CW Final Project – The Shattering


Title Slide

It is the end of the semester and I’m finishing up assignments and projects for my classes. One was a final project for my Creative Writing class. For the longest time, I was at a loss of what to do. So I started working on finishing the last part of the Shattering (which I’ve posted 3 parts of so far). I wrote some and then my brain locked up.

So I decided to draw and color. :)

I worked on some dragon pictures and realized they might be the best way to present my piece visually. So I started a PowerPoint presentation and did some more coloring. Eventually, I realized it would be very difficult to put the drawings into the PowerPoint without a scanner. So I went and purchased one. Many of the pictures I drew, then inked, then scanned (in B&W), then printed on my laserjet, then colored, then scanned in again. I also scanned in some of my maps. (I love drawing maps!)

So here is what I presented. In the end, I just did the PowerPoint and explained the images, using up enough time without reading the excerpt. But I will include the excerpt at the end of this post.

~ Effy

Word of Dadreon Slide

Dadreon is a fantasy world I have been writing in since middle school–about 20 years. It has expanded and become more rich over the years. These past few years it has really begun to take shape because the various scattered pieces have begun to come together, fitting with one another like puzzle pieces.

Dadreon Pre-Shattering Slide

This is the world as it existed before the Shattering of the Sunstone and the resulting cataclysm. The world was one large landmass, similar to Earth’s Pangeae.

Dadreon Post-Shattering Slide

This is the separation of the continents immediately after the Shattering, before the continents started drifting apart from one another.

Sandrae Pre-Shattering Slide

Sandrae is basically the center of Dadreon, and the home to all of the Protectors. This is a map of Sandrae prior to the Shattering. The Temple of Yargonae is at the center in the elven city of Bethel. The darker portions are all forests as they existed by the humans arrived.

Sandrae Post-Shattering Slide

This is Sandrae after the Shattering, now surrounded by water.

Rhaegar Slide

This is Rhaegar, the Father of Dragons. He was created by Yargonae at the beginning. He is always dreaming, and in his dreams, he keeps an ancient evil locked away in the center of the world. The Shattering woke Rhaegar, allowing his prisoners to almost escape and changing the face of Dadreon.

The Sunstone Slide

After creating Rhaegar, Yargonae took a scale from him and created the Sunstone. Through the refracted rays of the sun, creating a rainbow of colors, Yargonae formed the Dracolords, the Gemstone Dragons. The Dracolords are the protectors of the elements–earth, fire, nature, air, and water.

Sapphire Slide

Sapphire is the male Dracolord who protects the elemental earth.

Ruby Slide

Ruby is the female Dracolord who protects the elemental fire.

Emerald Slide

Emerald is the male Dracolord who protects the elemental nature.

Quartz Slide

Quartz is the female Dracolord who protects the elemental air.

Onyx Slide

Onyx is the female Dracolord who protects the elemental water. (She turned out looking awesome, but far more mean looking than I intended!)

Sylvan Slide

The Sylvan are the Protectors of life and life essence. They are the mothers of all of the fae races–elves, fairies, halflings, and dryads.

Avar Slide

The Avar are the protectors of the mind and mental powers. They are a race of bird-people with a strict caste system and a way of life that is similar to the Asian and Buddhist lifestyles–focusing on history-keeping, knowing the self, and meditation.

Nagaesh Slide

I believe that the world is formed of opposites and these opposites both complement and contradict one another. The Desecrators are the opposite of the Protectors. For each Protector there is a Desecrator to form opposition and who feed on and destroy the forces that the Protectors guard. The Desecrators are the minions of the ancient ones imprisoned within Dadreon by Rhaegar. At the time of the Shattering, they were summoned to the surface by the envious Zaeriin, god of darkness and deceit.

The Nagaesh are the Desecrators of the elements. They feed on the elements of earth, fire, nature, air, and water. I devised this creature from a combination of various monsters and based its name off the mythical Naga, or lizard men.

Rusc Slide

The Rusc are the Desecrators of life and life essence. They feed on the life forces of other beings. I picture the Rusc similar to a ghoul from Dungeons & Dragons–vampiric and emaciated–which is why I choose to use this image.

Ilmaer Slide

The Ilmaer are the Desecrators of the mind and mental powers. They feed on the minds of other beings. I picture the Ilmaer very similar to the mind flayers, or Illithid, from Dungeons & Dragons–who also seem very similar to the imagery given of Cthulhu from H.P. Lovecraft’s writing.

The Shattering Excerpt Slide

This is an excerpt from the larger piece, The Shattering.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Sunstone had begun to sing again, a melody dreadful and forlorn.

Zaeriin reached forward. A tiny tremor in the marble floor gave him pause. He hesitated for only a moment, then grabbed hold of the gem. A greater vibration shook Zaeriin, seeming to originate from the Sunstone. He took a firmer hold of it. The walls of the Temple began to shudder and cracks appeared in their flawless surfaces.

Zaeriin stood mesmerized, gazing deeply into the Sunstone. Within the gem were swirling masses resembling tiny cosmic clouds, and within them twinkled tiny stars. Now that he held it, the Sunstone seemed to trill with a higher pitch than before.

First dust, then pebbles, then large sections of the plastered walls and columns began to crumble and collapse around him. A large chunk fell to the floor, narrowly missing him and breaking him from his reverie.

“I think that is my exit cue,” Zaeriin murmured.

The Temple groaned and rumbled with discontent. As Zaeriin moved toward the doors, more chunks of plaster fell, now joined by the stone and mortar beneath it, quicker and in larger pieces than before. A jagged hole marred the ceiling, and it made the sun’s rays unpleasantly harsh and condemning to the dark god’s sensitive eyes.

Zaeriin clutched the Sunstone protectively to him. As he reached the aspen doors, the gem wailed and flashed hot pain into his chest.

Crying out, Zaeriin tried to hold on, but the burning gem tumbled from his covetous fingers.

The Sunstone hit the marble and shattered, letting loose an ear-piercing wail. It was a scream of fear, a howl of pain, a cry of anguish.

And it woke Rhaegar, the Dreamer, from his slumber.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

To those living on the great landmass of Sandrae, it seemed the gods had cast judgment upon their creations, found them lacking, and sought to destroy all evidence of their existence. The once calm landscape became a roiling, punishing, living thing.

Mountains bled and groaned and collided with one another, ground together like gnashing teeth then violently ripping apart, leaving great chasms that sucked down the unprepared. The chasms channeled torrential sea waters into the crevasses forming across the continent’s formerly solid surface and the landmass shattered apart. Fractured pieces drifted away from the center of the continent.

The quakes created by the upheaval wracked Sandrae, crumbling buildings, destroying forests, and reshaping the features of the world of Dadreon. Molten rock spewed up from below and washed away great areas in burning rivers of lava.

Thunder and hail created a great cacophony, making ears ring and teeth grind. Lightning lit up the blackened sky and eerily outlined the apocalyptic landscape in stark white on black.

The cataclysmic events sent the peoples running in fear for their lives, but with nowhere to escape.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Zaeriin stood in horrified awe for several moments, staring at the topaz shards scattered around him. He grabbed the largest jagged fragment and fled down the marble stairs that spilled down the front of the violently quaking Temple.

He quickly realized the turmoil extended beyond Temple, though. The city of Bethel had fallen into chaos. Terrified elves fled homes that crumbled around them. They poured into streets that cracked apart beneath a sky that rumbled and spewed torrential rains.

He might have escaped in the confusion if not for the grief of one.

Umaesh, lord of the moons and stars, had watched his love, Onyx, enter the Temple of Yargonae and only Zaeriin emerge. He knew the malice that blackened that one’s heart, had seen much of his wicked acts from his high throne. Umaesh left his heavenly realm to confirm the fears growing within him, but was still stunned into anguished silence when he saw his love slumped into a pool of her own blood.

His tears had begun to fall as her body shimmered and shattered into two pairs of dragons–two of black and two of steely grey. The dragons cried out in their own despair before smashing through the remnants of the skylight of the Temple and escaping into the trembling beyond.

Umaesh was left with only his tears and his aching heart.

For what seemed an eternity to the immortal god, he knelt there, his face soaked with tears that would not stop falling, until finally he remembered the source of his heartbreak. Cold anger, the kind that sharpens emotion-dulled senses, filled Umaesh. He spent only a moment shaping the physical manifestation of his sorrow, the black pool of his tears, into a sharp obsidian instrument of revenge, and then crossed the Temple’s vast marble floor.

Zaeriin had only made it to the lower courtyard at the base of the stairs when Umaesh smashed through the remaining fragments of the great pair of aspen doors.

“Zaeriin! I will have your heart for the pain you’ve caused mine!”

The fleeing god cringed and hunched into himself as he met the glaring anger of Umaesh. The moon god cut an impressive figure across the darkened front of the Temple–silky black skin taut over rippling muscles that trembled with rage. Umaesh’s luminescent silver eyes burned into Zaeriin, making him flinch away from the gaze. In his passionate grip hung a sword with a black blade and Zaeriin knew what the other god intended.

“Be reasonable, Umaesh. You cannot kill me. I’m brother to your King,” Zaeriin said. He gave the moon god his most charismatic smile.

“I am beyond reason,” Umaesh replied, taking slow steps down the stairs to the lower courtyard.

“As was I. Believe me, her death hurts me as it does you.”

“I doubt that, but no worries, you will feel a similar pain.” Umaesh’s steps remained even, measured. “I plan to cut out your black heart.”

Zaeriin winced at the implications. “You are indeed without reason if you think I will submit to you.”

“It is my wish that you don’t. That will make my revenge sweeter.” His drawn out progression continued.

Zaeriin had never realized how steep the staircase was until it counted down to his end. He had no intentions of that happening. “You cannot attack what you cannot see,” the god of darkness hissed.

The entire courtyard went black. Umaesh could not even see the blade in his hand, let alone the steps ahead of him. He paused, his ears alert to any noise. “Coward!” he shouted into the dark.

The words were quickly lost in the deafening sounds of the world destroying itself, an end which meant nothing to Umaesh.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Umaesh whispered to his sword, and it responded. A dim light came forth, black on black, but cutting the immediate gloom. Umaesh stepped quicker down the stairs until he stood where Zaeriin had been a moment before. “Show yourself!”

“What fun would that be?” Zaeriin said. His confidence returned with his ability to fade into the black. This was his element.

Umaesh was aware of Zaeriin’s powers of deceit and knew better than to trust his ears. He focused on the dimly glowing sword as he cut slow swaths through the darkness.

At first, he saw nothing, but finally as Zaeriin’s voice laughed tauntingly behind him, Umaesh caught a movement at the edge of the sweeping sword’s light in front and to his left. He followed where he thought the movement’s path led and slashed.

Zaeriin cried out and the black wall around them wavered. The gloomy low-light of the continuing storm fell like streamers of dull gray, piercing random places and plunging to the ground around them.

Again, Umaesh waited, then lunged. Again, his opponent confirmed the hit through the shout of a scathing epithet.

The third time, the moon god’s sword met hard resistance and two weapons came together with a thunderous crash that echoed in the wounded sky. But Zaeriin’s strength was no match for Umaesh’s. As steel met obsidian, the moon god put all of his weight behind his Moonblade and crushed Zaeriin down toward the ground.

The tattered remnants of the darkness blew away like dead leaves in the whipping wind. Umaesh was face to face with Zaeriin and glared at his love’s murderer with vengeful silver eyes.

“Last words?” Umaesh growled.

“I think that’s enough fun for one day,” Zaeriin replied with a grin, still straining against the other’s muscular arms.

A moment later, Umaesh nearly fell to the ground, all the resistance beneath him gone–along with Zaeriin.


From then forward, whenever the light of the moons became eclipsed, the people of Dadreon remembered the great battle of Umaesh and Zaeriin, and rejoiced when the moons’ faces once more shone, knowing their moon god had triumphed over evil, though not destroyed it.

Umaesh returned to his heavenly sanctuary and continued to cry for his lost love. His great dark tears fell all across Dadreon, and wherever they sizzled against the flowing lava of the ravaged land they became chunks of obsidian, the tears of the moon.

Umaesh Vs. Zaeriin Slide

This last slide is a surrealistic image I put together from the battle between Umaesh and Zaeriin. It symbolizes the lunar eclipse from the battle as well as Umaesh’s tears falling and forming obsidian.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This story and all related material are the original works of Awaiting the Muse and Effy J. Roan AKA Effraeti. All rights reserved.
Creative Commons License
Awaiting the Muse by Effy J. Roan AKA Effraeti is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

National Poetry Month – Week 4

Leather journal

More poems from Twitter. This time I think they need no more introduction.

~ Effy

Twitter Prompt Poetry

His intentions were
Oddly noble
His deeds quixotic
I admired his
But fell prey too often
To his mishaps

I imagine…
Worlds of fantasy
And romance
Where a woman
Can escape the real
And live a life

The work of the writer…
Penning life’s breath
Into characters made of
Ink and paper
Ideas and memories
Heart and soul

I must confess…
As much as I love gold
I live to create chaos
And so enjoy the agony of mortals.
~ The Dragon

Beware, my fragile heart,
Fall not for pretty words
Or fervent promises
Follow the head
And keep safely in the shadows

Journeying Through Old Lands Poem

Journeying through old lands
Past ruined temples
And overgrown cities
With only the ghosts of beauty
And the fleeting essence of
Grandeur remaining.

The Fire Played Bashful Poem

At first the fire played bashful
Timidly caressing the wet logs
And popping as
Dampness escaped
Until the wood
Dried and heated
And blazed to life.

The murky swamp surrounded them
With the haunting melody
Of night creatures
Creeping along just ot of sight.

Two lovers uncovered
Like unveiled art,
When darkness claims
The pleading heart.

Words dangling just out of reach,
Characters hiding their secret desires,
Stories begging to be told–
Awaiting the muse.

Spring has not quite sprung–
Waiting for green,
Contemplating sleeping blooms,
Dreaming in the color of lilacs.

Too many tries at falling in love,
I’m tired of spinning around.
How do I keep upright?
When I’m downside up and upside down.

The school semester grows old
And classes draw to a close.
I prepare to both say goodbye
And start with a clean slate.

Other Twitter Poems

Sometimes love is selfish
Sometimes love is unkind
Sometimes love just isn’t enough
But usually love is blind.

Interrupted thoughts,
Discarded images,
Broken connections,
Stories left untold–
Now just crumpled pieces of paper.

I'll Seize the Isle of Love Poem

I’ll seize the isle of love
In choppy seas now won.
‘Til one night emotions lay trussed
By the white knight who sighed.
He gives a side glance
And sees the wide aisle
Between our trust and lie revealed.

Note: This last one was from a Creative Writing prompt we did in class. Our goal was to use 6 homonyms (words that sound the same but have different spellings and meanings) in a short piece.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This story and all related material are the original works of Awaiting the Muse and Effy J. Roan AKA Effraeti. All rights reserved.
Creative Commons License
Awaiting the Muse by Effy J. Roan AKA Effraeti is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Based on a work at

Poem – Fleeting

Jetstream, by Unknown Artist

Jetstream, by Unknown Artist

This is the first free write from Creative Writing that I have tidied up and decided to share. Above is a painting shared by my teacher. Below is the poem it inspired. My apologies for the glare on the bird. I took a picture of the painting and didn’t notice the glare on the tiny screen of my phone.


~ Effy


What was I saying?
The answer,
The thought,
Stood firmly in
My mind,
And now it’s gone–
Stolen away
Like a twig
Snatched by a bird
To build its nest.

What were we saying?
Perhaps I can
Steal it back,
Return it
To where it was
Sadly, thoughts are
More slippery than that,
Words more elusive,
Like butterflies,
Which once caught
Can never fly again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This story and all related material are the original works of Awaiting the Muse and Effy J. Roan AKA Effraeti. All rights reserved.
Creative Commons License
Awaiting the Muse by Effy J. Roan AKA Effraeti is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Based on a work at

Poem – A Full (Empty) Life

A Water Glass

Perhaps I was already melancholy at the time, but I read a writing prompt that made me more so. It was from the blog of J.C. Cauthon:

The worst thing in life is to live a full, rich life but still die alone.

It really got me thinking about how I’ve tried to balance a relationship with family and work and school and writing. It always seems an unequal balance. How can I make a decision between what is “more important”? It seems impossible and unfair.

I’ll try and make sure the next piece I post is more cheery. :)

~ Effy

A Full (Empty) Life

The meaning of life
Is it money?
Is it fame?
Is it legacy?
Is it love?

Life does not balance easily.
It careens us back and forth
Like a demented teeter totter.
It forces us to make decisions
And choose sides.

Do I devote myself
To work,
To knowledge,
To writing,
To love?

Which will I choose today?
Who is more important?
Such unfair questions.

Do I focus on me?
How selfish!
Do I focus on you?
What if you leave?

At least if I’m happy with myself
I can survive.
Better than being happy with you.
Because then I could not bear
The parting.

Why focus on others?
Why leave my life in your hands?
Everyone leaves.
Only I stay.

What makes this life
Full or empty?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This story and all related material are the original works of Awaiting the Muse and Effy J. Roan AKA Effraeti. All rights reserved.
Creative Commons License
Awaiting the Muse by Effy J. Roan AKA Effraeti is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Based on a work at

National Poetry Month — Week 3

Book with Heart

More poems inspired by various Twitter prompts. Some even have images to go with them this week, when I was at home and so inclined.

~ Effy

Twitter Prompt Poetry

“An Amorous Affair”
No bond greater
No love deeper
No passion hotter
Than a dragon
And his gold.

Passion's Voice poem

Passion’s Voice–
A soft, sultry breath
Against my ear.
Passion’s Touch–
The lightest brush
Of fingertips.
Passion’s Kiss–
A silent dance
To bond two souls.

The Dragon Slept poem

The dragon slept.
He heard its
Even breathing
Rumbling like
An avalanche.
Creeping, tiptoeing
Across the chamber.
He didn’t see one yellow eye open,
Didn’t sense something wrong,
Until he could feel the warmth.

Love is forgiveness.
I know this is true,
Because I see it
In her big brown eyes
And I feel it
Knowing I can’t
Stay upset.

My heart feels like
An open wound
Visible to all
Free to see.
So I try to
Hide it away
And protect it
From further damage.

A throaty rumble
Becomes fiery breath,
Just as skin and hair
Become hot ash,
Burning like paper dolls.

I’m sorry
For every misunderstanding.
I’m sorry
For each angry word.
But I won’t apologize
For the way I feel.

I’m solid and tall
Like a sturdy oak
Standing straight
Weathering wind and rain.
But you’re the fire.

I deal in words and sentences.
I breath life into characters.
As I create,
I also admit
Each has
Changed me.

Deep and sultry,
His voice greets
My ears like
A sweet melody.
I could just listen
All day.

I am the passionate beast

My heart of fire
Beats with
Burning desire—
I am the passionate beast.

Eternal love–
Spoken in breathless syllables
During intimate moments.
Now, another broken promise.

Warm whispers of wetness
And showers softly singing
Through drizzles of discourse.
The Language of Rain.

Slithering and prowling
Black creatures
Creep at the edges
Of light,
Making the night
The land of
Visible darkness.

Once upon a time,
I believed in
Chaotic dragons,
Lithe elves,
Powerful magic
And eternal love.
Oh wait, I still do.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This story and all related material are the original works of Awaiting the Muse and Effy J. Roan AKA Effraeti. All rights reserved.
Creative Commons License
Awaiting the Muse by Effy J. Roan AKA Effraeti is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Based on a work at

Poem – Worldbuilding

Surreal Painiting

Unknown Painting, by an Unknown Artist

In Creative Writing, we’ve been discussing surrealistic writing. This short poem was inspired by the image above–which I found online, but unfortunately I could not find any information about it.


~ Effy


Creating worlds in my mind.
Places of imagination:
Cities of dreams,
Mountains of emotion,
Oceans as deep as my searching soul,
Names perched on the edges of my mind.
Born like children–
Nursed through infancy
And encouraged to grow
Until they fill my brain
And fill the pages.

Empty pages–
Are they less or more terrifying
Than an empty imagination?
I fear them both.

So I keep my mind
Preoccupied with places
And populated with people.
People from sprawling spaces
Brimming with monsters
To keep the people busy.
Like my twirling mind keeps me busy
Because idle hands are the devil’s plaything
And so is an idle mind.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This story and all related material are the original works of Awaiting the Muse and Effy J. Roan AKA Effraeti. All rights reserved.
Creative Commons License
Awaiting the Muse by Effy J. Roan AKA Effraeti is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Based on a work at

The Ballad of Aeolus the White

White Dragon, by Ben Wootten

White Dragon, by Ben Wootten

My current goal is to complete a series of stories about the various dragons of Dadreon. So far, I have a green dragon story, a red dragon story, and now here I have a white dragon story. Expect the black and blue dragons to follow soon! (The black dragon piece is already in the works.)

This is for my Creative Writing class. Our assignment was to create an “Instruction” piece–meaning a piece that commands or explains or tells how to do something or how to accomplish something. Rather than write something tongue-in-cheek about “How To” or “How Not To” do something, I wanted to write about dragons. (I know, we’re all surprised! I never write about dragons!) So decided to write about a bossy white dragon with minions (worshipers).

I have been playing with poetry a lot lately, and for some reason the title to this piece got stuck in my head and wouldn’t go away. So I had to make it a ballad. So I had to figure out how to write a ballad. This is a very experimental piece, so please be gentle with feedback. But as always, I’d love to hear what you think. :)

Anyway, please enjoy!

~ Effy

The Ballad of Aeolus the White

White Dragon, by Saeto15

White Dragon, by Saeto15


“Bring me meat!” the great white wyrm demanded.
His yellowed fangs and crystalline blue eyes
Gleamed in the dim reflections of the faroff sun
Sneaking its rays into his ice-crusted cavern.

When Aeolus commanded, his worshippers
Fell over one another in frightened heaps to comply.
They brought him seal and orca meat, but his
Favorite was the fierce and hearty polar bear.

None of the cowardly barbarians had proved
Themselves brave or strong enough to slay one.
A few of the younger and stupider warriors tried
And never returned, surely made into bear food.

For a polar bear, Aeolus would leave his cave of
Ice and darkness to hunt. They were his delicacy.
The white dragon stalked the chilly tundra
As its apex predator–stronger than bear or wolf.

World’s End polar bears stood twice a man’s
Height on their hind legs, but Aeolus loomed
Twice that at his shoulders. Small for a dragon,
He towered over all other, mortal creatures.

White gleaming scales met white woolly fur,
And she rose to her full height of ten feet,
Roaring a dreadful challenge. Aeolus did not
Blink or waver, he rumbled back like the thunder.

“Cower before Aeolus!” the white wyrm bellowed.
No creature did he fear, none were his master.
“Cower before my might! I will chew your bones
And drink your blood as humans drink mead!”

The polar bear female dropped to all fours,
Backpedaled several feet and rumbled uncertainly.
She did not turn away, she knew it meant death.
Aeolus knew her death closed in either way.

He toyed with his food, like a cat with a mouse.
Slash and sidestep, bite and flap his wings.
Confuse her, keep her off balance, tire her out.
Only when she panted, stumbled would he strike.

Blood like rubies soaked the icy snow, and still
The bear huffed and snarled. A great claw caught
Aeolus on the forepaw and it made him laugh
A great guffaw. “Bleed! Submit!” And he sneered.

Finally, the female, her white fur shades of pink
And red, collapsed. As her legs gave out, Aeolus
Shot his head forward and snapped her thick neck,
Ending the creature’s pain in one quick shake.

Aeolus strutted his catch through the village,
The great polar bear hanging limply from his jaws.
The humans prostrated themselves before him,
Cowering at the strength and power of the dragon.

They praised him as they might a god:
Aeolus the white, Aeolus the terrible.
But they knew his temper, cold as ice:
Aeolus the frigid, Aeolus the devourer.

White Dragon

White Dragon, Unknown Artist


Aeolus had grown accustomed to the fear and
Obedience he inspired in his dim worshippers.
At his every command, they rushed to please him.
His every whim, they knew better than to deny.

So it came as a surprise when one day, alone
In his icy crystalline cavern, Aeolus heard a voice.
The voice seemed to originate inside his head.
It made demands of him. It gave him commands.

Fly south. Return to the land of your origin,
The voice insisted. Aeolus snarled back aloud,
“Silence! No creature do I fear! None is my master!”
Then he shook his head with great violence.

Still the voice persisted, growing louder and louder:
Fly south. Return to the land of your Father.
Aeolus gathered himself stubbornly, bellowing:
“Leave me be, voice! I will not submit to you!”

Even had the white wyrm anyone to confide in,
He would have kept his own, solitary council,
For voices in one’s head are always a bad sign.
Aeolus would never admit to such mental infirmities.

So he brooded and endured the insistent voice.
His worshippers came and went, and the dragon
made sure to never give them any idea of the
lingering, ever-present whispers in their idol’s head.

Until one day, a handful of the barbarians brought
A giant orca carcass to the feet of their icy master.
He hissed a note of pleasure to the group, when
Suddenly the intruder returned, more tenacious:

Fly south. Fly south. Fly south, it chanted rhythmically.
You must. Don’t resist. Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry…
“No! Be gone!” Aeolus roared. The very air vibrated and
The cavern walls shook until icicles fell and shattered.

The worshippers looked at one another in confusion,
Dull eyes and slack mouths forming questions.
“Leave my head!” the white wyrm commanded in
A thunderous hiss, his wings and claws smashing.

The humans fled and ensured they were far from
earshot before sharing whispers of, “Voices, eh?
The White One is hearing voices. A bad sign, surely.”
For even they knew of those who lurked below.

Deep below slept ancient creatures beyond evil.
They invaded the dreams of mortals with raving
Whispers of murderous intent. Could these monsters
Scratch away the sanity of their immortal master?

They praised him as they might a god:
Aeolus the white, Aeolus the terrible.
But they knew of his unheard whispers:
Aeolus the deranged, Aeolus the erratic.

White Dragon Statue

White Dragon Statue, Unknown Artist


Aeolus narrowed his eyes to mere slits, watching
The movement of his worshippers below in their
Small village. He heard the rumors. He saw the looks.
He knew what they thought of him and snarled.

The white wyrm was not crazy, nor being driven
To it. Instead, he seethed with anger cold as frostbite.
“I submit to no one–man, dragon, or even god,”
He growled to himself, to the voice, but less adamant.

The dragon had determined it was no ancient evil
Whispering maddening and repetitive commands to him,
But he had not determined the true source of the voice.
Aeolus felt it was draconic, but could not answer why.

I am the sleeper, I am the jailor, I am the Father of
Dragons, the voice finally admitted. Aeolus’ lip twitched.
“Impossible. Tell me, who are you really? Why do you
torment me? Tell me!” He bared his teeth at the shadows.

Who else could invade your thoughts so completely?
Aeolus snorted, unable to make an intelligent retort.
Why do you still resist? Fly home. Fly south. I need you.
One ice-white eyebrow arched over a glacier blue eye.

The voice’s plea echoed in his head, tugging at his
Frigid heartstrings. The unfamiliar sensation caused him
A pain almost physical that faded to a sharp tingle–
like a limb that has fallen asleep and refuses to awaken.

“Why?” the last stubborn holdout of the dragon’s being
Demanded. “Tell me why I should do as you ask?”
Time is running out. Hurry, hurry, please. Come home.
The voice, still imploring, was a sweet caress, an embrace.

The curiosity deep within Aeolus continued to grow.
It slowly began to conquer the stubbornness, so deep
And ingrained it was embedded in the white wyrm’s
Soul. What could the Father possibly want of him?

Before Aeolus could fully form the question in his mind,
His legs were moving, faster, launching him into the cold
Air that did not chill the white dragon. Wings spread and
Caught the winds. Wing and wind embraced like old lovers.

The dragon tirelessly flew, on and on. The distance to
Sandrae was great, but time seemed to pass in a place
Separate from Aeolus the White. It did not affect him.
He never tired or faltered. Soon green forests bloomed.

The ruined city of Bethel came into view below him.
Aeolus knew without knowing that was his destination.
As he made a lazy loop and picked a place to land,
He realized he was not alone, not the first to arrive.

Other dragons, dragons of every color–both chromatic
And metallic hues–filled the sky and the courtyard of
The Temple of Yargonae. Aeolus had never once run
Across a single other dragon since the death of Anemone.

Vines wound and grass grew through the cracks
In Bethel’s main road, the once straight path from
The gate, now rusted close, to the base of the crumbling
Marble steps of the Temple–dark and silent as death.

When Rhaegar, the Father of Dragons, once more spoke
To Aeolus, he knew he spoke to them all, for he saw
The curious looks and cocking of heads. Welcome home,
My wayward children. Witness soon the dawn of your rebirth.

Confusion and fleeting panic went through Aeolus’
Thoughts, but they were soon replaced with a warm
Feeling that began in his chest and spread throughout.
He felt a change and somehow sensed Anemone.

His heart burst with joy, but Aeolus could not reach
Out to her, did not even comprehend how he knew she
Was there. Before he could fret overly, he felt her draw
Closer–until they were one and he knew completion.

They praised him as they might a god:
Aeolus the white, Aeolus the terrible.
But the Father knew him better than any:
Aeolus the lonely, Aeolus the loner.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This story and all related material are the original works of Awaiting the Muse and Effy J. Roan AKA Effraeti. All rights reserved.
Creative Commons License
Awaiting the Muse by Effy J. Roan AKA Effraeti is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Based on a work at

National Poetry Month – Week 2

Laptop and grassy field

Poetry month continues, so here are some more Twitter poems from prompts.


~ Effy

Twitter Prompt Poetry

If I falter
Pick me up.
If I wander
Bring me back.
But never will I
Forget my promise.

Orange, yellow, red,
Flames burn away
My fears
As the fire of
Our passion
Consumes me.

A heart with no scars
Is a heart that never knew love.
No one escapes unscathed.

The secret life of dragons
Leads one to realize
The depths of their emotion.
But first one must get past
Claws, teeth, and flames.

Necromantic magic
In the gloom
Of deepest bog,
Reflects a soul
Devoid of light
And heart of
Blackest obsidian.

Surely this must be
Another person
Another life
I see?
Surely it is not me
With another

Tumbling, gasping,
Drowning in a sea
Of failed romances
And bitter memory
Wishing for someone
To bring me
Back to shore

I’m really a big cuddly teddy bear–
But no one can see past the claws and teeth.
~ True dragon confessions

Every moment
Feels like a slow poison
Creeping through my veins
Then I realize
What doesn’t kill me
Makes me stronger

I’m all too familiar
With your danger.
Passion and excitement
That ends in
A flood of
And tears.

That moment when
The rising sun
Hits the morning dew and
Flares to life
In a rainbow dance
of awakening.

When dealing with dragons
Craft your words carefully.
You never know what phrase
Might provoke or appease
The chaotic being.

Haikus (This Week and Some Older)

Such a bleeding heart
Open a vein and show it
Around for retweets.

Rainy, wet school day.
Dodging raindrops and earthworms.
Ahh, the smells of spring.

Reading in the rain–
Droplets on sheet metal roof
Causing fogged windows.

Thawing and melting,
Smells of rich, life-giving sod.
Potential for growth.

Warm sun and cool breeze,
Birds are singing in the trees.
Lunchtime R & R.

All love got me is
Hoarse and unheard. Like a dog
Chained to a dead tree.

Palpable tendrils
Floating through the air — waves of

And fantastic ideas, floating
Through the air, unbound.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This story and all related material are the original works of Awaiting the Muse and Effy J. Roan AKA Effraeti. All rights reserved.
Creative Commons License
Awaiting the Muse by Effy J. Roan AKA Effraeti is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Based on a work at

Poem – Lyrical

Romantic Couple

This weekend, it seemed there were a number of 80’s movies on and not much else. I have a habit of either music or TV as subtle background noise. These, I actually watched. Not that I need any excuse to watch 80’s movies. I am a child of the 80’s. I grew up on an era of movies (and music) that glorified romance and the rise of the nerd. In fact, my four all-time favorite movies are all 80’s romances: Pretty Woman, The Princess Bride, Romancing the Stone (also about a writer!), and Roxanne. But Weird Science, Harry and the Hendersons, Back to the Future I & II, and National Lampoon’s Vacation made me all nostalgic this weekend and reminded of some of the things I learned from 80’s movies.

The biggest of those themes being that everyone lives happily ever after.

Hence, I grew up to be a hopeless romantic, that began as a hopeful romantic.

So I decided to try and work that idea into a poem. Enjoy.

~ Effy


Hopeful romantic,
Raised on 80’s romance movies
And saying, like in 80’s love songs,
I want to know what love is.(1)

Romance, like my fantasy stories,
Teaching me a preferable reality.
Watching The Princess Bride,
And longing for my Westley.

Watching Weird Science and movies
About nerds and underdogs
Who always get the girl
And live happily ever after.

Sappy romances were
My love textbooks growing up.
Pretty Woman and the
Happy ending I wanted too.

I just called to say “I love you.”(2)
So don’t you forget about me,(3)
Because you were always on my mind,(4)
And sweet dreams are made of these.(5)

Years later, after high school and
Trudging my way through adulthood,
I learned the reality of love
And the hurt of heartbreak.

Where’s my Roxanne ending?
Where’s my heroic Jack T. Colten?(6)
Where’s my Coming to America prince?
Where’s my undying Ghost romance?

Oh you know that I’d do anything for you,(7)
But this heart of mine has been hurt before.(8)
Oh, I want to be that complete.(9)
Where is my happy ending?(10)

This tainted love you’ve given…(11)
Now I’ve learned that romance
Doesn’t work that way for a
Hopeless romantic.

Footnotes of Lyrics/Movies Referenced:

  1. Foreigner – “I Want to Know What Love Is”
  2. Stevie Wonder – “I Just Called to Say I Love You”
  3. Simple Minds – “Don’t You (Forget About Me)”
  4. Pet Shop Boys – “Always on my Mind”
  5. Eurythmics – “Sweet Dreams”
  6. Romancing the Stone
  7. The Cure – “Love Cats”
  8. Foreigner – “Waiting for a Girl Like You”
  9. Peter Gabriel – “In Your Eyes”
  10. Paula Cole – “Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?”
  11. Soft Cell – “Tainted Love”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This story and all related material are the original works of Awaiting the Muse and Effy J. Roan AKA Effraeti. All rights reserved.
Creative Commons License
Awaiting the Muse by Effy J. Roan AKA Effraeti is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Based on a work at

National Poetry Month – Week 1

Book of Poetry

Happy Poetry Month! Lately I have been trying my hand at Twitter writing prompts from various different people. They’re all on my Twitter account, but I figured it would be fun to post them here once a week, at least during the month of April!

Let me know what you think. Which is your favorite? (I am especially fond of the ones that reference dragons.)

~ Effy

Twitter Prompt Poetry

Wings snap and catch
The whipping wind
As I feel my
Spirit Rising
And the ground
Fall away

Cut my heart with
And indifference.
I surrender to
The painful numbness.

How do we salvage
This tangled wreckage,
This smoldering heap,
This ruined fortress,
These bleeding hearts?

Remember last night
As the end of
A dark chapter.
See today
As the start of
A brighter one.

He thought he could
Sneak into my lair,
Steal my gold,
Escape without harm.
But I own the knight.

Twist the tainted blade
That pierced my soul.
It siphons my life
And shrivels my veins,
Leaving an empty husk.

Shedding the skin of past lives,
In fire consumed and reborn.
She is the phoenix.
Excerpt from: Hope

Maple, birch, oak,
All stand and gloat
Springing green leaves.
While the pine
Stands silent,

It shrouded her
Like a silky crimson cloak,
Before soaking into
Dry hardpack below.
Life and warmth absorbed.

Scaled wings,
Taloned claws,
Burning rage–
Chaos ascending.
Looping lazily
Breathing terror
As death rains
And order falls away.

Suave words, tender looks,
Fool me into loving you.
Romance and promises,
Too good and never true.

Only when I see
The scorched skeletons
Among gold and gems
Do I realize the folly of
My last adventure.

First rule of summoning:
Never trust
The demon’s appeals.
It always tempts
But never reveals
The truth of all
It’s scheming deals.

Similar to
Wander off.
The difference lies
In the intention
Or lack thereof.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This story and all related material are the original works of Awaiting the Muse and Effy J. Roan AKA Effraeti. All rights reserved.
Creative Commons License
Awaiting the Muse by Effy J. Roan AKA Effraeti is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Based on a work at