Author Up Challenge – Day 5

prescription drugs

Wow, I’ve made it to Day 5 of the Author Up Challenge. This is quite exciting.

Today’s prompt was the opposite of yesterday’s:

Day 5: Write From the Male Perspective

No additional writing prompt today. Today, I am feeling a need to be raw and open. This piece is from a male perspective, but it is also very personal. After 20 or so years of being in and out of relationships, I have a general idea of how difficult a person I am to be with. So this is a fiction piece but also a cleansing of my soul, I suppose you could say.

Enjoy. Please let me know any thoughts you might have about this piece in he comments below.

~ Effy

The Story of My Life

I always thought songs about love being like a drug were an exaggeration, until I experienced it first hand.

Sienna made me love her until I needed that love. At times I got high on her, but others I felt the headaches of her romance hangover. She was passionate and emotional, which could be either awesome or exhausting.

In the beginning, all of her passion burned like a bright flame and drew me in–an ignorant moth, hypnotized by her. I got singed, but I went back again and again. To be with her was almost painful, but to be without, an unbearable agony.

Sometimes, the terrifying fear of drowning in all those conflicting colors and sensations overwhelmed me. More and more often I hurt rather than rejoiced. I had to come up for air and when I did, it left me drained, fighting to not succumb to tidal waves of emotion.

Her passion came out in other ways too. Her temper, mostly. Quick to jump to conclusions, she could turn from hot to cold in half a breath. I didn’t always know what would set her off. I didn’t know the reasons that preceded the perceived offense. I didn’t know how to handle the walls of defensive anger that would follow. I could never tell whether she was pushing me away or desperately begging for my understanding in her own distorted way.

One day I realized the suffocating sensation that filled my waking hours–the dreadful feeling of tiptoeing around her triggers. I longed for the loving passion, but feared the passion that drove our every argument.

And I ended it.

Sienna wept some, but I’d never seen her so composed. Her calm was more alarming than her anger, but perhaps she too recognized the sickness that plagued our happiness. Or maybe she couldn’t bear for me to see her in a moment of weakness.

Months passed. My life has reached a place of normality and contentment if not outright happiness.

So why did my fingers type her email? Why did they form a pageful of confused sentences? Why does my finger hover over the send button? Why do I crave a small taste of that crazy intensity that my life now lacks?

She is the drug and I am the addict.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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 https://awaitingthemuse.wordpress.com/.

Author Up Challenge – Day 4

rain puddle reflection

It’s Day 4 of the Author Up Challenge, and I’m still going strong.

Here’s today’s prompt:

Day 4: Write From the Female Perspective

I think I’ve got the female perspective down–I’ve got some experience. So I just needed to spark an idea. I came across this prompt on Pinterest I really wanted to use for something:

Writing Prompt: Last Line - I find peace in the rain.

I decided it would be interesting to use it for the beginning and the ending. I went through some ideas–like the last line being final to the story and the character, and I also played around with the idea of the rainwater being the what caused the death somehow. In the end, I decided on a poem. I’m not sure if all of these pieces are supposed to be prose. If so, I guess I broke this one. 🙂

~ Effy

Salty Rain

I seek peace in the rain.
Falling drops drizzle
And hide the tears
That stream down my face.

The rain, it draws out
The hurt, the pain,
And sends invisible
Tracks down my cheeks.

The rain, it brings out
the reasons for my
loneliness and heartache–
Romance gone awry.

Is it me? I often wonder.
It seems too consistent
To be everyone else,
But I know I’m not that bad.

But it seems to be all my fault…

Spouting opinions that matter only to me.
Losing my temper.
Taking on too much.
Trying to fix the world.
Needing to make everything perfect.
Always being write, or do I mean right?
Being too bluntly honest.
Causing offense unintentionally.

Add them all up into
Someone impossible to live with.

There’s got to be one,
One perfect person for me,
In a world full of billions.
Someone who understands.

Or maybe he doesn’t exist
And romance is a farce
Made up by Hollywood
And too many fantasy books.

I search for happiness
Within myself, with myself.
Self love, self acceptance,
And awareness of the real me.

The water that streams
Down my reddened face
Washes away the tears
And I find peace in the rain.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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 https://awaitingthemuse.wordpress.com/.

Author Up Challenge – Day 3

A Moonlit Garden

Hello, Day 3! Welcome back to my progress through the Author Up Challenge. I thought this one might trip me up, but I pushed through.

Today’s prompt was:

Day 3: Write in Third Person Omniscient

Well, it took me forever to come up with a scene for this. I’m still not 100% happy with it, it’s only vaguely omniscient. Third person omniscient seems so awkward and lazy, and I’ve trained myself for so long to try and get into character’s head one at a time. Usually I write in third person limited and if I need a new point of view, a change scenes and switch then.

I used a writing prompt for this that allowed me to stick with the fantasy genre, once again from Pinterest:

Writing Prompt: He waited for her.

But I’m still feeling all sappy and romantic. So I apologize. 🙂

~ Effy

Rendezvous

Lazarus waited for her, knowing Rosaelyn always ran late. He expected it of the princess, with all her responsibilities to the kingdom of Zandra. They filled much different stations–he being only a captain of the royal wing command–and though his demands were great, he knew they paled beside those of the princess. He had to remind himself of this, despite the fact she had requested to meet with him.

Their evening meetings were becoming harder to arrange. The last had been over a week before.

Lazarus may have appeared nervous had anyone passed by, straightening his cuffs and adjusting their place within the chestnut-colored jacket sleeves, signifying his place of command over the bronze squadrons, but quite the opposite. Lately his human form felt more comfortable than any other. Nor did Rosaelyn’s tardiness make him nervous. With King Evrain sick, much had fallen recently to his only daughter. She may have lacked in punctuality, but she never missed an appointment.

He enjoyed the view while he waited, standing in the royal garden and surrounded by trees and flowers native only to far-off Sandrae. The climate of Zandra was much too cold for them naturally, and only the greenhouse and the care of dedicated gardeners allowed them to grow here.

No one bothered him. The night stretched on into twilight and the garden remained quiet. The two moons, Harendar and Solintar, shone brightly and lent their light to the darkened garden.

“Captain Lazarus.” The familiar feminine voice came to his ears, soft yet formal.

He turned and smiled. “Your Highness,” he replied with a deep bow.

“I appreciate your agreeing to meet with me,” princess Rosaelyn said. The pale light made stark shadows on her face, and her auburn hair cascaded in dark locks, almost black, to either side. She took him in with eyes that were bright, catching every ray of light and reflecting them back upon him.

“Anything for you, princess. If you required my life, you had but to ask.”

Rosaelyn smiled in return. Her features softened in the pale light. “I did call you here to make a request, but nothing so dire, captain.”

“Ask and it is yours,” Lazarus promised.

The princess hesitated, for the briefest moment. She looked down the path to both the left and right, checking to make sure no one else shared the garden with them. She took slow, measured steps, and it seemed the distance between them was a great chasm of imposing air.

When she stopped, Rosaelyn stood only a step away from him. Her eyes searched his, her request yet unspoken from lips that formed intriguing shadows with their amused posture.

“What do you wish of your loyal servant?” Lazarus asked, his voice barely loud enough to cross the space between them.

“Kiss me,” she commanded in a breathy whisper.

Lazarus closed the distance dividing them with one eager step and leaned his face to hers. Lips met and embraced with familiarity and longing. His hands found her shoulders and his fingers entangled themselves in her long hair, tugging her closer.

Rosaelyn alternately gripped and caressed along his back and shoulder blades, feeling the warmth of him against her and relishing the fit of their bodies.

Countless moments passed, though they seemed too fleeting compared to those that had made up the intervening absence. Lips separated and Rosaelyn nuzzled against Lazarus’ neck, still pressed to his chest and not wanting to allow any air to intrude between them.

Lazarus stroked her hair, his head leaning against hers.

“Lazarus, there’s something I must tell you,” Rosaelyn said after many more moments of touching and silence.

“What is it?” He drew back at the seriousness of her tone and looked into her eyes. Those eyes, dark and shimmering, gazed back with sadness.

“It’s my father…”

“Has he gotten worse?” Lazarus squeezed her around the shoulders.

“He’s as well as can be expected.”

“What then? What saddens you?”

“He worries for me,” Rosaelyn began, faltering. “He wants to know I will be cared for when he is gone, and he has arranged for me to be married.”

Lazarus felt he had been kicked in the gut and took a moment to catch back his breath. “Is that what you want?” he asked when he could.

“No, of course no. I want to be with you.” She buried her face in his neck. “But how can we tell anyone about us?”

Lazarus nodded, as much to himself as her. “I know, it would be as much of a problem with Hephaestus as with your father.”

A dragon and a human? It was against the laws of both races and part of the treaty signed when the alliance had formed between Zandra’s ruling family and the metallic dragons. Lazarus and Rosaelyn had known, had fought their feelings for almost a year, but it had not stopped them from falling in love.

But now, it seemed the forces that could not keep them apart would succeed in breaking them apart.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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 https://awaitingthemuse.wordpress.com/.

Author Up Challenge – Day 2

D&D Black Dragon

D&D Black Dragon — Property of Wizards of the Coast

Welcome to Day 2 of the Author Up Challenge! I’m on a roll so far!

Today’s challenge was equally simple and open to a wide variety of possibilities:

Day 2: Write in the Third Person (Limited)

There was a prompt also given, but the email for this challenge mentioned internal struggles versus external struggles–so I felt this piece would be the perfect way to accomplish some of both. I already had about the first half dozen or so paragraphs written prior.

This the black dragon piece for my growing collection of dragon short stories. (See the others here: Green, Red, White.) This leaves only the blue dragon piece to be started. Progress!

The above image is a D&D black dragon. The dragon and his/her surroundings (a very creepy looking swamp) partly inspired this piece.

This is the first scene a longer short story, to be concluded later.

Enjoy!

~ Effy

The Dead Swamp

Moern knew the terrors that cried in the night were not his imagination. They were real. But he didn’t know their names, if they had any. And he didn’t know their faces, nor did he want to.

Whatever light the moons and stars shared with the denizens of Dadreon that night got swallowed up by the thick fog that hung in the swamp like a soggy curtain. It made a night that was impenetrably black. The fog muffled the sounds of the swamp, making them less distinct and seemingly faraway, but more eerie for their lack of location.

The merchant wished there were a better route from Balk to Traeg, but to bypass Dead Swamp would add several days to this trek. Time he could not afford to lose–time was money. The market would not wait. The customers would find other traders for their wares.

He’d finally broken down and hired a mercenary to guard himself and the wagon. Solvi was a northerner from her accent and her pale, cragged skin. Her temperament was colder than the tundras of that icy place, and Moern mostly left her to herself. As long as she performed as paid to when it mattered, he might get through this ungodly place without an incident like the last time, when he’d lost most of his goods to a band of roguish knolls.

Moern knew far worse things crept just outside the flickering, swaying light of the lantern lashed to the front corner of the wagon. Its dim yellow light lit the back of the horse’s head and little else in the murk. Occasionally, the lantern would tilt just so and a shaft of light would stretch out and illuminate the edge of the road. Each time, Moern swore he saw something skitter out of the light. It made his imagination stir with the dark possibilities of what lurked there, just beyond the light. Further out, Moern saw only curtains of black moss and what he swore were hundreds of eyes, watching, some blinking, some unblinking.

Wiping the chill sweat from his brow, Moern flicked the reins gently and made a clicking noise with his tongue. The horse perked up and quickened from a walk to a trot. Solvi did the same without a comment or even a glance in Moern’s direction. Her eyes scanned the darkness around them, her sword out and ready to strike, and Moern breathed easier for the knowledge.

“That sword will not protect you from the terrors of this place,” a rumbling voice purred. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, impossible to place in the damp and suffocating swamp.

Moern swallowed and became uncertain whether to continue forward or take off back in the other direction. Before he could even mutter, “To the abyss with this!” the horse had made the decision for him, stopping dead in the road, prancing and tossing its head. The whites showed in the beast’s terrified eyes. The man barely succeeded in keeping hold of the reins and the panting creature ignored his tugging.

Solvi looked on edge but collected. Her outward calm kept Moern from full panic.

“I would ask you to drop the weapon, but it will not stay me from slaying you both.” The voice seemed amused in a nonchalant way.

“I will not let you rob this wagon, villain,” Solvi said to the disembodied voice.

“Villain?” There came a rough coughing sound that Moern realized to be low chuckling. “What makes you call me a villain?”

“You mean to rob us, surely,” Moern sputtered.

“Rob you? There is nothing in that wagon that could possibly interest me.” The voice dragged out the last syllable until it strung out into a surreal note that bored into Moern’s head like a termite into soft wood. It set his teeth on edge and made his head ache.

“Then, why impede our progress and terrorize my horse?”

The horse, now frothing at the mouth, continued to quiver and stamp its hooves.

“It does not know true terror.”

Giant yellow eyes blinked, appearing suddenly from the surrounding blackness to the left of the road, their greenish pupils adjusting to the lantern’s light. A great reptilian head detached from that same murk, its face resembling a lizard skull with the ebony scales and skin beneath drawn too tautly. Pointed teeth lined a smirking mouth that could not contain them. Spines jaunted from its cheeks and up the side of its head to two giant, curling horns, making it almost look like an emaciated mountain goat, and completing the nightmarish visage.

Moern only noticed the horse was frozen in fear because the reins had stopped shaking in his hands. He too was unable to move, unable to tear his gaze from the dragon’s yellow eyes. He could only watch, jaw slack and eyes wide, as the wyrm snapped its jaws around the horse, ripping an ear-splitting shriek from the beast. A quick shake snapped the horse’s neck and tore it loose of the wagon. Moern barely noticed as the reins were ripped from his hands. Then, it two quick motions, the black dragon swallowed the horse whole.

“That is terror. Wouldn’t you agree?” The dragon grinned and it was a ghastly sight.

When Moern and Solvi remained silent, and wyrm continued on, unperturbed. “Don’t worry. I promise your fates will be far more interesting.”

With a foreclaw supporting talons the length of the tall northern woman, the dragon grabbed Solvi by the face and snapped her neck with barely a sound uttered. Only a noise like crackling underbrush and the clatter of her sword broke the silence of the stifling swamp.

Then, it came face to face with Moern and grinned again, its wicked teeth jutting in every direction. “You will make an excellent test subject.”

Moern fainted, sparing him from witnessing his own fate.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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 https://awaitingthemuse.wordpress.com/.

Author Up Challenge – Day 1

A Raven

I have decided to take up this Author Up Challenge over at She’s Novel. I will attempt to make it 30 consecutive days, but we’ll see. I know my horrible track record when it comes to long periods of posting everyday. I’d rather get all the way through the challenge then to get halfway and get frustrated with myself for missing a day or two. My goal is completion. Consistency would be a great added bonus.

Each day has a fairly simple and kind of vague writing challenge. For example, the first one:

Day 1: Write in the First Person

The email had some ideas to get you started with writing deep into the character and even a starter sentence writing prompt, but I remembered one I’d seen on Pinterest yesterday, and decided to use that one:

Writing Prompt: I hold his sword and wonder if he was a good man.

I’ll admit right off, I’ve been in quite the sappy romantic mood this weekend. (I read the first three books of the Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer and so enjoyed them that I’m now anxiously awaiting the fourth book.) So that romanticism may have seeped into the idea I had brewing for this challenge. A little.

Enjoy.

~ Effy

The Sword

I hold his sword and I wonder if he was a brave man. Did he go valiantly to his death or did he beg and bargain for his life?

From the craftsmanship of the sword, a good steel blade with no chips or pits, and the breastplate that would surely shine if not for the layer of mud tinted with blood, I imagine he was a knight. All knights are gallant and true, this knight being no exception.

I see the shining knight on his white horse. The sun, halfway up its journey to the heights of heaven, shines behind him, making him brilliant as God Himself. Pennants of red and gold flutter above him and across his chest and shield, leaving no question of his loyalty.

The knight’s eyes flare like burning emeralds from beneath the visor of his helm as he shouts encouragement to his men. He inspires bravery in them and fear in his enemies. Though he is hopelessly outnumbered, he takes down a score, no two, before his many wounds prove fatal. Even with his dying breath he tells his men to fight on and protects his fallen horse next to him.

Beside where I picked up the sword, I find a tattered, muddied cloth. It must have been the favor of a lady fair, for luck and the hope of safe return. “Take my token with you, sir knight,” I whisper, speaking her final words once more to the fallen champion. “Be protected by God and love.”

Why is fate so cruel?

My heart aches with the unjustness of it as I clutch the sword and the soiled handkerchief.

“Anya! Finish up over there! It’s getting late and I want out of this stinking field.” Ulric’s voice comes to my ears impatient as always. It’s harsh tone and loud volume turn my fantasies to scattered tendrils of memory, blown by the wind and snatched away by plump crows.

He gazes hard at me, then shakes his head, pulling the dingy handkerchief back over the lower part of his face. He goes back to his searching, tugging behind him a cart full of swords and pieces of armor and other valuables glinting in the late afternoon sun.

I try to reclaim the story of my white knight, but he is gone. Nothing but the ghosts of this place remain.

I curtsy, solemnly, to the knight. “Rest in peace, good sir.”

Then I too continue on, dragging along my own cart. It thuds and clatters along through mudholes and over the splayed limbs half-buried there. The cart grows in weight as does my wandering 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 https://awaitingthemuse.wordpress.com/.

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 before 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.

“Damn!”

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
Romanticism
But fell prey too often
To his mishaps
#artwiculate

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

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

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

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

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.
#AMSPC

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.
#FieryVerse

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

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

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

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

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.
#FieryVerse

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

Other Twitter Poems

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

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

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.
#homonyms

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 https://awaitingthemuse.wordpress.com/.

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.

Enjoy!

~ Effy

Fleeting

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
Before.
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 https://awaitingthemuse.wordpress.com/.

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 https://awaitingthemuse.wordpress.com/.

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.
#FieryVerse

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.
#AshVerse

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.
#HeartsMeal

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.
#amwriting

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.
#AMSPC

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

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

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

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

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

I am the passionate beast

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

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

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

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

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

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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 https://awaitingthemuse.wordpress.com/.