The Universe The universe is like crazy paving You cannot avoid the cracks With each step, it changes Like a constant gardener Living in a compost heap of Earth’s wine Plucking weeds, planting bulbs where they’re not wanted Changing borders, straightening edges Turning my life into a jigsaw puzzle Pieces missing, others put in place where they don’t fit, causing chaos Surely they could have chosen a better plan on the day I was born? ©AnitaDawes2022
I told my story to the empty streets of London
While the stars stood witness to my pain
The day I witnessed Heaven burning
Leaving me with no way home
I fell to earth before the flames could reach me
My story told before I reached this realm
With so little truth to tell
Yes, my wings are less than white
Because my tongue, I could not hold
For speaking out against the Mighty One
Now they are singed beyond repair
I cannot go home without His help
Sorry is the hardest word, it burns my throat
I must find a different way
to find my rightful place among the stars
Leave the empty streets of London
To their own way of sinning…
© Anita Dawes 2021
“Journey 13, The Harbor” is the penultimate installment of the epic fantasy series “Dead of Winter.” Action abounds as many threads are drawn together. Arawn has amassed overwhelming legions of the dead. Another unexpected but powerful foe comes into the battle. All of Emlyn’s companions and friends are in grave danger as they face insurmountable odds. Two goddesses could even the odds, but gods and goddesses are known to be unreliable. Will they help?
Meanwhile the goal of the Society of Deae Matres is to re-create the Binding to again trap Arawn and any other nightwalkers in the Realm of the Dead. Yet, what about Boabhan and Lucetius? Boabhan is at least half nightwalker. Lucetius, her son, was conceived when Arawn violated her while attempting to turn her. Will they be trapped in a new Binding along with their worst enemy? This is revealed in Journey 13.
The penultimate instalment… the story of the Dead of Winter is nearly complete!
This is where the threads of this story get rather complicated and intense…
So many elements are gathering for the final showdown
The odds seem uneven, what with Arawn drawing the Legions of the Dead to his bidding. Surely, he must win with such an army at his disposal?
Away from the battle, Emlyn seems safe. But as she is an integral part of winning or losing, maybe she isn’t safe at all.
I worry that the Goddess Deae Matres will prove unreliable.
Is the Goddess trying to steal power from Emlyn and Lucetius for her own purpose? Emlyn seems worried too and that cannot be a good sign, although I do trust her to see the truth.
The new face in this journey is the small but mighty Goddess Coventina. She has arrived to exact revenge on Arawn but her alliance is not clear.
Could she do more harm than good?
An enchanting, yet frustrating episode, despite the upcoming battle.
Will they be able to make The Binding hold this time, and keep Arawn and the Nightwalkers in the Realm of the Dead?
Such a cliff-hanger at the end of this chapter, priming us for the final episode?
My tongue in spite Could split an atom Letters written in a book Would be unreadable There’s an ugly face Ready to drag me into hell No candlelight vigil To save my soul All roadways barred By a giant barrier Can I climb over, Run from death Will the rose memento In my breast pocket carry me through? ©AnitaDawes2022
My Desk ~ Editing ~ Image by Jaye Marie
I have been turning the computer off early every day this week, desperately trying to knock my current WIP into shape without any distractions
This work has not been a good write by any stretch of the imagination. I have literally lost the plot on more than one occasion, resulting in major shuffles, brain crushing revisions and mind-numbing depression.
To be honest, it probably wasn’t the best idea in the world, trying to write anything. What with all the hospital visits, blood tests and caring for the most unwilling patient in the world, someone who has no idea how to accept being incapacitated, never having been ill in her life before.
So, one way or another, the past twelve months have been a nightmare.
Desperate to do something, anything to lighten the load, I have been trying to create a little enthusiasm around here. I have tried suggesting days out (now Anita is stronger and we can go out!)
Nothing seemed to work.
I had left completed chapters of Ghost of a Chance on my desk and was upstairs changing the sheets on one of the beds when I heard loud wows coming from the office.
These sounded like good wows, so I quickly finished what I was doing and rushed downstairs.
Anita has never been interested in my writing, as detective mysteries are not her thing. So, when I discovered she had been reading the chapters AND thought they were good, the sudden burst of enthusiasm in the room was amazing to feel and very welcome. We spent the rest of the day discussing my book and my lack of progress. So, when she offered to beta read/edit it for me, I nearly hit the floor. Editing has never been her scene, always been my job and I love doing it.
Well, I did until I became a writer too, as I don’t think editing your own work is quite the same thing.
So, how is it going?
I have the first six chapters back and am amazed they are not completely covered in red ink. I am also amazed by the points raised, as just changing a few words here and there has made such a difference.
I have always admired Anita’s writing skills, to discover another of her talents has come at the perfect time for both of us…
I used to think living on my own was fine then the shadows moved in followed by voices, they want me out they say the house is theirs time to turn the tables I threw flour in the air The shadows vanished The voices remained They whisper in the peeling wallpaper Through the cracks in the floorboards I strip the wallpaper, filled the cracks The house is quiet I reclaim my sanity. ©AnitaDawes2022
Look to the Horizon
Black night when souls Fall beyond the horizon Chains crash like dark waves Against the shore Birds, pecking on glass Glass breaking Flesh torn Pierced through to the heart Is this the sound of war? The sound of sorrow? Hot tears like desert rain Taking life back to where it came Human dust fills the air Life is futile Time consists of silence The living weep All in vain… ©AnitaDawes2022