Moonlight & Shadows

This is a poem, or a piece of a poem, that I found lurking in a pocket-sized notebook I had lying in a drawer. I don't know when I wrote it, but judging by the theme, it had to be around sophomore or junior year of college.


I far prefer a moonlit night
To a bright and sunny day.
I'd rather stroll a darksome path
Than spend the noon in play.

The stars are more a friend to me
Than sunny skies of blue,
And moonlight's gentle silver glow
Is more trustworthy, too.

For in the dark, my faults are hid,
And secrets remain so,
While daylight reveals everything
I don't want them to know.

A chapter from "Gwaine and Wynne"

          A week had passed since the battle between Arthur and the North Kings, and things at Camelot were once again settling into a regular routine. The knights who had been injured in the attack and the ensuing battle had either fully recovered or were at least on the mend. All except Gwaine. He still lay unconscious on a pallet in the small, dimly-lit room adjacent to Gaius and Merlin’s quarters, a large gash still gaping down his shoulder and onto his chest. Gaius had applied every healing poultice he knew to draw out the infection and had drizzled teaspoon after teaspoon of tinctures down his throat, with little or no change in Gwaine’s condition.
         Merlin had even tried his magic, uttering every spell he knew and searching the palace book collection for new spells, all to no avail. Concern and frustration clouded the young warlock’s eyes as he stared down at the motionless knight after trying yet another unsuccessful spell. He barely looked up as Gaius entered the room and came to quietly stand next to him. “What good is my magic if I can’t heal him?” Merlin asked bitterly. “And how can I ever hope to convince Arthur that magic is good if I can’t even find a spell to save the knight who took the sword to save him?”
         Gaius was silent for a moment. He knew the bond that had grown between these two solitary men, and it pained him to see the sorrow and helplessness in Merlin’s eyes. Merlin was not so young and naïve as to be blind to the possibility that Gwaine would not pull through. At last Gaius turned his rheumy eyes to Merlin and replied, “Merlin, your powers are strong, and you can do much good with them, but you need to remember that there are powers in the universe that are even stronger than the strongest magic. If it is Gwaine’s time, then there is naught that we can do.”
          Merlin’s face crumbled as he tried to hold back the tears that had welled up in his eyes at his mentor’s words. He knew those words were true, but he could not—would not—accept them. A sudden thought came to him, and he said with wild desperation, “But even if he does pass, what about calling back his spirit? There are spells to do that. Morgana did it; why couldn’t I?”
          Gaius faced Merlin and grasped his arms, giving him a shake. “Merlin, think what you’re saying! You know you can’t breach the barrier between the living and the dead without consequences. Remember the durocha? As for Morgana, surely you recall that she did not truly bring back Lancelot, but only a shade.” His expression softened, and he finished more kindly, “As much as we all love Gwaine, surely you wouldn’t want him here if he were only a shadow of his real self?”
          A single sob escaped Merlin’s throat, and he balled his hands into fists, trying unsuccessfully to stop the tears that now flowed freely. Gaius laid a hand on Merlin’s back, his own eyes growing moist with emotion. Finally, Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, they shone with determination and resolve. He turned to Gaius. “I know you’re right. I can’t bear the thought of losing Gwaine, but it would be even more painful to see his physical body here without Gwaine’s essence.” The resolve in his eyes faded a bit as sorrow threatened to overtake him again.
          Gaius looked up at Merlin with concern in his eyes. “Merlin, as much as I know you would miss Gwaine’s friendship if he were to pass, I have complete confidence that you would carry on. But between you and I, I am not so certain that would be the case with someone else.”
          Merlin cocked his head questioningly at Gaius as he wondered to whom he was referring. With a flash of realization, his eyes flew open wide, and he exclaimed, “Wynne!”
          Gaius nodded gravely. “I’m sure you’ve noticed, as I have, that Wynne loves Gwaine deeply. Lady Magdalen noticed some time ago, but she believed it to be just a passing fancy. I feel she is wrong; Wynne’s devotion to Gwaine is real, and I believe it is forever. If our worst fears are realized and Gwaine dies…”
          A loud crash and a choked sob made both men whirl around to face the door. There stood Wynne, the hem of her dress splattered with food and ale from the tray she had dropped upon hearing Gaius’ words. She leaned against the doorframe, her eyes wide with horror as she bit down on her knuckle to keep from crying out again. Merlin stood frozen, but Gaius started towards her, holding out his hands to her. “Wynne, please…”
          Shaking her head, Wynne slowly backed out of the room. “No, Gaius, you’re wrong,” she protested, her voice low but frantic. “Gwaine won’t die. He can’t. He can’t!” She turned and ran blindly down the passageway and through the palace. As she came around the corner to the staircase, she ran headlong into Arthur and Guinevere. Without an apology or even acknowledging them, she pushed past them and stumbled up the stairs towards her chamber, stll sobbing uncontrollably.
          “Wynne, what is it?” Guinevere asked urgently, dashing up several steps after her before turning back to stare dumbfounded at Arthur.
          When Wynne refused to stop or respond to Guinevere, Arthur called out, “Lady Wynifred, what’s the matter with you?”
          Arthur’s eyes met Guinevere’s, his full of affronted indignation, and hers full of confused concern. Suddenly, both their eyes widened with realization, and both exclaimed, “Gwaine!”
          Guinevere grabbed Arthur’s arms and said as calmly as she could under the circumstances, “You go to Gaius and find out what’s happened. I’ll tend to Wynne.” Unshed tears stood in her eyes, but she knew this was not the time to cry.
          Arthur, too, had tears in his eyes, but seeing his queen holding back her own tears, he knew he must do the same. He stood taller and raised his chin, mentally preparing himself for whatever news Gaius would give him. He nodded at Gwen and replied, “Of course, Gwen. You’re right; that’s a good plan.” As he turned to go, his mind raced with emotions that threatened to overwhelm him—guilt over the angry words he’d shouted at Gwaine before going in to battle, anger and betrayal over the unexpected attack by the North Kings, sadness over seeing the once strong and vibrant Gwaine lying near death after taking a sword that was meant for him. He quickened his pace, not wanting to hear whatever awful news had sent young Lady Wynifred running tearfully through the palace, but knowing he must get it over with as quickly as possible.

Knight Errant

My life grows darker as the night
Continues on its journey towards dawn.
I hear the distant hoofbeats
Of my knight in shining armor.
His quest, it seems, is as much a mystery
To him as it is to me.

I always believed he'd come
To take me to the world of Ever After,
But as my lonely days wander into years,
His image grows dim in my magic mirror.
My heroic knight has become lost
In the forest of my nightmares.

Does he hear me call?
Does he know it's my voice he hears,
Or does he think his own madness
Mocks his inability to find what he seeks?

As the dark moon sinks slowly into the West,
I sigh inwardly and turn
My magic mirror face down
And watch for the dawn, which
Unlike my knight,
Is sure to come.

Strange little occurrence

The other night, as I was coming out of my Lyme Support Group meeting, I walked across the parking lot to my vehicle. I had just hit the remote unlock button and was approaching the vehicle when I had an overwhelming sense that someone was waiting to attack me. I stopped and looked underneath the vehicle--no one there, thankfully--and then hurriedly got in and locked the doors.  Of course, then I got all freaked out that maybe someone was hiding inside somewhere.  I looked in the back seats and tried to see into the hatchback, but I couldn't see anyone.  The whole way home I felt like someone was after me, or that something bad would happen. 

Nothing did happen, but I had the freaky thought that I hoped I wouldn't turn the news on the next day to hear that someone had been abducted or worse in that parking lot.  Thankfully, that didn't happen either.

I'm just trying to figure out what that feeling was and why I had it.  I don't watch crime shows, and I really try not to pay attention to those stories in the news.  But I've been having a lot of episodes like that lately, where I feel like I'm sensing things.  I don't know if my imagination is starting to run away with me again, or if I'm just having some kind of a spiritual awakening type thing or what.

Crazy, Crazy Dreams

I had such crazy dreams last night, not sure why or what I might have eaten before bed to spark them, but holy crap, were they weird!

Let's see, in the first dream I recall, I was on a ghost hunt with one of my Facebook friends.  We were in a place I don't really recognize in my waking life, although I do have some ideas of the vicinity where this particular building was.  It was supposedly a Weis Markets, but when we got inside, it was a house I had lived in at one point in my childhood (although not in my real life).  We got all the equipment set up and started going through the house to do EVP sessions and such, but I got distracted by all the STUFF that was there, stuff that my parents had either made with their own hands or that others had made for them--furniture, paintings, wood clocks, all kinds of things.  I recognized all these things and wondered why my parents--or even my brothers--had gone away and left them behind.  So instead of ghost hunting, I started carrying all this stuff out of the building and loading it in the car.

At this point, another ghost hunting team came in, this one with TV cameras, and started bossing us around, telling everyone to get out of the way of their cameras.  They apparently saw me carrying things out of the house and called the owner, who came with her two cats Si and Am (yes, like the cats in Lady and the Tramp), except the cats weren't real; they were mechanical.  The woman seemed to know who I was and said I could take whatever I wanted from the house.

I woke up from this dream very upset, trying to place where it occurred; I finally gathered that the road resembled the Carlisle Pike up past Wal-Mart and heading towards Carlisle.  There are some businesses up that way, as well as some very run-down looking houses, but nothing that resembles what was in my dream.  Still, I feel strongly that that's where I was.  Why does that matter?  I don't know.

The second freaky dream happened as I was trying to get back to sleep after my son came over and woke me up.  This time I was in Gettysburg climbing around the rocks at Devil's Den, something I like to do when we're down there.  Well, I was in the process of crawling into one of the crevasses, when I noticed that King Arthur was sitting on his throne inside this crevass.  Sir Gawain was there too, ready to go on a quest--his quest was to clean up all the trash around Devil's Den, which would be quite a feat for anyone.  Well, as he pushed past me, I saw a ghost of a Civil War soldier, who attacked me and did something that made me unable to breathe.  I woke up gasping for breath and sweating.  Yes, I know that was a case of sleep paralysis, but still a bit unnerving.

The final dream again took place in Gettysburg, and it was based on something a bit odd (at least in my eyes) that had happened once when we were in the downtown area.  I had been on a ghost hunt (seeing a pattern here) with Grant Wilson, Jason Hawes, and Eoin Macken (what the heck was he doing there?), and we were just walking around looking at the shops.  Jason and Grant ended up going one way, and Eoin and I went another.  As he and I walked, I told him about this other odd experience I had had--it had to do with going in to this shop that had nothing but Christmas decorations; there was no one else in the shop while we were there, and although the doors were wide open, there were no store workers anywhere to be found in the whole 15 or so minutes we were there.  For some reason, that whole experience felt surreal and it kind of gave me the creeps.  I have been unable to even find that store anymore.

So we walked past the spot where I thought the store had been, and it wasn't there; in its place was an herb shop.  We kept walking up the street a bit, and then came back down past the herb shop again--but it wasn't the herb shop.  Eoin noticed it and said, "Is that the shop you were talking about? I thought that was an herb shop when we went past before."

I  looked, and sure enough, there stood the Christmas decoration shop, doors again hanging wide open.  We decided to check it out.  Once again, there was no one else in the shop, and there were no store clerks to be found.  Eoin and I looked at each other and both felt creeped out.  We left, and started walking down the street again, just looking at each other. 

We met up with Jason and Grant and told them what had happened.  They kind of looked at us like we were crazy, and we all headed back up the street to check it out.  When we got back to the place where the store had been, it was the herb shop once more.  Eoin and I looked at each other again, both freaked out.  Jason and Grant realized that something had to have happened the way our faces had gone white.

We decided to go into the herb shop to check it out.  The herb shop was really crowded, and there was of course a pungent scent of many different herbs.  As we looked around, I realized that my cross necklace had gone missing, and I said something out loud about it.  The store clerk came over to me and asked, "Did you say you lost a necklace?"

When I said I had and described it to her, she went behind the counter and picked up something.  She held up my necklace and asked, "Is this yours?"

I was shocked to realize that it was mine.  I asked where she had found it, and she told me that someone had found it lying on the floor just minutes before.  Very odd, seeing as we had not gone into the herb shop, but only the Christmas shop.

I took the necklace and thanked her, then had to ask, "What ever happened to the Christmas shop that was here?"

The clerk looked at me oddly and said, "There has never been a Christmas shop here that I know of."

I got an eerie feeling, and we all went outside.  I asked Jason and Grant how that was possible.  Even if there would have been a Christmas shop there at one point, how is it possible for a building to be a ghost?  Buildings aren't living things; they don't have souls/spirits, so what was happening?  It obviously wasn't my imagination since Eoin had seen it too.  They couldn't tell me what had happened, and even they seemed a bit freaked out by the whole thing.

So those were my crazy dreams.  I guess I don't have to wonder why I'm so tired today.....

A Glimmer of Hope for Fan Fiction!!!

So, I had my son to the doctor today for yet another sinus infection.  Maybe that bit of ill luck was fortuitous, as I learned something that really excited me.

I was browsing through the doctor's rather pathetic stash of magazines, and I came across an article about the novel "Fifty Shades of Grey."  I haven't read it, and after all I've heard about it being nothing short of soft porn, sadisitc, etc. I don't even know why I read the article, but I did.  It was an interview with the author, who said that "Fifty Shades of Grey" started off as nothing more than Twilight fan fiction.  Did I ever sit up and take notice!  Nope, I am not a "Twihard," as the author called herself and other fans, so I'm not interested in following suit with my own Twilight-inspired novel.  However, I do write my own fan fiction, about Ghost Hunters, and I'm itching to start a Merlin-themed story as well.  I have my own small following on Facebook, which is both humbling and encouraging, and some of them have told me that I should publish my stories.  I thought that was all kinds of impossible, but maybe not!

The funny thing is that I never intended the whole fan fiction thing to get so out of control.  The only reason I began writing it in the first place was that I had come across some GH fan fiction that I thought was just the worst freakin' tripe imaginable, and I thought, oh please, I can write circles around these people.  So I did.  I only ever intended a little short story, but then it expanded into more than one chapter, and before I knew it, I was into a complex story with a whole back story and new characters, and I was hooked on writing!  The characters came to life so strongly that I'd dream about them at night, and it seemed that the slightest thing would suddenly inspire a new scene in my story.  Why, there was even one day when I took my boys to Monkey Joe's to run off some of their energy.  While they spent the next several hours running around and playing, I spent those hours writing my fingers off and completed a chapter and a half while I was there.

I am actually into my second Ghost Hunters-themed "book" and I expect there may even be a third.  It has been ages since I was this excited over anything, and I am really excited to see where this leads.  I have always dreamed of being an author (well, a PUBLISHED author; I have always been an author), and I just feel like this may be my time to make a move and make my mark.

Avalon

(Just a piece from my college poetry workshop.  I was in the middle of Mists of Avalon at the time)

The Isle of Avalon has withdrawn
Forever into mists
That can never again
Be called down to reveal
A place where enchantment
And the impossibility of a hidden world
Become reality, where
The moon opened a magical realm
In which the future was glimpsed
In a mirrorlike pool.

Avalon.

A world one could pass through
Without ever setting foot
On her shores...

But they tell me it was never real,
Only a creation of simpler times
When people believed in
Dragons,
Elves,
And a kingdom that arose
Out of the hands of a sorceress,
A time when people
Believed that unwary travelers
Could stumble into a fairy kingdom
Without even realizing they had strayed.

Yet even through the practicality
Of our analytical minds,
A longing for the magic
Of those primitive times remains.
Something in our subconscious stirs,
Subtle as starlight on a river,
Allowing the enchantment to live.
It can never totally vanish
Into the mists as Avalon did...

But wait!
Avalon is not entirely lost!
It can never truly fade away
As long as its enchantment lies
In the misty minds of poets,
Waiting,
Waiting to be discovered,
And rediscovered.