The Abyss.

A

Black hole

Where my heart

Was, now it’s gone.

I am gagged, silenced

Deserted laid out bare

To speak the truth I’d not dare.

You dragged my emotions through the mill.

Ground my spirit down then pulled off my wings.

*****

Autumn.

Autumn

Plip

Plop plip

Rain drops drip

Around my ears

Autumn Annie me

Frost around my fingers

Moonlight shimmers on my toes

Sweet smelling Autumn rain glitters

Giving rusty golden leaves a shine.

My season, now, beautiful Autumn tide.

*******

A Prospect of Whitby (1) The Abbey at the centre of time

A fascinating blog from Steve

The Silent Eye

Above – A Prospect of Whitby Abbey from West Cliff

The title’s cheeky… Bram Stoker created Count Dracula of Transylvania and had him come ashore at Whitby in a ship named The Prospect of Whitby. We’ll not be talking much about Dracula in our coming weekend workshop; we’ve got enough to contend with considering the truth…

There are many ways to approach the centre of Whitby, but only one to truly approach its heart… In the opening shot the phone camera is straining at the maximum of its zoom abilities, but at least generates a clear image across the considerable distance from West Cliff, where we stand, not far from where the car is parked, and excited to be back here here after a gap of fifteen years.

The right of the image shows the key detail: the wide, winding steps ascending from the bustling streets to the ancient…

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CAL’S CALLING

I liked Ian’s story it has the perfect ending.

Iain Kelly

The heavy snow deadened the sound of the forest. Despite the swirling snowfall, there was a stillness.

Cal lay on the soft ground, his eye press to the sight, his ungloved finger around the trigger, the rifle caressed against his shoulder.

His father lay next to him. A hundred yards away the stag raised his head, the imperious antlers like a crown. He looked straight at Cal.

‘That’s it,’ Cal’s father whispered into his ear, ‘give him his moment. Give him respect. Look into those eyes. It’s important you see the spirit and understand him.’

Time stood still. Cal’s pulse quickened, his breath grew shallow, casting puffs of frozen moisture across his sight.

‘Relax,’ his father advised, ‘this is your calling. Take a deep breath. Feel your way towards him. Then gently squeeze the trigger.’

Cal blinked, despite the cold he could feel sweat running down from the the brim…

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Thursday photo prompt: Calling #writephoto

The Calling

For visually challenged writers, the image shows a snowstorm with the silhouette of a stag watching between two trees.

******

It had been five weeks since that day. The battle had been long and bloody. There had been but a moment’s warning, the Vampires had masked their arrival and Alicia and Lisa had only felt their presence seconds before their arrival.

It had rained blood. Rachel had seen carnage before but not like this. Bodies strewn across the valley, abused and tortured horrifically. When the Vampires arrived they had been whipped up into a blood frienzy by their leaders and refused permission to feed for days. They did their worst.

The women who had accompanied the army of men had been carried off to a worse even fate than their men. Their screams and pleas falling on deaf ears and dead souls.

Alicia and Lisa had protected Ewan and Rachel and seeing that to fight anymore was of no use had escaped the battlefield. Ewan had lost his soul, the horror of what the Vampires had done to his people had made his mind flee into some dark recess. His eyes dead and empty he sat by the fire back at his castle, unable to communicate or control any of his bodily functions.

Alicia and Lisa had left him in the care of his loyal staff, while they had set off to unite all the men, dwarves and elves that they could find before it was too late.

Rachel has been sent North to find the werewolves and convenience them to join their cause.

All was silent, all was white, a deep winter covered the land, it was so cold the unearthly Vampire winter was now unstoppable.

Rachel had been traveling for weeks now and was exhausted.There had been no trace or hint of her breed and she was ready to lay down in the snow and die. She had not eaten for three days, stopping only to catch her breath.

Suddenly she just collapsed into the snow, sleep she needed sleep. The urge to give in was overwhelming her emaciated body. Then she heard a voice. Looking up Rachel saw a stag in the distance, though the trees. It crossed her mind that it might save her if she killed and ate him. Then she laughed at herself, the state she was in he would dispense with her with a flick of his antlers.

As she lay there the stag approached , she heard him snorting, saw the hot mist escaping from his nostrils then felt him nuzzling behind her ears.

Faintly Rachel felt more than heard the stag, call her by name. “Rachel” he said, “I know who you are and who you seek, let me help you.” Too tired to answer she let the stag cover her with his weight and she relaxed as his warmth touched her body.

In the morning when she awoke the stag was still by her, she felt his warmth. Again he spoke to her but without a voice. He asked her to get on his back and let him carry her. Rachel complied and while he took her to the where here brothers and sisters were gathered she fell into a deep sleep and her body gained strength.

*******

To be continued.

If you wish to read Lisa’s and Rachel’s story up to this point you can find it here.

This is part of Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo prompt. #writephoto.