The Briar Faerie

Once upon a time, there was a little white wood. This patch of wood grew on the side of a mountain, where every winter it snowed, every spring it rained, every summer it thrived, and every fall the leaves changed to yellow.

The wood was home to a family of deer, six colonies of rabbits, hosts of squirrels, and a little old gnome who was friends with Brimble Badger.

While the gnome, Woodstock, was engaged in merry conversation with Brimble, a tiny little faerie fell to the earth near their feet

You see, she’d fallen from the trees while trying to escape an evil crow who had chased her from the briar

Quite shocked, taken aback to many years ago when the Forest King had battled the Mountain Goats, Woodstock gasped, “Why what is this?”

Brimble bent down as the faerie sat up, “Hallo there little one, where did you come from?”

Shuddering the slightest, the faerie began to answer when the crow came shooting down from the sky. The faerie gave a yelp, jumping underneath Brimble Badger.

“Now see here, old Crow, whatever are you doing chasing this defenseless creature? Have you no shame?” Woodstock retorted angrily.

The crow furrowed his brow, “She has stolen my bell and I want it back.” The crow lied.

The gnome raised a brow, putting a fist to his hip, wagging the other to the crow, “Now see here, you are in the realm of the White Wood, and it is forbidden to chase Fae.’

“They are precious to the Forest King. And no matter what wrong she has done to you, you shall torment her no longer.”

Beady black eyes narrowed, were it possible. “She has to return to the briar some time. And when she does, the King will have no say in her Fate.” The crow took off, spraying bramble on them with his talons.

Continuing to tremble, the faerie needed coaxed to leave from under the warm chest of the badger. Brimble tapped lightly at her head with his claw, “My sweet, he has gone. You can come out now.”

An aura of orange emanated from the faerie, and they could see the thorns entangled around her leaf dress. Delicate leaves encircled her hair, which was pulled up with a rose stem

“Briar faeries are not so easily trusted.” She spoke timidly.

“I did steal his bell. But only because it was put on a cage, and the cage was meant to trap my sisters and I.”

Woodstock frowned, “And what would a crow do with faeries? Even those from the briar?”

It took the faerie a moment to respond, she knew the White Wood was a safe place, and yet she felt ashamed.

The Badger nodded, “Nevermind little one. Let us get you cleaned up and taken care of. You can tell us on the way to the King.”

“The Wood King?” She exclaimed with alarm.

“Indeed,” replied Woodstock. “He will want to hear of this terrible thing the Crow is doing.”

Pt 1. To be continued.

Waking Up

The sky is finally beginning to turn blue again.

I couldn’t have gotten this far without patient grace.

Eclipsed by the pain, eclipsed by years gone by, the shadows took me off guard.

Gentle understanding helped get me by in ways I never expected to find.

My heart is full, and my soul at ease.

Bittersweet sorrow, masses of regret; memories that I don’t have to fear anymore.

Awoken at last, from the darkest age of slumber I am free to breathe.

My sincerest of hopes, and greatest of dreams.  All resting together in one tender glimmer of peace.

Pursuit is becoming stable, and I shall run toward the goal in newness of life!

Promise of Affliction

Don’t speak.

Words hurt.

Don’t try to pursue the chaos.

It’s poisonous.

I’m cyanide.

I will only shatter you to pieces.

Don’t come too close.

I’m far too gone to save.

What kind of life do I promise?

What kind of joy could I bring?

The madness spins and spins.

Straw is turning to ash.

How can a broken heart produce gold?

Pretend with me the world is okay.

Pretend with me that I never hurt.

This box can cram shut.

Demons skipping around the room,

Laughing as the pieces continue to scatter.

Lament with me over the broken pieces.

And when I’ve stopped weeping, just go.

Wounded hearts feel the deepest of hope.

They feel the deepest heartache.

Chaos rages into the night.

The Dark is snickering.

Why?  What was my problem?

How could I be so easily disposable,

And so easily adored?

I’m a suicide note waiting to happen.

I’m good at pushing loved ones away.

I’m even better at hiding that anything was ever wrong.

And to think this chaos only started last week.

A sealed box of history past crashed open.

Suddenly a lifetime of memories feel like they happened yesterday.

Playing in Naïvety

I remember the first time it felt this cold.

I remember sobbing, watching careless eyes burn across the way.

I remember the first time it hurt to breathe.

I always loved the longest.

Whatever caused my heart to trust, to hope so deeply, needs to die.

I am the eyeless man with just a head who cried, yes! yes! as he was taken advantage of.  Giving away his posessions so willingly, and yet so foolishly.

I am the tree who has succumbed to winter.  Precious few leaves still clinging.

Whatever was I thinking?

I am my own perfect enemy.  And the war needs to come to an end.

Relentless

Happiness is not a place, it’s a state of mind.

It’s serenity in chaos, that so few  can ever find.

And why is it the tempests toil and destroy our brains?

These hurricanes smashing us, emotionally it drains.

For failure, I had it coming.  Fate seems set on this.

Somewhere in the Universe, my Destiny was to go amiss.

Flames are burning my walls down, while I’m still locked inside.

Somewhere in this madness, it’s a miracle I haven’t died.

I know where Happiness isn’t, and I don’t pursue the wrong door.

Somehow now I’m finding flashes of hope, in this miserable downpour.

Anyone listening…. Someone please stop the madness screaming in my head.

I’m coming to terms with the reality, the world would be better were I dead.

The grief that I spent three years running, just to end up back here.

The anguish that no matter how far I ran, you showed up in the mirror.

Well I’m done!  I can’t take this anymore.

After all the years of hurting you’ve left me with this score.

Why am I doomed to roam the earth in pain betraying?

Is this my Karma?  For all of my sins is this how I am paying?

Oh foolish child was I!  I was so frail, and sin so strong.

All the penance of earth wont cover my shame and wrong.

Somewhere down this frustrating road there must be a glimmer of relent.

A pin-prick of good fortune which could only be Heaven sent.

Maybe I’ll find it.  Perhaps in all my troubles I wont.

Until then, someone promise to bury me in satin if I don’t.

Writing Prompt Response: Out My Window

A box of concrete with two windows and a door is the place I’ve been hiding out.

Beyond the windows, the air is cool and crisp.  Green hills, with trees fading into autumn rest a gentle distance away.

Clouds are coming in, shading the world in gray.  it’s a beautiful sight, so inviting- enticing me to play… and yet I never leave.

Somewhere in the forest, all the Fae folk reside.  They’re having feasts and fellowship, dancing from dusk to dawn.

And yet for some reason, I remain alone.  Watching  Nature’s divine romance set the trees aflame from the window of my concrete hollow.

Perhaps I will join them tonight.  Embrace Freedom from this cave.

Depression is a fight, causing one to miss out on the beauties all around us.  Beyond the window of my concrete box are all the things I long to have, and none that I can touch.

Perhaps one day things will be right.  At least for now the window is open.  I can watch and enjoy the breeze.  The fresh cool air flourishing my spirits, and giving my heart new life.

Beautiful Potential

Precious little girl, you are more than this.

The darkness that consumes you, and breathes into your life has no power to remain there.

Sweetest little child, you are not judged by the darkness that you surround yourself in.  You’re free to let it go.

I know it protects you.  It keeps your sins from coming to light.

But do you know what else it does?  It tears you away from your potential.  It keeps you from accomplishing the things you were meant to.

You are so gifted, your heart is beautiful.  The words pouring out of your soul are worth reading, and worth being put on the shelves.  Your words were meant to be read, they were meant to be enjoyed.  

You have friends to join you in this Quest.

You have friends invested in your success.

You have support that loves you, they delight in you.

You have hope because they wont leave you until the Journey is done.

It’s beautiful, embrace it.

Your mind, your heart, your desires, your passions.  You are Beautiful and worthy of so much more.

Let go of the Darkness.  Let go of the Bondage and embrace your potential.

It is worth it.

Perspective: A Writing Prompt Response

A womans viewpoint:

Sheniah spun once round, falling backwards over the arm of the couch.

Her heart was content.  Warm.  Filled blissfully with hope.

Allowing herself to remain in the moments of elation, she rested her arm on her brow, watching the ceiling fan spin round and round.  The clack clack of the motor and dancing of the pull cords drawing her imagination to replay her date over and over.

His broad smile drew his eyes into crescents as he laughed gaily at the joke she shared.

“Asks the magician what he did with the boat.”  Mitch recapped the punchline, “that’s too funny.”

Sheniah rubbed her arm, feeling the familiar tingle of too much sun warming her skin.  “We should start back.”

“Sure.  Do you know what else you’d like to do?”  Mitch asked, slipping his hands into the pockets of his khaki cargo shorts.

She bit her lip, “I don’t know, I probably should head home.”  Not that she had anything to do at home, but she hated making decisions that might cause someone else to change previous plans.  In this way, she thought perhaps she was being considerate of Mitch.

“Are you sure?  We could go bowling, see a movie, rent a canoe…”

“Those sound like a great deal of fun, but neither of us are dressed to canoe, neither of us have socks, and I can’t think of anything I want to see.”

“A woman as eager as yourself to shoot down three marvelous ideas with such reasonable excuses, must have plans for the evening to be leaving a man, such as myself, utterly bored with naught but video games to entertain myself.”  He used hand motions as he spoke.

Sheniah smiled watching him.  She was in love with everything about him.  One day, hopefully he’d be just as in love with her.  Maybe.  They truly seemed made for each other.

Clearly having chosen to go home was the wrong decision. Laundry and a stack of bills greeted her as she entered her home from the garage.

Sheniah began lightly bouncing her foot in rhythm to the fan, “You silly woman.  Bowling or something.” she chided, eying the basket of laundry on her kitchen table.

And now she would be bored and lonely the rest of the afternoon.  At least her imagination could coax out things to pass the time before she went to work that night.

Sheniah smiled, happy to know he might be thinking of her too.
—————-
A mans viewpoint


Mitch loved the way she smiled.  Her smile made his heart skip.  Sheniah was funny, intelligent, sharp witted.  And her figure was pretty great too.  Nicely rounded hips, perfect for carrying children one day.  Almond shaped eyes that widened when she was paying absolute attention.  That one lock of brown hair that always fell forward, no matter how many times she gently brushed it behind her ear.

Whenever she was with him, he loved to hold her hand.  It was soft and delicate in his grasp.

She was gentle, with a full heart and extensive mind.  He loved how she was passionate when she spoke about things that excited her.

Mitch admitted he was disappointed she couldn’t spend the rest of the afternoon with her.  Nevertheless, he had a campaign to run, and his gaming buddies would be starting their mission in less than an hour.  Perhaps they’d get to go bowling or canoeing another time.

Grabbing a snack, Mitch turned on the gaming consol and relaxed his hands around the controller, making sure his headset was plugged in and ready to go.

Silent Shadows

It’s cold, and dark.  The shadows are long and I know the demon is waiting.

He’s stalked for years, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

Once, I sat in a restaurant at a table full of friends, surrounded by four off duty cops.  The safest place I ever could have been, and yet every willing man in the room stared with that horrifying desire.

The demon stood by the soda machine.  Tall, ominous, draped in shaggy layers of black.  He had no reason to hide from me, why should he?  He stood outside my bedroom window waiting.  Always waiting.

Unable to bear his presence any longer, I left the table full of friends, and the four police officers eating, to run away from him.  Them.  Their lusts loudly resounding in my head.

In that moment, I decided perhaps prostitution wasn’t what I wanted after all.  It had been a flattering idea which gave my abandoned flesh purpose. Serve, submit, succumb, and never have to remember the name.  There were too many names it hurt to remember already.  Ones that promised to care.  Ones that promised to help.  Ones that failed.

I was the problem.

Needy.  They said.  Emotional.  Too young.  Too much.  Too smart.  Dependent.  Depressed.  Trailer trash.  A product of loveless marriage.  A ghost of an existence that wished even God could love me.  What could I do?  Where would I go?  Who would ever love someone like me.

Nothing beats the terror of knowing a demon has decided your fate for you.  The sensation an ice cold chill.  Panic overtakes you as their intentions manifest in other human beings around you.

All one can do is run, hoping you run the right way.  Easy enough to leave a safe place and end up in the wrong place.

The spirit didn’t pursue.  My “friends” didn’t ask why I left.  Nobody would have believed if I’d told them anyway.  Not everyone sees what I see.  Not everyone knows what I know.  And the ones who don’t believe silence with condescension.

I know the spirit lingers, I feel it for the first time in a long time.  It’s a shadow stretching, reaching.  Calling.

The Unholy Harlot

She was a clever girl.  But lost and succumbed to the darkness inside her.

On the outside a shining smile, true Angelic being who lived to love.

Inside asking the mirror, “Am I beautiful?  Am I usuable?”

Undercover of darkness, she gave others the boost they needed to make it to the next day.  Dark silent deeds only Night could comprehend.

A toy.  A play thing.  Lovely enough to tarnish, ugly enough to hate.

Recklessly giving into the desires.  Recklessly bound to others, giving them what they wished as they wished it.

She was a broken, frustrated shard of glass.  Her sins innumerable to count.

Somehow undesired by all who would treat her right, twisted and broken – settling for less.  Always so much less.

The Perfect One never came.  He never rescued her from the tower.  The dragon was destroyed, but the castle remained in ruins.  Never to be lit up.

A perfect little church girl.  Mary’s twisted unholy little Lamb.  All the answers on the tip of her tongue.  The perfect Youth Pastor protege.

Eyes, sullen, dark, outlined in shame.  Afraid to cut, afraid to bleed.  Wishing the inside would finally die like her black soul.

It wasn’t that she was evil.  Tainted?  Indeed.  Abandoned to play in her own imagination.  Creating beautiful things outside the confines of Reality.

Playing night and day, learning how to grow up.  Inside wishing she could just die.  Death must be better than all this.  Jesus loved her even if the others didn’t, yes?

Selfish, all desiring the same thing.  Giving it away to them one by one.  But only to a point.  The perfect tease.  The perfect wish. Just a taste to keep them interested, until finally she was cast aside.