When… #Poetry

 

 

fantasy-2368432_960_720.jpg

Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

When she loved me,

midnight was never dark

The moon always full,

 my bed never cold

My heart ever full,

the touch of her lips

Never fading, a permanent reminder

Of when she loved me.

Now I care not for midnight skies,

The stars have fallen

from their velvet mooring

Music has no melody,

ocean waves crash

against lonely shores, soundless.

The sun has lost its warmth

The smile on a strangers face

 no longer delights me

I am outside my body looking in,

As I sit remembering

when she loved me…

AAAAA

Time and Place… #Poetry

 

clock-2015038_960_720.jpg

Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

Time and Place

I grew in darkness, forced into the light.

I did not choose these people

I hold my breath, hoping to go back.

They wait for my scream

to let them know I am truly here.

My body is fresh born, my mind older

than my parents from the nine months

spent with this woman.

I know she has lost all memory of her time before

Information that would be helpful to her life now.

She would not have allowed herself to become pregnant

She would have remembered.

I will leave before the age of seven

When my memory of past time will be lost to me.

I must continue my search for the woman who remembers

She will become my mother.

Her guidance will give my life true meaning

I will finish this life in a swimming accident.

My mother will grieve

She will have another child who will stay.

My mother knows I am coming

She waits. When next I leap

 It will not be out of time…

AAAAA

Our 5* Review for A Thousand Yesteryears by Mae Clair #ParanormalSuspense @MaeClair1

 

“Masterful, bone-chilling fiction…one intense thriller. A Thousand Yesteryears will keep you guessing, gasping and turning the pages for more.” —New York Times bestselling author Kevin O’Brien

Behind a legend lays the truth…

As a child, Eve Parrish lost her father and her best friend, Maggie Flynn, in a tragic bridge collapse. Fifteen years later, she returns to Point Pleasant to settle her deceased aunt’s estate. Though much has changed about the once thriving river community, the ghost of tragedy still weighs heavily on the town, as do rumors and sightings of the Mothman, a local legend. When Eve uncovers startling information about her aunt’s death, that legend is in danger of becoming all too real . . .

Caden Flynn is one of the few lucky survivors of the bridge collapse but blames himself for coercing his younger sister out that night. He’s carried that guilt for fifteen years, unaware of darker currents haunting the town. It isn’t long before Eve’s arrival unravels an old secret—one that places her and Caden in the crosshairs of a deadly killer . . .

 

Our Review

A Thousand Yesteryears – the first book in the Point Pleasant Series.

The opening prologue begins easily enough, schoolchildren discussing their missing friend and the rumours of a strange creature living in the swamps just outside of town.

What happened next ramps up the tension to full blast, setting the theme for the rest of the story.

Fifteen years later, Eve Parrish, one of these children, returns to Point Pleasant after inheriting her family home. Will she be able to settle the property and go back home, away from the past and its memories?

Walking back into the past is not usually a good idea, especially when such pain and sorrow is there is waiting for you. Things are never quite as you remember them, and that goes for the people too.

Eve has a job to do, settling her aunt’s estate and making it fit to be sold, but someone or something doesn’t want her there.

A Thousand Yesteryears is a fantastic story. A murder mystery, romance and a psychological thriller that will set your nerves on edge while doing its level best to scare you to death!

Beautifully written and full of tension, I enjoyed reading this story and will remember it for some time, looking forward to reading the rest of the Point Pleasant Series…

#Wordle 404

 

img_7430.png

 

Hope is an invisible thread to nowhere

like walking through life with lead-lined boots.

There is no song to lift my spirits

my foundations are weak.

The cement is mixed wrong, it’s dry, ready to crumble

I don’t believe in tomorrow

there is no surprise waiting around the corner.

The gate is closed firmly behind me

there is no turning back.

I let the trials break my life, and I have nothing left.

My heart is too soft, I let myself be walked on.

I step inside a gipsy booth, reason escapes me

I am walking blind. I placed a silver dollar on her table

her voice is soft. Cards laid out, a mystery to me

I listen as she speaks. You have let too many people

take pieces of your life.

Your revenge was not sweet, it left your heart empty,

a river running dry.

There is time to show mercy, so you too can receive.

Start your life over, let hope carry you forward

Believe…

AAAAA

#Writephoto ~ Wicker

Thursday photo prompt: Wicker #writephoto

 

Image by scvincent.com

 

Twisted sisters

From willow branches, we three are made

Step inside our sweet embrace

We will take you to the gates of hell

Knock three times, receive what is offered

If you have not wet your pants by then

We will grant the wish that is in your hand

That is if you dare to let us see

Thinking nothing good ever comes from hell

On our return, remember this

The third one is the charm

That is me. No, it is me,

I told you, it is me. Now make your choice

Which one of us will free the wish you hold?

Only one can grant it well

The wrong choice will take you back to hell

Do not linger too long in our embrace…

AAAAA

#The Sunday Whirl ~ #Wordle 403

c012dc32792c01df6c8c9bfe609af4ff.jpg

Image by Leonard Bentley

Old London

The name’s Sparrow and this is my story.

Born on the wrong side of the tracks, the dark alley down by the Bull and Rag is home to many like me. Life don’t hold out no gold permit for the likes of us.

Unwanted, we live in the shadows. The fog of London turns us invisible, helping us to find food and old clothing. Anything we can find to keep us warm in winter. Twelve years now, I have seen many, much younger. Not all survive. When one goes, we shift the body under the street lights, where for once in their lives they will be seen. When we hear the siren, we know they have been taken away to be buried, a permanent home.

A plain wooden cross with no name, he’s a number. Someone should have loved him. One of these days, I will tear down this invisible barrier, the blocks that stand in my way. I will walk the streets of London in style. Men will doff their hats; ladies in their Sunday best will smile as I pass by. The name’s Sparrow, I am part of this world, I will be seen…

AAAAA

Far Below…

 

 

fantasy-3756975_960_720.jpg

Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

 

 

 

Far Below

 

Deep below in the castle dungeon, lay a red and gold dragon.

Chained to the wall, his colours fading as the years passed.

He could hear his mate calling, but he cannot break the chains. The fire no longer burns in his chest. Love is a fading memory, the egg she laid when last he saw, grown now.

He wished for her to leave this place, forget him, his freedom will not come.

For who would be brave enough to approach a dragon, whose foul food lay all around, fed by the master who captured him.

He too could be long dead, like the foul maggot stench the dragon lived in, hope slowly dying.

A new queen has taken the throne, a new broom sweeps through the castle.

On her wanderings, she found the dungeons. Peering down a large hole, the stench almost knocks her off her feet. She hears movement, a chain rattle. Someone was down there.

Her heart thumped.

She called the guards, demanding to know what lay below.

‘It is your father’s dragon, Mam and the one who flies above is his mate.’

‘Then we must set him free,’ she said.

‘You won’t find anyone who will go down there. They are afraid.’

‘Then I shall go, have a ladder placed here while I change my garments.’

This was done, and the queen descended, a large key in her hand.

The light from above illuminated the rot she stood in. A glint of red and gold flashed with the smallest of movements.

‘I need more men. This dragon will not die in my castle. A sling must be made. I want him transported to the sanctuary of my garden. I will wash and feed him. He will be saved. Go now, before I have you all tied in his place.’

The queen was never happier than when caring for her dragon.

Watching as his mate flew overhead, each day his strength returned.

Soon he will want to join her.

Everyone in the household thought her mad.

‘As soon as he is strong enough, he will kill her,’ they whispered.

This did not happen and the day came when he flew with his mate.

The day also came when she needed him to fight for her, to keep her reign and her castle…

AAAAA

May 9: Flash Fiction Challenge ~ Growing Old… #Poetry

cropped-carrot-ranch_lc_30july17v2

May 9, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about growing older. It can be humorous, dark or poignant. It can be true or total fiction. It can be fine wine or an old fossil. Go where the prompt leads!

 

 

I don’t look in the mirror these days, because there is a road map where my face used to be.

Time makes strange marks on all of us, some you cannot see.

From my window, I have watched my neighbours grow old. Two that used to walk to town, now in wheelchairs. One used to pedal his bike everywhere, now uses a stroller.

We are shrinking back to childhood.

Others I have watched through nine months, waiting to produce new life. Now that same child walks beside her mother on her way to school.

 I watch life go by…

AAAAA

What Remains…

 

 

ruin-3414235_960_720.jpg

Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

What Remains

This once beautiful Abbey

stands lost, forgotten

Time no longer remembers

One lonely branch from the tree

reaches forward, touches the ancient stones

seeking remembered blessings

Forgotten souls lie in testament to footfall

that walked there long ago.

Unvisited headstones, their names faded

lost to the winds of time

Why do we not keep what is beautiful

built by those who went before us?

I would turn back time to see it

once more in its full glory

Coloured windows, sunlit,

throwing rainbows across the lawn

A sign, a promise long forgotten…

AAAAA