with synonyms for THANKS and FAMILY.

strong as magics bonds

It’s a WIN!

via The Heart Stone Chronicles: The Swamp Fairy – 1st Place in the Authors DB 2017 Book Cover Contest  

Gold Finalist!

gold swamp fairy

I’m so thrilled about this accolade! Maybe my book career really CAN be multifaceted! Many thanks to Colleen Chesebro for trusting me with the cover art for her book, ‘The Heartstone Chronicles, book 1, The Swamp Fairy.’

Thanks, too, to Marje Mallon, who entrusted the cover for her book, ‘The Curse of Time, book 1, Bloodstone.’ This cover was also a finalist in the AuthorsDb competition.

I’m beyond thrilled!

Wendy Anne Darling
Bookxeedo@gmail.com

WHAT DO YOU KNOW?

dragon eye

A dear friend once asked me this question: “What do you KNOW?” Not: What do you think?, What do you believe?, or What do you hope?

 

WHAT DO YOU KNOW?

 

Epiphanies tend to happen in the strangest of places, but they do usually happen when you have time to really concentrate. Mine occurred on an uneventful 8 hour drive to Albuquerque, New Mexico, several years ago.

 

It began with me rehashing in my mind, things that had occurred in my past, followed by the sudden horror of realizing the significance of my own fault in some of the worst incidents in my life. So much of what I had previously believed had happened TO me actually held elements of my own personal fault. (I’m not talking of the awful and unavoidable events that can befall a person, though no fault of their own. There ARE such things as accidents and human cruelty.)

 

Looking back, I should probably have pulled off the freeway at this point; the sudden evaporation of my life-long blame game caused a devastating thunderstorm of grief and guilt. The armor of blaming anything or anybody, other than myself, was ripped away from me and I felt as if I was bleeding to death.

 

The ME that went though this agonizing process was NOT the same ME that emerged from on the other side of it.  If you have ever read C S Lewis’s ‘Voyage of the Dawn Treader,’ you might remember the part where Eustace turns back from being a dragon to being a human. This transformation was achieved with a lot of pain. Poor Eustace had to tear the dragon skin off of himself, in order to accomplish the change he needed. (In the book, the author has Aslan help Eustace finish the job, but, as I am the author of MY OWN story, I did it myself.)

 

The shock of this process was enormous; the fake world I had built around myself vanished and the truth was so brilliant that I couldn’t bear to look at it… so deep was my shame. I felt alone and abandoned on an ocean of tears.

 

If you’ve read the story, you’ll remember that Eustace was a very different boy after his experience. So was I. I was crushed and destroyed.

 

But a brand new sunrise was dawning after the darkness of that dreadful truth.

 

As I had been knocked down, so I was lifted up.

 

The air was clear and sweet like a morning after a storm, and the clouds in my mind shone with liquid silver edges, parting to reveal a sky more deeply blue than any I had ever seen before.

 

So soon after KNOWING my fault, I found my salvation; I finally KNEW that I was personally responsible for every good and noble thing I’d ever achieved. It wasn’t some far off god who’d done those things… It was ME.

 

All the joy and patience I had ever shown, all the good and selfless deeds I had ever done; they were my JEWELS. I had forged them myself, using the ancient magic of love. Pure, simple love.

 

Finally allowing myself to feel the joy of my own accomplishments allowed me to use the shame of my failures by fashioning them into a foundation on which I would build the new, authentic ME.

 

The light in me had been buried deep; under layers of people I thought I was. Even in the darkness, I could feel it burning, warming me from the core. Maybe it was God, I thought, or a higher purpose;  the answer to Life, the universe and everything – but when I finally dug my way down to it – it was ME – my own bright spirit burning within me.

 

And I am more than enough for me.

 

Wendy Anne Darling, August 6th, 2017.

I’m not dead yet, Part Two: A Very Special Kind of Magic.

WENDYFOOTHILLS

View of Boulder, CO Foothills from my window.

I’m not Dead Yet, Part Two:
A Very Special Kind of Magic.

“Well? What about that magic?” I hear you ask.

As you have all probably guessed, my ideas about the nature of Magic could be called a little unorthodox. I believe Magic not only exists but it exists in us and in every living thing. Kind of like a pilot light for a furnace.

You can keep going with only your pilot light, simply existing until the flame dies away, or you can add some fuel and crank it up.

Q: So, what sort of fuel do you need to feed elemental magic, hmmm? Come on – you’ll kick yourself when you know what it is. 😀

A: The very best fuel to mix with that inexplicable flame is LOVE. Love and compassion for all living beings.

THAT’S IT.

Well… nearly, anyway. You’ve probably already realized that the flame of life CAN be mixed with a variety of other fuels; fear, hatred, envy, greed… all bring about varieties of magic that most of us could well do without. And, YES – even the best of us can trip up and produce bad magic, (I’ll leave my beliefs about our lizard brains for another blog post).

It has been an eventful few weeks. I can honestly say that – if I HAD to break my hip – I certainly encountered some major magic along the way!

FLUFFY

Somebody very kindly gave me an invisible dog, who I decided to call ‘Fluffy.’ To those in ‘the know,’ this was a bit of ironic fun, as Fluffy was actually a completely bald chihuahua.

One of the most fabulous acts of magic was my sister, Cat Lake-Benson, arriving to visit me from England. As we hadn’t seen each other ‘for realz’ in eleven years. large quantities of grateful tears were shed! ♥

I wish I could remember the names of some of the wonderful people at Memorial Central – the first hospital I was treated at in Colorado Springs. Their professionalism, kindness and understanding (now, that’s a story all by itself!) was phenomenal. Lainey remembers more than I can, but I put them through some unusual trials when the meds kicked in!

I was then moved to Boulder Community Hospital’s rehabilitation until, which I can actually remember more about.  If I told you that the magic of love and compassion there was palpable, you’d probably say I’m nuts. Well – I AM – but it was REAL anyway.

How often have you had to go into hospital for 3 weeks and really, seriously MISS the amazing staff and other patients when you leave? I never thought that could happen to me, but it did. Pain meds kind of scrambled me a little and I do so wish I’d written down everybody’s names as I know I will forget some as I write this.

Nurses Lisa and the amazing Nick may very well come back to life as characters in my next book. Doctor Tsu, Lisa (case manager), Kevin and Caurel (2 of my therapists). I remember more names towards the end of my stay, when my head was clearing. Laurel, Lauren, Dianna, Erica; all of my wonderful practitioners of medical and compassionate magic – even if I can’t remember your names at this instant, I can see your faces, so please comment so I can thank you by name! The simple fact that I could have walked out of there on my own two feet so soon after my fall stunned me.

Fellow patients; Gary and his beautiful wife, Alice, Charlie and his family; Hunter and Stefan, Kim and Chris. You made mealtimes disappear like quicksilver! I hope I get to meet you all again, this side of the mirror.

You all give the phrase ‘perfect strangers’ new meaning in my mind and felt to me like family and close friends by the time I left to come home.

Thank you all. Yours is a very special kind of magic.

From Wendy Anne Darling, with love.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

The Tale of Dracon and Anarion Jones

DRAGONS

The Tale of Dracon and Anarion Jones

 

Anarion Jones, with her dark hair flying

Walks Welsh mountainsides on tiptoe,

As if she purely skims this Earth

Yet never touches it.

 

Dreaming of flying, her long skirt rustling,

like a flurry of autumn leaves

She bathes in banks of daffodils

Their sun-warmed scent like perfume on her silken skin.

 

Here, she is herself, far from the fury of the fighting,

The joy of life surrounds her like a cloak.

The distant screams of swords and men

Are swallowed whole, an offering to the wind.

 

Nobody comes here; she is alone, she thinks

Yet, today, amongst the breezes, lies a presence.

Something different in her usual world

Something warm, mysterious.

 

“Be not afraid, my little one.”

A lilting voice speaks softly in the listening air

And eyes, the size of dinner plates,

Blink back at her from cover of a bush.

 

Anarion Jones, with her amber eyes flashing

Bounces to the bush without a fear

And witnesses the winds of time composing

A very different song of life and love.

 

The second that the maid beheld the dragon,

She knew her fate was sealed in his embrace

And long they wandered, star-struck on the hillside

‘Til dawn the waning golden moon replaced.

 

When, from the tops of mountains, sunlight glimmered

Returning warriors spied the couple there

Believed the lass to be the ancient evil

That brought the battle that had plagued their lands.

 

As Dracon slept, upon the verdant hillside,

In silence wrapped, the soldiers bound the girl.

They carried her into the waking village

Full heralding the witch who’d brought the darkness there.

 

Anarion Jones, her dark hair laying, shaven

Was naked stripped, and tied fast to the stake,

And, as the flames licked hungry at her paleness,

The maiden screamed a prayer to her love.

 

Down swooped the beast and plucked her from the fire

Her mortal breath was fading as he flew –

He paused and wrapped his huge, red wings around her

And their souls merged, forever to be one.

 

Anarion Jones now tiptoes in the fields of Erath

Her golden voice sings magic to the moons

For she is home, within the heart of Dracon

Who holds her safe, until the end of time.

 

Wendy Anne Darling 2016

AN UNUSUAL ENCOUNTER

PIX UNICORN

AN UNUSUAL ENCOUNTER

Some days are different from all other days. Other days, months, years seem to pivot on days like today.

I was hungry, and I went dumpster-diving behind the local grocery store.

And, suddenly, life ceased being normal.

Next to the dumpster, stood a huge unicorn; his horn sparkling in the Colorado sun, as if it was the most natural place in the world for him to be.

He lowered his head, almost as if he was looking down his nose and laughing, silently, at my confusion.

I just stood there, as you do, you know, when you’ve just stumbled upon your first unicorn.

“I, ummm, hello! I’m Wendy. Nice to meet you. Ummm… is your magic in your horn?”

“I don’t know if you’d noticed, but I have no hands. So… I can either slap you with my rather substantial tail, or I can tap you elegantly with the tip of my horn. Simple, really. But I must tell you that, occasionally, I choose simply to smack people with my tail. Sometimes that’s the only thing that seems to have any effect.”

My eyes are big as saucers, and he snickers.

“What did you think? I just prance around being NICE all the time?” He tosses his beautiful head.

I am silent.

“Child, I can sense the magic in you. I can tell if magic runs through your veins, more than death does. Don’t laugh… to me, magic smells like daffodils, but many smell something else.”

I stand, transfixed, unbreathing…

“I know if you have the capacity to turn away from hatred, leaving death behind, and drawing more magic to yourself. If you want it enough, you WILL find it. It is only a matter of time, and there is no end to time while you live.”

I could swear he almost smiled. “What on earth do you mean?”, I asked.

The unicorn throws his head in the air and laughs; as if I’ve said the funniest thing he’s ever heard.

“Earth?” he snorts, “Why do you limit your thinking to Earth? It is a lump of rock with its own timetable; spinning until it doesn’t, until its particles migrate to other realms. You just happen to exist on it, right now.”

He lowers his head and probes me with those sparkling eyes… eyes in which whole universes seem to revolve. And there is silence, for what seems like eternity.

Maybe it was eternity. Who knows?

“Human…” he eventually asks, “do you draw the magic to you, or do you kill it when you see it?”

A sudden sob escapes me and the tears flow. “I crave the magic more than I crave life itself!”

He softly touches my tears with the tip of his horn.

“Silly girl,” he whispers, gently, “they are one and the same.”

 

 

Wendy Anne Darling, 2016.

THE FIRST – AND MOST IMPORTANT – LESSON:

 

Welcome to my new blog. A new approach for a new phase of life.

I do hope you enjoy it and come visit often!
GOLD DRAGON

A Mythical Menagerie.

THE FIRST – AND MOST IMPORTANT – LESSON:

Life, The Universe, And Everything.

 

Dragons are entities with the wisdom of eternity. Many of us may not believe in THEM – but, this simply amuses them. They DO believe in us.

They have to. It’s their fault we’re alive.

They love us for our childlike curiosity – for how we seek magic; and then ignore it when we find it.

Dragons are not gods; even THEY did not foresee everything that would be set in motion when they chose to take corporeal form.  And, even they did not know that they were magic. No… not ‘magical,’ and certainly not really mythical. They are not even the SOURCE of magic. They are MADE of it.

Every atom of a dragon is the spark of LIFE.

We would not exist without their magic.

It took them a very, very long time to realize this, but, when they did, they took it seriously.

*******

You’ve all been wondering about this Higgs boson thingy? Well; here it is, in a nutshell. The Higgs boson particle is magic. Pure and simple. Life is magic and magic is life.

A dragon will not cease to exist (unless it chooses to do so; which is a whole different story. It may take on a new physical form, but the effect of ‘time,’ which was unknown until well after the dragons chose physical forms, is that everything that lives, dies. That is the irony that stirred ‘life’ into existence. The life/magic that permeates the dust as the dragon’s body breaks down is moved all over this universe. Wherever it lands, life grows. Everything that lives has at least one dragon particle in it, and some living things have the power to draw more magic to themselves.

Dragons laugh at the idea that the meaning of life, the universe, and everything is ’42.’

The answer to THAT question is – quite obviously – ‘dragons.’

There! Doesn’t it all make perfect sense now?

You’re very welcome!

 

Wendy Anne Darling ~ ‘A Mythical Menagerie.’

RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #97 Magic&Glimmer

What Happened at the Stone Table?

Just when I thought the true meaning of life couldn’t get any simpler, I wrote it in a haiku.

magic glimmer

Join us for

RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #97 Magic&Glimmer

Ronovan Writes Weekly Haiku Challenge #95 dragon & invite

Challenge: Dragon and Invite

GOLD DRAGON

Join us at Ronovan Writes Haiku for this week’s challenge

The invitation

“Light my fire,” comes only once,

Dearest of Dragons!

 

Wendy Anne Darling