Angel of the North

Keith Evans [CC BY-SA 2.0 (], via Wikimedia Commons

The sun was low in the Western sky. Warm fingers of pink and gold gently spreading out across a sleepy sky.  It wouldn’t be long until it vanished in a blaze of glory behind the imposing steel sculpture of the Angel of the North. Another day on Earth nearly done and the promise of a new dawn still a distant dream.

The woman sat on the grass beneath the Angel’s outstretched wings, her gaze fixed on the far horizon yet her thoughts were lost in a place much further away. A stranger stood watching her, unobserved. She didn’t see the stranger nor the steady stream of people descending the path back to the road below, nor did she see the flashing blue lights of the emergency services weaving through the traffic on the dual carriageway of the busy A167. The light was fading fast and night would soon come riding in. Resolve crossed the man’s face and he approached her.

“Hi,  how are you?” he asked.

“I think I am in pain…” She answered, her voice barely a whisper. A tear rolled down her face.

He reached out and gently wiped it away. A flicker of gratitude in her eyes showed she had welcomed the gentle gesture.

“Cassie…” she held out a slender hand. A sensitive hand.

“D.I North.” His grip was electric, his smile dazzling.

“Detective Inspector? No Uniform? Your day off?”

” I prefer to work plain clothes, find it’s easier to help those in need.”

“So do you have a first name?” he saw she was intrigued. He saw her tears had stopped. She didn’t pull her hand away, although he saw the thought crossed her mind.

“Micah,” voice as warm as his golden looks.

“Are you from around here?”

“No.” Cassie noted where he was economical with words, he was generous with the heat emanating from his hands. Healing hands.

The concern of a stranger was too much to bear, Cassie grabbed her hand away and blinked away hot treacherous tears.

“So what has brought you to Gateshead, Micah?”

“Work. You...” It took a moment for his words to register.


You!” he smiled.

“You said you are a D.I, is that Detective Inspector? What have you detected about me? Why would you even concern yourself about me? ”

“Cassie you said you were in pain, I detect your pain is emotional. Your heart is lost and lonely and you search for something you cannot find.”

“Yes… I seem to have lost my way, Micah. I feel like I have been abandoned, a stranger in a strange land and I just don’t understand the protocols of this world. There is nothing but pain in this place. People hurt each other just because they can… even those who are supposed to love each other lie and cheat. They harm where they could heal. I see suffering and pain and my heart aches.”

“Yet the heartache brings with it a great gift Cassie. It brings empathy for others. It brings the gift of healing and Divine Grace. It is the path to home.”

“I wish that were true Micah. I am searching for home, I look at the stars at night, searching, longing…I know home isn’t here and I so want to go home.”

“Cassie, home is not a place.”

“If it isn’t a place then where do I find it?”

“It is the very essence of Love…and it dwells within your own heart. When others hurt you and lie and cheat then the sin is on their soul, not yours. It is not a reflection of you, it is a reflection of them. All you can be is true to yourself, time on Earth is finite, be the best person you can be for every act of kindness, no matter how small, is important. There are many other Light workers just like you, you have no cause to feel alone or different. The power of love and light is far stronger than the forces of darkness. Divine justice will take care of everything else.” He fixed her with his wise gaze, eyes deep with compassion. He reached out and wrapped Cassie in a strong, protective embrace filled with the pure essence of unconditional love.

Understanding permeated Cassie’s consciousness and she unequivocally knew that she would never search for home again, that home was within her own heart.

The wailing sound of sirens pierced the air and the blue lights came to an abrupt standstill, whilst continuing to flash on the road below. Cassie finally took note of what was happening. An open topped BMW lay overturned on its side and the emergency services were attending to a young woman unconscious behind the wheel, her long black hair hiding her face.

“That’s my car! What’s happened?  Who is that in my seat?” Confusion and fear tore across her face.

“There was an accident, you slammed the breaks on to avoid a fox and the car skidded out of control and hit the trees. You were lost, trying to find your way home. I was sent to assist”

“Micah, what am I doing here and shouldn’t you be down there with the other  police officers?”

“I’m not an Officer, but you are right, our work here is done and we need to join them on the road below.”

“Micah, just who are you? What are you?” Cassie was aware of a luminous light surrounding Micah, then the darkness closed in.

Somewhere in the distance the plaintive wail of an ambulance tore through the cool evening air as it urgently wound its way down the Durham Road towards the Queen Elizabeth Hospital. The paramedic deftly held his casualty’s hand offering reassurance whilst discreetly reading the vital signs on his monitors.

“Incredibly lucky to be alive and thrown clear of the wreckage. A miracle. Heart rate 62 and Blood pressure 110/70 all good, nothing more serious than just a concussion by the looks of it,” filling the driver in as they negotiated the road ahead.

“You saw the state of the car, there had to have been an Angel by her side to walk away from that. This one is a definite case of Divine Intervention!”

As the ambulance pulled into the emergency bay of the hospital, through a haze on semi consciousness Cassie sent a silent thank you from her heart to her Guardian Angel, D.I North.

The last rays of the setting sun illuminated in glorious red and gold the majesty of The Angel of the North. With his vast wings stretched out over the surrounding landscape a silent benediction went out through the ethers to all those seeking their way home.

© Eily Nash 2015

Beautiful photo of The Angel of the North is by Keith Evans [CC BY-SA 2.0 (, via Wikimedia Commons

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Magic Power of a Wishing Flower


The kettle was burnt black from years of hanging from a hook in the old inglenook, raging flames dancing around its cast iron base. A scent of Applewood pervaded the room, masking the pungent smell of damp and decay. Low beamed ceiling, tiny lattice window and ancient stone walls prevented the outside world penetrating into the gloom.


“My Eliza said you can help with fulfilling my wishes.”

“Wishes come with a price, are you willing to pay?”

” Yes, I’m a rich man.”

“What more do you need?”

“Everything I deserve to have.”

“Then Eliza told you to bring me something ?”

“I brought Dandelions, Eliza told me of the power they hold, is that true?”

“Ay, ’tis true enough. Old dandelion has the power of divination, wishes and calling spirits.”

Gnarled fingers greedily grabbed the bunch of dandelions from his hand. Each tiny flower a Sunburst kissed by the morning dew. He winced as her claw like nail scratched his skin, drawing blood. “Heh-heh,” she cackled and gave him a toothless smile from her wizened maw. He had an uneasy feeling it had been no accident.

Hissing from the kettle signalled the infusion of spring water and the dandelions she had added was now brewed.

“Divination?” He queried expectantly.

“Hmm…” Her rheumy eyes were fixed on the steam shooting from the blackened spout of the kettle. “I see your true love here.”


“I only see you, M’Dear!”

“My wishes, you can grant them?”

“Beware what you wish for. Tis not too late to reconsider!”

“My mind was made up the moment Eliza told me you could give me what I deserved. I wish to get everything I deserve and more and I wish it right now!”

“Mwah, as you wish so shall it be! Drink this.” Carefully she lifted the kettle from its nest of fire and poured the boiling liquid into an earthenware cup.

“You will call the spirits?” He encouraged, gingerly taking the cup from her, inhaling the fragrant vapours. As the brew cooled he sipped the rather sweet infusion appreciatively.

“Ay, spirits I conjure thee, within the flaming fire manifest Eliza’s heartfelt desire!”

The room already in shadow, began to grow darker. Expectantly he waited, awareness fully on the dancing flames, comforted by the crackling of burning Applewood logs. A spewing and spitting noise jolted him from his reverie. Hungry red tongues of fire and brimstone roared out into the room and the stench of pungent sulphur, acrid and nauseating, filled his lungs…Hellfire… A Spectral figure advanced towards him. The stench of rot and decay caught the back of his throat and hot tears stung his eyes as the icy grip of fear held his cruel and selfish heart. As the horror beckoned him, a primal scream pierced the air.

“Heh-heh,” cackled the Crone, pleased both he and her daughter Eliza had got their wishes. The devil had taken her black hearted husband and he had got everything he deserved .

~Eily Nash

Written for Kindle Write On’s  Weekend Write-In prompt themed “Wish” -Link to do your own is-

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I knew these people…


Ary Scheffer “The Ghosts of Paolo and Francesca Appear to Dante and Virgil” Public domain- via Wikimedia Commons

“I knew these people…once…It was a long time ago…”

She looked like she needed to talk, some fragmented ghost of a memory rattling around the caverns of her mind seeking to find a voice. So I pulled up a chair and sat down beside her and prepared to listen. After all, it is what I do, listen. I listen a lot. People tell me things, always have. Seems to come from nowhere, the torrent of words, the secrets and the shames. I never judge, that’s for the Man above not me.

A waiter came over. Smartly dressed with slicked back black hair, just a hint of grey and a smile that reached his rich brown eyes. Deferential in a very European way. I liked him and resolved to leave him a good tip. Saw he had a story too, but that would be for another time. Right now was her time.

I ordered a pot of English Breakfast Tea, toast and marmalade, for two, and she nodded her approval.

We sat  in comfortable companionship in the beautiful Courtyard, it’s  soft pink stucco walls wrapped the restaurant with the elegance of a bygone age.  She asked me if this was my first visit to the Wallace Collection.  I smiled and told her I often came here to take an appreciative stroll through the sumptuous rooms, admiring the works of fine art, especially paintings depicting angels, the armour, porcelain and gorgeous fireplaces and chandeliers. I like it here, I told her. I like it a lot. It’s been a long love affair, I said.

She smiled and told me she loved it too, had been visiting the imposing Georgian house, standing proudly on London’s Manchester Square, for as long as she could remember. She said that she loved the Gainsborough’s and Fragonard’s. She said she found Scheffer’s “The Ghosts of Paolo and Francesca Appear to Dante and Virgil” hauntingly beautiful. She said it made her cry. She said her name was Evelyn and she had a town house in Crawford Street, she was a Writer and she was glad of my company. A lot of words, but not what she really needed to say.

Our tea and toast arrived.

“Those people…?”

I poured  tea, fragrant with freshly pressed leaves, from a pewter pot into our cups, and she added the milk and sugar. The toast was good. I ladled on rich yellow butter and a generous helping of deliciously bitter marmalade and as I savoured the flavours I waited for her to speak. You can have an intuition on what they may say, sometimes hear the words before they actually speak them. Then when they do speak, the emotions come in, sometimes softly flowing, sometimes a tidal wave. And I have it all hitting me, sometimes it’s hard to remain inscrutable, to just listen. But it is about them, not me, so they never know just how much I know

She was different. Looking at me quizzically with intelligent eyes, and with a start I realised she was reading me reading her. A feint smile. I winked at her, knowingly. We laughed.

Sunlight, delicately streaming through the glass roof caught her hair. Cool blonde with  strands of silver pulled off her face by a black velvet band. A woman of a certain age, but what that age was I would be hard pressed to say. Quietly understated elegance. She wore pearl earrings. Beautiful pearls, soft as moonlight. I admired them.

“Indeed yes, they are beautiful. Tears from the moon.” Her eyes misted. I reached over and covered her hand with mine. A simple gesture, speaks more eloquently and deeply than words ever can. She had long, slim fingers tipped with  manicured nails varnished the colour of her pearls.Her hand was surprisingly cold.

“Those people…” I encouraged.

The waiter returned with a fresh pot of tea and she took the opportunity to slip her hand away. I got she was uncomfortable with my touch, the warmth of another human reaching out to her. I wasn’t sure if she would tell me her story, or keep her secrets to be shared only with the ghost living in the caverns of her mind. With a start, I realised I could not read her, looking into her eyes all I saw was myself looking back.

I munched my toast. The toast here is really very good.

© Eily Nash 2015

My Beautiful Jennifer Mother's Day at the Wallace Collection

My Beautiful Jennifer
Mother’s Day at the Wallace Collection

The Wallace Collection is absolutely gorgeous and I highly recommend Peyton & Byrne’s Courtyard restaurant, links below:-

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Another year has passed, unbelievably! So off we went on an early evening walk to enjoy once more the magic and enchantment of the bluebells who live in Dawley Wood…IMG_3162 IMG_3165 IMG_3168…and to chat to a wise old friend…

IMG_3159 IMG_3153…then through fields of gold…IMG_3177IMG_3181…and the greenwood…


…and lush fields of young green beans…

IMG_3188…we made our way home…

Life is good )0(


# Proud Mummy



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Pitter Patter Puppy Paws!


School is out and B.F.F’S Jenna and Amy look forward to a happy summer with their much loved dogs Poppy and Patch. But Poppy is acting strangely and wants to be alone and Patch is moping. What could be the matter? When Jenna’s Dad, Vet Corey, confirms pups are on the way the girls are mega excited to meet and greet the little bundles of fur.

The pitter patter of tiny paws causes plenty of laughter, tears and canine chaos! The threat of the adorable puppies being re-homed throws Jenna into a tailspin and she runs away.

Just who will come to the rescue when Jenna finds herself in big trouble? And can Amy find a way to help her best friend and keep Poppy, Patch and their cute little family together fur-ever?

My beautiful boy Ryan adores dogs and helped pen both our  pawesomely cute reads, “PUPPY PAWS” and ” POPPY PAWS & PATCH” :)



The gorgeously cute “Dog In Box”on the front cover is © Anna Velichkovsky, Dazdraperma’s Gallery / Stockfresh 

If you are looking for Stock photo/vector/images I HIGHLY recommend Stockfresh :)

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Best Friends Fur-Ever?

71R+Yr2CHuL._SL1500_B.F.F’s Jenna and Amy do everything together and share everything together. They have vowed to be Best Friends Forever! Both girls long for a puppy to love and share. But their apartment block in London’s busy West End has a total ban on pets.
Just when their dream seems impossible, gorgeous poodle Poppy Paws comes tearing into their lives, bringing big changes with her. With an unexpected move to the countryside it looks like the girls wishes have just come true…But have they?

Everything should be just perfect in their new homes and Poppy has wrapped her perfect paws around the girls hearts and is part of the ‘Best Friends Forever’ team. Life is good until ‘bad dog’ Patch spoils things for Jenna, she becomes afraid of the thing she loves most, dogs! with her friendships with both Amy and Poppy Paws threatened, Jenna desperately needs to overcome all her doubts and fears or risk loosing her friends.

B.F.F’S are supposed to be forever… or are they?

There is a very  special story behind the story. You can read more on my post “Do Angels have paws?” 

Fictional Jenna is based on my “Portobello Princess” Jennifer. Our beautiful girl is all grown up now but at one time she was very scared of dogs until she got her very own!

So with the help of  very special co-Author and top son , Ryan,  I created ‘Poppy Paws & Patch’ and the sequel ‘Puppy Paws’ to show that fears can be faced and overcome, that friendships can come in different forms and that bonds of love are unbreakable and dreams really can come true.





The delightful front cover image “Little Girl with Umberella” © Tatig |

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Tattling Turtles

An_Angel_in_the_City_Cover_for_Kindle (1)

Grannie made a statement on my behalf to the relentless press pack stalking me. Something original and sincere my jealous B.F back home would believe. It was hard, but considering I am a Writer, not impossible. Several hours and a lot of wasted paper, I had it and the marauding hoards were fed my rebuttal and denial of all wrongdoing!

‘I cannot confirm nor deny Angel has done anything wrong. Again. Angel is as pure and innocent as the driven snow and her beautilicious Westie fur, honestly Hamish!’

My reworking of the time-honoured statement for not sticking one’s head in the noose, when one has been found out did nothing to dampen down their fervour. Grannie has said my rebuttal so often, it became a mantra and she now sounds just like a demented parrot.

So, I ask myself, and you to My Lovelies, Who knew? How could an innocent little ‘tete-a-tete’ end up involving half the Planet? I have been interviewed on West Coast to East Coast TV and sales of my book ‘Telling Tails’ have soared out into the stratosphere. When questioned on the delicate matter of a certain Hollywood Hottie, my lips are sealed. I mean I was so careful not to get caught in East Hampton. So how did it happen? How could it have happened? I blame it all on that tattling Turtle. Humph, you heard that right My Lovelies. Unbelievably, a Turtle ratted us out! It was a private beach and it was deserted apart from the local wildlife. There was innocent Moi thinking the odd creature lurking in the dunes was a manky old turtle. Apparently they are protected and you can’t go near them or disturb them. Rather like Grannie after one or fifty-two Gin & Tonics, then, eh? So with a great deal of kind consideration I left the grotty thing well alone, after all, my mind was on other matters…

Mason and I were recreating that delicious scene in ‘From here to Eternity’. Who knew the damned Turtle had a lens that reached almost to eternity! That’s right, the turtle was no turtle! It was a baldhead! One that belonged to a bald geezer with his long lens camera trained on Mason and Moi. Turns out the ‘Turtle’, who turned out to be a bald Geezer, in turn, turned out to be a rotten old Pap. Grrr…Mason told me no one would see us as everyone would be partying in NYC, not hanging at his private beach. Mason is stooopid. I had even taken the precaution of being a Shady Lady, I had my Prada Sunglasses on as well! I was totally incognito.

Who knew? It turns out Mace is, can you believe it, even more famous than Moi? How did I know anyone was more famous than Moi, and that they were actually interested in taking pictures of him? Yes, yes I know Mason’s day job is being a big Movie star, but it was his day off!


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ACdo-001Angel is a diva dog who has it all, beauty, fame and a luxurious uptown life in Manhattan with her doting Grannie and Butler James attending to all her copious ‘want, need, nows!’. What more could a girl want? When Angel meets a super cute boy, who happens to be an incognito King, she realises there is something missing from her life, the royal title of H.R.H Princess Angel to be exact! When her royal suitor bestows tasty treats and offers more, Angel’s dreams of social elevation go to her head. Our girl is on a mission to nab herself a crown and a rather yummy cake. She isn’t about to let the little matter of a true love back home in England spoil her plans. But when old frenemy Kimbles the Bichon biatch arrives in New York, and a blast or two from the past reappear, life becomes “it’s complicated” and Angel finds she has more than a touch of trouble on her delectable paws. Mischief and mayhem ensue as our girl is determined to have her crown and wear it and have her cake and eat it!
Join Angel on the couch in her fabulous Manhattan Penthouse as she candidly reveals all in her cosy secret sharing sessions, with you, her Lovelies!



In which Angel lets her aspirations of social elevation to the aristocracy go to her delectable head.

 Grannie, Oh Grannie… There is something I need from the shops. Can you pop out and get it for me, like right now, please!

‘What do you need that can’t wait, Pumpkin? I am rather busy on my latest manuscript ‘Gossamer Threads’ a collection of ghostly and gothic tales.’

Grannie, your manky old manuscript is not important. My shopping is important. If you hurry up and take the elevator, not the stairs, it should only take you three minutes to get there?

‘Get where, and for what? And why on earth would I want to walk down the stairs when we are on the 53rd floor penthouse???’

To Tiffany’s Grannie. I need a Tiara, like right now, Grannie! Go on, hurry up and get down there before they close. And if it wasn’t a dire emergency, you really should take the stairs Grannie, then maybe you wouldn’t look like a big plush cushion. Just sayin’!!!

‘Really Angel, that isn’t very nice is it?’

Well Grannie, you are not exactly being nice. In fact you are being mean. Very mean. This is important to me. If you loved me, you wouldn’t be stood there arguing when the clock is ticking the seconds away to closing time. Please Grannie, please. I really “Want, Need, Now” that Tiara!

‘Is it for your super exciting and glamorous event, we have time Pumpkin as that’s not until the end of this week?’

No, Grannie. You are wasting time, Grrr…

‘Unless you ‘fess up as to just why you have an urgent need for a Tiara, Angel, I won’t be going to Tiffany’s or anywhere else except back to my manuscript.

Oh. OK. I have a hot date with a hot boy!

‘What? another one???’

‘Grannie, you know there is only one boy for Moi….now go fetch my Tiara. Get me a gold one with some diamonds, rubies and emeralds. Oh, and some sapphires and maybe pearls too, that should do nicely.’

‘It must be with someone very special, Angel. Is it with your true love, your handsome Scottie boy, Hamish? I thought he was back home in England’s green and pleasant lands?’

Er…Nooo, not him.

‘Is it with Mason the Mastiff, the Hollywood Hottie you dated in last summer and confessed all in your last book ‘Angel in the City? After Hamish caught you out when all the World’s News channels reported you had been caught skanking in the Hamptons?’

Er …Nooo, not Mason.

‘Is it with Mason’s twin brother, the intellectual Shaunessey? Remember you had a meeting of minds ‘thing’ with him and Hamish caught you when you made the cover of Time Magazine?’

Er …Nooo, not Shaunessey.

‘Is it with Teddy Hot Paws, the dapper little chap Hamish caught you skanking with just before you left for NYC and took his revenge by dating Kimbles that cheeky dog food model and boyfriend nabbing Biatch of a Bichon Frise?’

Er…Noooo, not Teddy.

‘Are you going to ‘fess up and tell me, Pumpkin?’

Granniiiieee….like no, no and no!!! None of them! If you are going to be mean I shan’t tell you that he is a Prince and I like the sound of Princess Angel. I like it much more than Pumpkin…Grrr…You are totally getting on My Paws, Grannie…Grrr…You are annoying me now…Grrr…Go get that Tiara from Tiffany’s before they close, and before I bite you…Grrr…and don’t tell Hamish, he may not understand about the boy!!!

Hmm…”Her most Royal, Regal, Highness, Princess Angel”…Mmm, my Lovelies, doesn’t that sound quite delicious…Angel likes! Angel Loves! A lot!! And Angel also has a secret. I may well tell you who my mystery man is in our delicious “Shh…Secret Sharing Sessions” and all about our fated meeting in Central Park!





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Dancing to the Edge of Darkness

FLAMEAs the Orchestra struck up the music, Florence stood up, buying time smoothing down the front of her elegant satin evening gown and tucking a stray blonde hair behind her ear.Reluctantly taking the outstretched, wrinkled hand of her long time dancing partner, Old Nick, they glided out onto the dance floor. It hadn’t always been this way. Back in the day, Florence used to shiver in delightful anticipation when he reached out to her. The thrill of  being seen with rich and influential Nick Mephistopheles, with all eyes on them, was a complete power rush. When their first dance had begun all those years ago and her debonair partner requested the pleasure, she had never gave so much as a thought to the heavy price he would exact if she ever refused to dance to his tune.
Nick’s business practices were more than shady, but as long as she was on the receiving end of his largesse Florence really didn’t give a damn that her man had gone for the jugular of anyone who had opposed him. Florence only had to express a desire and it was hers for the taking; jewels, clothes, cars, homes and prestige. His power seduced her. She liked the hint of darkness that lurked beneath his suave and sophisticated exterior. She saw people were scared of Nick, he commanded respect. She liked that. Florence would coquettishly laugh and enquire with an engaging smile,
“Nick, just what is the secret of your success?”
“I’m a people person, I give them what they want, they give me what I want.” There was just a trace of coldness in his voice.
“I can see that, and you certainly give me what I want, but there’s more. What do you really do, Nick?”
“ You could say I’m a collector,” was the enigmatic reply. He didn’t chose to expand any further. His inscrutable eyes and cold smile closing down any further attempts at delving into his affairs. Was Nick married? Who knew. There were certainly lots of women. That didn’t really bother Florence much. She revelled in being the one he reached out to the most, the one on his arm on the red carpets, at all the swankiest parties, sat at his side on the private yachts and planes. There were whispers she had his ear, that gave Florence her own sort of power and influence, and she used it to full effect. The power felt good, even if it was by default. Florence was very grateful to Old Nick, back then, back in the day when the dance had just begun. His allure was strong, an intoxicating drug, and before long Florence was hooked.
“Nick, I love you. I’d do anything to repay your generosity,” she exclaimed the first time he had draped her in diamonds and fur.
“Oh, I guess your body and soul should be payment enough, is that acceptable, my Lovely?” he’d replied with a twinkle in his coal black eyes. She thought he had jested and laughingly agreed “Your terms are acceptable, Kind Sir!” And they were. Back then. Back in the day, when their dance had just begun. And so the deal was sealed.
Nick liked to party hard. Dancing was his thing. Elegant, suave, he moved like a panther eating up the dance floor. Women loved him, men wanted to be him, until they got to know Nick a bit better.He liked all eyes on him and he liked his own way. It wasn’t wise to cross him, he had a ruthless and vindictive streak with rivals in both the ball room and the board room. Nick had not lied about being a collector. As time passed and Florence proved her devotion, Nick brought her closer into his inner sanctum.
“Florence, your soul is mine I own you and I want to own all the others I send you to collect.”
How could she refuse? She was in too deep, he had seen to that. With a Siren’s call her beauty brought his hand picked victims to Nick’s lair. He gave the most amazing, lavish parties. His lifestyle was all high end luxury. It was all a game, a well paid dangerous game. Nick rewarded most handsomely when Florence performed. The glitter and glamour proved too seductive and Florence willingly accepted she had checked in all morality and conscience before taking to the dance floor with Mr Mephistopheles.
Tonight was different, Florence was tiring of their ‘Les Liaisons Dangereuses’ and she wanted out. Nick, sensing her indifference was not a guy to cross. He grew possessive and reminded Florence he owned her body and soul. The beautiful ball room had suddenly become a prison and her dancing parter her gaoler.
“When you chose to dance with the devil Florence, you knew there would be no way out…” His voice was menacing. Yes, she knew the score, and yes, she had sealed the deal regardless of the consequences, back then, back in the day.
But that was then. Nick was ageing and it was time for a new dancing partner. As the thought crossed her mind, she saw the Stranger and he saw her. And Nick saw him too. Savagely he grabbed her wrist, and snarled,
“Stay with me Florence. Better the devil you know…”
Florence broke free and without looking back made her way across the empty dance floor. The stranger seemed to be pulling her magnetically towards him. The room faded into blackness and all Florence could see was a numinous mist, with the beguiling stranger emitting an almost supernatural light. Music sublimely filled the ball room and she moved inexorably into his arms.
“Do you want to dance?” she whispered seductively.
“Are you willing to forsake all others for me, Florence?” his honeyed voice resonated deeply as he brushed her face with lips as cold  as the grave.
Florence was compelled, even though the touch of his skin brought shivers creeping along her spine, to whisper “yes…”
He held out his hand, and realising she did not know the Stranger’s name, yet he knew hers, Florence took a step back.
“Lucis Ferre,” he smiled, “I have been waiting for you.”
To the plaintive strains of Sibelius’ ‘Valse Triste’, Lucis and Florence glided across the vast expanse of an empty dance floor.

The Last Waltz would last forever. Florence had made her choice … Dancing with the devil to the very edge of darkness…

© Eily Nash 2014

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Do Angels have Paws?

Copy of DSC00736

Puppy Paws

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Regular visitors to my blog will have met  my beautilicious little Westie, Angel. The little girl is almost 8 human years old, in doggy terms she is fast catching me, her ancient old Grannie, up! She is a Leo. I am not. You can work out just who the boss is in our relationship ;) She is small, smart, sassy, and an incorrigible flirt with the boys. Angel loves food, especially if it is mine. If I don’t watch her, she has been known to dip into my wine glass too. Chardonnay is her favourite ;) Her fictional antics in our book (yes, she is an author too!) are very much based on her real life persona. Despite her quite incorrigible diva dog ways  she is  just the cutest, most loving little dog and she has wrapped us around her delectable paws and it goes without saying that we totally and absolutely love our little girl.

Blogging and writing have been very much on the back burner lately. My mind just hasn’t been able to wander down creative avenues. I am feeling a great deal of worry. Angel has to have an operation on Thursday, something called a ‘Tibial Plateau Levelling Osteotomy’ for a ruptured ligament in her back leg.  Oh and her Veterinarian has also mentioned she has a heart murmur…My own heart has been aching. The thought of her undergoing a big operation and being in pain is almost too much to bear, if I could take this from her, I would, but there is no choice it has to be done to prevent further damage and pain. The recovery time for her leg surgery involves 8 weeks confinement. We have bought the biggest Puppy Play Pen and my dear son Ryan has decorated it with fluffy blankets, cushions, toys and  all her teddies. He has also added fairy lights. It is amazing and Angel has spent all week happily hanging out in her new den.


Throughout the last seven years she has brought so much to our family. How she came to us is a very special story of the Angels working their Divine magic. Back then my beautiful grown up daughter, Jennifer, was a little girl. She developed a total fear of dogs. We live in a beautiful quiet place with countryside on the doorstep. There are lots and lots and LOTS of dogs! My darling girl’s fear of dogs just grew out of nowhere. We couldn’t walk down the hill to school without meeting one. We couldn’t enjoy breaks in our much loved Glastonbury because of the fear of encountering a dog. Dogs were everywhere and it was getting to the point that the sheer  fear of them was severely impacting all our lives. My husband had been very much against getting a family dog. (I had two much loved West Highland White Terriers many years before and would have adored the chance to love another one, but it was  not something that was going to happen…or so I thought…)



One night I had a dream in which the Angels clearly and lovingly told me that if we were to get a dog it would open our lovely daughter’s heart to love and the fear would be banished forever. I told my husband, who miraculously agreed. We asked Jennifer if she would like a puppy of her very own. Again, miraculously, she said YES. We researched all types of dogs and Jennifer decided she wanted a WESTIE!

Thank you Angels! I believe with all my heart that God sends pets into our lives to show us how to share unconditional love, loyalty, fun and friendship.


Angel and her ‘ little Daddy’ Ryan

Angel  came into our family, just four months old. A tiny puppy who rapidly left her paw prints all over our hearts. Her beautiful human ‘Mummy’ Jennifer gave her new puppy her name (which turned out to be a total misnomer!) totally loved and adored her tiny baby girl and all fear of dogs rapidly dissipated, and Ryan our lovely boy totally embraced training and caring for our little bundle of Fur-ever love. Hubby and I became GrandPa and Grannie to our little pawsome Angel and have had so much fun becoming part of her pack :)

I write books and Angel took me down new avenues, inspiring the children’s books Poppy Paws and Patch, and Poppy Paws written with the help of Ryan, in which we addressed the issues of fear and the healing power of love, and also the crazy and chaotic canine fun and riotious romps  that unfolds in our chick lit books Telling Tails, Angel in the City and Angel Cake….Not bad for a little girl less than a foot tall! Our girl may be small in stature but huge in heart. She is our Pawsome Angel :)

I went to Church to pray today. My prayers, both in our lovely church and at bed time, are usually for all the challenging situations, heartache and sorrow that beset those I love, those I know and those whose sad stories unfold on our news channels. I added my baby girl Angel and trust the Lord heard my prayers, as he has always done.

We would be hugely grateful for healing thoughts to be sent Angel’s way.

 ♥ Bless you, thank you ♥


Angel all grown up

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Grannie…Do Something!!!


…She had just served me up my Mimosa, nicely chilled, with a plate of yummy brie and cranberry bruschetta, when the phone rang. I overheard Grannie telling Grumpy GrandPa some utter tosh that she was ‘inscrutable’ and that mystery and imagination added to romance….Eww…I nearly choked on my Mimosa. Romance??? Grotty Grannie??? G.G.P??? Er…No!!!

Intrigued, I put my ear to the door and  listened to their hands free conversation some more. Seems they were having a transatlantic telephonic communication as Grannie refused to Skype. Seems he wanted to know just what she was hiding from him and just why she did not want to take a peek at how lush and lovely his Lobelia was looking, delicate and dainty, spread all over the garden back home in England’s green and pleasant land.

Hmm… it was all too confusing. What was Grannie hiding? Just who was this Lobelia? Why was she laying on our lawn…had she, like Grannie, quaffed one or ten Gordon & tonics too many? And just why would G.G.P want to introduce his drunken floozy to Grannie???

These questions needed answered. So once he had finished chatting to Grannie and purely on the pretext of showing my GrandPa the view of Central Park from our 53rd Floor Manhattan Penthouse I grabbed my iPad and face-timed him.

‘Angel, what’s all this utter tosh and rot about Grannie being  mysteriously inscrutable?’ he demanded most demandingly.

‘Dunno, G.G.P,’ says me helpfully, zooming the iPad’s camera full on to Grannie, mush coated in a mud pack and sitting picking her toe nails. After all her manky picture painted a thousand words far more eloquently than Moi, even with my superior literary skills,  could have done…

‘Gumpfffphhh!’ was all G.G.P managed to say before splattering his tea all over his iPhone screen, at that point I only had sound and no picture from him. I was worried and screamed for  Grannie…

‘O’er…Grannie, Grannie!!! please come quick it’s an emergency!!! G.G.P is suffering from revulsion and is like chokin’ and his girl friend is flat on her face, drunk as a skunk in our garden, and is totally incapacitated and incapable of calling an ambulance…Grannie…Do Something!!!’




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Telling Tails


Author Angel Nash worn to the Paws watching Grannie hard at work!

Hello my Lovelies!

I am visiting Grannie’s blog from my Manhattan Penthouse and putting my well manicured paws to good use and blogging for her, whilst she is otherwise engaged and not watching what I am up to.  I am more than miffed she has been selfishly blogging about her books and  not my books, can you believe her cheek!!!

‘Where is Grannie? What is she doing? Shame on her! What on earth could be more important than looking after you, Angel?’ You may solicitously enquire, and I shall tell you, my Lovelies.

But, Shh…it is a secret!

Grannie is busy with a matter of the  most mega urgency and import. Can you hear her click clacking away on her battered old typewriter?  I have banned her from blogging and anything else (like sleeping and eating) that does not involve her catering to my little “want, need, nows!” until she finishes the manuscript for my third book- ANGEL CAKE -Look out for the big reveal!!! 

I am soooo excited about my latest book, just as much as when my paws were on creative fire and I penned my very first  Magnum Opus and introduced myself to an unsuspecting world in:-

 “Telling Tails” 

Beautiliious Westie Angel Nash has aspirations of the good life. When Grannie upsets the little Diva dog she takes matters into her own paws and becomes the first canine like ever to become a real, published author! All Angel’s shenanigans are revealed as she candidly shares how she went walkies from a quiet village in England’s Green and Pleasant Lands all the way across a very big pond to N.Y.C.

Angel’s “Shh…Secret Sharing Sessions” are a riotous romp of Mischief, Mayhem, Moan-fests and Musing on hugely important matters, namely Herself!



Why Helloooo My Lovelies,Beautilicious Westie Angel Nash in the house, with doggilicious tales to tell. A rollercoaster of fun and frolics, chaos and canines. So jump on board and enjoy the ride. It's choc full of my top Secret Sharing Sessions about my crazy capers with Grottie Grannie, my True Love Hamish and B.F stealing Frenemy, Kimbles the Bichon Frise! All the gossip direct from modest Moi, 'The Paws'...Shhh...don't tell!© Eily Nash

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The Witching Hour…

Torn From The Heart

Torn from the HeartCruel heartbreaker, Adam takes no prisoners in ‘Affaires de Coeur’. Fate takes a hand in his bad boy ways one dark, stormy night when Adam finds himself at the mercy of a vicious storm. Lost and afraid on a treacherous Moor, crying out for help, in the middle of nowhere, will anyone hear his pitiful plea? Chancing upon mysterious ‘Half Moon Inn’ and beguiling inn-keeper Evelyn Blackmore, could his prayers have been heard? The raven-eyed beauty offers more than sanctuary. Through the hours of darkness, Adam’s fey companion spins fireside tales of love, loss, rejection, and redemption. Gradually he realises the ethereal Evelyn knows him all too well as she rips her preternatural tales from the recesses of his black heart. Evelyn weaves the unravelled threads of his deepest secrets onto the loom of his life, as Adam secretly plots scenes of soft seduction. Will Evelyn fall prey to her guest’s dark charms and be enticed into his web of deceit? Unbeknownst to him, the enigmatic beauty also has secrets and as the Witching hour fast approaches, so do uninvited and hungry ghosts of the past.

With more than a touch of magic in the air the Hunter just might find he has become the hunted…

Available as Kindle ebook and paperback 


Posted in BOOKS, FICTION & POETRY, LOVE, MAGIC, MYTH, WITCH, WRITING, WRITING & BLOGGING | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Requiem for a Lost Lover


“Come to me and be my wife, I will love you all my life! My love is pure, my love is true, all I have, I share with you. Come Beloved, bide with me, in perfect trust and harmony!”

 He once whispered those words of love to me. Our vows were sacred for all eternity. Alas, promises my beloved could not keep. Oh how my wounded heart did bleed and weep. You may well ask why did I not have eyes to see through his lies and mendacity? What was my crime or my sin? Why did He let the Stranger in? His words were callous, cruel and cold. It was not my fault jealousy took hold!

“I Loved you once, that much is true, until her beauty stole my heart from you. She is comely, my lover is fair, with eyes of blue and flaxen hair. Whilst you grew ragged, grey and old. ‘Tis your fault my Love grew cold!”

My tears they fell like bitter rain. Illusions shattered, piercing pain. In the winter of my heart, I vowed from her he would part. I grabbed a knife and plunged it deep, his life blood ebbed to eternal sleep. So now beneath the pure white snow, in the rich dark Earth deep below, lay two silver caskets filled with bones. By our silent grave, my ghost atones. Encased in ice, two hearts entwine. In Death’s embrace my Love is once more mine. In Death’s embrace my Love is forever mine. By my side eternally lays his head, even though he is long cold and dead.

© Eily Nash