For visually challenged writers, the image shows a stone stairwell with an opening obscured by a bright light.
The Stairway – Image by KL Caley.
Morgana had been tunneling for days, moving stones and dirt inch by inch as she moved upwards from the dark where she had been thrown. Feeling weak and tired something was driving her on. Was it the thought of freedom or just plain madness.
Suddenly the debris fell past her leaving her even more bloodied. Her nails were ripped and torn, she was filthy, covered in dirt and her own excretions. Tears of relief ran down her face leaving damp streaks.
Despite her miserable state she had to smile to herself. Condemned as a witch ? Well if she had ever had any magic powers they had deserted her over the last few days. Blood sweat and tears had got her out of that dungeon grave!
Emerging from the hole she looks up to the light at the top of the stone steps. The steps were rough hewn and the rise on each of them was uneven. Smiling she remembered Merlin explaining to her why they were made so. Enemies trying to creep up the stairs in the dark would stumble and if wearing any type of armour, the noise would alert the occupants of impending mayhem.
So carefully and slowly Morgarna climbed up to the light. Looking out over the valley she could see nothing unusual. That was unfortunate but she had faith in Merlin. The day past as she sat up in the opening overlooking the fields. As it got darker she looked to the horizon, sure enough there was an anomaly approaching she was sure of that!
Slowly she stood , calculating distance she prepared herself. Suddenly she was spotted from below the cry went up, “The witch lives!”
“Damn” thought Morgarna, ” it’s now or never” As the first of the stones hit her feet she took a leap of fate. Holding her breath, praying and keeping her arms and legs straight she simply disappeared.
Those below let our an incredibly loud “Oh!” Dropped their flaming torches and ran.
Landing with a bump at the feet of Merlin, Morgarna breathed a sigh of relief. Merlin looked at her and smiled. “My you look a mess! What have you been doing”
“Not now” Morgarna replied “I need a shower can you order a takeaway…curry I think please. ” “Okay” Merlin said picking up his mobile.
Later that evening, after being debriefed by Merlin Morgarana settled down to watch the Crown on Netflix’s she thought to herself…witch? Who needs magic when you have science?
For visually challenged writers, the image shows a stone or a tomb with a key-like inscriptionbut no words upon it.
The Secret in the stone – Image by KL Caley.
They all look at my stone from the wrong end. Hey go to the other end and you’ll clearly see the story of my fate…. Why does nobody listen, or even think. It’s so cold down here I have been trapped so long.
Well as no one will make the leap of fate and view my story from the right end I will enlighten any of you with time to listen.
Just before the days of old, when knights were bold and round tables were something of an oddity. I was a young trainee to a black witch called Morgana. That’s black witch as in black magic. I had been stolen by Morgana just after I emerged from my mother’s womb. There I lay exhausted and cold waiting for some warm milk to fill my tummy.
Suddenly i was snatched away by this swirling, heaving cloak which was the witch. Now to be fair I had not bonded with my mother as she was not altogether interested in me. I had heard her cursing my existence each day I was inside her, and she didn’t have time to repent any of that or grieve for me because she died hours after my birth.
Anyway I am not asking for any sympathy because Morgana turned out to be a brilliant mother right from the start. I was kept warm , well fed and she loved me … She wanted me.
I grew and learned everything I was taught willingly. Morgana was delighted with my progress. I became as beautiful as she and as clever and that pleased her.
Now I have all the time in world but I can tell by the way you are all hopping from one foot to the other you don’t! So I will get a move on. every five years we would meet with the old wizard Merlin and his charge Arthur. Apart from being a boy Arthur was very like me. Not in looks but in provenance, his mother had died shortly after giving birth and he had been taken and brought up by Merlin, a white wizard …. infact we were yin and yan. We always got on well and played happily, which is more than could be said of our wards!
Now Morgana and Merlin both had interpreted what was written in stone a different way. Merlin construed that young Arthur was to be king and unite the Britons where as Morgana’s vision, the true one, saw me, Arthura as Queen of all Briton.
The day of our 20th birthdays arrived and we were called to the King’s stone to see which of us could extract Excalibur from the stone. You all know the story, “who ever could pull the sword from stone would rule all Briton.” Many had tried and they had all failed.
Arthur and Merlin arrived at the same time as us and though Merlin wanted Arthur to try the sword first, Arthur insisted ladies first. I approached the stone hitched my purple cloak over my shoulder and grabbed Excalibur by the hilt the sword began to slip from the stone. Suddenly it went dark the sun had been put out! No one saw Merlin hit me on the back of my head with his crook! As I lay on the cold ground I heard Merlin whisper, “sorry lass t’was not meant to be” I felt my life slipping away, as the sun reignited.
The crowd were all terrified and screaming, they were huddled together in fear of their lives, after all the sun had just gone out. Their minds had been wiped of all memories of me! Morgana cursing Merlin swooped in and bore me up and away.
Arthur, who had had his mind wiped of all memory of me too stepped up to the stone and with ease he withdrew Excalibur. The rest is, as they say history or myth. Or as I would say bloody unfair!
At dead of night Morgana brought me here and buried me, weeping all the while , she never forgave Merlin.
Morgana told my story on my tomb stone! Sadly Merlin thrawted her again. He cast a spell on it so that all who gazed up it only saw the carving upsidedown. So good ladies and gentlemen if you can turn your screens or the image the other way up. You will see Merlin’s hand holding the staff he murdered me with, and the sword Excalibur waiting to be removed from the stone.
It should of been me!
KL Caley at Novel Ideas has offered to take on Sue Vincent’s #writephoto weekly challenge now Sue has moved on to a higher plain.
Macha (Irish pronunciation: [ˈmaxə]) is a goddess of ancient Ireland, associated
with war, horses, sovereignty, and the sites of Armagh and Eamhain Mhacha in County Armagh,
which are named after her. A number of figures called Macha appear in Irish mythology, legend
and historical tradition, all believed to derive from the same deity. The name is presumably
derived from Proto-Celtic *makajā denoting “a plain” (genitive *makajās “of the plain”). rea more on Wiki
APOTHEOSES – Angels of Mons :
During World War One there was a widespread belief
in Britain that some form of supernatural intervention saved allied troops during
the retreat from Mons. Since the war this event, generally known as the “Angel of Mons”
has been variously used as evidence of supernatural intervention in combat, an example
of a collective hallucination or as an urban myth unwittingly originated by a piece of fiction.
The most prosaic explanation is that the Angel was no more than a misinterpretation of odd cloud
formations seen by weary troops. The only thing that most theories agree on is that something strange
happened during the retreat from Mons in August 1914 and that this was witnessed by British
(and possibly German) troops. However, a re-reading of the evidence puts even this most basic point of
convergence in doubt and raises the possibility that the story of the Angel owes more to military expedience
than divine providence. Read more
Thomas the Rhymer Steele Eye Span
Do you believe in fairies? The inhabitants of the Borders at the time of the Border ballads did …
Thomas of Ercildoune lived in the Borders hundreds of years ago. One day, as he sat beneath the Eildon Tree near Melrose,
he heard the tinkling of silver bells and the sound of a horse’s hooves. The beautiful Queen of Elfland rode by on a white horse.
Thomas fell under her spell and journeyed deep within the hollow Eildon Hills to the ‘Fairy Otherworld’. There, Thomas was given
the gift of prophesy.
When he returned to the mortal world he found that he had certain gifts: he was unable to tell a lie and became known as
‘True Thomas’; he could foresee the future and foretold the death of King Alexander III;
some even say that Thomas became immortal and still lives gathering horses for the sleeping knights that rest deep within the hollow hills.
Atlantis (Ancient Greek: Ἀτλαντὶς νῆσος, “island of Atlas“) is a legendary island first mentioned in Plato‘s dialogues Timaeus and Critias, written in c. 360 BC. According to Plato, Atlantis was a naval power lying “across the Pillars of Hercules” that conquered many parts of Western Europe and Africa 9,000 years before the time of the legendary Athenian lawgiver Solon, i.e. in the 10th millennium BC. After a failed attempt to invade Athens, Atlantis sank into the ocean “in a single day and night of misfortune.”
The possible existence of Atlantis was discussed throughout classical antiquity, but it was usually rejected and occasionally parodied by later authors. Alan Cameron wrote: “It is only in modern times that people have taken the Atlantis story seriously; no one did so in antiquity”.[1] The Timaeus remained known in a Latinrendition by Calcidius through the Middle Ages, and the allegorical aspect of Atlantis was taken up byHumanists in utopian works of several Renaissance writers, such as Bacon‘s New Atlantis and More‘s Utopia. In the United States, Donnelly‘s 1882 publication Atlantis: the Antediluvian World unleashed widespread interests from pseudo-scientists. As a theme, Atlantis inspires today’s light fiction, from science fiction to comic books to films. Its name has become a byword for any and all supposed advanced prehistoric lost civilizations.
there is some disagreement over what actually constitutes Wicca. Some traditions, collectively referred to as British Traditional Wicca, strictly follow the initiatory lineage of Gardner and consider the term Wicca to apply only to such lineaged traditions, while other eclectic traditions do not.
This poem is completely from my imagination. Arthur and Boadicea where in fact not from the same era but I would of love Arthur to have ridden in with his brave knights and assisted her ……….. what a tale this would be . I delicate this tale to the sister of my friend Martin and to http://saminaiqbal27.wordpress.com/ who loves a Arthurian myth.
I see the future it is dark, battles blood and fear
I feel our days are numbered I know our enemies draw near.
I draw my daughters to me I shall defend them to the end.
I have sent out for help and begged for aid from Arthur King of the Brittons, my friend.
Oh! the beauty of Morrigan the phantom Queen. Goddess of War and Sex the most enchanting woman you have seen. Secretly she flies with ravens and crows she is happier in their company than that of any man she knows.
Riding her white steed across the sky at night she will find a hero and bind him to her tight. By the joys of sex she will empower him and be he knave or king with the memory of her love he will surge into battle and he will win.
Through the seasons the crows carry her name she has shapes times three . Which one will she chose to show which one will she be. A crone at the village fair making jewellery for the young maids to wear in their hair.
A comely maid in spring may make a young king’s heart sing. His soul to her is lost she will sate his lust. Then empower him and he in battle will win. Then will come the day when she will ensure he has to pay.
A woman in full bloom all curves and charms will welcome the knight into her arms and teach him things he could never have known. He will awake to find her flown leaving feathers on the pillow. Outside his window he will hear the harsh crow song.
All men who have been visited by her will triumph at their cause , then at their death bed she will return and the mystery’s of life she will unravel then his life she will pause.
And so the three in one travel this earth the old the young the one carrying new birth . Spreading their magic along their way crows and ravens by night and a woman by day. Morrigan phantom Queen Goddess of War and Sex the most enchanting woman you have seen. Secretly she flies with ravens and crows she is happier in their company than that of any man she knows.
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