Cynthia A. Morgan's Blog, page 257

#CharacterSpotlight – The Memory of Honor

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Thrust into a world of intrigue and mystery, of violence and struggle, is Nicolai, a fascinating player in the fantasy epic Sons of Chenia. He is an amnesiac and refugee, a character whose past and future remain uncertain. Yet his values – loyalty, courage and selflessness– along with his strengths – intuition, knowledge and fighting skills – make him a force to be reckoned with when faced with an impossible task: to protect his people from an invading empire.

Hello, What is your name?

Nicolai, of Sarbin, son of Victor.

Does your name have any special significance?

I can’t remember. At times, I think it does. Perhaps it was my mother’s father’s name, or her grandfather’s. Or the name of a great Shepherd my family admired, who like so many others ranged the lands of Chenia to protect his people. Though such speculation usually fades from my memory after a while. When it does, my mind is emptied and I am left with nothing. Only the present matters . . . and the future of my motherland and her people.

Where were you born and where do you now reside?

That much I do know. I was born in the City of Shepherds, Sarbin, in Chenia. Though my country has no official capital like Czaria or Maricania – due to the nomadic lifestyle of our ancestors – all my people consider Sarbin to have been the center of culture and politics. That city is gone now, its ashes and bones the only remnants of the Purge that claimed it. Now, my closest comrades and I live in Knight’s Harbor, a bustling port city on the western coast of Maricania. We manage a living as hired hands, like nearly every other Chenian refugee who has made it to the shores of Knight’s Harbor. The Maricanians, for their part, would rather not have us there but for our cheap labor and nothing more.

What internal battles do you struggle with or what would you like to change about yourself?

I struggle with remembering. My recent memory remains intact. Recalling my childhood and adolescence is a different story altogether. Fragments of my past ebb and flow through my thoughts. No matter how hard I try, I can’t control it. Sometimes, I wish I could recall everything. But I stop myself from such yearnings because I know from the bits I have that there is much pain in my history. So time and again I convince myself that it’s for the best that I don’t remember.

Do you have a personal creed you live by?

I always try to help others before myself. Many preach this mantra. I try my best to practice this belief, for I know how hard this world can be. The streets of Knights Harbor are especially tough for my kind. There is too much suffering allotted to my people. I consider myself fortunate, for my health is still good and I am well enough to work. Those who can’t have little hope for a better future. So I extend to them what I can, be it a spare coin or a loaf of bread, however hard such items are to come by for my friends and I.

What are you most passionate about and what do you despise most? 

I’m passionate about the hidden and lost parts of my country’s history. I have a special inclination to our writings, in particular the sacred text of my people, the Passages of Ada. Its prose and poetry speak to me at all times, and I find solace in the construct of its sentences and beauty of its words.

As for what I despise . . . may Ada help me, I hate Czarians. They are a plague upon my people. Because of the Purge, my generation has had to grow up overseas, as strangers in a foreign land. It may well be that way for the next generation, and the one after that. As if that legacy wasn’t bad enough, the Czarian aggressions have renewed with a more intense vigor. Now the Czarians desire to wipe us from our land altogether. They claim it’s in defense of their borders. But I know the real reason: Czarian uranium. They want to mine the lodes from our land and bleed every resource from our country until there is nothing left. I despise their greed. I loathe them.

What else should we know about you? 

I want to grow old in a nation where my people can be free. That may be in the motherland, Chenia. Or it may not. But I will die trying to make that dream a reality.

 

When and Where is your tale set? 

 

In a time not so distant from yours . . . probably reminiscent of your 19th century. My tale takes place in a variety of settings: Maricania, Chenia and Czaria. Maricania is much like the United States during the early days of the Industrial Revolution, while Chenia and Czaria are like czarist Russia.

Who shares in your adventure and how are they important to you? 

My friends – Petrov, Leo and Fyodor – also refugees, have remained steadfast in their resolve to protect Mother Chenia. We share a flat in the Chenian ghetto at Knight’s Harbor, as is custom, for the Maricanians charge our people such high rents. Then there is Dmitri, also a comrade, one we have not seen much of in Maricania. Yet he is one who has joined our cause and braved the journey across the Tartic Ocean with us to the shores of our home. These comrades are more than friends. They are my family.

Then there is one I met when I returned to Chenia. Her name is Katerina. She is a fair maiden. Yet she is also brave and strong. Every word she offers is comforting, every glance my way is a treasure. Granted, my time with her has been short. Oh, but how I have valued it! As a defender of my people, I have not yet contemplated how she fits into my future. If I should dare to hope though . . . well, you can use your imagination.

What is it you seek to achieve, change or create?

I, along with my brothers-in-arms, want nothing more than a safe home for our people. One for those Chenians who have not been expelled from their country and a place that those abroad can return to, without fear of persecution.

What challenges or obstacles stand in your way?

An empire. The mighty nation of Czaria, led by their Premier Stalgrave. The war machine he has created is well-known in my world, as is his most seasoned, battle-hardened general, Morgard. Together, with their army of Czarian Guards, they present an unmatched danger, a new monster. We face the task of defeating an enemy so much more organized and powerful than ourselves. Yet win or lose, in life or in death, we choose to fight, to stand against their tyranny until we can stand and fight no more.

What inspired you to this course of action?

Call it sympathy. Or pain. Or fatigue at seeing so much suffering. Mostly, though, I just wanted to do something rather than stand aside and watch my home be destroyed.

What else should we know? 

There is more to my story than grief and blood. There is hope. Fellowship. Love. The tale of our journey and actions, our dreams and prayers, is one all can appreciate, because so much of it focuses on the human condition.

To discover more about Nicolai Visit

Sons of Chenia 

Author Joshua Rutherford has wanted to be a writer all his life. Through college and the more than dozen jobs that he has had, his passion for the written word has never ceased. After crafting several feature film screenplays and television pilots that were never produced, Joshua tried his hand at writing a novel. Sons of Chenia is the product of that effort. When Joshua is not writing – which isn’t often – he is spending quality time with his young family, who currently reside in San Diego, CA.

You can connect with Joshua Rutherford at:

Twitter

Facebook

Amazon Author Page

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~Morgan~

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Character Interviews, In The Lime Light Author and Poet spotlights, and Character Interactions are offered as a free means of supporting my Fellow Writers.  If you like what you’ve read and would be interested in learning how YOU can be spotlighted, please let me know

#MusicandMuseMonday – Fragile – #Inspirational #Poetry

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To Enhance the Poem, Please Listen while Reading

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Breath

Of All that is Intangible,

Laying Promise across the Path,

Singing in the Shadows of Understanding

Where Perception Plays amidst the rolling Clouds of Whispering Time,

Shallow Dream, Most Incomprehensible,

Delivering, Disguising, Directing

The Harbingers of Light who Dance upon Sparrow’s Wings!

Sing

Sweet Breath

Of All that Encompasses Mystery,

Speak of other times and days of History,

Once Deeply Sought, Now Long Unremembered,

Build a Bridge of Comprehension

Beyond this Mortal Gash of Limited Dwelling,

Into a Realm of Constancy and Hope and Purpose;

Beyond our Scope of Imagination,

Engendering, Encompassing Enigma;

Breathe

And Make this Fragile knowledge I call my own,

All that Bends to your Dulcet Harmony.

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~Morgan~

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.The Music and Muse category by Morgan shares Poetry and the Music which Inspired it.

Beautiful Music: Aurora by Hans Zimmer

Filed under: Music and Muse Tagged: BnV, BooknVolume, Hans Zimmer, Harmony, Hope, Inspiration, life, Nature, Poem, poetry, relationships, spirituality, time, ~Morgan~

Mirror – #DailyHaikuChallenge

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Mirror of Sweet Life

Resonate your Lasting Song

Reflected in us

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

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Day 26

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~Morgan~

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Beautiful photograph found on Pinterest.  Credit Gratefully Acknowledged to the original photographer.  Thank You~

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

Submerged – A #ShortStory #Collaboration – Part Five

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Morpheus was losing his mind, running from window to window and barking at the intruder. Carefully, I peered through the blinds. The ranger was talking into a walkie-talkie and walking deliberately across the lawn, down towards the dock. “You always get park rangers in your yard?” I asked her.

She shook her head.

I peaked out through the blinds. “I think there’s just one. He’s definitely looking for something. Or someone.”

Together, we scooped up the emeralds and poured them back into the bag. I watched as she stashed it above the fridge in a cupboard. “You stay here,” she said and, before I could respond, she was out the front door leaving Morpheus and me to climb the walls.

At first, I could hear her. “Excuse me!” she said walking down the hill toward the dock where the ranger stood. Then, as she got further away, the voices became muffled and I couldn’t make out the words. He handed her a sheet of paper and they talked about it for five or ten minutes before walking back up the hill. She came inside and shut the door.

“Not a ranger,” she said, “Highway Patrol.  He asked about the car.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him the guy who stole it was in my house with a bag of priceless stones that he ripped off. I told him I was going to help you fence it. What do you think I told him?”

“I suppose that was a dumb question.”

“They asked if I had seen you,” she said.

“What?”

She handed me the paper. My face was printed across the front of it.

“Wanted for Questioning,” was printed above my face and under it, “Josh McCormack.”

My heart hammered in my chest. “Now the cops want me too?”

“He asked if I had seen you and I told him I knew you from high school. He asked when the last time I’d seen you was and I said not for ten years or so. I asked what this was all about but he wouldn’t say. I asked if you were dangerous and he said he didn’t think so. Now I’ve aided and abetted AND lied to police officer,” she said in disbelief.  “We need to get you out of here. We need to get those jewels sold and get out of town for a while.”

“Then what?” I said, feeling slightly frantic. “Keep running forever?”

“What about you?” I said. “What about your job? Won’t people start missing you in a day or two?”

She didn’t answer and I paced around the living room. “This is bad. It was bad when the Adams boys wanted me but it’s REALLY bad now that the cops are involved.” I looked at the paper again. It gave my description but no details of why they wanted me. “Brad or Allen must have gone to the cops. Maybe that’s better. It’s probably harder to kill me in prison right?”

She dug around in a kitchen drawer and came up with a pair of sunglasses. “Put these on and pull your hood up. When we get to the shed, you get in the trunk. We’re going to see my uncle. He’ll know what to do.”

I grabbed the bag of emeralds and we ran for the garage. Behind us, Morpheus went berserk climbing the sliding glass door and barking his disapproval.

I was not at all enthusiastic about climbing into the trunk of her sedan.  I understood her reasoning, but the notion didn’t sit well with me.  Fortunately, when she opened the trunk and we looked in, there really was no way I would fit; I had barely fit in the back seat.  Turning to look at her with a scowl, I grabbed the emergency blanket folded neatly in the small compartment and went round her to open the back passenger side door.

“Not a chance, Julie.  I’ll lay on the floor and you will simply need to make sure you don’t get stopped.  Cover me with this.” I handed her the blanket and crawled in, situating myself in the cramped area behind the front seats that was barely large enough for a school kid.  I had a bit of difficulty finding a comfortable position, but she got tired of waiting for me and threw the blanket over me with a mumble that even Morpheus wouldn’t take so long.  Growling at her with frustration as the blanket submerged me in thick darkness, I cursed inwardly at the absurdity of it all and leaned back against the door.

The engine revved and we were on our way, although I had no idea where we were going.  Something I had neglected to ask in the rush and without being able to see where she was driving, the turns she made soon completely disoriented me.  I lay quietly for a while, forcing myself not to pose undue questions; assuming she had a plan.  Time stretched out, even if I couldn’t and I grew more and more uncomfortable.  I tried to shift, but there was nowhere to move to and my knee repeatedly pressed into the back of her seat as I struggled.

“Will you stop that? We’re almost there.”

“Almost where? You neglected to tell me where you planned to go and I’d appreciate knowing.”  She didn’t answer as she made what seemed to be a complete circle and a sound of heavy gravel beneath the tires announced we were now off the main road.  We bumped and jostled along for several moments longer, each jolt pushing me further from uncomfortable into downright miserable and just when I was about to throw the cover back with a curse and push myself up regardless of the consequences, the car stopped and she turned off the engine.

Against instinct, I waited.  I heard her door open, close, and the sound of her footsteps recede into the distance.  Cursing, I fumbled with the blanket, only to hear her returning a moment later and open the rear door.

“All clear.” She said in a low voice as if she were in an espionage movie while she took hold of the blanket and pulled it slowly off me.  I looked up at her with an intense combination of indignation and relief, but said nothing as I attempted to push myself up from the cramped position I had slumped into.  At 6’2”, trying to squeeze into the limited space behind the seats of a compact sedan had proved difficult enough; trying to extricate myself from that space was practically impossible.

Smiling at my ungainly actions, she giggled quietly and reached for my hand, tugging on me in the same manner she had just the night before, although this time I was not nearly comatose with hypothermia.  The sound of her soft giggle captured my attention so completely that when I had righted myself and stood beside her outside the car, I didn’t even look round me, but rather, stood staring down at her with an intense gaze.

She didn’t seem to notice and stepped back to try to close the door.  Shaking myself I looked round to see where she had brought us.

Finale Tomorrow!

Part Four

Part Three

Part Two

Part One

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Fred Rock of Fred Rock Fiction recently contacted me to discuss a possible, extended collaboration during which time we would write a short story based upon a piece he had begun and then hit a wall.  I read the portion he wrote (designated above and throughout these posts in italics ) and was immediately intrigued.  Inspiration sparked, we set about sending the piece back and forth between us for several weeks, adding to the tale, discussing possible stumbling blocks, and finally editing the ‘masterpiece’.  Our final story is now ready to be shared, which we shall do in increments for your reading ease (and hopefully enjoyment!)

~Morgan~

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Filed under: Collaborations, Flash Fiction and Shorts Tagged: #short story, Action, BnV, BooknVolume, collaborative writing, creative writing, Drama, Fiction, Mysteries, Suspense, ~Morgan~

Dappled – #DailyHaikuChallenge

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Dappled Avenue

Cascading colour sleeping

Hear the rhythmic Hush

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

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Day 25

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~Morgan~

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Beautiful photograph found on Pinterest.  Credit Gratefully Acknowledged to the original photographer.  Thank You~

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Filed under: Daily Haiku Challenge Tagged: Beautiful Photographs, BnV, BooknVolume, Change of Seasons, Late Autumn, Nature, November, Poem, poetry, Poetry Blog, Poetry Prompt, Stillness, ~Morgan~

In The Lime Light – Roari Benjamin – #AuthorSpotlight

Is it Saturday already? OH How time flies, but no matter, because Saturdays mean Lime Lights and that is fine with me

#FridayFantasy – Sweet Abandon – #Love #Poetry

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Sweet Abandon of Passionate Splendour

Splendour Singing in the clinging Breeze

Breeze caressing through Touch, so Tender

Tender Entrapment that Temptingly Frees

Frees the Heart from its long captivity

Captivity broken under the Lash of Kisses

Kisses spinning the Mind’s proclivity

Proclivity to Desire what it longingly Misses!

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~Morgan~

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Beautiful Original Artwork by:   Pat Erickson 

Filed under: Friday Fantasy, Poetry Tagged: BnV, BooknVolume, Fantasy, Loneliness, Longing, Love, Missing You, Poem, poetry, Poetry Blog, relationships, Romance, ~Morgan~

Nestle – #DailyHaikuChallenge

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Nature Breathing Soft

Nestle into long Slumber

Renewal Begins

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

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Day 24

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~Morgan~

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Beautiful Photograph by Modraszek – Jesień

Filed under: Daily Haiku Challenge Tagged: Beautiful Photographs, BnV, BooknVolume, Change of Seasons, Late Autumn, Nature, November, Poem, poetry, Poetry Blog, Poetry Prompt, Renewal, ~Morgan~

#FridayFantasy – The Raven

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Raven

In the Gentle Snow, Falling;

Fear Not

The Glimmering Light, Lolling;

Dark Bird

Through the Shadows, Forestalling;

Listen

To the Whispers, Calling,

Winter

Chills, Quietly Enthralling;

The Raven

In the Gentle Snow, Falling.

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~Morgan~

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Beautiful Artwork found on Blingee.com

Filed under: Friday Fantasy, Poetry Tagged: BnV, BooknVolume, Fairy, Fantasy, Fear, Light, Poem, poetry, relationships, Shadows, Silence, Whispers, ~Morgan~

Not Forgotten – #VeteransDay #Remembrance

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The echoes may fade into solitary hours

Graves strewn with commemorative flowers

Yet Memory lives in the Heart

in the Mind

Remembrance not forgotten

of Sacrifice that Binds.

In Loving Remembrance of all those who have and who still do serve this country/ Every country. On this day of Honour as we recall the sacrifices made, it may be the best time of all to understand that ALL soldiers serve for love of their own country and to protect and honour the way of life THEY hold dear. Right or Wrong, Truth or Lies, the Soldier carries the heaviest burden.

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Performed By Sgt.MacKenzie

Scottish:

Lay me doon in the caul caul groon

Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun

Lay me doon in the caul caul groon

Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun

When they come a wull staun ma groon

Staun ma groon al nae be afraid

Thoughts awe hame tak awa ma fear

Sweat an bluid hide ma veil awe tears

Ains a year say a prayer faur me

Close yir een an remember me…..

~Morgan~

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Soldier Image found at: newbyzantines.net

flowers Image found at: shenizjanmohamed.com

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Filed under: Music and Muse, Poetry Tagged: BnV, BooknVolume, Honor, In Remembrance, Peace, Poem, poetry, Poetry Blog, Sacrifice, Soldiers, Veterans, Veterans Day, War, ~Morgan~