Shameless Promotion: Instructions Pt. 2

This is the second part of a story I've been writing following the instructions laid out in Neil Gaiman's poem called Instructions. You can read the first part here.

***

“You are looking for the castle,” The old woman says.

“Yes,” She replies softly.

“Why?”

Why is an easy question to ask, but one that is not quite so easy to answer. Niamh could answer that she wants to go the castle because that’s where all the adventures in the stories begin. She could say that she wants to beg the queen for a cure. She could say that in the castle she hopes to find her sister. All of these things are true, but none of them explain the whispering voice that tells her to go forward, or the faint, but steady compulsion that presses her onwards.

She opens her mouth to speak, but the old woman shakes her head and says: “I will tell you the way to the castle, but you must give me something first. I would like a memory.”

She looks hesitant, but nods. She has many memories, and surely giving one away would not be too much of a trial?

“Look into my eyes, child.”

Black eyes connect with green, and pictures run through her mind like water. It is weeks earlier, and Niamh is sitting on the floor in front of her mother’s bed, reassuring herself that Mama still breathes. Mama has been sick for as long as she can remember, but lately it has been getting worse. The coughs now draw blood and once tanned skin is milk pale, and sallow. Ciar enters the room, dressed in travelling attire and ready to leave. Ciar is Niamh’s older sister, and looks like a princess from the stories, with long blonde hair and bright, cold blue eyes. “I’ll be back soon.” She says, and then leaves. Only, Ciar doesn’t come back. Weeks passed and Mama got sicker and so Niamh left to go for a walk, only to decide to go to the castle, instead. She wonders if the same thing happened to Ciar.

The old woman looks satisfied with the memory, and then points to a trail between the trees that surely wasn’t there before. A thank you, and then she hurries on her way for there is something about the old women that unnerves her. When she looks back, the space beneath the tree is empty and Niamh hears the old women’s laugh on the breath of the wind.

Night is now upon the forest, and through the canopy of leaves, she can only barely see the faint twinkle of stars, and the half moon provides enough light for her to continue going forward, but not too see the twisted roots and the clinging branches and soon she is covered with dirt and bruises. She is glad that none of the small scratches have bled, for shedding blood in this forest is rather like playing tag with lightning, unadvisable at best and lethal at worst. She pauses when an owl hoots, and feels her skin crawl as the whispers from the wind being to grow louder. There have always been tales told about the wood, and most of them are about foolish girls who allowed them to be lured away by beautiful songs. Perhaps there is something wrong with her, but she though she can hear the melody, she finds its beauty akin to that of a shard of glass: lovely, but prone to cut.

She walks on, but when the path ends unexpectedly she is forced to stop once more. It is too dark to find another path and so she sits in the space between two trees and watches the fireflies dance until finally, sleep comes to take her to his domain. When she finally awakes, it is well past dawn and her dress is damp with dew. She rubs her eyes, and sees that the path indeed goes no further, but the dense tree cover thins considerably and if she tilts her head just so and squints she thinks the can see that outline of a great building and this must be the palace.

Feeling much restored after her sleep, she gets up and sets off once again through the trees. As she gets closer, it is clear that this is indeed the castle ahead of her, and that no matter how long she walks for it does not appear to get any closer until, suddenly, there it is. The trees that were beside her are now far back in the distance and she is slightly anxious that one step could have taken her so far. The castle itself is lovely, and looks like something out of a painting: all tall towers, and bright ivory. She is sure that it is the most beautiful place she has ever seen, even more so than the huge house from yesterday.

The palace grounds are empty. There are no guards, no servants: just a castle, in the middle of a field between the forest and the water. She walks slowly towards the castle door, which is wide open. She decides that this is a good sign, and slips inside, feeling very bold. Once inside though, she is at something of a loss for the castle is large, and she is just one girl and how will she ever find the queen? It is then that she sees the princesses. The littlest princess is the most beautiful, with long golden curls and bright blue eyes. When the princess says to follow her, as the queen is down over in the next hall, Niamh does not. The little girl has no shadow, and the only reason to get rid of your shadow is so you can lock it in a box, so it will not tell others of your misdeeds. This she read in an old book, and books never lie. The other two princesses both have shadows, and their smiles are much kinder. They lead her to a place where she can bathe and change clothes before meeting the queen, and soon Niamh is dressed in a grand (but practical) gown and is off to meet the queen.

Niamh has been imagining this moment for so long that now that it is here, she doesn’t quite know what to say. By the time she reaches the throne room, she is so tongue tied that all she can do it stare at the queen. It is strange, she thinks, that such a small woman can hold such a great amount of power.

The queen looks at her expectantly and so she spills out the entire story, telling the queen that her Mama is sick, and her sister is missing that is she could have the cure, everything would go back to the way it was before. And while she isn’t sure that she wants things to go back to exactly how they were, surely before cannot too tiresome.

“I will give you the cure,” the Queen says “But first you must bring me three things. I require the answer to a riddle, the heart of prince who is guarded by a dragon (or that of a dragon, guarded by a prince) and lastly, a name.”

These things do not sound like they would be easy to find, but Niamh agrees readily, for surely if it means saving her Mama, she can try.

Merry Christmas

Just thought I'd write a quick post to wish everyone a Merry Christmas/awesome December 25th.

Shameless Promotion: Champagne Asphalt

Champagne dampens the asphalt;
Bodies fill the sidewalks under the street light.
Shadows trace lines of sorrow on the grass
And outlines the pain in the sky.
“Completely fill me up” were her last words
To him.
“Completely reverse my sins” as his eyes drank her in.
A silent oath, lost on the wind.
A promise made to a shell;
A body with no soul.
Hands lost around your body,
Lips lost on the plains of your skin.
A skill for a man with evil intentions,
A skill taken in by a naive girl.
When asked she replies with a smile,
“he had charming eyes. And best of all,
He was not you”

Book Review: The Shadow Queen

Title: The Shadow Queen
Author: Anne Bishop
# of Pages: 429
Published: 2009
Genre: Fantasy
Rating: 4/5

Summary:

Dena Nehele is a land decimated by its past. Once it was ruled by corrupt Queens who were wiped out when the land was cleansed of tainted Blood. Now, only one hundred Warlord Princes stand-without a leader and without hope.

Theran Grayhaven is the last of his line, desperate to find the key that reveals a treasure great enough to restore Dena Nehele. But first he needs to find a Queen who remembers the Blood's code of honor and lives by the Old Ways. The woman chosen to rule Dena Nehele, Lady Cassidy, is not beautiful and believes she is not strong. But she may be the only one able to convince bitter men to serve once again.

This book is a pretty much the direct sequel to Anne Bishop's Black Jewels trilogy, and Tangled Webs. These books are my equivalent of beach reads, for lack of a better thing to call them. They're just nice, really easy to read and have a nice mixture of romance and plot. I can see how the world they're set in would not be for everyone, but I kinda love it and this book was no exception. We get a nice mixture of old and new characters, and (surprisingly) I actually was just as happy to read about what Cassidy and Grey were doing as I was Lucivar and Jaenelle, who are my usual favourites. Now all I have to do is wait for April for the next one to come out... Seriously guys, I am going to be broke in April with most of my favourite authors putting out new books then. I love it though.

Currently Playing: Jonathan Rhys Meyers

You probably know of Jonathan Rhys Meyers through his acting in movies, or shows like the Tudors but he actually has a really, really nice singing voice as well. The only songs I've ever heard by him are from the (awesome) move August Rush, and if anyone knows where I could find more I'd really appreciate it.

Shameless Promotion: Flightless Doves

“Find her, and terminate her”.
Cascades of flightless doves are out to get me.
Stars point them past the grassy knolls;
And into the sea.
I will cry and shiver in the silver
Moonlight.
I will trace my finger through the earth
Just to feel alive again.
Beneath the darkening sky
I can hear the cries of lost lover’s;
Who just want to be held.
Beneath my chest,
I can feel my heart stop.
The Fear of being found
Holds me back.
I can see the lights of that
Enchanted city.
But the flightless doves are out
To get me,
And I can feel their tainted blood dripping from
Their drooling mouths,
Into mine.
Give me wings,
So I can fly.
“Wait. Do not terminate.
I want to touch her before she dies”

Currently Playing: Die Mannequin

I am absolutley in love with this song. I love the beat, and her voice is fantastic. And, she is gorgeous in her own way.


Dead Honey-Die Mannequin

Shameless Promotion: Drabbles

I haven't done any writing in ages so tonight I made myself sit down and just write. I found an internet meme/prompt thing that said to put your music on shuffle, and just write for a length of a song about what ever came to your mind. I cheated and put on a special playlist, and still skipped through songs and played a couple through twice to have more time to finish what I was writing. These are all really unpolished, but yeah. You'll also notice some pretty similar themes through most of them, because that's just what my brain likes to write. These aren't meant to be connected in any way, but I'm sure you can if you want. Con/crit is more then welcome, and I'd love to hear what you guys think about them.

**

There was something exhilarating about the pounding of music, the close press of bodies and brightly coloured flashes of the electric lights. You loved the anonymity of it more than anything else; it was only around strangers that you felt you could truly be yourself. Even if they hated you, it didn’t matter because you would never see them again. It was only around your friends that you became silent and withdrawn. Once the makeup was applied, and the clothes loosed you became a whirlwind, addicted to new sensations and places and things that weren’t simple. You thrived on chaos and I always loved you for that. Nothing could stop you, and you never so beautiful as those nights when you let loose and simply lived.
**

As a child, I would often spend hours going through my storybooks. I never cared much for the words, finding them too slippery and cold, and the stories they told were always the same. No, it was the pictures that I dwelt on, the beautiful curling lines and vivid colours. Each time I looked at them they told me something different. The cheerful blue of the swiftly moving rives shifted effortlessly into the languid, lazy blue of the sky, before transmuting into the deep blue of a child’s tears. The colours would swirl and dance through the pages in their endless variety and magic and even now I often pause while walking, just to see a new story form.
**

Walk with me, you said. I had no idea who you were, but I think I feel in love with you a little bit just then. You were beautiful, if unconventionally so. You were totally unconcerned about the looks that you drew, you just grabbed my hand and we talked. We talked about everything. You told me about your childhood, I told you about why I dropped out of school. You were convinced that I was special, worth something at a time when I wasn’t even sure that I should be alive. That night, I realized that life wasn’t a goal to be worked up to, it was simply a state of being, something that you had to grab with both hands and try to enjoy.

We walked for hours until your hands were blue with cold, and we were hopelessly lost in a city we had both lived in all our lives. You helped me to realize that things might not be easy, but that there was beauty to be had in them none the less.
**

I will try to be better. I’m fraying a bit at the edges and some of the colour has drained out of me. I collect secrets and stories the way some people collect shoes and I have a tendency to say the wrong things. I’ve often wondered why you stay – people talk to you and say you could do better, but you just laugh and say that there’s no such thing. I don’t think you have any how amazing of a person you are. You give your time freely and listen to my stories, no matter how crazy they sound and then smile at me and say that I am beautiful.
**

There’s not much time left. There hasn’t been much time since this entire thing started, I suppose but now that the end is close that lack of time seems more tangible, more final. I think I’m finally coming to terms with the fact that even if I survive this, you might not. And even if by some miracle both of us make it… not everyone will. Friends, lovers, family, places that were… these things won’t all last. Already so many are gone, it’s hard to even contemplate that those of us who have made it this far might not make it to the end.

I suppose what I ultimately want to say is that if you make it and I don’t, or I make it and not you or even if we both come out of this alive… I love you. Looking back, I guess I always have, even during those years when I when I didn’t. With us, there was never any room for small emotions. Love and hate were just two signs of an equally painful, powerful coin.

Stunning Finds: Abhishek Sharma

Sorry for the lack of posts on the blog for the past little while. All of us girls are in the middle of our university winter exams. I'm the lucky one who has finished first, though this did mean I had five exams in three days, which was all kinds of fun. But yes, things should be a little more lively here soon.

Anyway, I found this gorgeous collection of photographs by Abhishek Sharma and absolutely loved them. I've always been a fan of black and white photography, and these pictures in particular are stunning.

Collision... To Go?

Ladies and gentleman, we have done the impossible: made Collision even better :P. Haha, I kid, I kid, however for the past month I've been working on something I think you guys will really enjoy... a portable version of Collision!

This is especially handy when you have no WiFi signal, you're on a road trip, on a plane, in class, etc. You can store the PDF file we've created on your desktop or print it out and carry it with you! Plus, it's really pretty to look at (though I am somewhat partial to it :P)

Take a peak by following this link to get your copy of Collision To Go :)