The Cradle of Avaritia ~A Parable

Cave Art, Tadrart Acacus mountains, Libya

Cave Art, Tadrart Acacus mountains, Libya

…there was so much more than they could see, so much more that they could be…

In the deep heart of winter a caveman had been hunting in the depths of the frozen forest. He had trapped a huge wild boar. He felt enormous pride at the big beast slung effortlessly across his powerful shoulders as he made his way back to his tribe.

The women had been at work too, gathering. As he approached he saw they had little to show for their efforts, a meagre ration of bitter berries and pungent leaves. He did not care for such fare.

He wanted the Boar all for himself. The hide would clothe him in fine style and the meat would fill his belly. With a huge roar, he frightened them away from their cave, determined not to share with them.

Outside the cave the women took refuge huddled in the hollow of a huge tree. They were hungry. They were cold. And they were frightened. The women wept.

Worried they would take his huge hoard of meat whilst he slept, he started piling huge chunks of limestone at the cave entrance.

The pile of stones grew higher.

The women came. The women pleaded.

He roared. He added more stones.

But in the cave he had no water and he had no wood to make fire.

The meat started to rot.

Still the women came.

Still he would not share.

The snow melted and spring dressed the Earth in a gown of green.The women working together gathered many fruits, berries, nuts and herbs and pure water from the stream. They ate and they drank and they were well. Pleased with their progress, they called to the caveman to come share in their bounty.

He mistrusted them, fearing a trap to get his meat. He added even more stones to the cave entrance.

He was now almost in complete darkness.

Time to time the women would go to the cave to see if the caveman would come out, to join the tribe once more. Their entreaties would be met with yet another ferocious roar.

In the gloom he could not see his meat was infected by maggots. He continued to eat the infected meat, until only the bones were left. He gnawed on the bones not wanting to share any of his bounty. When he was done gorging he fell ill. Very ill. The maggots were now inside him, eating away.

He weakly cried for help, but none came. The women could not hear him. He had built the stones too high.

Outside the cave, the tribe thrived for after the harsh winter Earth was bountiful and provided for all their needs. The women were gatherers and not hunters and so the  animals became their friends and showed them where they could forage and find even more fruits of the forest. They wove clothes from  leaves and reeds. And life was good. As they received from nature, so they gave back, walking gently upon the Earth, the Great Mother.

They wanted the caveman to share for they knew his meat would not last forever. And so the women went back to the cave but the caveman roared no more. The stones were too high and packed so tight that the women could not get through the impenetrable wall the caveman built. Reluctantly, and with heavy hearts, they left the forest.

The tribe continued to work together, to share and care and co-create. This way knowledge became power. They used their new found power wisely and in doing so each one became a Creatrix. The women knew there was so much more than they could see, so much more that they could be. Building a raft and following the path of the river they set out to cross the sunlit sea. Not knowing where they were going, but confident that they were better together and all their needs would be met.

They had set off for a brave new world and would take the caveman with them ~ for his seed was growing within the bellies of some, although not all,  of the women.

Eons passed.

A team of archaeologists found the cave. The bones of the caveman lay with the bones of the boar, so entwined it was hard to distinguish them as separate creatures. They puzzled to gain understanding of the significance of the bones and the cave…

…The place where Greed had been born in the world…

© Eily Nash November ©2017

 

 

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My Lady’s Bower

John William Waterhouse Lady of Shalott 1916

John William Waterhouse~The Lady of Shalott (1888)

Deep within the darkest heart of night dance slender beams of soft Moon Light.

 Brushing aside the despair cloaking the ancient ruins, La Luna’s children playfully danced amid dank and gloomy walls all that remained of the glories of the past. With carefree abandon the darting moonbeams brought illumination to the derelict Eastern Tower, a silent Sentinel withstanding the ravages of time, proudly giving testament to the pride and glory of bygone years. Those who once lived and loved within the Castle’s protective embrace are but jagged shards of memories, forever entombed within decrepit walls.  Yet there remains a solitary voice from long ago compelled to whisper her sadness upon the wind. Trapped by her heart she cannot leave her lonely Bower within the Castle Tower.

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“FAIR ROSAMUND’ ~JOHN WILLIAM WATERHOUSE (1916)

By the light of the moon, at her lonely loom, sits Lady Perdita. The passage of time has ravaged her home but not she, for the lady is comely still. With hair as dark as a Raven’s wing and eyes of cobalt blue, her beauty beguiles the starless night, for there is no other to gaze upon her countenance within these torn and empty walls. Softly, she sings a sad lament, fragments from a Troubadour’s tale of a love long lost. Sorrow clouds her as a shroud. With downcast eyes and ethereal hands she takes soft strands of numinous threads and weaves silently through her tears. Through the telling of her silken tales there begins to unfold a story of love, a story of loss. The lost love of a Knight of old. Her Knight…Her story…

To the soft strains of a melancholy Mandolin every stitch of the Knight’s chivalrous deeds begin to unfold upon her fragile tapestry.

Sir Allard, encased in his suit of armour and clutching his sword of steel, mounted his dashing destrier. He basked in the admiration he drew from the assembly of illustrious Lords and Ladies, all too aware all eyes were on him. He smiled knowing both damsels and Dowagers were dazzled by his presence. As he graciously bestowed generous glances upon the Ladies fair, Perdita smiled trustingly. She knew within his brave breast beat the chivalrous heart of one who only had eyes for her.  And so with a righteous fire burning in his heart and mounting his noble steed the valiant Knight bade Adieu to his assembled Court and proudly rode to war.

God Speed Edmund Leighton (1990)

“GOD SPEED” ~ EDMUND BLAIR LEIGHTON (1990)

 

Satisfied with the vibrancy of the first scene, Perdita left her loom and her labour of love. Gazing out of the window her searching heart went forth once more into the blanket of night, looking and longing for her Gallant Knight who had sailed from England’s green and pleasant lands to faraway shores. With a sigh she returned to her tapestry, intent on weaving the threads of her fragrant memories, did she know how their story would unfold?

There is a chill that pervades her bower, yet her shivers are not from cold, but the delightful anticipation of her noble Knight’s triumphant return. The glory! The honour! How her heart sang joyfully for him! She wrapped her self in the warm glow of the sweet words of eternal love he had spoken. How her heart ached when she recalled her initial reluctance upset him so. His entreaties were urgent. Why would she not  acquiesce to his burning desires? He protested his Lady was so cruel to tarry, for he had great perils to face. The sweet memories of her succour would comfort him upon the bloody battlefields. Surely his heart would rend in two if she did not return his love! Perdita was torn. She cried bitter tears. As a highborn Lady she would bring dishonour to her family if she lay with him without the sanctity of a wedding band. Kissing her tears away, her chivalrous Knight declared they would marry upon his victorious return from the beast of war. With lyrical persuasion Allard’s conquest was assured. Cautioning Perdita to keep her own counsel and keep their tryst secret, he gave her a ring of gold set with a ruby. The dazzling red gemstone held the promise of eternal love and bought her silence.

''Lamia'' by John William Waterhouse (1905)

”Lamia” by John William Waterhouse (1905)

Through the cloak of darkness a mote of light broke through the night, bringing momentary illumination. Perdita’s fragile heart skipped a beat. Was that her Knight she saw? Cruel memories came crashing into her dreams. A tear fell. Her beloved had sailed away across the seven seas. He had abandoned his Lover to her fate and all for the King’s glory, crusading in a faraway Land. Watching the passage of many Moon tides from her lonely Bower she entreated the star clad night to light his way home, before her shame was there for all to see. Highborn Lady Perdita, who some may say was without blame, could not be seen to be robed in tarnished garments of dishonour as the seed of new life grew within her belly. Yet she held her head high, comforted by their unborn child’s quickening and Allard’s reassurances. For her Knight would surely return and she would be his wife, and all judgement would pass, would it not?

THE DEDICATION' ~ EDMUND BLAIR LEIGHTON

“THE DEDICATION” ~ EDMUND BLAIR LEIGHTON (1908)

 

The dying embers of the old year brought tidings of great sorrow. Sir Allard would nevermore see the sunrise or set upon England’s Sceptered Isle. Nor give his child his rightful name.  Enemy and Gallantry had brought him to his knees. Ever true to her Love, Perdita kept her counsel well. For the Templar’s cause her brave Knight willingly gave his life. For her family honour, Perdita gave hers.

They found her at the break of day, her lifeless and broken body lying at the foot of castle walls. A ruby ring upon her unwed hand glinted in the pale winter sunlight. The fallen Lady was laid to rest beneath her lonely bower whilst far away under an Eastern Sun her  Lover sleeps beneath  shifting sands.

The solitary passage of time has shrouded the castle walls in creeping ivy, shadows and gloom. Yet awaiting her Lover’s return Perdita’s ghost still sits by her loom, lingering midst the rot and decay, trusting Love eternal will raise their hearts from the ashes and dust of betrayal. Her Love lives on, though they are all long dead…

Perchance, your steps take you through the ruined walls of the Castle Keep, they do say by pale moon light and night’s embrace, you may yet hear the strains of a mandolin as the lonely Lady weeps within her ghostly bower.

Deep within the darkest heart of night dance slender beams of soft Moon Light.

Thank you for reading a ghostly tale from my latest book!

 

Published by EdenDeneBooks

and available as Paperback or Kindle on

Amazon & other online sellers!

 

 

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Isabella and the Pot of Basil — William Holman Hunt

Keats, Holman Hunt & Basil~All much loved~Can’t resist the reblog!

Biblioklept

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And she forgot the stars, the moon, and sun,
And she forgot the blue above the trees,
And she forgot the dells where waters run,
And she forgot the chilly autumn breeze;
She had no knowledge when the day was done,
And the new morn she saw not: but in peace
Hung over her sweet Basil evermore,
And moisten’d it with tears unto the core.

–John Keats, Isabella, or The Pot of Basil

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An Angel Calls

 

It is said every soul who walks upon the Earth is assigned a Guardian Angel ~ there are times the Angel may walk beside a soul, there are times the Angel may carry a soul and then there are times the Angel can only stand and weep…

 

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Midwinter. A fog began to descend over the grey London skyline. Dusk had stealthily crept in and stolen the remains of the day away. White stucco walls cloaked in numinous mist and the elegant terrace of Victorian villas took on a ghostly air,  Window panes glowing warm orange, reassurance that all was well within. Fire light, fire bright, all is well tonight. Smoke snaking from tall chimney pots into the chill air warned preternatural creatures of the night to stay away.  One house stood apart from the camaraderie of its neighbours, no warmth or light was to be found within its walls. As dusk gave way to night the fog began to lift. Lights were extinguished and weary folk made their way gratefully to bed, giving thanks to the Lord for the day that had just been done and the morrow yet to come. The interior of number four was just as bleak as the façade. Winter’s icy fingers reached into the very heart of the despondent house, into a cavernous bedroom dressed with heavy furniture of a bygone century when the house was proud and new. A huge mahogany bedstead, barely discernible in the gloom, rose as a dark island in a sea darkness. An oak armoire and a Chiffonier threw dark, dancing shadows. A huge black Victorian cast iron fireplace, inset with tiles glazed with an elegant William Morris floral design took centre stage. It was too dark to appreciate the contrast of the beautiful pure white flowers, against the blackness of the cold and empty hearth. Lilies for the departed soul now restored to innocence after death. The room was out of step with the modern world unfolding beyond its ornate walls patterned in rich shades of gold and teal. Heavy brocade curtains dressed window. Although slightly closed they admitted a pale sliver of moonlight to come creeping in and illuminate the scene within the room.

 

Love that moves the Sun by Edward Burne-Jones

Love that moves the Sun ~Edward Burne-Jones

From the remote island of the big bed, a young child sat up, big hazel eyes wide open, scanning the room for an unknown yet threatening Presence. She drew an eiderdown tightly around her tiny body, tucking the edges under her tiny chin. The warmth was reassuring, providing a degree of safety and comfort. The big bulky frame of her Father lay beside the little girl. He was sleeping, heavy breathing reverberating around the room, chasing away the creeping silence. Shadows danced on the walls, intermittently thrown up by arbitrary moonlight. A gilded mirror hung above the fireplace and the child was mesmerised by the forms within its silvery depths. Were there phantasmagorical creatures living in the mirror, inhabitants of a world within worlds? A ray of capricious moonlight fell across the hardwood floor, illuminating a languid, white, and crumpled body. Comatose, the flaccid form lay curled in a foetal position, an empty brandy bottle clutched in a lifeless hand. A strangled sob escaped into the gloom alerting the man, and on seeing his tiny daughter was wide-awake, urged her to snuggle down and sleep. Having witnessed the scene for far too long and powerless to change things, he had ceased to care a long time ago. Defiantly, the child shook her head, soft auburn ringlets swaying around her little heart shaped face, big hazel eyes luminous and anxious. She enquired tentatively whether Mummy was cold, laying there on the floor? Why was Mummy on the floor yet again, and not snuggling up with them like she used to? Should Mummy get into bed too? Should they cover Mummy to keep her warm? Thinly veiling his feelings of revulsion and contempt, voice laden with disgust, the tired man reassured his tiny child that Mummy was fine. So many questions, so few answers. The floor was where Mummy wanted to be, so they should leave her there and go back to dreamland. Then he rolled over and went back to sleep. The little girl burrowed under the covers, and lay down with her tiny nose snuggling into her Daddy’s warm back. Mummy was fine, Daddy knew best. Her worries alleviated, she slept the rest of the night comforted by the deep sleep of the innocent. In her dreams, the child called for an Angel, an Angel of Love and Light, and the Angel hearing her call, came.

(c) William Morris Gallery; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation

(c) The Angel of Peace~ William Morris Gallery

Suddenly, a luminous golden glow bathed the room and the Angel stepped out of the Light with her arms outstretched. She held a gossamer blanket, woven from the light of the stars from the heavens above, and gently she wrapped the child’s Mother in love and light and tenderness. For the Angel knew, just as the child knew, that the woman although bound by addictions and barricaded into her own pain was still a beloved child of the Godhead, of Source and deserving of love and forgiveness and understanding. The Angel prayed a quiet benediction over the child and her Mother and the man who had long forgotten the truth, as he slept in his warm bed whilst his wife lay on the cold, hard floor. A fragrant blend of frankincense and lilies filled the room. The sour smell of stale alcohol pervading the air now dissipated. The man did not smell the fragrant perfume purifying the woman nor did he see the blanket of stars that wrapped her. He did not see the Angel of Light tending to his wife as the Celestial Being tried to remove the vicious demons of addiction from her. He did not see the tender white lily the Angel placed in the woman’s hand as she took away the empty bottle. He did not see these things, for he too was enslaved by his own addictions.

And the Angel stood and wept silent tears for the man and the woman who could not see, as their child could, the Presence of Angels.

~~~♥♥♥~~~

 

Lilies~Gustav Pope

Lilies~Gustav Pope

 

 

Thank you for reading the prologue from my book “Wychwood~Winter’s Child”

 

 

 

 

 

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Dahlia Delight

Mr Nash has been busy in our English country garden this year and is rather pleased with his new delight, Dahlias 🙂 And Mrs Nash is rather pleased too, as in garden folklore Dahlias represent things I am rather interested in, namely Occult Wisdom, Sweetness of Shadows, Transmuting Emotions and Dreams 😉

Yellow for Friendship

Red for Love

They are just so pretty!

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Yellow Roses

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Ohhh I so love yellow roses…I wish you could experience the gorgeous scent of these beauties growing in our English country garden this June 🙂

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We have many beautiful flowers, plants, herbs and trees thanks to clever Mr Nash, his healing hands and green fingers. The roses are in the front garden, next to beds of lavender. As I leave the house, I am drawn to stop and bathe in their beauty, close my eyes and fill my senses with the sheer beauty that is a rose.

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They bud, they bloom and are gone all too soon~ like a metaphor for life~ And I am reminded to be in an “attitude of gratitude” for life is precious and fragrant, and I thank God for many Blessings received and more to come for all those I hold dear in the sanctuary of my heart, for HE is good.

IMG_1939There are also red and orange roses in our garden, but yellow is my favourite. The colour represents for me Christ Light,  the Sun, the Solar Plexus Chakra, Warmth, Happiness, Zest for living, Friendship, Power and WellBeing.

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~A colour I would choose to share with those I love and care for, my family and my friends and for you too~

 

 

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The Cat’s Tale

Do you ever wonder why we have pets, why we have a close affinity with animals? I believe we are given our pets by God to help us on our life path. They love us absolutely unconditionally, and the bond once formed with an animal can be so strong, so intense and life affirming. Love is Present. It breaks my heart when people are cruel or unkind to God’s creatures. There is no need for it.

It is really easy to love that cute little fur-ball of a kitten or a puppy. It is a lot harder to have the same ‘Ahh’ feeling for a tough old alley cat, but who is to say that a battered old bruiser is not just as deserving of a little TLC and respect?

I‘d like to tell you about one such Cat I met many years ago. His name was Charlie, he was the scourge of the neighbourhood. He was big and brawny and Charlie liked nothing more than to prowl around looking for a good fight.

Charlie was not a friendly cat. Although he had a home, he was originally a rescue cat, he was very much his own boss. His nature was much more alley cat than pampered pet. He had attacked other cats and dogs and he had even attacked people too. Often very viciously and I heard first hand how he managed to claw and draw blood from a lovely elderly lady who is known locally to be extremely kind to animals. Clarice needed hospital treatment for the wounds he inflicted, yet she never reported Charlie nor did she complain to his owner about his bad behaviour, choosing forgiveness instead of anger and resentment. Clarice told me his owner had enough of her own worries and there was no need to burden her further. She was a very wise woman.

My special pet is called Angel, she is just the most adorable fluffy white West Highland Terrier. She has a very loving nature and is a very sweet and friendly girl. Although Angel has a big bark inside our house, she is shy and timid outside.

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Angel and her favourite puppy dog plush toy

 

One day Angel was out walking with me, It is very green and pretty where we live. She was happily doing doggy things, like sniffing all those interesting scents from other pooches, cats and foxes. Out of nowhere Charlie sprang at her and tried to claw her down her back, she is a small Westie and at that time not long past her puppy days, and next to Angel Charlie was HUGE. Angel is my baby girl and no one and nothing will hurt her whilst I am around to love and protect her. So I reached down and scooped her into my arms and roared at Alfie ‘Leave her alone!’  I roared so loud my voice stunned him and he gave up on his ambush and slunk off into the bushes. Angel was very shook up and frightened and I was not best pleased with that cat. For the longest time when I saw him afterwards, one look from me and he just knew better than to mess with Angel again. Knowing she was safe, Angel just continued doing her doggy thing, sniffing all those deliciously enticing scents and not engaging with him.

A few weeks later, I was sat on the step in my front garden, hunkered down between our very tall hedges. Along the path comes Charlie. I was feeling very down about something. As is the way with life, all things pass, all is transitory and I no longer recall what had upset me although at the time it was important enough for me to seek solitude in nature. Charlie had (if cats can have such a thing!) a very ‘hang dog’ look about him. He wasn’t slinking along with his usual beligerant air.

I caught his eye and asked him ‘You not feeling so good either Charlie?’ He stood watching me, in that way cats have of staring into your eyes and deeply reading you. I dare say, cat owners have no secrets from them! And then something odd happened. In that instant I just knew everything about Charlie, why he was like he was and how his ‘old battered bruiser Tomcat’ exterior was just an overcoat wrapped around a lost boy who had a heart after all. He told me he had especially chosen his special human Courtney, the girl who had “rescued” him, because she was having a hard time in this game called life, and she had been battered and bruised by a lot of unkind people. He had come to show her she was worthy of love and devotion and that he enough  strength and courage to protect both of them.

He came over and gently rubbed his face against my leg and I stroked him under his chin. He sat there and purred a bit. I talked and Charlie listened and between us we gained a liking and a great deal of mutual respect for each other. When I needed a friend that day, God sent one along albeit he came in the strangest disguise!

Charlie and Courtney eventually moved on, where she went, he went. I know a well deserved and happier life awaited both of them.

I have long forgotten whatever had ailed me but even though he is long gone, I have never forgotten old Charlie the cat.

 

Thank you for reading! This is a true story although, apart from Angel, I have changed the names of the characters who appear in my little sharing:)

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I Knew These People…

 

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Ary Scheffer~”The Ghosts of Paolo and Francesca Appear to Dante and Virgil” ~Taken at the Wallace Collection

“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 is for the Man above not me.

A waiter came over. Smartly dressed with slicked back black hair, just a hint of grey kissing his temples and a smile that reached his rich brown eyes. I noted he was deferential without being subservient, in a very European way. I liked him and resolved to leave him a good tip. I saw he liked her, a lot. Did she like him? It was difficult to tell.  There was a story hiding behind his smile, but that would be for another time. Right now was her time. She had something to say and I had a strong intuition I needed to hear it.

I ordered a pot of English Breakfast Tea, toast and marmalade, “Make that for two, please,” I glanced at her and she nodded her approval at him.

“Très bon,” he rewarded us both with a smile, hiding just a soupçon of merriment. This man did not take life too seriously at all. He really was very handsome and as he walked away a delicious hint of citrus and spice lingered in the air.

“Mmm,” I sniffed appreciatively “Do I detect patchouli and sandalwood?”

“Indeed you do. Top notes and base notes. Quite enticing, isn’t it? Clive Christian 1872,” she replied with authority and I wondered if she was the one who had gifted him a very fine bottle of cologne.

We sat in comfortable companionship in the beautiful glass roofed Courtyard. 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 Hertford House and take yet another admiring stroll through the sumptuous rooms of the museum, admiring the works of fine art, especially paintings depicting angels.  I told her my Mother had first brought me here as a little girl.

 

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A.-Victor Fontaine (fl. 1837-1884)
Ganet the Elder (fl. 1871 – 1883)

“Love Triumphant” ~Taken at the Wallace Collection

“Mummy are Angels just make believe or are they really real like the elves with their black patent shoes with big silver buckles and fairies with their gossamer wings in my big picture book?” I had made earnest enquiries.

“Indeed they are Evie,” Mummy had replied, “Would you like to see the lovely paintings of the Angels in Hertford House?  We shall look at suits of armour and you can see for yourself knights who protected princesses were very real too! We shall have tea and toast and yummy jam when we finish. ”

My Mother always had a special way of making the most magical things sound a natural part of everyday life. I missed her and gazing at my elegant companion momentarily wondered would Mummy have looked just like her if the sickness had not came and took her away much too soon. Would we be sitting here now recalling my delight at the moment I had gazed on the beautiful paintings of Lords and Ladies of long ago. Entranced by the many treasures housed in the Wallace Collection, I had moved from one sumptuous and ornate gallery to the next, each filled with armour, fine porcelain, ornate snuffboxes and gorgeous fireplaces and rococo chandeliers. And I had seen the Angels. And I had believed.

I saw I was under close scrutiny, “I like it here,” I told her, “ I like it a lot. It’s been a long love affair,” I said.

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Velázquez’s black veiled beauty “The Lady with a Fan” ~Taken at the Wallace Collection

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 smiled in appreciation as she divulged her favourite painting and 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 told me she hugely admired the serenity of Velázquez’s black veiled beauty “The Lady with a Fan” and shared she was intrigued by sculptures depicting veiled beauties. She wondered if Raffaele Monti’s emotive statuette truly depicted a Circassian slave? Perhaps, she postulated, she was truly free and her beautiful veiled countenance was an allegory for her seeing ‘beyond the veil’ into numinous realms. She said her name was Evelyn and she had a town house close by in Crawford Street, she was a Writer and she was glad of my company. A lot of words as one would expect, but not what she really needed to say.

I shivered involuntarily. Crawford Street was a place I knew well, having grown up in an elegant stucco fronted Georgian house. In different circumstances I would be living there now, but for the premature loss of my darling Mother. That house held many happy memories and I had vowed one day to return, that it would be my home again. Meeting Evelyn was proving to be more than a touch synchronistic.

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Raffale Monti~”Circassian Slave” ~Taken at the Wallace Collection

Our tea and toast arrived.

“Those people…?” I tried to engage her to take my mind away from wandering down dark avenues from the past.

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 I have eyes that look into their distant pasts and possible futures, their right here, right now’s or 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 conspiratorially.

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 pale pink pearls. Her hand was surprisingly cold.

“Those people…” I encouraged, knowing the earrings held the key to her story, as did love. Was it lost, unrequited, had her heart been broken or did she carry the heavy weight of human frailty having inflicted pain and hurt on another? I munched my toast waiting for her to reply. The toast here is really very good. My reward for patience just a flicker behind her grey eyes, a wry smile and the deafening sound of silence. Perhaps a guilty conscience lay behind her insouciance? I truly hoped not.

Suddenly I had a very strong desire to know and held her gaze searchingly. I saw the relief in her face as the waiter returned with a fresh pot of tea and she took the opportunity to slip her hand away from mine, the shutters were down. The moment had passed. 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, my pale pink pearls catching rainbows of light as the sun danced through the atrium.

She may well have a lifetime of stories to tell, but I was going to have to live them before Evelyn shared our secrets with me, Evie…

© Eily Nash 2016

~Thank you for reading “I Knew These People…” One of the supernatural tales from my latest book “Nightshades” available on AMAZON~

 

 

 

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Angel’s Garden

 

 

Angel is a rather small West Highland White Terrier, what she lacks in height she more than makes up for in the sweetest, sassiest personality and sheer bark power~I think that must be a Westie thing! Angel would like to invite you for walkies around our garden where we like to work and play, Thanks to Mother Nature and the very capable assistance of Mr Nash, it is rather lush & lovely:)

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We love sitting beneath our lovely big Beech tree we are inspired to write, reflect and wonder at the magic of nature all around us.

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Angel is very partial to  Grannie’s herbs! Here she is licking her lips after a little snackette of Oregano from under the Bamboo and Beech hedge 🙂

 Not all herbs are good for dogs, so Angel has chosen wisely as Oregano is good for Iron, B6 and Calcium. My poor baby girl has metal pins in both her back legs and this is a great addition to Grannie’s home cooking for her!

We love herbs and have quite a variety spread throughout the garden and in pots…LOTS of pots and as I find them, more are added all the time!

~ Angelica, Basil, Bay, Borage, Comfrey, Coriander,Curry leaf, Chives, Dill, Fennel, Hyslop, Jasmine, Lavender, Lovage, Lemon Balm, Marjoram, Mint, Parsley, Peppermint, Rosemary, Sage, Sorrel, Tarragon, Thyme ~

 

We get a LOT of different birds visiting from the tiny Wrens, Sparrows, Bullfinches to the Corvidae family of Crows, Magpies and occasional Rooks. There are always plenty of treats ready and waiting for everyone on the bird table! We are also blessed to have our family of Robins and super sweet little blue tits who live in the garden all year round alongside the ‘big girls’, the Wood Pigeons and their cousins the collared Doves. There are plenty of places to nest, I think I countered over 70 trees once~mostly lovely tall Blue Spruce!

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As the Sun goes to sleep, the night garden is illuminated by starlight. We watch the constellations, the transits of Venus and the Moon moving across the night sky. There may be the rustle of a fox and we hear Mr Owl, a lovely treat indeed!

Angel loves her garden, and snow is rather special, she romps through the flakes and becomes a giant snow ball! It sticks to her fur and her paws and after she has had her fun it is time to come indoors to be cleaned off, warmed up and given a tasty meal…

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Butterflies, Beetle and Bees love to visit, and when I buy local honey I wonder if the bees had stopped by our gorgeous PomPoms, The Alliums, for a tasty snack!

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Angel’s GrandPa has very green fingers, and our ‘rainbow’ garden is abundant with many treasures throughout the turning of the wheel of the year. We delight in the perfection of all God’s Holy creation and are indeed blessed to be surrounded by such beauty.

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We shall say bye bye now and hope you enjoyed your visit to Angel’s garden:)

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Magic of the Bluebell Wood

Searching for a touch of magic and enchantment in your day?

Just follow your heart and Mother Nature will signpost your way 🙂

 

 

Come and see for yourself, as we take a walk through the magical bluebells woods!

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Each spring we visit the bluebells, they live in the woods beneath some very ancient trees.There is something quite magical about bluebell woods, you can sense the fey at play and hear the music of the tinkling blue bells dancing in the breeze.

I love to spend time here, to just be and connect with the natural world. Young saplings grow beside tall trees that have withstood all nature has thrown at them, their strong roots anchoring them deep into rich soil of Mother Earth. High in the branches the birds gather and gossip, bring news to the forest from places near and far. And with  gently rustling leaves, the trees signal their appreciation for knowledge of such things.

The trees that have stood tall through many years eventually lay down to sleep, and where once they provided shelter for birds and bats, now they are home to the beetles and bugs, providing warmth and nourishment and rich nutrients for the soil. Such is Nature’s way. Once created all things continue to exist, in one form or another. What is true of trees, is true of people too.

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The old dies away and makes way for the new…

The bluebell wood is indeed a magical place where Dryads and other Elementals of the Devic kingdom live, laugh, love and play, whilst the Guardians of the forest keep a close eye, silent sentinels offering their protection.

And here they are! A glorious carpet laid out on the woodland floor. Tread carefully on Gaia’s magical carpet!

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It is time to leave now, and as we continue on our path, we take nothing but the wisdom of the woods…in which, paradoxically we have taken everything.

 

Bright Blessings

Eily

 

Posted in MAGIC OF NATURE, Nature, NATURE PHOTOGRAPHY, PHOTOGRAPHY, Uncategorized, WRITING & BLOGGING | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

About The Boy

In which Angel meets a yummy boy and 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’!!!

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Image Attribution MatthiasKabel on Wikimedia

‘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”…

Mmmm, 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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We hope you enjoy this cheeky slice of Angel Cake…Find out what happens next by grabbing your own from

Amazon! Kindle & Paperback available like right now 🙂

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Angel 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 Angel is determined to have her crown and wear it and have her cake and eat it! Join our girl on the couch in her fabulous Manhattan Penthouse as she candidly reveals all in her cosy secret sharing sessions, with you, her Lovelies!

 

Posted in BOOKS, HUMOR, HUMOUR, KINDLE, Uncategorized, WEST HIGHLAND TERRIER, WESTIE | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Eliza and The Black Cat

When Favian looks to the dark arts to get what he deserves, Eliza is very happy to assist him…

 

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John William Waterhouse~The Crystal Ball (1902)

 

The lone horseman cut a shadowy figure, barely visible threading his way through Sherrards Wood. The trail was overgrown and difficult for both man and beast to negotiate, especially as the weather had a mind to be unkind and inclement this winter’s eve. It was a night to be fireside with plates piled high with good food and fine wine served by comely wenches. He cursed vehemently as the cold rain began soaking through his opulent velvet cloak, the fur trim sticking uncomfortably to his skin. The north wind, having taken a dislike to the man, had a mind to torment him and screeched obscenities right back at him.

Unsettled by the strange shadows prowling through the trees and the howling wind Favian made haste.  He violently dug sharp spurs into his horse, urging it to break from its steady canter into a gallop. Almost expecting to see a pack of baying hellhounds giving chase he glanced over his shoulder, unaware the path was narrowing ahead. The hoot of a barn owl startled his steed, and spooked, it lurched to the left into dense undergrowth. The move was unexpected and before the man could gain control of the reins angry brambles scratched and tore at his noble face. Favian shouted at the horse as he felt a hot trickle of blood coursing down his cheek, rivulets of red running over his lips. The taste of iron was bitter and he spat in distaste, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. Savagely he used his whip on the animal’s flanks, blaming the innocent creature for his discomfort.

By the time Favian reached his destination he was in a foul mood. He would not have ventured out on such a night if it were not of such import.  Dismounting, he tied Ned his uncomplaining old horse to an ancient chestnut tree. There was no thought to the creature’s well being. It had been a long hard ride and food or water would have brought welcome respite to the tired horse. There was none to be had. Instead the man saw to his own needs and reached deep inside his cavernous cloak searching for a comforting leather flagon filled with mead. Having availed himself of a long draught of the sweet tasting and warming liquor he strode purposefully towards a dilapidated hovel. Standing forlornly within the forest clearing it was a far cry from the opulence within his father’s castle walls. A spiral of thin grey smoke rose up into the damp night air, whatever comfort it brought was carried away on the howling wind. The crackling of broken twigs caused the hairs to rise on his neck. For a moment he hesitated. A sense of foreboding came over him and he felt uncharacteristically afraid. Drawing in his breath and a dagger from his side and with feral eyes searching for hidden foes, he was on high alert. The skinny black cat that rushed by him brought relief from his fear and aiming a misplaced kick at the cat he laughed as it turned, arched its back and hissed. Another deep swig of the mead strengthened his conviction and he followed the creature towards the hovel. The cat was sat outside a weather beaten wooden door staring directly at him. Its amber eyes were penetrating and he had the uncomfortable feeling the creature was boring into his mind. He shook himself, he was not a fanciful man, it was only a cat not some phantasmagorical creature of the night the likes of which the villagers spoke of in hushed and fearful tones. Favian was strong, and if not for an accident of birth as the second son of a nobleman he would be on the brink of becoming the most powerful Lord of the Manor in these parts. The cat was in his way. Favian did not like anything or anyone to stand in the way of what he wanted. Without a second thought he unsheathed his dagger and took aim.

His face clouded darkly at the thought of what might have been if it were not for his weakling of a brother. With only a matter of days, if not hours, before the Lord of the Manor breathed his last it would all fall into his unworthy hands. Favian spat in disgust at the thought of Florian, his pathetic sibling whom he had left sobbing at their aged Father’s deathbed inheriting everything. The heir should have been him. He was the man to own the castle and the lands far beyond its walls. He should be the one with men to command, swearing allegiance to no one but the King himself. He should be the one to marry Estella, the comely and virtuous maiden chosen for his brother’s bride. The thoughts burnt as raging coals in the furnace of his mind. It should have been him! He deserved no less. Life was unfair! His were the eyes that saw her first, the French beauty with flaxen hair wound and bound around her proud head and dancing eyes of cobalt blue. He had shown his devotion to her on the jousting field. Yet she had spurned his ardent displays of valour in favour of his weak sibling. How could she prefer Florian’s vapid utterings of courtly love, serenading her with the songs of the Troubadours, to his manly valour?

As his Father’s second son arrangements had already been made for him to enter the church. His future mapped out for him, a future he did not want. It was not what he deserved. A future life as an Abbot was not to his taste, something had to be done and it had to be done now, before it was too late. The hovel before him held the solution. He had come this far and now there was no going back.

He seethed recalling the scene that had become etched in agonies of jealousy upon his mind, robbing him of sleep and peaceful repose. Florian and Estella locked in a tight embrace beneath the eastern tower, whilst he remained unseen listening from a window above.

‘Ah Estella, my heart aches for Father and his plight. I fear the days to come. If there were another way I would keep my brother close, but I have seen the darkness growing in his jealous heart. He would see me join our Father in death’s embrace and take you to his side!’

‘Fear not, my beloved Florian, for I will be forever at your side, two hearts entwined as one. Favian has a cruel and vindictive streak.  The powers that be would not allow for him to become the next Lord of this Manor. If ever two brothers were so different! One of you pure heart, the other with a heart as black as night. He would not rule with wise council and grace, as you will my love.’

‘He does not want to enter the confines of the church, but Father and I decided he is far too brutal to take on the auspices of Knighthood.’

‘Chivalry is not in his dark nature, Florian. The church may well prove safe haven for his eternal soul. Come my love, let us return to your Father’s side. Eliza has brought me a potion of Meadowsweet and Wood Sorrell she prepared in the herborium to aid him in his hour of need.’

‘You are indeed blessed to have her as your handmaiden for she comes to you with many talents born of an ancient lineage, my love. Those amber eyes of hers hold much knowledge.’

‘Indeed Florian, for one so young she is well versed in the old ways, which are always useful in dangerous times such as these.’

Hand in hand they had walked back into the castle and to his Father’s bedchamber.

With a sense of urgency Florian sought out Eliza…

 

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The interior of the hovel was dark, lit by a single stumpy candle formed from tallow and the dying embers of a spent fire, and it took Favian a moment or two to acclimatise to the gloom. The tallow smelt acrid and unpleasant and he sniffed in distain. A creak drew his attention and he made out the shape of a crumpled old woman sat fireside upon a wooden stool. She was wrapped in a thick woollen shawl over a dirty black skirt. Her feet were bare and coated in the grime of the forest floor. The cat was nowhere to be seen, despite having evaded his dagger and run through the door which had creaked open seconds before Favian had made his unceremonious entrance. A sudden movement and the fire sprang into life casting a low glow. A blackened pot hung on a hook above the grate. Burning embers added much needed illumination to the pitifully poor interior. It was almost threadbare apart from a rocking chair and a trestle table laden with jars of potions and bunches of dried herbs and flowers. The old woman broke into an unexpectedly raucous cackle and the cavern of her mouth gawped open exposing a few rotten teeth within her wizened maw. Her face was lined and wrinkled by the ravages of time and strands of straggly white hair covered her eyes.

‘What can I do for you good Sir Favian?’ Her polite enquiry was laced with sarcasm.

‘Eliza sent me,’ he stated starkly, not questioning she knew who he was.

‘Oh.’ There was no surprise in the voice that answered.

‘Eliza told me you practice the Arts.’

‘What Arts would they be? What would an old woman such as myself know of Arts? I live a humble life, living of the land and grateful for the charity of those good of heart.’

‘Pah! Don’t play with me old woman,’ he menacingly bent his large frame into her frail body. ‘It is said by those superstitious villagers that you are an adept of the dark arts.’

‘It would be very foolish to claim such powers. You know what villagers are like with their silly gossip about witchcraft and the like.’ She left her words hanging coldly between them.

‘Eliza is not given to gossip. That girl knows things!’

‘Aye, she may well do so Sir Favian, but I dare say what she knows she shares only with those she trusts within your Father’s walls and keeps her own counsel.’

‘And she did too, until I beat it out of her!’ he spat in frustration.

The old woman responded icily ‘Did you indeed? Was there any need for that? Eliza has been a true and loyal maidservant to the Lady Estella and your noble family. I hear you tried to make good use of both those fair ladies yourself. I hear your Father has made provisions for you to enter the Church.’ Her voice was loaded with contempt.

Favian clenched his fists, face red with rage. He would have swung for the helpless old woman, but he needed her. His eyes grew cold and he resolved once he had what he had come for she would get what she rightly deserved for such insolence. They burnt witches and no one would doubt his testimony the old hag had put a spell on his brother causing him a quick and painful death. He smiled at the thought of all his plans coming to fruition. With his Father dying, his brother dead and the Manor all but his nothing would prevent him taking the lady Estella for his wife. And as for the comely Eliza, there would be no one to protect her and keep him from her bedchamber now. It would not be long until he got just what he rightly deserved.

‘A man in my position gets what he deserves, and more, that is why I am here and you will help me get what is rightfully mine.’ He crouched down low and grabbed the old woman’s wrists in a vice like grip. ‘Eliza said you practice the dark Arts. She said you were the only one who could give me what I deserve, and give it to me you will!’

‘Unhand me and tell me what it is you want, I will not be able to practice the Arts you speak of with broken hands.’

‘I want control of the Manor and all the land and villagers. The old Lord is on his deathbed and I should be his heir.’

‘Does not his Lordship have a firstborn son, your brother? You are but a second son, the right of title will not pass to you.’

‘Aye, what you say is true, but with less than a year between us my brother is everything I am not. He is weak and his support for King Stephen over the Empress Maude could loose us everything in these dangerous times. As Lord of the manor I will pledge allegiance to Maude and her cause. I will receive great riches and rewards for my loyalty!’

‘There are many in these parts would call that treachery Sir. King Stephen is the rightful heir and his support is strong. You could loose everything, The King is not a forgiving man, so it is said. But how can I help with such matters?’

‘You were the one taught Eliza the power of potions. I need such a potion. I need something to remove the obstacles in my path to my destiny. I need what I deserve and I need it now, tonight!’

‘Then why did you not ask Eliza for such a potion?’

‘She said her skills were in healing and removing those things that ail a body. I beat the truth out of her, she sent me here to get what I deserve from one practised in the old ways and the dark Arts. I am done conversing with you old woman; give me what I ask for. I will have what I rightfully deserve before day break.’

‘Hmm. Indeed I shall use my Arts to give you what you deserve, Sir Favian. If it is your will and you so desire it, then confirm your intent and it shall be so, but I warn you once the spell has been cast to give you what you rightfully deserve there will be no going back. Death will occur and what has been engendered cannot be undone.’

‘I do desire it.’

The old woman stood up and walked over to the trestle table. Carefully she rooted through the bottles and herbs. Selecting those she required she returned to the fire. There are indeed herbs that heal and there are also herbs that harm. Throwing sprigs of henbane onto the fire, she began chanting arcane words. She added Hemlock, Mandrake and Thorn-apple followed by Wolfsbane. The fire began to spit and growl as angry flames grew higher.

Favian stood before it lapping up the warmth, satisfied it had begun. The chanting grew more urgent and the flames intensified.

‘Are you sure I should continue?’ she asked.

‘Do it!’ he replied excitement of what would rightfully be his consuming him.

The old woman opened a vial of a foul smelling liquid and cast it onto the fire, her woollen cloak slipped to the floor. She did not look frail now. Her hair was no longer white, but a blanket of black cascading down her back. Through billowing smoke he could just about make out her shape as she stood tall and proud. As she added more herbs and resins, the smoke cleared. Favian saw her eyes for the first time. Luminous, deep amber eyes. Eliza’s eyes. Shocked he blinked and she was gone. With a roar, flames of blue and gold chased red sparks up the chimney. Favian gave a gasp, it seemed as if the gates of hell were opening. Fire and brimstones spewed out into the room and began encircling him. In fear he cried for it to stop.

A cackle filled the air. The only reply was a vicious hiss from the black cat as it stepped out of the cloak on the floor, fixed him with deep amber eyes and sauntered out of the door.

~Thank you for reading my cautionary tale of witchery from my latest book~

“NIGHTSHADES” ~A Collection of Ghostly & Gothic Tales

 

 

Available on Amazon on Kindle & paperback

Posted in GOTHIC, LONGREADS, MAGIK, MYTH, PARANORMAL FICTION, Shapeshifting, Uncategorized, WITCH, WRITING & BLOGGING | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Beyond

I am very excited to welcome a special guest author to “Gossamer Threads” and I hope you enjoy the first instalment of a Sci-Fi Series by my beautiful boy, Ryan Nash, aged 13 🙂

♠Beyond♠

There is us, the human race, the only place we could  live is on Earth or so we thought. Lately scientists are developing a space shuttle capable of travelling way beyond our solar system. Giving the human race the chance to dramatically evolve to their full potential. The launch of this craft is due to take off next Sunday on 1st January 2035. Since the economy crash of 2020 technology has evolved to become more advanced than scientists previously predicted in 2005 as we begin to evolve.

By the time Sunday came, everyone was ecstatic and filled with joy to see the first shuttle launch since 2010. The shuttle was very big and holographic; it has huge thrusters and looked ascetically pleasing. Shortly after admiring the beast of a shuttle it was the decisive moment the time to make history. The count-down began 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1 and off it went, accelerating faster and faster, through the sky before becoming no more than a faint red dot in the sky and disappearing into the beyond.

Meanwhile on the space shuttle the crew were preparing to go into hyper drive propelling them light years away from the milky way within minuets. Their mission was exploration and investigation. Their mission would take the crew about 1 year, hopefully returning home by New Year’s Eve 2036. Quickly the engines on the shuttle power up to hyper drive and within a blink of an eye the shuttle was hurtling into the unknown.

As the engines came out of hyper drive to the slow hum of the engines whirling down, the crew were amazed to see bright and vibrant colours and some colours that they never even  knew of their existence. The Beyond was truly an amazing place populated by different planets; a strangely coloured smallish purple planet, a large green planet and an extra large blue planet with 12 moons!

“This is amazing,” one of the crew members said as another took a photo of the new planets with their phone. Space in this new solar system was not like the black dullness back in our home solar system, instead it was alive with vibrant and pinkie blue tones. It made the solar system look more friendly and cute.

“Okay, enough lolly gagging and admiring the planets, now lets go and explore and investigate these new planets.”

The large shuttle slowly approached the small green planet. Once the shuttle had landed the crew members disembarked the shuttle to explore and collect samples form the planet’s surface. The crew called the planet Dormarous. As the doors on the shuttle open, the crew take their first steps on Dormarous. The planet seemed like earth, but as if they were in a rain forest.

“Interesting,” one of the crew members observed. “What?” another said, “The Eco system is exactly like Earth, we can breath this air, in-fact the oxygen here is purer that the oxygen on earth!”

Surprised the crew slowly  remove their large metal helmets and took their first breathes. The place the crew discovered is not like any other known solar system, for the crew had found a self aware solar system,  populated by self aware planets, suns, moons and stars.

As the crew of the shuttle were taking samples,  one crew member dug a soil sample from the ground when there was a  tremor beneath their feet. The crew member had just hurt Dormarous! At first the crew just thought it was a short anomaly nothing more than a mini quake. But it soon became apparent that it wasn’t a coincidence, but a known fact that every time a crew member stuck a metal object into the ground there would be a mini quake.

“That’s weird,” one crew member remarked.

“What is?” another enquired.

“It seems that every time I poke the ground it causes a mini quake!”

The crew member was right! In  fact it was unsettling creepy that the planet could feel pain and the crew wondered if they could do more things to the planet, make it feel emotions. But how would the crew be able to accomplish something like this? The crew could never  have imagined that they would encounter something so bizarre or something as strange as this.

The crew returned to the shuttle to collect some equipment and electronics to further test the question ‘Does the planet feel like any other sentient being?’ As strange as it is, the crew were very creative in how they tested this theory. The first test had already been completed and  results had strongly indicated that the planet may indeed feel pain. One of the crew members documented the events that had taken place on their time on the strange planet they named Dormarous, while the rest of the crew were trying to test the theory ‘Could the planet feel anger and depression?’ Their first attempt went as a fail. The crew tried shouting at the planet, but nothing happened. Then the crew started arguing with each other about what they were going to do to be able to make the planet feel other emotions. Just as they were arguing, the planet started to violently shake and the equipment started to go off the charts with 7.9 magnitude quakes. Right at that moment the quakes ended, a deep loud voice shouted ‘SILENCE!’ Shocking the whole crew.

The crew became increasingly concerned about their safety.

‘DON’T YOU PEOPLE HAVE ANY SANITY!’ The planet Dormarous asked incredulously.

One crew member shouted out ‘Who are you what do you want from us?’

In reply the planet Dormarous continued to speak ‘WHY ARE YOU BEINGS SO DECEPTIVE AND CONNIVING?’

‘Us conniving and deceptive?’ One crew member responded indignantly.

Dormarous started to become angry and more agitated and annoyed. ‘THAT’S IT! I’VE HAD ENOUGH!’

Suddenly a hole opened up and devoured the shuttle craft.

‘TO GET THE SHUTTLE BACK YOU WILL HAVE TO PASS A SERIES OF TESTS TO PROVE TO ME THAT YOU ARE WORHTY TO BE ALLOWED TO LEAVE! PROVE TO ME YOU ARE ALL WORTHY AND YOU WILL GET YOUR SHUTTLE BACK AND ALL BE ALLOWED TO LEAVE IN PEACE. KNOW THIS, FAILURE FOR ONE IS FAILURE FOR ALL AND  THERE WILL  BE DIRE CONSEQUENCES FOR FAILURE, TO SPEND THE REST OF YOUR LIFE ON THIS PLANET AND DIE HERE OR TO DIE IMMEDIATELY, YOUR FATE IS NOW IN YOUR HANDS. CHOOSE WISELY AND BE CAREFUL.’

To be continued….

A Sci-Fi series by Ryan Nash

 

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Nightshades

NIGHTSHADES

~My supernatural tales are on Kindle now!~

 

 

Ghostly and Gothic Tales from Past and Present… Does the touch of darkness illuminate the light within…

Angel of the North: A beguiling stranger offers Cassie a miraculous solution to all her problems, will she accept his help?

Candlenight: On All Hallows Eve the Souls of the dead walk among men and Lady Leonora has unfinished business.

Requiem for Love: A lost soul laments her true love.

Edge of Darkness: Johanna choses to ‘dance with the devil’ when she takes up with Nick Mephistopheles only to find there is a price to pay… Nick wants to own her, body and soul.

Stairway to Hell: Ellis has escaped the devil’s lair when the strains of a melancholy mandolin send her hurtling back to darkness.

Cats Eyes: Favian looks to the dark arts to get what he deserves. Eliza is very happy to assist him…

An Angel Calls: A woman lays with her life and soul in the balance, is there redemption from the demon of addiction?

The Bower: With her Knight in shining armour fighting in the crusades, Lady Perdita, alone in England’s green and pleasant land, is forced to defend the honour of the man she loves.

Beguiled by Beauty: ‘I am an actress,’ she said, ‘A weaver of dreams and a maker of magic!’ Maude beguiles a married man. Will he betray his wife?

I Knew These People: “They are beautiful. Tears from the moon.” When Evie admires a pair of pearl earrings she is unaware they hold the key to a secret.

 

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Written in the Stars

edwrad-rober-hughes_night

Night by Edward Robert Hughes

 

Come to me, my own True Love

I will show you wonders above

Behold! Diamonds of Celestial Light

Cast upon a blanket of darkest night

A story of Love begins to unfold

An ancient tale once more told

For you and I, my Own True Love

Are written in the stars above❤

 

Eily Nash 2016 ~for my Husband

 

 

 

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Clandestine Coffee

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Image by Eily Nash

A cautionary tale of Dapper Dan and my  timely escape from becoming his reluctant muse…A true story…

….I was taking a little trip down memory lane and thinking about the many times I have accidentally got myself in trouble through misplaced kindness.

‘How could kindness cause trouble?’ I hear you ask.

‘Intentions being at odds with expectations,’ is the answer, I guess. One person intends one thing, the other expects something else…as was the case with my accidental ‘clandestine coffee date’ with dapper Dan…

It is hard to resist a cute dog out walkies with their human. Teddy the little Yorkshire Terrier was a handsome boy and very engaging with it, he knew just how to get attention. I would stop and fuss over him and pass a few words with the man attached to his lead. Eventually the dog died and I didn’t see Dan anymore.

Then one day I bump into him  and have a little catch up chat. I should have remembered that dogs and their owners are often similar in temperament, the late lamented Teddy could wrap any female in a five mile radius around his cute little paws. Dan tells me he is lonely. He tells me his long term live in girlfriend left him. He says he misses company.

I reassure him that he is a fine looking gentleman, well dressed and well kept and has such a charming manner that he will certainly meet a lovely new lady.

He says he likes to go to town in the mornings to sit and have his coffee and just watch the world go by and it would be nice, just once, to sit with someone. He has spun such a tale of woe that by now I am feeling so sorry for him and offer to buy him a coffee and watch the world go by with him for a while. I arrange to meet him at Costa coffee at 11am. He brightens considerably and we go our separate ways.

I go home to my lovely husband. When he asks me what I am up to the next day I tell him about my latest act of kindness, my coffee morning with a lonely gentleman. He looks a bit dubious, but says nothing…BUT says he will meet me afterwards at around 12ish and to keep my phone on. So all is good and next day off I trot to do my good deed 🙂

I rock up at Costa and  Dan is sat, dapper as ever, just as he said watching the world go by with his drink in his hand. I buy me one and him another. We are chatting away and it’s just like having coffee like with the girls…or so I think…

I tell him I am writing and have finished a book. He seems interested. I tell him I like witchy things, his eyes glaze and he rapidly looses interest. He starts talking about himself. He doesn’t stop. He tells me art is his hobby and he belongs to the local art club   and that he has had work in their exhibitions.

‘Oh how wonderful! How impressive!’ I enthuse, from what he has said he doesn’t get much encouragement and I am on my mission to brighten his lonely day whilst enjoying a yummy Flat White.

His gaze travelled over my rather fetching and well stuffed co-ordinated outfit of lime green T-Shirt and skinny jeans. In the interests of honesty I have to ‘fess up that channelling a plump caterpillar was not a good look, all the same he took in a rather too long and appreciative glance of what my friend Angelica calls my ‘assets’ I am thinking he didn’t need any encouragement after all…O’er…and well, Ewww…

‘Yes, indeed, the nude life models are my thing! Why don’t you call around to my place, I am more than happy to show you all my work, day or night, in fact, anytime at all. I am always on the lookout for my next muse, Eily My Dear.’

It is fair to say by this stage that one was not amused to be his considered his unlikely muse! I almost broke out in a cold sweat envisaging the lecherous Lothario immortalising me in oil.

My mind went into overdrive…O’er what if I ended up imitating the lush lovely in Luis Ricardo Falero’s ‘The Witches Sabbath’. Dunno how I would have explained that to Mr Nash 😦

Oblivious to my obvious discomfort Dan tells me just how much he is missing female company. He tells me just how much he admires the female form. He tells me his Lady left him ‘cos of his cheating. But he is now over her as he has a new interest…Hmmm…

The penny is slowly dropping. Time for evasive action methinks.

Saved by the ringtone! Hubby calls.

‘Yakety yak yak…’

‘Yes Darling, I’m just finishing coffee with Dan, see you at the fountain in 5 minutes.’

An incredulous stare from across the table.

‘That’s my husband,’ says I,  ‘sorry I shall have to fly!’

‘Your husband??? You TOLD him you are out with me???’

‘Errr…yes. And? He likes to know where I am! Sorry he can’t join us BUT I have an urgent need to join him, like right NOW!’ I prepare to take flight, and not on my broomstick.

So now Dan is looking at me like I have just invited him to a swinger party. At the speed of light the reason for our coffee dawns on me. Open mouth I gasp ‘Surely, you didn’t think we were on a date???’ This was not my expectation!

The look I got back said it all. His dishonourable intentions were clear!

Shocked, I made my excuses and left. I never went for coffee with him or any other ‘gentleman’ again…

My very wise husband cried laughing. ‘Is art the new come up and see my etchings line?-that will teach you young lady about going on coffee dates with other men!’ says he gleefully.

Was he jealous of my accidental clandestine meeting with dapper Dan? No…not at all…After all he was an octogenarian! Mind you he didn’t look too bad for an old boy of 80…

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Wine of Desire

1835_Ary_Scheffer_-_The_Ghosts_of_Paolo_and_Francesca_Appear_to_Dante_and_Virgil

1985-Ary Sceffer The Ghosts of Paolo and Francesca appear to Dante & Virgil

By the light of a fire burning bright

The Lady sought love in the night

Desire ignited within her dark eyes

She went to him with innocent guise

In his chamber her Lord did wait

With his black heart full of hate

After Hearts and bodies did entwine

He gave her a goblet of ruby wine

The venom brought her to the floor

He told his wife he loved her no more

It was another who set him aflame

He was callous and without shame

As the poisoned wine her life did take

A final promise she did make

Beyond the grave, his cruel crime

He would rue until the end of time

♥~♥~♥

Eily Nash 2015

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She walks in Beauty…

In which the Muse is upon Angel as she channels Lord Byron and exposes Grannie as a love cheat along the way!

ANGEL CAKE

“Beauty, thy name is Angel… “

‘Oh is that by a famous poet?’ You may solicitously inquire, my Lovelies.

Hmm…It is indeed by someone famous, but not a poet. Someone who, dare I say, may well be a Literary Genius! Have you guessed??? Who comes to mind??? Clever you! Yes…It is by Moi, and it is all about Moi…Who else?! Now you and I, and all the World know I am indeed beautiful, so why am I penning the obvious?!! ‘Cos I can, My Lovelies…I Am The Paws! And like the first canine, like ever, to be a real Author…How cool is that??? No need to answer My Lovelies, the question is purely rhetorical. It is more cool than a polar bear in Ray Bans sunbathing on an iceberg.

‘How did you discover your talent for poetry?’ you may well further solicitously ask me, my Lovelies.

Well it was all because of Grannie skanking with a famous poet and threatening my family security and also our shopping trip to Nieman Marcus…Read on…time for another of our little “Shh…secret sharing sessions”

It was the day after the whole debacle with GrandPa and the floozie that turned out to be an annual herb, and my abandoned date with that Angel cake and Krios at the Loeb boathouse restaurant in Central Park. Grannie was trying to make things up to me and we were chilling with smoked salmon and cream cheese blinis and chilled Chardonnay in our Penthouse. I was trying to talk to Grannie about something really important. Shopping. But she just wasn’t listening and she had this really stoopid mushy, faraway look on her face. She was muttering something about ‘his words being soooo sublime and how blessed she was to have her perfect man.’ Hmmm…who was this geezer she was ranting on about and more importantly did my G.G.P (Grumpy GrandPa) know? and if not, why not…So in the interests of family unity, getting my own back and shopping, I did the right thing. I once again Face Timed him back home in in England’s green and pleasant land from my Apple iPad in the big Apple.

‘GrandPa, listen up, I need to snitch on Grannie, Erm, I mean tell you something…this is very serious….Grotty Grannie has another man and he has been sending her love letters!’ I solicitously informed him.

‘Grooouuumppphhhh…W.T.F? Didn’t you cause enough trouble yesterday, you little Minx!’ He eloquently answered as he choked on his Gordon’s and tonic. Obviously having had one or ten too many. Just sayin’ G.G.P!

Funny how I got the blame for what was patently not my fault. I decided to be the bigger dog, which is no mean feat when you are less than a foot tall, and ignore his accusation. This matter was way to important for pettiness. Direct action was called for. Westies are renowned for our feisty and fearless disposition, so ignoring his apparent discomfort, I proceeded with my expose of my manky, home wrecking and cheating Grannie.

‘See for yourself!’ says I, turning the camera on naughty Grannie as she sat, eyes glazed, reading some tosh from a card with a pink love heart and red roses on it.

‘What are you reading Grannie?’ I cleverly asked, my suspicion it was a missive from her mystery man was confirmed as she spouted…

‘She walks in beauty, like the night…’ sigh...

‘And all that’s best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes: 

Thus mellow’d to that tender light which heaven to gaudy day denies…’ sigh…

‘One shade the more, one ray the less, had half impaired the nameless grace which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o’er her face;

 Where thoughts serenely sweet express how pure, how dear their dwelling-place.’ Mega deep sigh

‘And on that cheek, and o’er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent!’

Even deeper sigh. Eww. Humphhh…I’d hardly call Grannie’s black and shameless heart innocent, and I was sure G.G.P wouldn’t either!

‘See and hear for yourself G.G.P! Grannie is far from innocent and that geezer’s barely literate…’ I was triumphant! Grannie was caught cheating and totally unaware G.G.P was witnessing her bare faced skanking! That will teach her to ignore Moi when I need to go shopping…

‘Angel….You Minx!!!’ My ingrate of a GrandPa shouted at Moi. This was getting to be a bad habit.

Then Grannie’s phone rang. Then my Oldies had a very loooonggggg convo about Moi. Then unbelievably, and unfairly they both said I am so totally grounded. Again. Porquoi???

Hurrumphh. Who Knew???? The manky card was from him to her. Erm, it seems they had a thing called an anniversary. Seems she likes poetry. Seems she likes this geezer called Byron. But it is OK. He’s dead. G.G.P has nothing to worry about and neither do I, apart from getting down to Fifth Avenue pronto…I need to get ungrounded like right now. Hmm, I have a little idea! If some rubbishy old poet has that effect on my Grannie, then I definitely can do better. Neiman Marcus have some lovely Loro Piana scarfs in. I like them. They look good on Moi. I need Grannie to grab her Amex and  buy me a nice Jardin Berbere cashmere one, a mere snip at about $2,000 before they sell out…I want to look good when I finally get my paws on that Angel cake and manage to keep a royal date with Krios. So I have penned this just for her, I think she will be impressed to be immortalised in verse, and more than happy to flash the cash for Moi, don’t you?

She walks in shadows of the night

It’s really best she avoids the light

‘Cos her gaudy mush is a right sight

It ‘d give ole  Frankie Stein a fright!

Angel Cake available on Amazon to preview now!

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The Lost Princess

Jen

My beautiful Princess, Jennifer Norman~Mummy Loves you

Once upon a Time, (as all self-respecting fairy tales start), a beautiful Princess named Rowena was trying to find her way through the forest. She thought she had become lost, and she panicked to be alone so far from home. As she neared a clearing in the forest she was delighted to see a fine Knight upon a fine horse. The sun was glistening on his amour and he was a dazzling sight. He introduced himself as Prince Tarnish.

The gallant Knight offered her his hand, and pulled Rowena up behind him onto the magnificent steed. And as is generally the way in these matters they rode off into the sunset. The Princess greatly anticipating the happy ending she had been sold with her Prince. Eventually, after a bumpy ride they arrived at the Knight’s castle. Once again, the bright light of the sun dazzled the Princess and she was unaware of her surroundings or where the Knight had brought her to, a fortified castle in the Land of Mendacity. She was so very tired after the long journey. Night fell.

Awaking from a fitful sleep, she opened her eyes and was bathed in pale daylight filtering through the window. With surprise she noted the window had iron bars. Why would such a beautiful castle need such things, what was to be kept out, or who was to be kept in? Peering through the thick black iron bars, which greatly restricted her view of the wide and wondrous world beyond, the Princess saw her Knight, Prince Tarnish. He was preparing to mount his trusty steed and ride out in pursuit of adventure, after all, isn’t that what Knights do? Rescue fair damsels and slay dragons.

In the cold light of day, the Princess saw that the Knight’s amour was not the dazzling white she had first seen. No, it was tarnished in many places. With blinding intuition she realized the Knight had no interest in slaying dragons, for they would be a formidable foe (and also put up one hell of a fight). This Knight sought out tender and pure hearts to run his gauntlet. Hearts he intended to batter with his spiked lances, and just for good measure pierce with the cold steel of his sword. For the pure of heart knew not of his treacherous traps. She also saw an image in her minds’ eye of the Knight. He was sitting astride his mighty horse, whilst she tried to wipe the tarnish from his amour, with the beautiful fabric of her luxurious and dazzling raiment. The Princess valiantly hoped she would be able to shine his amour so brightly that once again it would gleam as if the heart of the sun blazed out from the core of his very being. With deep sorrow, she saw that she was unable to polish the Knights amour, the tarnish was too ingrained. Worse, the beautiful, iridescent clothes that made up her attire were becoming rags. Torn, tattered and shredded beyond recognition with the fruitless effort. The Knight chose not to notice such trifles, and he did not provide his Princess with new garments befitting her royal status. She began to wonder if he truly was a Prince of

if he truly was of noble birth. Polishing Prince Tarnish’s armor was proving a huge challenge to Princess Rowena. This was a job for a serious Alchemist, versed in the magical arts of turning base metal to gold. It was not for the feint hearted or the delicate sensitivities of a Princess versed only in Love and Kindness. To know this grieved the Princess greatly, and in her sorrow many tears fell. Eventually the tears formed a shimmering, glistening pool in which her countenance was reflected. The Princess stared into the pool and it took many minutes before the realization dawned, the desolate and sad beauty looking up was indeed a reflection of her own self. How had this come to pass? In anguish she cried out for help.

A soft voice whispered in reply,

‘Hello’.

Surprised her request had been heard, she looked for the source of the comforting voice. Could it be there was a fairy godmother waiting in the wings? Turning her regal head towards the discarnate voice, she was met with the sight of not a glowing and magical fairy godmother, but what appeared to be an incredibly ugly, wizened old Crone. In truth the Crone was a Wise Woman, but the Princess had yet to find this out. At first she recoiled in horror to her answered prayer. Beware what you wish for.

The Wise Woman was wrapped in a deep moss green velvet cloak; under which her long and bony fingers gripped an object of deep beauty, an oval mirror, coated in a strange

black surface which gave no reflection.

‘Who are you, old woman?’ enquired the Princess.

The Wise Woman looked deeply into the sad eyes of the beautiful Princess. Her gaze was penetrating, reaching into her very psyche. Her eyes seemed to draw the very essence of the Princess’ character from the core of her being.

‘The help you requested’ she replied.

‘What do you carry under your cloak?’ asked the Princess, intrigued by the black mirror.

‘Your freedom’ replied The Wise Woman.

The Wise Woman told the Princess, as she handed her the object, that it was a scrying mirror, magic of course. It was made from black Obsidian, a crystal for prophesy and truth.

There was a warning on the back of the mirror stating:

‘Truth can hurt,

Untruth’s hurt even more’,

Proceed with Caution.’

‘OK, you read the warning, ‘What do you want to know?’ asked The Wise Woman

Holding the vision of the handsome Knight, not so resplendent in his tarnished amour, the Princess asked,

‘Pray, tell me what lies beneath the Knight’s amour, who is there when the real Knight stands up, is he really a Prince of Noble birth?’

Looking deeply into the mirror her gaze was met with an inscrutable black surface, slowly an image appeared in the depths of blackness. She did not see an image of a fine and valiant Knight, intent on righting wrongs and doing chivalrous deeds. She did not see a Knight worthy of the glorious deeds the Troubadours sang of in their love songs and on the strings of their mandolins. She was shocked to see a very horrid and naughty child. He was throwing the mother of all tantrums, his face contorted in rage because he could not have his own way. Sadly, the Princess recognized that this was indeed a true depiction of the Knight. She turned to

The Wise Woman and enquired,

‘Does the Knight not know of Love, Honor and Chivalry and all that stuff the Troubadours sing about?’

‘How could he?’ replied The Wise Woman

‘He is but a child, and he does not know that Love is unconditional. He seeks to receive not give love, from a place of childish egocentricity and willfulness. This child has not been taught well, he faces many lessons before he learns.’

‘Oh, how very sad, that grieves my heart.’

The Princess sighed, for she was indeed pure of heart. She did know about love being unconditional and compassionate. Her heart went out to the Knight who did not know these things.

‘And you, Princess? Are you ready to face yourself?’ enquired The Wise Woman

At first the Princess was afraid, the sorrowful face from the tear stained pool still fresh in her memory. It seemed an eternity since she had seen her true reflection. There were No mirrors in the castle; for the Knight had no desire to see His true reflection and equally had no desire for the Princess to see her true beauty. He knew then the light of her loveliness would illuminate the darkness in his heart.

Slowly she lifted the mirror, eyes tightly closed. And slowly she opened them, unsure what she would behold. The deep black obsidian once again stared inscrutably back. Once again an image formed within the heart of darkness of the magic mirror. An imaged that grew and grew in magnificent radiance. It was the most gorgeous, multi -faceted, pure cut diamond she had ever beheld; emitting glorious, iridescent, magical colors. The diamond glowed and pulsed with the intensity of the very Sun itself. In awe she asked

‘What does it mean?’

‘You see a true reflection of yourself, Dear One,’ answered The Wise Woman.

‘And the Knight?’ whispered the Princess.

‘You saw a true reflection of what he is, Dear One, he is no Prince and therefore not worthy of you,’ answered The Wise Woman.

‘What now, what do I do?’ implored the Princess.

Once again she lifted the magic mirror and gazed deeply into the void of all knowing blackness. She saw clearly the Knights castle, the draw bridge was pulled up and the hatches were battened down, for a fierce and mighty storm approached. Vicious vines were rapidly growing over the castle walls, reaching to the very turrets and parapets. And with all her heart the Princess knew, if she stayed she would be forever entrapped within the Castle walls.

‘Is this all there is for me?’ A solitary tear fell onto the mirror.

‘Look again, Dear One’. Replied the Wise Woman

When she did, she saw a path leading from the treacherous castle. A tiny little path, winding through thickets and thorns and all manner of unforeseen terrors.

The path gradually widened and once free of the castle grounds it opened into a glorious golden path leading towards the Sun. Along the path were strewn infinite possibilities and opportunities. Once again, the Princess’ intuition showed her that if she summoned all her courage and bravely traversed the path she would find her own Eden. The Princess vaguely remembered, from what seemed an eternity past, this path was the very one she had been on. That was before becoming lost in the forest and doubting her ability to travel alone, before seeking the ill-starred protection of the Knight.

‘What do I do?’ she cried to The Wise Woman, who had stood by and silently observed all these things.

The Wise Woman wrapped the Princess in her old, fragile and wizened arms. They felt strangely warm. They felt strong and the Princess was filled with a pulsating feeling of absolute acceptance, peace, tranquility and an overwhelming sense of unconditional, heartfelt love for The Wise Woman. A feeling that was all at once familiar, the Princess felt she had come home.

‘The choice is yours alone, Dear One. It is the way of this land you inhabit, this Earth plane, that you have been given as part of your lessons the double edged sword of Free will. You have free will to stay or go or free will to enslave yourself to another or choose to use the key that you alone hold to your freedom. You always have the gift of free will, use it wisely.’

As these words sunk in, the Princess broke free from The Wise Woman’s embrace, and through her tears which were now falling as rain upon the winter of her heart, she struggled to see the Wise Woman. As she wiped her face, she gasped, The Wise Woman was gone. In her place there stood a radiant Being of Light. An Angel, whose very presence filled the entire room and emitting a brilliance that was truly ethereal and heaven sent. In awe, the Princess realised she was looking into the face of her own Guardian Angel.

‘Know this, Dear One, now you have asked for my help I will support you whichever path you choose. I cannot choose for you, as you have free will. I can and will ease your path and illuminate the way. Know that I have Always been with you and there for you. I have laughed when you laughed and I have cried when you cried.’ The Angel smiled and then continued,

‘Dear One, nothing is lost, herein lays the opportunity for a lesson to be learned. Things on this Earth plane of illusion may not always be what they seem. Can you now see the day you were lost in the forest, you alone had the freewill to find your own way out, and you alone had the free will to choose to accept the Knight’s hand? You could not make the Knight what he is not? The Knight could not make you who you are not.’ The Angel paused to allow the Princess to assimilate her words, and then continued,

‘Dear Princess, a priceless lesson to learn is this: all you need to navigate this sea of life is to let the wisdom of your Soul captain the ship of the Self. The Diamond that you are refracts the Light of Cosmic consciousness you hold as your birth right.’ Her eyes looked deeply into the Princess’ as she continued;

‘Even the Knight holds this light, and when his inner child grows so he too will come to realize this Truth.’

‘Will the Knight change his ways, will he change for me?’ asked the Princess, holding onto a tiny vestige of hope, for she loved the Knight although she did not love the way he had chosen to treat her.

‘In order to love another, first the Knight must learn to love himself; completely free from his ego self, this may take some time,’ the Angel answered.

The Princess bowed her head. She realized that her Knight may never be able to change his ways and that if he did, it would be for himself and not for her or anyone else. She finally realized that to hold onto the hope another person would change to be the way someone else wanted them to be, well that was a flawed hope, doomed to failure. Her wise companion continued to counsel,

‘Remember and hold these Truths: Time is the great illusion, for in Eternity there is no time. You, the Prince and all mankind are in essence spiritual beings; you are in the density of matter whilst you grow through the experiences of being in human form. You are more than you can see. There is much more that you can be. Princess Rowena, the choice is yours alone. You may choose your path, you cannot choose for him the path that you would wish Prince Tarnish to travel, only he alone can decide.
The pure essence of Divine Love resides within you~All that is without is merely an illusion.’

And in That moment the Princess absolutely and unequivocally knew the path she would choose……

THE END…..Or was it just the beginning?

© Eily Nash 2012

From my novel ‘Torn from the Heart’ Available to Preview on Amazon now!

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Magic power of a wishing flower

PUFFBALL

From a field in Glastonbury

Sweet Dandelion
Do you wait patiently for me
To come along and set you free
I’ve heard plenty an aged tale told
Of the magic a Dandelion holds.
Is that so little wishing flower?
Do you have such magic power?

I bid of thee, fly free, Blessed Be.
Bring my heart’s desire back to me!
Scatter through the fields and trees
Soft starburst on the gentle breeze
Treasured seed falls to Mother Earth
Within each one the promise of rebirth

…And so the dance of life goes on…

)0(

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Lily Flame

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Gorgeous Lilies, kissed by the touch of morning rain, living in my English country garden 🙂

Lady Lily Flame

My Lady,  My Love, My Lily Flame

Do you wear a sullied cloak of shame

Has purity and innocence taken flight

To the beguiling dark embrace of Night

Nyx and Erebus, alluring, starless charms

Mists enticing you into seductive arms

My Lady, My Love, My Lily Flame

Guileless innocence, without blame

Deny the Ferryman his Stygian fee

From Thanatos tenebrous domain flee

By  flames of Winter burning bright

Take safe passage through the  night

My Lady, My Love, My Lily Flame

Capricious gods may play Night’s game

Gates of the rising sun light the way

To sanctuary of Hemera’s breaking day

Purified by the kiss of the  Morning Dew

Absolution and Benediction fall on you

~Eily Nash 2015

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Moi goes Noir!

O’er I am feeling a tad pleased with myself, My Lovelies!

“Indeed, Angel, and just why would that be?” I hear you ask “Is it because you are such a clever little Pupster and your paws have penned such woofiliciously good books?

Hmm…Yes that is one reason to be pleased, but it isn’t that!

“Oh, could it be that you are so cute, Grannie waits on you hand and paw?”

Well yes, of course  she does-that’s her job, and now I have my Butler James he does too… But that isn’t really a reason to be pleased, unless of course you count THEIR pleasure waiting on MOI…So, it isn’t that!

“Of course, it is because you are so beautilicious, you have all those boys chasing after you…Teddy Hot Paws and your True love Handsome Hamish in Tewin, your English country village (you told us all about them in Telling Tails) and Mason the Hollywood Hottie and Shaunessey his Intellectual brother in Manhattan (We met them in Angel in the City) …Oh and of course Krios the Royal Personage you told us all about in your gorgeous slice of chick lit, Angel Cake!

It is true that I am rather like that other famous Diva Marlena Dietrich.Can I help it if Dogs cluster to me like moths around a flame and worship at my perfect paws.. I like her you know. I like old movies, all that Noir stuff. It gave me an idea for my latest photoshoot…Moi goes Noir!!!

VISIT ANGEL’S AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE FOR ALL HER HILARIOUS CANINE CHICK LIT!

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Kids Lit~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?

Paperback & Ebook available on Amazon 🙂

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

The gorgeously cute “Dog In Box”

on the front cover is

© Anna Velichkovsky, Dazdraperma’s Gallery / Stockfresh

 

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Kids Lit~Poppy Paws & Patch

POPPY PAWS AND PATCH

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?

Paperback and Kindle Ebook available on Amazon

Take a peek and  preview now!

 

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

The delightful front cover image “Little Girl with Umberella”

© Tatig | Dreamstime.com


 

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Westie Books #3 ~Angel Cake

In Which Angel Is Determined To Have her Cake And Eat It!

Photo on 05-01-2016 at 11.46 (1)

Grannie  has been selfishly ignoring all my copious ‘Want, Need, Now’s!’

Grrr…and more Grrr’s…

I want to take my Morning perambulations in Central Park, but Fifth Avenue is a long way down from my incarceration in our Penthouse.

There is a  boy  I need to ‘Meet and Greet’. He’s totally Yummy and so are the mega tasty titbits in his treat bag. You can appreciate just why I’m keen to go walkies like right now. So who is he? Well snuggle up and join me in another of our “Shh…Secret Sharing Sessions” and I will tell the romantic tale of how we met, My Lovelies! But not a word to Hamish, my very jealous boyfriend back in England, he may get the wrong idea…again!

We met yesterday and I think I may be in lurve. So his name is Krios. He is so sophisticated and cosmopolitan and so dashing. Krios is a Kokoni dog from the beautiful Greek Island of Kythira in the Ionian Sea. He told me he is in the Big Apple all week, waiting for his big boat to come into New York Harbour from Athens. Oh, he must mean a luxurious ocean going liner, he must be a real billionaire! Just think of all the goodies he can buy me!  Krios told me his name means Ruler and master. Ohh, he must also be a King, or a Prince at the very least. I told him my name meant a divine and celestial being. We are a match made in heaven. Grannie said his name and mine are total misnomers, cheek! Grannie said Kokoni’s are a very common small dog in Greece and certainly did not rule anyone. Grannie is mad. The boy is obviously a royal personage travelling incognito. He has as good as told me so. I was on a photo-shoot for Vogue Magazine at the Bethesda fountain, you know the fancy one on the terrace right by the lake in Central Park, when I hear this delicious Greek accent exclaim enthusiastically,

‘The Angel, she is soooo beautiful!’

Naturally I reply, ‘Ohhh, yes I am!’ and flutter my beautilicious eyelashes, as the owner of the voice is a mega cute dog!

‘Have you been a fan of mine for long, would you like my paw print?’ I  inquired of the cute dog, as I flirted with further rather fetching eyelash fluttering.

He looked a bit bemused and confused and unbelievably asked Moi,

‘Erm…You are…???’

Grannie had come along to watch my shoot, and ensure all my want, need, now’s were promptly dealt with. Nonplussed at his ignorance, she nudged me and whispered in a very loud voice,

‘I think he was referring to her up there, not you down here!’

She pointed to The ‘Angel of the Waters’ towering over the fountain, and the cute boy only nodded his head. Can you believe it? Humphh. Is my Grannie for real? Does that boy live on Mars?

‘F.Y.I ignorant young man, I am Angel Nash, beautilicious Global Icon, Fashionista and famous Author! And all these cameras are for Moi, not some old statue!’ I sternly, yet modestly informed him.

Angel’s love life is about to get even more complicated as her misadventures continue in her latest tasty treat of a Westie book! Take a peek and preview now!

 

 

Angel 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 Angel is determined to have her crown and wear it and have her cake and eat it! Join our girl on the couch in her fabulous Manhattan Penthouse as she candidly reveals all in her cosy secret sharing sessions, with you, her Lovelies!

TAKE A LITTLE WALKIES OVER TO AMAZON FOR THE LATEST WESTIE BOOK FROM “THE PAWS” OF ANGEL NASH!

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Westie Books # 2~Angel in the City

An_Angel_in_the_City_Cover_for_Kindle (1)

Why Hellooo My Lovelies, I thought you would like a little update on my Stateside shenanigans. But Shhh…this little sharing is top hot gossip and totally secret!

I can confirm that the city of New York continues with the Angel Love Fest. I have been winded and dined, feted and adored. I have been working so hard my paws have hardly touched the ground. All in a day’s work for a beautilicious Global Icon. You know that saying ‘All work and no play? I have a little secret. Shhh…Come closer. I shall burst if I don’t tell someone, and you, My Lovelies, are the chosen ones!

Naughty Moi,  I have been playing! Not a word to Grannie tho’ as I had to be a touch sneaky and get rid of her for quite a few hours. After all I don’t want her going back to Tewin and blabbing, gossip soon gets around our village! Not that there is too much to tell as I am so hugely considerate of others feelings, and would never put myself first and do anything that could possibly upset anyone. Also I don’t want my fur to fly when I eventually get home and my Beloved finds out about me and a little Affair De Coeur. Not, of course, there is anything much to find out, ahem… So a word to the wise, My Lovelies, ‘What happens in the Hamptons stays in Hamptons!’

You may recall the unfortunate incident when that rotten frenemy of mine, Kimbles, craftily encouraged me to have one Prosecco too many and I let spill way too much. Ohh, that girl was a total biatch snitching to my beloved Hamish about all those other boys. Thankfully I got away with it, Er, I mean, ahem…He believed me! O’er, I do hope he doesn’t take her out to dinner again, Grumph.

Anyway, moving rapidly on from Hamish and Kimbles, in all the whirlwind round of book signings, Press, P.R and Meet and Greets, I have pulled off a secret tryst in The Hamptons with the Cutest Canine!!! The fame game can get a tad overwhelming, even for one as awesome as me and a girl needs the odd diversion. So his name is Mason, he’s a Mastiff. All rippling Muscles, powerful jaw, you know the type. I met him at a TV interview. He is an actor. And his eyes…intense. Mason does a lot of those blockbuster movie thingies. I have to admit getting bored watching anything that is not a home movie of me, so I did not really know who he was. He liked that. He gets a lot of girls chasing him ‘cos of the Movie Star thing. I told him I have the same problem back in my English country village,  Tewin, what with being so beautilicious and all.

After finding out we had just sooo much in common, we arranged a sneaky date, as you do. So I am all dressed up looking totally hot, apart from having a Grannie tagging along as a totally last season accessory. Hmm, I don’t think so! I switched my brain into gear. Diversionary action was called for immediately as Mason had a Helicopter waiting on my posh hotel’s Helipad to whisk us off to his posh house in The Hamptons. Ohh, I can report that we had a delicious moonlit dinner and even more delicious smooochiieeepoo’s on his private beach. Definitely a Grannie free zone. If Grotty, Er I mean Grannie, had come along riding shotgun, she would have severely cramped my style. Also, I couldn’t trust her not to snitch. Erm, not that there was anything much to tell, but as already agreed, a word to the wise…

‘What Happens in The Hamptons, stays in The Hamptons!!!’

*

IMG_0235‘So Angel, pray do tell, just how did you get rid of the excess baggage?’ You may well solicitously enquire.

Snuggle up My Lovelies, I have a yummy plate of blinis topped with smoked salmon, cream cheese and Beluga caviar. We shall have a delicious glass of Verve Cliquot to wash them down. Mmm…nice isn’t it? I have lots more where that came from so sip up and I will tell all! My cunning plan went as follows…

‘Grannie, I’m thirsty.’

‘I’ll get room service immediately my poppet, what would you like, pink Champagne?’

‘Yes please Grannie. I think I deserve some Champers, don’t you?’

‘Oh indeed I do, Angelkins!’

‘But I don’t fancy pink and I checked, they don’t do what I Want, Need, Now…and I feel a little hissy fit coming on…’

‘O’er, Angel, what is it? Grannie will go and get whatever you want, anything you need, and I will do it right now. Maybe a nice Prosecco?’

‘Really Grannie, really, really, anything, anywhere???’

‘Yes Angel, My sweet Pupster.’

‘Promise?’

‘Yes, My Poppet.’

‘Well, OK Grannie, as long as it is not toooo much trouble to look after me when I am just a helpless little Pupster?’

‘Nothing is too much trouble for you, baby girl.’

‘Hmm…OK…If you really insist. Grannie I really don’t fancy Prosecco. What I really want is a little bit more upmarket. I think I deserve only the best, don’t you Grannie?’

‘Of course I do Angel, my fur-baby love.’

‘Oh good. I am glad we agree on that. So please may I have a little case of Veuve Cliquot La Grande Dame. That should go down rather nicely.’

‘This is an exclusive Manhattan Hotel, are you sure Room Service can’t get it, they have got a Siberian Tiger for that Prince on the 35th Floor!!?’

‘No…You have to go over to LaGuardia ‘cos My publishers are sending it on the next flight from Paris with some Beluga caviar.’

‘O.K…that will take me some time in rush hour traffic, My Precious.’

‘Yes, yes, I know… And Er, Grannie…’

‘Yes, Angel My Love?’

‘The elevators are broke, you have to take the stairs.’

‘What, all 53 floors?’’

Grrr. It’s not like you don’t need the exercise Grannie Dearest. Just sayin’ and you should be grateful that really I am doing you huge favour by asking a teensy weensy little thing. So don’t waste time thanking me, you best get cracking.’

***

So she did, and so did I! Off on a totally awesome date nite with a Hollywood Hottie!

All the ramifications from my Stateside flirtations revealed in my latest Magnum Opus 🙂

~ ANGEL IN THE CITY~

 

Beautilicious Angel is taking just the biggest, yummiest bite out of the Big Apple! Life is awesome for the Brit sensation now she is an uptown girl in a Manhattan Penthouse. Angel is about to find out that Fame has its price. Her ‘it’s complicated love life is just about to get even more tangled. The little Diva Dog’s clandestine date with Hollywood Hottie, Mason the Mastiff makes headlines. When she is later papped with his twin brother, intellectual Shaunessey, Angel decides she ‘cannot confirm nor deny…’ to the hungry Press pack baying for news. Back home, True Love Handsome Hamish wants answers! Angel returns to face the music, only to find arch Frenemy Kimbles, the biatch Bichon Frise is not only trying to steal her thunder but also her man! Hmm, but which one??? Things are not going Angel’s way, until she decides to unleash her secret weapon, Grannie, on her unsuspecting Frenemy! The fur is set to fly. Just who will be top dog? Snuggle up and share another scintillating secrets session with ‘The Paws!’ It’s all totally hush-hush, so peek inside, riotous Canine Capers will be revealed! Shhh…Don’t tell!

Our Pawsome Pooch is on Amazon!

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Westie Books #1~Telling Tails

From Pupster to Pawsome Author of Westie books…Meet & Greet Miss Angel Nash!

telling Tails

“…I am miffing mad! I have been unfairly accused, and misunderstood. Grrr…It is not a good idea to cross Moi! My True Love, Hamish, and that B.F nabbin’ frenemy of mine, Kimbles, should be worried! Grannie can watch out too! It is time to name and shame and my paws are on creative fire with all the tales I am going to tell!”

Angel’s love life is already ‘It’s complicated’ especially as her frenemy Kimbles is keen to get her paws on Angel’s True Love. When a gossip girl whispers in Handsome Hamish’s ear that he is not the only cute boy she has been stepping out with, the shadow of suspicion falls on Angel. Meanwhile selfish human, author Grannie, thoughtlessly decides to feature sneaky Kimbles  in one of her books, a dream Angel has longed for. It is all too much and the fur is set to fly! Canine chaos ensues when Angel takes matters into her own paws and sabotages the offending manuscript, getting Grannie fired and Angel hired by a huge New York publishing house. A riotous romp unfolds along the way to sudden fame, as our girl creates mischief and mayhem and muses on hugely important matters, namely herself!

🐾 A PAWSOME READ ~ PAPERBACK & KINDLE EBOOK on Amazon

“Telling Tails” the first of Angel’s Westie books on Amazon 🙂

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