Cynthia A. Morgan's Blog, page 246

The Safety of the Harbor

The safety of the harbor was never meant to hold us back

but to only give us the strength and courage

to continue in the journey.

Rest

and launch

your vessel, into the sea again.

        

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies

Hi, my name is Nico, and I would like to thank Morgan for allowing me to be a guest blogger. What a blessing! 

You can find me here:

http://www.nicodemasplusthree.wordpress.com

http://www.themysticalforest.wordpress.com

Filed under: Guest Bloggers on BnV, Poetry Tagged: poems, Rest, Safety

Silence Stirring on the Wing – #Poetry of the #NaturalWorld

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Silence Stirring on the wing

As Midnight Tenderly Entrances and Sings;

Whispers of enigmatic lore,

Indigo shadows Silently Implore

Through Stirring Softness Delicately Waiting

While the intrepid heart stands debating;

Hush of Brazen Beauty crying

On the Silent breeze, Tantalizingly Sighing!

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~Morgan~

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Beautiful Original Photography by:  Mikko Lagerstedt

Filed under: Poetry Tagged: Beautiful Photographs, Beauty, BnV, BooknVolume, Inspiration, Natural World, Nature, photography, Poem, poetry, Poetry Blog, Silence, Winter, ~Morgan~

#FridayFeyDay – #IndieAuthorSpotlight on The Writers Block Workshop

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So much is happening lately with Dark Fey, I am admittedly beyond excited

#FridayFeyDay – A Few Little Knowns – #Author #Interview

 

Fellow Author and Creative Spirit Uvi Poznansky Recently paid me the honour of talking with me about the ‘little knowns’ of Dark Fey, no only what inspired the tale, butwhat makes the characters unique and what message the story relates.

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What Inspired you to write Dark Fey?  Many have asked me to explain to them what Dark Fey is about and how it was inspired.  The original inspiration for the story came to me through a vivid dream, which I could not stop thinking about days afterward.  As I thought about it, the characters stepped out of the shadows of the dream and demanded my full attention, so I finally sat down and wrote out the entire scene as I saw it in my mind, which is now Chapter Six of The Reviled.(which you can preview in its entirety here)

Tell us about your characters and what makes them unique?  First and foremost, the Feyfolk of Jyndari (which includes the Fey of the Uunglarda) are winged beings the size of any human, rather than ‘tinkerbells’.  Each Fey is born with an inherent gift, something that comes naturally to them that they must learn to hone and use responsibly.  Many Fey are telepathic; they can read the thoughts of others and can project their thoughts into another’s mind if that Fey is also telepathic.  Some are Empathic; they can read and often feel the emotions of others.  Fewer have a gift of Discernment.  These Fey are able to mentally connect with another and gain an intimate understanding of the other; knowing them as well as they know themselves.  A rare few are Dream Walkers who can enter another’s mind through dreams or nightmares.  With these gifts, the Fey of Jyndari have a unique way of communicating with each other on a non-verbal, often far more intimate level than we humans do; however, because of this these gifts also require strict moderation.  Fey are taught from a very early age not to ‘read’ or ‘delve’ without permission and doing so is considered an offense against privacy.

Many, though not all Fey, are also born with a gift of magic unique to them.  Some are spell-casters; some are able to manipulate the forces of nature; some have exceptional speed or strength, and others are able to bend light.

What point of view did you write Dark Fey from and why?  In nearly all my writing I utilize an omniscient third person POV. It’s simply how I’ve always written and, because I tend to focus on the emotional connection between characters, it’s often a better way to relate their state of being. I didn’t really give it much thought when I began writing Dark Fey; yet as the story progressed, it has become an emotionally charged tale and the all-knowing perspective has allowed me to share those emotions with my readers in a powerful way that draws them into the story.  Additionally, the gifts the Fey of Jyndari utilize in their communication with each other is based as much upon emotional understanding as verbal comprehension, and being able to share these emotions with the reader brings the tale to life in a far more vivid manner (at least, I think so.)

 

What is Dark Fey all about?

The story of Dark Fey is set in a mystical realm of my own creation called Jyndari, but the message is relative to our own reality.  It is a fantasy, a romance and a tale of suspense and mystery, but the moral undertone is inescapable.  That being: the Power of Hope, Acceptance and Forgiveness can change the world, if you take Positive Action to Create Change through doing what is Right.  As Evondair says in the third book of the trilogy: “The only way to achieve Peace is to become Peace.”

This message came partially as a result of learning about the LRA (Lord’s Resistance Army) in Uganda, where militant rebels have been abducting children for over 20 years, integrating them into their army through abuse and cruelty, and forcing them to endure lives of violence.  I was moved to my very spirit by such a horrifying truth and chose this medium to share a similar story. However, unlike our own reality where this atrocity continues even today, the Fey of Jyndari choose to change their world by taking Positive Action through Sacrifice, Acceptance and Forgiveness.

It is my greatest hope to be able to donate a portion of the proceeds from the sales of Dark Fey to UNICEF’s work in Uganda where they actively rehabilitate the children affected by the LRA.

 

Thanks Ever so much Uvi! Please do be sure to stop by Uvi’s blog to check out her books AND artwork!

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~Morgan~

Filed under: Dark Fey, Friday FeyDay / Fantasy Tagged: Author Intervies, BnV, BooknVolume, Books to Read, Epic Fantasy, Fairy Tales, Fantasy Books, Kindle Books, Readers, Recommended Reading, YA Fantasy, ~Morgan~

#FridayFeyDey – Yuletide Memory – #DailyHaikuChallenge

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Yuletide Memory

Reborn from ancient Rebirth

Tradition living

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To take part in the Daily Haiku Challenge see The Original Post from Day One

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Day 51 / 365

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~Morgan~

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~Morgan~

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Beautiful Original Artwork by:  ironshod at deviantart.com

Filed under: Daily Haiku Challenge, Friday FeyDay / Fantasy Tagged: BnV, BooknVolume, Dragons, Fantasy, Magic, Memory, Mythical Creatures, Mythical Realm, Poem, poetry, Poetry Blog, spirituality, ~Morgan~

#FridayFeyDay – Beguiling Complexity – #Fantasy #CharacterSketch

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One of the most complex characters of the Dark Fey Trilogy is unquestionably Mardan, the Celebrant-spell-caster-turned-Warrior-Fey-Guard.  With piercing, cerulean eyes, platinum blond curls and a powerful physique with imposing white wings, he is undeniably striking in his masculine appeal.  Although he does not possess a gift of telepathy, empathy or discernment as most Fey do, he does have a gift of magic, which is far less common; although he guards this secret jealously.  He is gentle of nature, yet he can be fierce and implacable; he is spirituality-minded, but irrefutably obstinate and to top it all off, he has a sense of loyalty that no one would dare propose he contradict.  Although I introduced him through the romantic affiliation he has with lead character Ayla, it did not take long for me to realize that he was far more complicated than I originally suspected and as his interactions with additional characters evolved, I found him more and more beguiling.

Mardan is a young malefey round about the age of 21.  As is the custom of Feyfolk, his parents dedicated him to life as a Celebrant; a leader of spiritual and religious ceremonies (rather like a priest, though with a far less austere in lifestyle.)  Loyal to their wishes, he entered into the study of the rites and rituals of Fey mysticism at the Temple complex and, in the onset of Dark Fey The Reviled has only recently begun practicing.  He meets Ayla at Summerfest and begins a relationship with her; yet her own self-doubt, as well as the introduction of lead character Gairynzvl, the Dark Fey who seeks Ayla’s help to escape his captivity among the Reviled, alters the course of his plans…and his life.

Mardan may have the gentle devotion of a Celebrant, but he also has the heart of a warrior.  Even in the face of potential disaster when facing the imposing ferocity of a full legion of Reviled and its Centurion; Mardan’s selfless courage, as well as his belligerent rebelliousness, shine brightly.  Giving his utmost to protect not only the shefey he has grown to love, but even the Dark One that has thrown their lives into chaos; Mardan’s true nature begins to assert itself and, although he stubbornly tries to adhere to the dedication set in place for him by his parents, to whom he is resolutely loyal, it becomes increasingly difficult for him to deny the Fey Guard in his heart.

His struggle to understand and, ultimately, be true to himself is one many share and like many of us, he finds that his true purpose does not find clarity until he accepts the truth about himself and who he is.  This does not happen until the middle of book two Standing In Shadows , yet when it does we see an entirely different perspective of him.  No longer the tender lover, nor the Celebrant constrained by custom and traditional expectations; once Mardan comes to terms with the truth about himself, that he is a fearsome warrior and a Fey of turbulent passions, his life (and character) finally come into focus.  Then, his boldness, often caustic wit and impatience to act combine into a personality that is not only compelling, but beguilingly complex and, possibly, (Hopefully!) irresistible.

(Though this is a close representation- Mardan has much more platinum blond hair)

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In case you find yourself intrigued, I’ve included a few Snippets from The Reviled to better illustrate his shifting personality:

From The Reviled:

“Ay, I do not want to upset you and I do not want to argue with you again, but I know something has been troubling you these past weeks.  Can we not talk about whatever it is?  If I am doing something to offend or displease you, I cannot alter it unless I know what it might be?”  He spoke softly and to his surprise, she burst into tears and flung her arms about his shoulders, burying her sadness in his comforting embrace.  Tenderly, and without regard to the inappropriateness of the hour, he led her inside her cottage and closed the door behind them….

She tried to contain her emotion so she could speak plainly, but her tears would not relent and then, to her dismay, she realized she could sense his presence.

“Oh, not now!” She breathed in exasperation, utterly confounding Mardan.  He turned his head to one side and stared at her with a furrowed expression, bewildered.

“What have I done,” he asked uncertainly, but Ayla shook her head.

“It is not you, Mardan.  You have done nothing wrong.  I simply…” she struggled to find the words, but they eluded her.  Distracted by the sensation that he was unusually close, and desperate to be alone in order to discover his intent at long last, she attempted to bounce to her feet, but Mardan caught her wrist and refused to permit her escape.

“Then why do you treat me this way?”….

“Ayla.”

For one brief, horrifying second Ayla heard a whisper that made her jump to her feet; wrench her arm from Mardan’s steady grasp and spin round in desperation seeking the source of the sound she had just heard.  Mardan watched her transfixed, astonished beyond words by her irrational behavior, but she could not bring herself to stop.  The whisper had been so soft, but she had heard it; he had clearly spoken her name.

“Did you hear that?”  She turned and asked Mardan abruptly.  He got to his feet slowly, perplexed as well as curious.

“What did you hear?”  Ayla turned back to gaze out the parlor window, stretching her senses forward like a fisherman casting a net into dark waters.  He was there, just beyond the margins of the forest.  Yet he had whispered her name and she had heard it.

“Did you not hear it?”

“Hear what, Ay?”

“My name.  It was a whisper, but it was my name, I am sure of it!”  She exclaimed hurriedly, unaware of how peculiar such a statement sounded. Mardan stood quietly a moment, endeavoring to fathom her suggestion.  If she had heard a whisper, then the speaker should have been within the house, within that very room, but she was staring out the window toward the forest.  Mardan stepped closer.

“Someone whispered your name from outside?”  He asked, clearly bewildered, however when she spun around on her heel to rebuke his disbelief, he reiterated swiftly.

“Ay, I did not hear anything, but if you heard a whisper, surely it did not come from outside.”  His attempt to illustrate her actions in some logical context made her pause; of course he was correct.  She realized how ridiculous she appeared, but she only wanted to seek answers to her many questions about him before he disappeared again.

“I must have sensed it.”  She muttered, half to herself.  Mardan raised an eyebrow at this and shook his head, but said nothing more; her conduct simply too baffling to abide.

“You heard nothing?”  She asked again, ceasing her restless pacing to gaze up at him realizing at last how he stared at her with a completely confounded expression.  Raising her hands to mollify his obvious irritation, she retraced her steps to him, shook her head and drew a deep breath before delving into a long withheld explanation.

“I realize how crazy I must sound.”

He did not deny it. …….

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And from later in the book when he confronts Gairynzvl:

A thunderous crash broke the silence filling the room and light flooded inward.  Ayla screamed, even before waking fully, and curled into a protective ball upon the settee as the sound of voices echoed about her, harsh words clashing like swords.  At the first sound, Gairynzvl spun about to face the unexpected danger.  Pushing back his broad wings, he sheltered her from view as much as he was able, fearing his legion had located him and forced their way through the brightening morning to deliver retribution, but as he turned, a powerful blow crossed his face and he stumbled backward.

Tumbling to the floor, Ayla scrambled away from the fray, seeking safety in spite of  not clearly understanding what was happening; nevertheless, when she reached the far side of the room where she could cower behind a tall wooden book cabinet, she peered past its shielding structure and watched, horrified, as her Celebrant friend and lover flexed his broad, brilliantly white wings, turned deftly, and delivered a brutal kick that caught Gairynzvl across the shoulder, cheek and chin, sending him stumbling, but his crimson, dragon hide wings countered his balance before he could fall.  Stretching outward, he slashed with a twelve inch spine like a blade and a bright crimson gash opened across Mardan’s chest.

“Vile, ruthless demon!”  He cursed loudly, gasping at the pain searing across his chest while his opponent regained his balance and momentum. “Come again, Cursed Ghoul!”

Re-centering himself, Mardan faced him more squarely, offering his fists as a focus, but when Gairynzvl stepped closer, he spun and dropped, sweeping his rivals feet from under him and watching with a vitriolic sneer as he fell backward onto a small glass table, which smashed into daggers that ripped and gashed at him ruthlessly.

Ayla screeched in horror and stepped out from behind the cabinet, unable to watch the conflict and not attempt to intercede, but, although Gairynzvl turned his head to look at her, concern clearly expressed in his crimson eyes as well as through the unmistakable emotion of protectiveness, which he directed to her in unspoken thought, Mardan neither looked at her, nor paused in his attack.   Stepping forward with a purposeful stride, he stared down at the dark fey lying at his feet and spoke a single, intractable word.

“Cruciavaeryn!”

At his speaking, Gairynzvl screamed loudly and cringed into a knot as waves of unrelenting, excruciating agony pierced his body, again and again and again, but his cries of torment did not induce Mardan to break the spell of Inflicted Pain he had cast.  Moving to stand over the Reviled One, he looked down unsympathetically and watched him writhe as he considered his options.

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And a Final example of yet another side of Mardan’s nature from Standing In Shadows:

“The Legionnaires are coming and I cannot remember the way.”  Aware that she had closed her thoughts in order to protect herself, he spoke as softly as he could form the words, but in spite of his vigilance to be as discreet as possible, her honest reaction of startled dismay caught Mardan’s attention who was sitting quietly nearby. Unwilling to arouse fear in the others, he got to his feet and moved towards them nonchalantly, bending close and spreading his wings behind him to shield their conversation while he inquired in a hushed tone.

“What is wrong?  Where is Ilys?”  Gairynzvl looked up at him without raising his head, gritting his teeth to control his frustration.

“She is behind the childfey.  She sent a message to me through them, through their telepathy, that the Legionnaires are coming. I do not know how close or how far, but we must go.”  The look of concern that met this report stung like a horde of angry bees, but instead of reacting confrontationally in any other manner, as was his nature, Mardan stayed in his cautious position and merely inquired further.

“Which way are we to go?  Do you remember?”  Glaring lavender met icy cerulean, but the enmity between them that seemed ready at any moment to erupt into aggression did not propel them into yet another quarrel.  Leaning even nearer to speak more confidentially, Mardan said something the former Dark One watching him intensely did not anticipate.

“I cannot blame you if you do not remember; I have found myself confused several times just following you through this murk, but we must keep ahead of the Legionnaires.  If you are unsure, you must not appear unsure.”   Gairynzvl stared at the Celebrant in silence.  The Celebrant stared back, unmoving.  Between them, Ayla held her breath nervously, but Gairynzvl looked past the Celebrant’s broad white wings at the others; then got up to reconsider the possible routes to take.  Mardan smiled subtly at Ayla, then straightened and drew back his wings……

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I hope I’ve tempted you sufficiently

#FridayFeyDay – Sparkle Light

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Sparkle Light

Glimmer

Shimmer

Merrily Incite

Shimmering

Glimmering

Joyfully Invite

Dancing

Prancing

My Heart’s Delight

Glisten

Listen

To Magic Alight

In the Breathless Night

Glimmering

Shimmering

Dancing

Prancing

Glistening

Listening

To the Magic

Sparkling in the Light

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~Morgan~

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Beautiful Artwork found on Facebook at: Fairies, dragons and other mythological creatures. Credit Acknowledged to the original Artist. Thank You.

Filed under: Friday FeyDay / Fantasy Tagged: BnV, BooknVolume, creative writing, Fairy Tree, Fantasy, Magic, Mythical Realm, Poem, poetry, Poetry Blog, ~Morgan~

#GuestBlogger – Roses from Rosa – Part Two

Her mother spoke very softly to her now, “Rosa, sweetheart, don’t cry….Lucinda has turned out to be a beautiful woman. When you see her you will cry – but from joy.”

Her Momma continued, “I need you to do two things tonight”. “Yes?” Rosa listened intently. “I need you to go to church – it’s Christmas Eve, Rosa.” “You know how we used to do on Christmas Eve.” “Church?” “Are you crazy?” Rosa started talking to her mother like she did as a teenager. “They will call me a whore, and throw me out of there, Momma!” “Ssh, …Rosa calm down.” No they will not do that, calm down, ssh.” Her mother always did have a way of bringing peace to her.

Rosa looked at her mother’s face, and noticed a soft glow about her. “What else Momma?” “Rosa sweetheart this will take time, but you need to stop depending on men…and… how much they want you…. as the source of your value.” “You are valuable already, don’t think you are nothing if you don’t have a man…” Her Momma’s voice was trailing off now and she was turning grey again. “Momma?” The last thing she heard her mother say was “….remember Rosa you are already valuable….get someone to help you with this…” She faded, and was gone.

Fifteen minutes later, a half drunk Rosa was outside waiting for the bus that would take her 10 blocks to the Catholic Church. She couldn’t believe she was doing this, and she wasn’t sure where she was getting the courage from, but she was doing what her Momma had said.

When she got there she heard the bells playing Silent Night, and people were singing as she walked in. There was a warm glow about the place, like the warmth she remembered from the church in Mexico. Nobody called her any names, and no asked her to leave. In fact they appeared to be genuinely glad to see her, especially during the part where the congregation offers peace to each other, and shakes hands.

The buses were no longer running, after the service was over, so she walked home in the cold but she didn’t mind. She was thinking about what her mother had said the whole way. It was sinking in now, and she understood about not depending on someone else to give her value. It began snowing as she walked, and Rosa smiled. She loved the snow.

The first thing she did as she walked in the door of her apartment, was to take the bottle of pills and throw them in the trash. She breathed a sigh of relief, and said “Thanks Momma”. Then she looked up and said, “Thanks God…for… sending her my way.”

Epilogue:

Rosa did find the courage to get some counseling. She is working on seeing herself as a whole person. It is a gradual process, but she is putting the pieces of her heart and emotions back together.

She has also located her daughter Lucinda, by using the computers at the library. Right now they are corresponding by email, and getting to know one another. In the future they will both meet, hug each other, and cry some great big tears. They will become very good friends, and Rosa will feel released from her past.

She has also been improving her English skills, and next week she is starting a new job as an administrative assistant, at the local community college. They love the fact that she can speak Spanish.

She has plans to buy her first laptop, and hopefully not only to write to bloggers, but begin her own blog. Her target will be women that need help realizing their full potential. She would like to call her blog, “Roses from Rosa”, and she is hoping that no one else is using that name yet.

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This beautiful story was Shared with me by Nico from Ancient Skies, an upcoming regular Guest Blogger for BnV.

#TBT – Love’s Soft Whispers – #DailyHaikuChallenge

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Whispers through the Mist

Loving Spirit Reaching Out

Hear the Soft Whispers

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To take part in the Daily Haiku Challenge see The Original Post from Day One

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Day 50 / 365

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~Morgan~

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~Morgan~

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Beautiful Photograph found on Pinterest. Credit Acknowledged to the Original Amazing Photographer. Thank You

Filed under: Daily Haiku Challenge Tagged: BnV, BooknVolume, Daily Haiku Challenge, Harmony, life, Love, Nature, Poem, poetry, Poetry Blog, Poetry Challenge, spirituality, Writing Prompt, ~Morgan~

#GuestBlogger – Roses from Rosa – Part One

Rosa Gonzalez was finished with living, it was simply too painful to keep going. Carlos had left her in the middle of night, and she thought he was a good one. Now she knew, there were no good ones. Love just didn’t make any sense, it was garbage.

She managed to get herself ready for work, and she forced herself to keep going. She walked down the street all bundled up, to her job at the fast food restaurant. She was going to end everything for sure, but right now she just needed more time to think about it.

It was a miserable day at work, with the younger women on her case again about being too slow. What made it worse was, they put her down in Spanish, so the manager never knew what they said. They called her names like “grandma”, and much worse, even though she was only 47. Their words were like knives, and hurt deeply. They only made her more determined to end it all.

As she walked home that evening she stopped by the drugstore, and bought some sleeping pills, realizing they would put her to sleep forever, just like she wanted. $6.99 was a small price to pay. She went out into the cold again, pulling down her knit hat, over her ears, and slipping on the gloves with holes in them.

What a terrible place to live she thought, Mexico had been difficult, but nothing like this. At least she had family back home, and the people were not mean to her. As she walked down the street she heard music, coming from somewhere. Were those church bells? For some reason she thought of the church she grew up in, and being a little girl, running around the village. She pushed those thoughts aside though.

When she got back to her apartment, she did try watching TV, looking for some hope. But the TV preachers made her sick to her stomach, talking about being wealthy, and that a Christian should never have any problems. “Nonsense”, she said, and she turned them off. After she had a few drinks, she prepared her table in the bedroom. She put the pills there, and her mother’s picture. She wanted her mother to be the last person she saw before passing away. She picked it up and held the picture close to her, with both arms embracing the image.

There was that music again – where was it coming from? It was like a choir singing close by. Was that Spanish she was hearing? She sat on the edge of the bed, thinking about her mother. Momma had passed away 20 years ago, but she still missed her so. For some reason she decided to wait on the pills until morning, she was half drunk, and tired. It was too much to think about. As she reached over to turn out the light, the music got louder. She sat in the dark and listened, holding her mother’s photograph.

Then, someone sat down next to her, on the bed. Out of the corner of her eye, she did not see anyone, but she felt their presence. As she slowly turned to look, she did see a faint outline – like maybe a shadow of a person. A grey shape turned to look at her, and became brighter, almost white, a soft shade of white. She could make out a woman’s hair, and then she recognized the face. The image said, “Rosa…”, Rosa was shaking now, and said “Momma?”

“Rosa you cannot do this…” “I have no choice Momma, I cannot deal with this pain anymore. And don’t tell me I have a lot to live for, because I don’t.” Her mother said, “Listen to me – Lucinda is looking for you, she wants to know her real mother.”

Hearing the name of the daughter she had given up for adoption, was too much for her, and all of the pain of giving her to someone else to raise, came like a flood. She was broken. All the guilt, all the sadness, washed over her, and she wept bitterly. She covered her face with her hands, and felt the shame of it all.

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This beautiful story was Shared with me by Nico from Ancient Skies, an upcoming regular Guest Blogger for BnV.