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Telling Tales and Whispering Secrets 

A bit of fantasy alongside the current human condition



A daily blog of Short Stories - Essay - Writer's Musings

*stories in draft 

Fire of Conception | Time of Day


The pattern surfaces, though I have the capacity to write any time, I'm drawn to the late afternoon hours through to the evening, temperatures cresting and then falling quickly. Those pesky tasks I mentioned in yesterday's blog must be handled so as to create an environment where the mundane is at bay, no shoulder tapping allowed. Magick as fingers moving as if I'm playing the piano; sonata mostly minuet at times elevated vibes: the what if's stream. It's dreamtime.


As afternoon ebbs and evening draws, my mind begins to bring the hidden to the surface for handling. Making copious notes throughout the day, the The Nine Trilogy reads with ease and flow, but is quite complex down below. The darkness inspires, always has. Inky blackness. The void is where the words originate, from nothing to something. Illumination rising from subconscious play having absorbed content that is now ready for the light, timely. The thoughts begin to rise as a happening, event, interaction, setting, undercurrent breaking the surface, now words. Drawing from long hours of study: esoterics, fringe science and magicks, the content weaves as streams enmesh with current culture. Characters act out the tales, secrets revealed.


Night Owl



The lights are dancing as I walk along the Las Vegas' strip having parked at the Venetian, it's the floor that's always vacant and easy for a local to find space. One is assured that there won't be drunken dings on the doors upon return. The cool garage lobby set in opulent marble with stately brass signs juxtaposes with warm blacktop. Up the elevators down through Palazzo's main gambling area past the three story waterfall. Wait, stop to take a picture of a couple for the couple standing in front of said waterfall. Making way toward the canal shops, the sounds of Gondoliers singing ringing throughout the waterway. Pause listen hands resting on the iron railing feet solid on polished stone. Continuing, finding the back escalator down past the posh restaurants to the main gambling room of the Venetian. Through the space eyes on the next escalator. Holding on looking up, focusing on the colorful painted ceiling in the style of the Sistine Chapel. To the right, Tao already has a long line. Out the front over the bridge where the outdoor Gondoliers are singing below, songs of Italy.


I walk along the crowded side walk minding my belongings. Dipping into Harrah's, relief from the fumes, slow moving vehicles on the strip. Out the courtyard side and across into the LINQ resort. Easy passage through to the other side and I'm on the Promenade. Relaxing as the red brick boulevard is chill. The gargantuan High Roller looming ahead. Strolling along listening to buskers: jazz, Michael Jackson, rock… The open style restaurants and bars their drink specials and live music, drawing people. A stop for a moment to speak to a magician friend that does magic at one of the restaurants. Something new, shows me. Always wowed.


All the way to the end is Yard House. We sit at the bar: DJ Tequila neat and street tacos. Deciding on coffee. To the Bellagio destination, a small hidden sweet shop with talented baristas.


Back up the LINQ Promenade to the giant two story pink Flamingo. Enter and through gaming area weaving through sounds and lights to the other side of the casino. Outside at the corner, up the escalator, walkway over the Strip, down the escalator and repeat. Walking past the entry to stand before the fountains as they just begin their performance of Bad Romance. Fun. Making way back to escalator (notice a theme here?) entrance of the Bellagio.


Head up the people mover and through the shops to the main gambling area. Taking a right and left and second right down the hall that hugs the resort's pool area on the right. Bingo. Going for the full experience, I accept the offered rock sugar on a stick. Sitting in a plush leather chair across from the museum, the pool behind. Chill and observe sipping slowing stirring the rock sugar stick until dissolved.  


Return same. Stopping at the dueling Piano Bar in Harrah's where twins entertain. Anticipating a soulful ditty where everyone knows the lyrics, synchronizing with the crowd's requests, landing just in time for "Friends in Low Places." Can't help it, align with the bellowing vibration swaying together keeping time, which I find curious with all the libation flowing. Leaving before it ends so that I don't sense the disappointment the crowd will feel when the song ends.


Streaming past, repeating steps to the sweet spot where my car is ready to motor. Next week, park at Paris for that adventure.


Arbitrary is time


Time is a thread in The Magick in Her Books, The Nine Trilogy as well. I won't give away the dynamics here, but time is of importance on several levels: lost, misunderstood, responded, transcended. I have a previews on my website: Chere Hughes



Are you a night owl or early bird or do you groove any time with ease and flow?


Be seeing you tomorrow.


Cheers and best,


Telling Tales | Whispering Secrets Day 4 of 365


Ps- The Nine Trilogy: Nine gods, can empathize with a mere mechanism's linear world of time; however, they transcend chronology as concurrent. The games they play offering up abilities mechanisms only dream of and view as super powers.


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