Cynthia A. Morgan's Blog, page 23

#Halloween #FlashFiction – Grave Choice

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Weariness overcame me. Darkness spiraled up from the pit of my stomach, engulfing me, pulling me under, surrounding me. I struggled against it, trying to breath in the suffocating murk, but, like a hypnotic spell, I could not resist the tugging blackness encroaching on my thoughts. Sleep leapt upon me, like a tigress with claws bared, sinking them into my flesh, penetrating deeply, inescapable.

Quiet. Blackness. Sinking. Strange sensations scathed over me. Heaviness. Lightness. Breaking through. Crashing in. Calm tranquility mixed with ethereal panic that left me searching the dimness frantically, but for what I did not know. Light? Breath? Heartbeat?

All was silent. All was Dim.

Fear crashed in on me; a thousand boulders tumbling on my body from out of the dingy night sticking to me, pounding over me without mercy and without ceasing, yet I did not fall. There was no pain, only fear devouring me in the darkness. Echoes of thought whispered from the ebon vastness around me; voices once so bright, filled with life, now empty, hollow, soundless.

What happened to the life that was inside me? Where did my vibrancy go? Try as I might, I could not draw a single breath and the sensation of existing without it was terrifying. Brackish water sloshed around my feet, pouring in from the edges of the darkness, splashing upwards in a slow, inescapable progression; yet my feet felt nailed to the place where I stood. Unable to run, I searched the emptiness around me, horrified to watch the slogging water sucking upward around me, encasing me in icy coldness.

Where was the Light? Wasn’t there a Tunnel of Light? What happened to all the preaching and teaching and reaching from Heaven? Shadows began to move in the deep darkness, slinking towards me in a haze that filled me with dread. Sounds like ravenous animals gnawing bones began to filter through to me. Screeches and cackles more horrendous in sound than any tale from the crypt I had ever heard. Insidious laughter mocked my struggles as I fought to escape the unrelenting icy embalmment closing around me.

Then all went silent as a single voice spoke from the darkness staining itself crimson over my head. I listened, aghast at the familiarity of the tone and inflection. It was my own voice. It was me, speaking out of the past to haunt my own soul and as I listened, bitter tears slipped down my pallid cheeks, falling into the freezing water encircling my chest, my neck, sloshing upward over my chin, my nose, consuming me.

“I have everything I could ever want or need. I’ve got more money than I know what to do with, more influence than I know how to use, and more friends than I can count. ……………
What do I need God for?”

Art and Fiction by

~Morgan~

 

Entombed – #Halloween #Poetry

In Tune with all that turns and spirals,
Songs detracting from depths Unknown,
Haunting lute Enchanting the feral,
Moving the dust under grass New Grown.

Tides that Shift the murky Twilight
In pitch and marrow, shuddering the Core,
Tarot Speaks when Belief Kisses night,
Tumbling down the steps of Yore.

Careful, Ye who Fancy adventure,
Marvel long but stay well free,
Entombed in mossy banks, Premature,
Locked and Staring out Eternally.

~Morgan~
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Haunting Image found at: images2.layoutsparks.com

Periphery – #Halloween #100WordStories #FlashFiction

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She stood beyond the borders of periphery; a figment of possibility whispering on the shifting tides. Immersed in shadows, she was less than ethereal; an unremembered thought, waiting. Existing in the place between reality and the beyond, she was less than a sigh; more transitory than the fleeting light of evening. No sound escaped her as she gazed with solemnity at the darkness leaking into the void she occupied. Its inexorable progression mirrored the panic welling within while a scream more horrific than that ebon nothingness pierced her unmoving chest.

Light was gone. All that remained was darkness.

And Silence.

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Art and Flash Fiction by

~Morgan~

 

Sweet Autumnal Delight- #Poetry of the #NaturalWorld

Shades of Heaven – #Poems for #Autumn

#Autumn Whispering- #Poetry and #Photography of the #NaturalWorld

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Shades of Autumn, Whispering

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Whispers of Summer, Lingering

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Lingering Reminders, Beckoning

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Beckoning Glimmers, Lilting

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Lilting Hues, Dancing

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Dancing Splendor, Shimmering

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Shimmering Autumn, Whispering

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~Morgan~

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Beautiful Original Photography by:
Tammy Hughes
Nella Pascal
Roeselien Raimond

Others found on Pinterest. Credit Gratefully Acknowledged to ALL the Gifted Photographers. Thank You~

Shades of #Autumn- #Poetry of #SeasonsChanging and the #NaturalWorld

Shades of Autumn Tempt my Thoughts

In nodding Whispers of Shimmering Dreams

Soft upon the auburn wing

As Weary Summer Quietly Gleams.

~Morgan~
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Beautiful Photograph found on Pinterest.   Credit Gratefully Acknowledged to the Original Photographer

Mute Vanity- #Autumn #Poetry of the #NaturalWorld

Whispers of chill Caress the vale

Golden and Crimson Memory

Restful is the deep exhale

As Stillness Transcends Pagentry

Soft and Lavish comes the night

of Splendor in Subtle Majesty

Sable surfeit what once was bright

Lies sighing in mute vanity

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~Morgan~
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Beautiful Photograph found on Pinterest.  Credit Gratefully Acknowledged to the original Photographer.  Thank You!

When Weakness is Strength – #Fantasy #CharacterSketch

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Ayla is one of the lead characters of Dark Fey. She was present in my thoughts from the initial dream that Inspired the story; yet she is very often misunderstood by readers. Although the story could not progress without her, even I find myself frequently annoyed by her overly emotional volatility, so I decided to give my readers a bit of background about her, as well as, perhaps, an explanation.

Born with extraordinary gifts, Ayla can easily distinguish truth from lies. She can look into the eyes and see the soul, Discerning beyond all the complications of guise. Empathy runs so deeply within her that she can even take on the pain of another and she is able to hear thoughts through Telepathic connection. This rare combination of gifts first drew attention to her as a youngling; then isolated her when she was sent off to the Temple, dedicated to a life as a Guardian of Childfey.

There she was guided by scholars who filled her mind with images of good and evil. While her friends sat in cheerful classrooms and played with other childfey, she learned about secret arts and magic. She also learned that using her gifts drains her own energy by an equal proportion to that which she extends to heal or ease anothers suffering. As a result, she tried to learn to protect herself from her own Empathic inclinations, but blocking the thoughts, emotions and pain of others remained a constant challenge for her and when she reached her eighteenth birthday and took her place amidst the communal life of the village of Hwyndarin, this difficulty compeled her to keep others at a distance.

Beautiful, yet socially awkward and frequently overwhelmed by those sentiments and passions of others that she was never able to fully master blocking, she has only one friend, but when this friend introduces her to a young malefey close to her age of eighteen summers Ayla discovers magic of another kind; the enchantment of first love. Even his love, however, cannot alter her feelings of peculiarity and isolation.

Only when she hears the whispers of one who comes in shadows and silence does she begin to understand her own strengths and her own desires. When he steps from the darkness, he throws her world in chaos, requiring her to make decisions she never thought possible; asking her to face dangers she only ever read about, and altering the course of her life forever. Yet, in the process, he helps her to understand the truth about her gifts, which have set her apart for so long.

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***A Snippet from Dark Fey The Reviled ***

“You are the only person who can help me, Ayla, because you are the only one who can know with absolute certainty what I say is the truth; that I am not deceiving you to serve my own evil purposes.” Gasping in fear, she shook her head, but Gairynzvl would not accept her refusal.

“It is your gift, Ayla, and your purpose.” She stared at him silently as tears slipped over her flushed cheeks, utterly overwhelmed by him.

“Read me, Ayla!” He growled impatiently, but she reached up and shoved him away from her with as much force as she could manage.

“I cannot!” His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“You will not.”

“You are overpowering me!” She snapped back acerbically, “I cannot read through all that emotion.”

He fell silent, considering, but he did not move away and he did not release her from the intense stare he had fixed upon her that pierced into her very essence and made her shudder. After a prolonged moment, he closed his eyes and slowly drew a deep breath; visibly calming himself before he stepped closer and re-affixed her with his resolute gaze. She watched him hesitantly, released from the waves of despondency and resentment he had again opened to her, yet still fearful of what he might do next.

Unhurriedly, he reached out for her hand, patient in a way he had not been before when she started away from him to search his eyes nervously for any indication of reassurance she might find there before offering her small hand to him. Holding it lightly in his warm clasp, he reached out for the other hand, waiting just as patiently for her to understand that he would do nothing atrocious should she give it to him as well. When she did, he drew both to himself, laying her hands upon his chest, palms down over his heart, before releasing his grasp upon her. Spreading his wings wide then, he turned his face upward, closed his eyes, and opened himself to her fully.

Ayla gasped in surprised revelation. She had never done such a thing before; never physically touched someone to read them while they stood, silently surrendered to her, revealing themselves in a manner that was intensely stirring and intimate……

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Discover More About Dark Fey on its official website

The Reviled
Standing In Shadows
Breaking Into The Light

~Morgan~

Artwork is My Own

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Resplendent – #Haiku #PoetryoftheNaturalWorld

 

Resplendent Harvest

Mother, portioning her Strength

Gentle reminder

 

Poetry and Art by ~Morgan~

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