Literary Micro Fiction
Love fills her as she sees the love innate within, in another.
Interdependent, their Soulmates are selves.
Telling Tales and Whispering Secrets
A bit of speculative fiction alongside the current human condition
A daily blog of Short Stories - Essay - Writer's Musings
Who are your people?
What is your way of being and doing?
How do you take action to create change?
New moon is in Sagittarius today.
What the stars have to say.
She moves slowly and deliberately down the well worn path toward the ancient dwellings that have been her private place of council for lifetimes now. When she goes in traveling to her sacred space, she heads for the stars the infinite producing the finite.
A stone building the front surrounded by great ionic pillars an open passage entrance as high as the structure itself. The pedestaled pyres light as needed following her footsteps dimming to sleep once she's passed. Her feet shuffle as she mindfully takes each step a dusting of sand resonating sweeping sounds from her small but sure footing. Her elegant purple robe drags behind sounding like autumn leaves rustling in the breeze. Hands clasped in front of her at her solar plexus, they hold space and harness her power within at the same time.
The contrast of heat and cold surfaces as most pyres are now dark as if they've never been lit. The light from the staircase just before her illuminates with cozy warmth. The ebb and flow creates action and she takes her first step down the steep stone spiral staircase not looking back. Her head bows as the stairs are snug as she's crowned her head on them in the past.
Memory surfaces. She smiles at the symbol. Visiting this experience as integrated with wisdom.
Looking to the feather that floats from above her Elders, a velvety gray plume.
She considers, "It is light of weight bereft of color. Just what does that mean?"
"Take action dear girl." The wizened Elder, her eldest mentor is looking at her smiling.
She returns his smile having met him many times in her Akashic Library,
she senses kinship as a spiritual thread.
Almost to the bottom of the staircase, hand out stretched dragging the wall, she remembers that waving the symbol was key to its magick, its purpose.
Her council sits before the stone table, the younger light haired one with the laurel leaf coronet standing, as he always does. She takes her seat making eye contact with each guide. They await her ask.
"This new moon, I am intentioned as it is the last earnest progress for the year as we move into the next decade." She looks to her people with gratitude. Before she can request guidance and support, a feeling of anxiety overwhelms. She holds her stomach as if she's going to be sick.
"Disruption." The quiet bearded one says. "We will support you as you eliminate what is musty."
"I can't bare it!" tears rolling down her cheeks.
"You must!" The old dame before her pounds her fist and then turns her head to the side.
With a smile, she reaches out for the girl clasps her hand and gently shares wisdom. "Do make room for what is next."
"I can't imagine… my intention is simple and what I've been building all year." She's still in gut wrenching pain.
The Elder catches the girl's eyes and holds them in hers. "Some not in your wheelhouse, but an integral aspect. Perhaps you have not fathomed."
"Oh…. Okay." Such intense downloads do not come often. With acceptance, the pain subsides.
The feather actions into writing tales of fantasy dabbling in science fiction realms. She writes essay and allegory when the impetus arises as well.
Shiny things cross past her ideas as opportunities and directions surface where roads did not exist in the recent past.
She finds difficultly in keeping track of everything. Pressure arises around her creativity as if it is a task on a list of many. Progress becomes suffering or a sense of paying your dues when one is not aligned with purpose.
"I owe no one. As I take care of my own being inspiring change and transformation within so without." She reminds herself. All the doing falls away.
With single attention, she writes. Her fingers singing across the black keyboard creating color and contrast from the highest vibrations. The white illuminated screen before her following directions making what didn't exist before solid mass, vibrating in material frequencies.
Choice is key. Discern what is for you personally.
The new space of being zinging with vibrancy, she remains curious. Fully in present, just curious enough to take the next path. The new direction she's carved out from her past actions and development. She is ready and steps looking forward in lieu of down to her feet. She trusts.
But first, "Shhhh." Her index finger to her lips, she's quiet and listens for those moments when something tingles, something sparkles, something nudges her attention.
Synchronicities as she only makes choices for her highest good.
*Venus and Jupiter are doin' love big time right now… perhaps a word about that tomorrow.
“With your Feet in the Air
Your Head on the Ground.“
Where is my Mind
It is considered when you use your opposite hand to brush your teeth, eat your peas or kick a ball with the non-dominant foot, it’s good for your brain as it encourages new neural pathways.
Changing well ingrained patterns is something we can all get behind. Whether it be the whole Toblerone in one go or binging Netflix.
The rub is that it’s a 62 - 254 days-ish endeavor that creates change. So we’re not talking about the Owl that ascertains just how many licks to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop here. There are no shortcuts really. Read More
The drive was a bit icy snow dusting her parking spot piles on the edges sparkling in the bright high altitude sun. After GoGo Passat's engine is sufficiently warm, she backs out of her drive hands on the cool black leather steering wheel, her eyes turned toward the rear. The engine sounds as she puts it in drive, the pressure with her foot on the gas pushes her back in her heated black leather seat.
GoGo's tires spit the de-icing gravel with cracks and pops. She slows so as to not cover her car with the oily gunk. Her eyes sense the drifting dry powder snow as her body feels for it, the heated seat keeping that sensation at bay. A howl whistles as the drifts swirl beautiful circles of snow the dust landing on GoGo's hood.
Smiling, happiness surfaces. Her affinity for weather acknowledged within. Her smile leads her to a feel looking to her right as she's sensing that she's being seen. Her eyes meet a friendly face. Both in their autos, they nod giving a wave. The light turns green their smiles facing forward the sounds of the engine repeats.
Her eyes widen as she spies parking downtown. Quickly sequestering the coveted spot, she uses her phone to pay the fee the pad's of her fingers moving quickly over the screen. The phone goes in her pocket as she senses the cloth of the tweed jacket feathering across her thumb and top of her hand. Read More
An old chap sidles up alongside me at the pub and asks, "Do you like poetry?" and then, with a wink. "For any writer that doesn't is suspect."
My first response was almost under my breath, "Not so much…. " looking up through my lashes.
I studied poetry in grad school and it never really spoke to me or so I was told by my professor. He indicated that he would give me a less than acceptable grade solely based on my responses to the material.
"Your poetry shows promise and your work is exemplary; however, when you respond to a piece, though very well written, you are so far off that I cannot give you a good grade." He chastises while waving his index finger at me. Read More
"Say… you're really good at that." She tells her boss and friend.
"Whatever." Her boss responds laughing continuing the task of creating a dynamic window display.
"No. I mean it. You could really make some money doing it for people 'round town. You should do it!" She tells the indie record store owner.
"So you're telling me if I'm good at sex, I should be a call girl?" The store owner gets down from the ladder standing back to appreciate her work. Read More
The stillness vibe. Curious, of course
A side story with Chere's character, Persephone.
You'll soon see more of her in the short story:
Inner Journey, Alchemy and Magicks.
Part 2 as Persephone has made it through the locks. She makes way to a quiet little run down cottage...[archived]