Elaina J. Davidson's Blog, page 50
June 24, 2024
June 23, 2024
Excerpt: Thomas at the farmer's market
ThomasHenson was born close to a silver-spoon-in-the-mouth situation. Society adoredhim … and now ignores him. Judgemental freaks. That is ISSUE FOUR.
Society,however, is in the mind. While it is a living, breathing entity, societyremains a concept of intellect more than a physical one. You either take it orleave it, but Thomas cannot do this. He requires validation. He is inflated byit. He becomes more.
EthanDanwick-Blythe, case in point.
Thomashad the misfortune to play witness to the laughing bastard’s elevated status insociety. It was at a social gathering on the common before the village -farmer’s market, actually, but Thomas Henson will NEVER admit to curiosity overproduce and handmade goods, and thus a social gathering it is.
EthanDanwick-Blythe swanned in with arms loaded. Flowers, from his perfect garden! Suchcolours, so much greenery. A heady perfume. And was greeted as a conqueringhero by all!
Whilehe, Thomas Henson, was ignored, even shunned. Sure, he brought only his smile(his mother ever says it needs only a smile to gather the masses to you), buthe used his smile everywhere and folks frowned and moved away as fast as theexcuse they could imagine was uttered … why?
Thomas Henson has issues, thirteen of them, and, indeed, oneof them is superstition.
When his life of luxury ends and he is dumped into animpoverished state, all these issues come home to roost, making it impossiblefor Thomas to stand up and take responsibility for his life. He even despiseshis name! Most all, however, he hates his neighbour, the ever laughing EthanDanwick-Blythe, who has a perfect name and a perfect garden.
Thomas is beinglied to, however, and those lies will upset everything our Thomas hopes for. Ashe plots revenge on his neighbour, the time for all lies to be exposedapproaches. This amusing little tale of self-delusion is Thomas Henson’s debutinto real life.
June 22, 2024
Your Viking Name
Freya Bloodaxe!
June 19, 2024
June 18, 2024
June 17, 2024
June 16, 2024
Latticework: 14 excerpts!
Aspace lattice, in the three dimensions, is any of fourteen possible geometricarrangements of points, at which, at the very least, the components of crystalsmay form.
Aspace lattice, in the realm of sorcery, is all of fourteen possible andimpossible arrangements in the geotic fields, and includes the laws ofnecromancy and the location of high magnetic energy points of sacred sites.
Aspace lattice, in the fourth dimension and those beyond, is the fourteenimpossible arrangements of will and thought, where the continuum is temporaland spacial simultaneously, at which point space-time unfolds and space-foldsare beyond measurable time.
Inthis lattice lie all possibilities, where not even imagination has ever been.
Watchyourself, friend.
(Quoted from the LORE Series)
14 excerpts from the 14 stories - enjoy!
THE PILLAR FELT rough and pitted under Callie’s fingers. She knew it asrock, although she could not see anything in the blackness. She also knew thefeel of this particular standingstone; it was akin to a friend, a haven, a beacon in the dark. There were nonight noises, not even the resident frog to confirm where she was. She alwayslistened for him when she came here in summer.
She had been here before. She was not lost.
Biting the inside of her cheek to contain hystericalsounds, Callie put her fingers to work. They were her eyes now and she couldtrust them. They reached up, sensing, exploring, and, yes, there it was. Thesmall voice of doubt was stilled.
SEVEN YEARS AGO I was thirty-eight and considered young among those whowalked the corridors of power and feltyoung and empowered, all-powerful. You may laugh, but let me tell you politicsand deals can make one old long before due time, while imparting a sense ofomnipotence.
I was also foolish, very ambitious, without scruples andmorals, and utterly selfish. I looked out for number one only. Hard lessons hadto be learned; I understand that now.
SHE LEANS ON her elbow, chin in hand, and stares out over the bay. Thesun is bright on the water and the sun worshippers are out in full force on thenarrow strip of beach, their colourful umbrellas and sunshades drawing the eye.
Bronzed bodies languish amid reddening skins. She, however,is uninterested in people silly enough to burn to crisps in such heat; shewatches the water intently, staring through the hot silver stripes upon thewaves.
LISTEN UP.Stop a moment for this.
There is a place I used to pass on my way home every day inanother country, another time. For whatever reason - no place to pull over, Iam not the one driving, time is of the essence - I never stopped. This place isnothing special in the grand design of nature and yet I found myself preparingto really look every time Iapproached, and did.
Every time. I wish I followed an initial instinct to begin aphotographic record to capture the moods and seasons day by day, but … ah,well.
SHE IS THEsilent watcher. She has no name, and is without feature and visible form. Hertask is to watch and to know.
Why?
The simple answer is that someone has to. We require awitness, always. This is the nature of sentience.
SHADOWS SHUTTER LEAF behind frond until sight is hallucination. A forest insunlight during a windstorm deludes the senses. What should be ordinary leapsinto something else entirely.
Scarlet is not fooled. Sharp blue eyes pierce the veils ofshadow and light. Hearing is impaired in the sliding, grating, rustling drynessof a forest in movement, but sight never fails her. And neither does taste.
THERE IS Asmall glade in a forgotten forest and in its centre there is a tree so ancientit no longer resembles a tree. Where this is, is unimportant. For this is notabout place; it is not even about time. It is about worship, and it is alsoabout remembering.
A long, long time ago, a lone wolf, starving and desperate,slaughtered an innocent boy out walking the countryside. The boy was loved wellby his parents and they planted a tree in the place where his blood wasspilled, a memorial to stand the test of time.
“BACK IN VALARIS’ beginning, once it became a habitable world, there was nosentient life. The humans of today did not evolve here; they came from farawayworlds, much the same as happened elsewhere. One starship came and saw it wasgood, and then there was another and another, a familiar tale. This was, andis, a paradise world and the humans who settled were happy, but, being human,being sentient, they were selfish also - another familiar tale - and deniedentry to other races.
“Now, around the time that selfish mind-set began to takeroot, a space warp materialised in the heavens above, which made it impossibleto travel the stars again, the same warp still in position today. It also, ofcourse, denied entry to other settlers, and permanently put an end to otherraces interfering with the humans already here. Thus, without any great effort,the humans got their wish, and the Valarians were born as a people apart.
MIRRORS MAKE ME.
And mirrors break me.
Shards of shiny glass, reflection pond, polished metal,ornately framed, it is of no import.
As you read this and I play the role of storyteller, a newlooking glass rises from the mercury I wade through. I have not seen one likeit before and momentarily its existence stumps me. Only momentarily, for amirror is a mirror and here, now, another lesson awaits.
HERE WAS Aman who had just lost the woman he loved and he was now either suicidal orhyper aggressive. This man was a king, although uncrowned. This man was asorcerer, although unwilling in the talent. This man was of another race,although he passed for human with his fair hair and grey eyes.
This man sought distraction. Now.
He went to Lax, that underbelly world of crime andcorruption, and the one who nominated himself as this man’s personal guardaccompanied him. The companion appeared less human, for his eyes were tawny.
HALLOWEEN.All Hallows Eve.
Some call it a pagan festival. Others know it as an evilfeast. Time and technology has not yet forced it into the recesses of memoryand myth. Some see it as a carnival of fun. Others regard it as the worstmanipulation humankind has confronted, and continues to face. Relegate it tothe past, bury it in layers of legend and let us be done, they say … and areignored.
This is the greatest night of all dark nights for the dead.
WHEN HUMANKIND tore through the fabric of space they came in vast numberson ships the size of cities.
This was a one way journey, for they left behind a planetruined by war, pollution and over-population. Perhaps those abandoned woulddiscover the courage to find solutions for Earth’s varied problems, but thosethat left travelled too far to make their way back. The ships were indefinitelyself-sustaining, but man needed solid ground beneath his feet and a friendlysun on his face. His mission always was to find a land to plant and root andgrow and prosper and conquer.
MERRY HEFTED the rucksack by jerking at the shoulder straps. The weightpulled at her neck muscles and she swore under her breath.
A whack on her upper arm nearly paralysed that side of herbody from head to toe. She glared at the woman a step behind her, to see theoffensive cane complete its downward arc.
“Ladies do not cuss, Merry.”
IT SMELLS OFINK andparchment, and ancient dust. The corners furl inward as if once someone rubbed itrepeatedly between a sweaty thumb and forefinger. I know this, because I havethe same habit.
Look over there at myshelf, pull that book to you and note the thumbed edges. I know, wrong of me,so sue me. Of course, mine isn’t always clean sweat; probably a few jam rubs,possible biscuit crumbs …
Sigh, I am off subject.
LATTICEWORK
A latticework creates a mesmerisingpattern, to please the eye and draw the onlooker closer. Emotional lattices connectstrands to amplify the human experience; our melancholy, our mistakes, and ourresidual power.
Fourteen lattices by a diverse author makesLatticework an occult treat, worthy of fans who dip into the disturbing anddiabolical. This collection of soulful tales embodies the macabre and themetaphysical, with insights so serrated it cuts to the marrow.
Fallen from the Sky
Confession
African Moon
Stop!
Sentinels
Fox Tale
Awareness
Well of Crystal Sound
The Mighty Mirror
Gordon Grey
Feast Night
Repeating History
The Hole
Quill
