candlelitsoul

[candlelitsoul]

The Future Can’t Come Soon Enough

This time last year, I had plans in motion to be homeless in another state. Anything was better than here. I stayed away from everyone, even those that were my friends, just to find some quiet time inside my own mind. That was where I largely stayed, especially when the world turned upside down, and I was made out to be the world’s biggest piece of shit human being. More than once I was told that I should never have been born, I should have been put down like a stray dog, never to have kids because I’d be another drain on the government system, how they have all worked harder and longer than I have or ever will, and every time I was sick, tired, or in such extreme pain that I couldn’t even move, it was invalidated by their age, and a host of other statements. If a bus ticket wasn’t an option, I was just going to pack a bag and hitchhike across the states. That was, until he came along. We’d been best friends for years; gamers, loved YouTube videos, photography, and it was easy to talk to him. He was a bit of a nerd, but kind. We developed a mild romantic interest, but his ex cut us off. Even after he fixed what she’d did, he went silent, and until several months ago, I didn’t hear from him. Five years is a long silence, and people change. I knew that he expected me to be the same as I was, but my heart was cold. I told him flat out that I didn’t want anything except friendship, and even then, I wasn’t going to be nice if he decided to be a downer. I didn’t know his situation, but it was so similar to my own, that the ice began to thaw. I didn’t see the cracks in my battlements until it was too late.  We became flirty, especially when we both realized our connection to the BDSM community. We were what each other needed; physically, mentally, and spiritually. After each session, it was back to the same, until the lines became blurred, and I could no longer stay away. On that day, Spring came to my world, and I found the light again. Even now we’re working hard to get him here. His ex still tries to cause trouble, but my mother and father cause most of it. He and I have plans to move away and be done with all of them. We think October is when it will be, but there’s nothing definite. It can’t come soon enough. Each day is a battle in my mind between darkness and light, and I’m exhausted. I’m hoping when my manager returns, it will all work out, but we will see. 

#my life #life #blog #blogging #blogger #blogging community #bdsm #relationship

[candlelitsoul]

They say that time heals all wounds, but is this true for injustice? Can it make right what was put wrong so long ago, and an understanding be reached where it doesn’t feel so horrible? Or is that just a dream, and it will forever be in the hearts of the people? Many will think I’m talking of recent events, or even something personal, but in this instance, I speak of something that happened 485 years ago, in a time where superstition could be your undoing, and public opinion could greatly convict or set someone free. One could argue that it still happens, but with evidence, people can be acquitted and go on living. In this time, there was no such thing, and anything as small as a whisper could lead you to walking a line to your death. Anne Boleyn was a woman like any other; living in an age of change and politics, under the boot of men who were seen as set above them all, trying to gain a life for herself where she could be happy, and caught up in the great game that was life at court. She grew up in France, what was supposedly a place you wanted to see before you died. A lady’s maid who was reported to be beautiful and graceful. The things she would have seen would have helped to shape her character, and when she returned to England, it was into a world she may or may not have wanted. Her sister was mistress to the King, and her family had everything to play for, but when those eyes strayed to her, it was the beginning of the end. It didn’t matter if she didn’t want it, if her family said no. Like anyone in a position of power, she would have had to go with King Henry VIII wanted, and there was nowhere for her to hide. She was queen for only a thousand plus days, trying to give Henry the son he wanted, and knowing that when she couldn’t, his gaze would turn. By this time, it was too late to go back. He used the power of whispers to take her down, and she was beheaded publicly for something that wasn’t true. Some would say that we don’t know what exactly happened then; that yes, she did have many affairs, that she slept with her brother, that she was a murderer, a witch, etc, but how often we hear these things in this day and age, and it turns out to be nothing more than spiteful words from someone who hates us? Anne had many enemies by the time she was imprisoned in Beauchamp Tower, and they played a major part in her destruction. However, I don’t think that a woman who didn’t want the throne, was thrust into it, and came to covet it, would do anything to jeopardize her position, especially when the king realized his full power, and sent his closest friend to his death.  I recently rewatched the scene in Tudors where Anne Boleyn (played by Natalie Dormer) is standing before everyone on the day she dies, and gives a beautiful speech. It was heart wrenching to know her struggle, and what she tried to achieve. To know that the man who wanted her deeply was going to marry another, and that her name would forever be stricken down. Her own words, “ nd if any person will meddle of my cause, I require them to judge the best”, show that she knew wanted it known that she was innocent.  All these years later, we can look back and see where it all went wrong; dates and times don’t match up, neither do locations of supposed lovers, rendezvous, or actions, but then, it didn’t matter what was presented. That’s the rub of it all; would it even have mattered? Knowing what we know now, would he have given her life in a nunnery, or away from court in one of her family homes? After all, Catherine of Aragon was allowed to live, but then it all boils down to the same; he wanted a new wife, knew what he would have to do to get one, and his own mind was so turned by new friends and policies of his making, that he had nowhere to go.  After this time, I don’t feel like the wound will heal. She has so many people that love her, and family that still visits her grave on the anniversary. Though her own daughter never had children, her sister did, and those are the ones who keep her memory alive. There are groups on Facebook dedicated to her, and love pours in from around the world. I own my own B for Boleyn necklace and will wear it to honor a life that was unfairly taken, yet my heart will remain heavy for her and those that went before. Justice, it seems, will never be had, but in the hearts of the people, she is forever freed from suspicion and slander. 

#justice #history #anne boleyn

[candlelitsoul]

Hard Days Equal Harder Nights

I can remember a time when I would lay in bed, and my mind would float. A new world would open before me, and I could traverse to worlds that were of my own creation. For a reality that was always in chaos, this I could control and bend to my will. I was a spry 16 year old with everything to play for, and my health was better than I would ever know it. I loved to play soccer, though I never had a proper yard, video games were something I did every once in a while, but were always a source of entertainment, and I loved to stay up late and devour novels. Now, however, life is a struggle, and I often find myself daydreaming just to work through or find some comfort where I have had none. My mother, though the one who ultimately raised me, is a narcissist. I was once in the hospital needing to have my gallbladder out, and all she could do was tell me to stop crying because everyone goes through it. “It’s a part of life, so you need to stop and act your age”. Every time I was hurting, depressed, sick, sad, or so run down that all I could do was lay in bed and sleep, she had a reason as to why I had to get up and deal with life: *No one gets to lay in bed unless they’re in the hospital or dying *I once had four kids to raise and I never got a day off *Ya know what? There are times I don’t want to do anything, but you just have to *I worked all day, so you need to get up and pull your weight *I’ve worked longer and harder than you ever will  *No one is going to care. They just want you to work, so get used to it *Everyone hurts, but they get up anyway *I’m not as old as she is, which means I don’t need to lay down My boyfriend often asks me why I say and do things a certain way, and all I can do is say that I was conditioned to do so. An ex friend would tell me that I’m always on alert, and I’ve come to see the truth in it. When I wake up, I’m awake. I don’t try to go back to sleep because, for one thing, no one here is nice enough to keep their voices down and let me sleep, and for a second, I know that someone will come in eventually, so I may as well get up and around. I’ve been made to know that when work needs done, it gets done, and it doesn’t matter if you’re tired, hungry, in a bad mood, or had a long day, you get up off your ass, and do it. More than once I’ve been told that I need to rest, but it simply isn’t possible. If someone here isn’t going to pull their weight, than someone has to step in, and more often than not, it’s me. If I don’t, I’m told a variety of insults:  *Inconsiderate *Ungrateful *Spoiled *Selfish *I will never work as long or as hard as they have *Never to have kids because I’d be just another drain on the government system Tonight, I have a cyst rupturing on my ovary, and it’s in the same place as two weeks ago when it happened, and before then, it was a week. I have been tested for PCOS, but come up negative. My family thinks I’m a hypochondriac, due to the fact that I have several issues that occur at one time; dumping syndrome, weird blood pressure spikes (I’m on medication for blood pressure), panic and anxiety attacks, PMDD, IBS, stomach acid condition, and they can either all hit at once, or spread out over time. I’ve been to the hospital on more than occasion, been hospitalized, had IV’s, been giving medication to stop them, and even though I’ve had doctor’s tell me that it isn’t in my head, and my parents are lying, it continues.  Also this night, my father gave me half a Percocet to help combat the pain, but I am drowsy beyond anything. We live in a home that has a swiss cheese roof, no ceiling (just plastic sheeting), and we have to empty rain buckets when it pours down. I, however, can’t sleep because it has to get done. Rather than help us, my mother has chosen to bury her head in the sand, and sleep (or pretend to), which leaves us to deal with all of it. I can still feel the cyst rupturing, but there is nothing I can do. All I want is to curl up and sleep, and my boyfriend says that I need to lay down and not do so much, but that is like telling him not to go help his ex with the kids (she continually says how she is a single parent, when he does more to help them than anyone. She also tells them they don’t have to listen to him because he isn’t living there, and wants money from him for the kids, when she gets a massive amount each month for the kids, food, rent, bills, etc). I find solace in the times I get to spend with him, and the happiness and safety I feel when he’s there. I have a guardian and witness to the daily bullshit they try to pull, and know that soon, I’ll be away from here.  The rains have slowed, and I hope that soon I can drop off. I feel it coming. My eyes are heavy and I’m swaying to the point I’m nearly falling over. Please keep me in your thoughts tonight, and know that it can always get worse. I’m thankful that it hasn’t yet, and that I have a bright and beautiful future coming.

#my life #life #blog #blog post #blogging #blogger #sickness #pain #dreams #dreaming #hope

[candlelitsoul]

Dreams

It’s often hard for me at night, especially if the day has been a long one, and my mind hasn’t been able to fully process the events. Role play has always been a way for me to have a distraction, as well as music and gaming, but on the days when those fail me, I turn to the dead of night; the darkness it afford, and the dream that I lose myself in.  For most, working out, and a good day at a business is enough for most people to shut down, but my mind constantly turns, something that is both a blessing and a curse. I have to put on an audio book for my mind to relax, but once I roll into the other realm, the visions that I see can be both terrifying, and a great adventure. Just recently, I was in a city by the ocean, and there was a festival dedicated to a goddess that a local cult worshipped. I met a man who led me to their, seemingly, abandoned sacred space, but it turns out that it was anything but. People flooded the area, and you could see this dead quality to their eyes. I tried to blend in and sneak around, but it didn’t go so well. Then, after going back to sleep again, those same people contacted me on social media in the dream, and I couldn’t escape. As terrifying as it was, it gave me so many ideas for new stories, and as I delve back into the past, all of it comes back to into play, and I need to get back with the times. There’s a world I was once part of, and I feel like now is the time to go back and be part of it. I miss the girl that I created, and the lover she has, but rest assured, I will resurrect her again. 

#dreams #wildest dreams #writing #night

[candlelitsoul]

Nighttime is so peaceful. When the world is still, my mind wanders away from reality, and into the beautiful open that is dreaming. Where once I had stresses and pressure from just about every source of life imaginable, I sit in the window, shrouded in my purple lights, and gaze out at the city, imagining all the beautiful things I want to accomplish. On these nights, it turns to a home that I have longed for, and may never get to have; somewhere in the country, surrounded by fields, a large front porch with comfortable chairs and a swing, a kitchen with a back door that will stay open during the day to catch the breeze, an island where I will prepare my food and listen to Celtic Radio, a living room with bookshelves, a small tv, and a fireplace to keep warm during cold nights, a clawfoot bathtub ready to cradle me after a long day at work, and a simple, yet comfortable bedroom with windows overlooking the pasture. Every day, I will rise and water my plants, that grow healthy and strong in the open air, then, take a warm and quiet bath before starting the day. Lunch time will be for simple enjoyments and exploring my realm, while nights are for unwinding and contemplating the joy that I had that day. Whereas most long for successful careers where money can be had at the drop of a hat, or to be someone that everyone knows, my life has been nothing but chaos. If it wasn’t being evicted from one place or another, my parents constantly arguing and blaming each other for menial things, and my siblings never getting along, then it was the constant scapegoating, gaslighting, and mental torment that my mother would put me through to make herself feel better. Daydreaming and writing became my passions and the essence of what would keep me going. All I have longed for, in its pure and simple form, is peace. Nighttime is my haven, where I can be free to do as I wish without the fear of interruption or persecution for how I choose to live my life. I can be a hippie living in a van and playing my hand pan drum for money at festivals, or a tavern owner with a loving husband who is well known for my no bullshit attitude. Perhaps, even just a farmer’s daughter who seeks to help others and have a comfortable home.  Tonight, I am simply Bri Walker; a werewolf, herbalist, and mother figure to those that need me. I rise in the morning, work the day, and go to bed at night knowing I’m loved and respected. Who knows what the future might bring? It could all happen, or come crashing down, but I will never stop fighting to do as I have always done, and live my life in the beauty that is everything.

#daydream #hope #writing #writer #dreamer #Thoughts #blogging #blogger #positivity

[candlelitsoul]

Challenging Myself

I’ve been looking for more story topics to cover, and on a writing prompt site, this is what I found:  Write a story that spans exactly a year and takes place in a single room.  Alright, so new challenge. Time to settle in and let my brain begin. First, find the right song, then write. 

#writing #write #writers #free write

[candlelitsoul]

A Hard Day

Everyone needs down time, especially when health conditions come calling. This is something I’ve had to sit down with myself and go, though I still push. I have numerous conditions pertaining to health, but the worst is an early dumping syndrome. It happens when the sudden influx of food into your intestine causes a lot of fluid to move from your bloodstream into your intestine as well. This extra fluid causes diarrhea and bloating. Your intestines also release substances that speed your heart rate and lower your blood pressure. This leads to symptoms like a fast heart rate and dizziness. I’ve been working on losing weight to fix a lot of my issues, but tonight, I had to cut my work out short, as, without proper protein and nourishment, I’m weaker than ever.  You would think that when it comes to family, it would lend to getting support from family members, but no. My mother only sees her own interests, and her gaze shines nowhere else. She can lay in bed for weeks on end because she doesn’t feel good and hurt, but I take one day off, I’m a horrible person, who does nothing to help out, and she will lecture me about how everyone hurts, but they still get up and do things. It’s led to self esteem issues, which I’ve been working to rectify. 

I sit here and feel like a failure, but when I look at everything I’ve done, and I know that this is all because she just wants to live off mine and my father’s paycheck, while doing nothing in the process.  As well, the dizziness and nausea doesn’t help. All I want to do is sleep, but I’ve been conditioned to be on alert. I need a vacation, and I wish, more than anything, that I had the money to leave.  Send hugs.

#life #blog #blogging #blogger #health

[candlelitsoul]

Helpless, but still trying

Tonight, I feel so useless, but overall, helpless.  People who have never had PMDD, don’t understand the stages that we go through, and how horrible it truly can be.  I woke up today feeling the cramps, but I didn’t think about it. I wondered if it was a UTI, bladder infections, or even a dreaded kidney infection. I’ve been self playing a lot lately, and it wouldn’t have surprised me. As the day progressed, the pain only became worse, and I knew it wouldn’t be long. As I lay down, watching The Boondock Saints, I reached down, feeling a wetness, and sure enough; blood. My cycles are never regular, and it was two months ago that I’d gotten my last one. I’m not in a relationship, or sexually active (in terms of having a partner), so there was no chance of pregnancy. It was no wonder I felt so drained that all I wanted to do was sleep, and the cramps nearly knocked me over. It’s the equivalent of being kicked in the balls with steel toed boots, every two minutes, for 24 straight hours.  I soaked in the tub to clean myself up, and then had to get out and help clean. I’d always hoped that, by now, my mother would understand how it is for me. I was a fool, however. If she isn’t the center of attention, then there is nothing for it. I’ve always had my first day be the absolute worst, and all she could do was yell at me. Gaming doesn’t pacify me, and nothing holds appeal. Nausea has come and gone, headaches rampant, breast tenderness, extreme hunger, then not wanting to eat all, mood swings, crying spells, fatigue, and that just to start. Nothing helps to ease this. After cleaning, I lay down and wept. It didn’t last. As soon as mom came home with dad, all bets were off. I haven’t much stopped, and all I want to do is sleep. Now that I have this out, I feel better. This is best I can do. Even a friend of mine, that I love to talk to... It’s hard for me to speak of this to him because I feel like a failure. We usually have long talks and playful moments, and I feel so blegh, that nothing makes sense. My only hope is that he understands...

#hopeless #helpless #living with pmdd #pmdd #im trying

[candlelitsoul]

Memory Lane: Homegrown Poetry (Part 1)

The lane is soft As I traveled the long road back home. The scenery hasn’t changed, In these woods I used to roam. Times were simpler then, Everything was open. My heart was light, the days were beautiful, Nature’s course set in motion. As a child I longed to play, In he hillsides, free and gay. My heart belonged to those back roads, Dotted with tiny abodes. Everyone was family, We all lived happily. I always knew this was where I’d stay, And everything, would always be okay. As suddenly as the wind blows, Your life can change. It’s never easy, they say, As your life is rearranged. Grandma died, And Grandpa followed. A truer love was never had, And to be with her again, he was glad. The home was packed and shipped, The scales were tipped. Without their comfort, There was no more triumph. I went to bed with tears, Trying to hide from my fears. Slowly, the world turned again, And now, became then. I learned the violin, wrote poetry, And branched out to be someone they’d be proud of. Their love was always behind me, Flying on wings of a dove. I learned my medicine and became a healer, A person to help with sickness and bring ease. In those times, when the weather was bad and crops failed, The country was rife with disease. Little girls, as I had been, Were thrust from the thick to thin. Family members went away, Life became gray. Lifestyle’s changed, People went deranged. After years of turmoil, it all bounced back, And the beauty of the world, went back on track. I had my love, Who had a beautiful home. But like the days of my childhood, I continued to roam. Nothing touched me, Like the ways of old.  There was no happiness in the world, Just a distance and cold. I was born the year of the Ox, It created permanent roadblocks.  Though I was calm, and ready to please, I could never settle, and just be at ease. Relationships failed, Yet I always prevailed. By the end I realized what I’d always known, That the time had come, for me to go home. (To be continued).

#poetry #poetsandwriters #bard #story #to be continued

[candlelitsoul]

One Day

Deep brown eyes stare out at the horizon, the golden skies stretching on for miles across the open prairie. The trees sway in the wind as the dawn rolls on like the tide, sending the black scurrying for cover in the distance behind. The signpost that passes bears the name of a town not too far away, advertising a rest stop and restaurant combo, as well as hotel rooms and great tourist destinations; the ideal town for most to settle, but for this occupant, it is little more than a halfway point on the journey to freedom. Shifting in the seat, the woman with red hair, her roots brown as they chase the color away, sits up straighter in the small seat, pulling the Skullcandy headphones from her ears. During the night, the Harry Potter book on tape had finished, and silence had reigned, but in her exhausted state, her body had failed to react. For the first time in her memory, however, she'd slept through the night without fear of what might happen the next day. Would her mother bang on her door and yell that she needed help with the dogs, or that she had, once again, done something wrong, and she was selfish and lazy because, NOW, her mother had to do it... even though she HAD done it, just in her own way? Would her father message her from work and tell her that her mother was in a bad mood, or come home and start slamming doors, screaming and yelling behind it? Would her mother, once again, tell her what a selfish person she was, and that she hated her? When was the other shoe going to fall? When would her sanity finally break and carry her to a place she would never be able to escape from? Or worse... when would the day come that she would finally snap and end up taking one of two lives; her mother's, or her own? This night had proven to be one of the hardest but the most rewarding. Every cell in her body told her to turn back; to get off at the next stop and go back home, tell them she'd made a mistake and she was sorry, that she would never do it again if they only loved her. However, she knew there was never going back. Yes, there would be pain at losing their respect, at losing their love. There would be angry words and tears, but the benefits of what she was going to do outweighed every thought that played through her head, those words nothing more than damage done after 30 years of brainwash, scapegoat, and narcissistic intention pushed through on her by her own mother. She could relax. She could breathe. She could live. The woman next to her gave her a small, knowing smile, almost as if she could see behind the innocent brown eyes that gazed back, and see the world of hell that she was leaving behind. She could also see that the woman wanted to speak, to find out her story and see if her suspicions weren't correct, but not wanting to frighten her, or make her uncomfortable. Behind those hazel eyes, she could see a wealth of knowledge, but also a sweet figure who only wanted to do good in the world. They reflected everything she hoped to be one day, that she could now strive for because she'd taken one that one fateful step and reclaimed her life for her own. Over the speakers, the bus driver announced their stop, the small town coming into view. His voice broke the spell of the older woman's gaze, and her own turned back to the disappearing fields. There was a transfer station here, and she would be taking the next bus towards Salem, a new haven for the frightened girl who fought and survived to escape. A job had been promised by a lovely shop owner, and lodgings were being found for her at a local inn until a permanent solution could be found. To that woman, she owed her very life. One email, an application from a distance. One phone call, an hour long discussion, and the woman had jumped into action. She had friends in all the right places, family who had seen girls at the hands of people like her mother, and worked hard to make a better life for them. A new identity, a new look, a new home; all of these prospects awaited her. As they'd said, she only had to find her courage, and it would be for the better. She'd never be found, they'd said, and they were right. The woman with the hazel eyes was her guardian angel, and she'd more than made sure they couldn't be traced. Stepping off the bus, she followed in the woman's wake, never releasing the hand that held hers in its gentle grip. Trust.. absolute trust. This was what it truly meant to trust and love. Not empty promises and hollowed words. Not threats and screams that came with the nightfall. No bargains, no quid pro quo. Just one person helping another. She'd give it back someday. For now, she was honored to be the recipient. As the wheels of the next bus set into motion, her stomach released its tension and she fell back into a gentle sleep, free in the knowledge of what awaited her. This was her time to shine. She hoped her friends would understand, and support her decision to run. She'd tell them when the danger past, and hope against all odds they could forgive her. She loved them, so dearly. And her girlfriend... would she understand too? The past would always haunt her, but now she had a future, and it was brighter than every dawn before it, and shone twice as beautiful as the moon. When all was lost, she found her voice, and it now sang from the rooftops. Forever had finally come, and she was proud. 

(Written while listening to: Angel's Fall by Breaking Benjamin)

#writing #writer #writers #short story #newlife

[candlelitsoul]

A World Away

Lightning streaks across the midnight sky, thunder raging its invisible voice, shaking the surrounding buildings with its fury and might. Rain falls on the empty streets, washing clean the sins and transgressions of the people that walked before, ready to take in the hope that humanity could offer. Despite the lateness of the hour, a single window cast it's soft glow into the darkness beyond, a glimmer of hope amidst a monstrous storm that claimed the town as its prey and sent it's patrons running for cover.

Her green eyes opened as thunder growled all around, lightly shaking her windows before fading into the darkness once again. The black sheet that draped above her double bed barely stirred in the breeze from her small fan, but her white Christmas lights gave a comfort amod the torrid and turbulent conditions outside. The fresh scent of honeysuckle worked as well as a shot of vodka to steady her nerves and eased the waking process as she ran a hand through her hair and lifted herself into a seated position.

Everything seemed so normal after her dream, and she was glad for the familiar comforts of her one bedroom apartment that told her the events were nothing but the result of late nights and too much time spent on YouTube videos. It was a safe haven against any and all dangers that lurked in the physical as well as the mental, and at this moment, she let herself become attuned to the atmosphere to drive away the gloom.

Her bookcase lined the same wall as her desk where notebooks littered the top, pencils scattered over the loose papers and among the empty coffee cups from days past. A single chair sat next to a widow, a lone manga seated on the small table adjacent, propped open to the last page she'd visited the night before. Her oak dresser and beaureau on the far wall stood like stalkers in the shadows, waiting to ambush any threat that may present itself. This room has been created after months of hard work and dedication, and it was her favorite place to haunt after a long night at work, or when the rain fell upon the earth during a calm and quiet night. A creature of habit was the label she proudly carried, and it was forever stitched upon her heart.

Pushing herself from the bed, she padded in her bare feet across the hardwood floor to the window beside the bed, and stared out at the night that lay beyond, a smile creeping across her features. Nights like this were always her favorite, for the sheer fact that the aura of the world changed just enough to allow a calm to go over the human world. Empathys rejoiced on these nights when the ambience would settle and they could tune in to the magic of the universe and feel at peace with life and themselves. The greatest poems were written on these nights, and shared for all the world to enjoy. More people would come to know true beauty through these stories, and she hoped to, one day, add her own to the mix and see who understood the messages. For now, she was grateful to be among the nameless and faceless who roamed the streets and wrote their dreams on paper. It was liberating, freeing, timeless, ageless, and absolutely beautiful.

His scent came on the winds, rolling in like the first sink into a warm bath. His arms encircled and pulled her gently to him, cradling his beloved goddess of the arts and the spirit world; his savior and his muse. Through her work, he had opened his eyes to a world he'd never imagined, but once seen, could never be forgotten . He wanted to swim through those stories until time ceased to exist, and through his life with her, he'd made that dream a reality.

What he never knew was that, through him, she'd found the courage to chase that dream and live it, and found the safety she'd been searching for since childhood. He'd given life to her voice and, together, they created a home where everything they would dream of, came to life, and was their sanctuary in an unpredictable world. Nothing and no one had ever been ever been able to shake it, or break it, and they were free to be themselves and be loved for all of it.

Pressing a kiss to his lips, she turned in his arms and wrapped her own around him, feeling the strong beat of his heart as she pressed close, his loving soul pulling her home to him. Her forehead laid softly against his, and the night, that had seemed unsure, was made whole. In his arms, she had her world and his love, and there was no where else she ever wanted to be.

As the storm continued its tirade on the earth and it's inhabitants, the lovers returned to their solace. As they pledged their love and lives to each other, the universe faded into sweet nothingness and they rode the waves of pleasure into oblivion and beyond; a time and place no one could imagine; a world where the forests were plenty, the old world was alive and well, and they were the masters of all that lay before them.

#romance #love #short story #couple #writing #writer

[candlelitsoul]

Solace in the Storm

The wind howls and the sound of rain falling against the rooftop wake her from her slumber, yet the warmth of the fire eases her of her worries, imparting that she remains in safe company.

Though her body feels fatigued, the stresses of the day mixed with heavy workload of the week, she feels a sense of accomplishment, knowing that they have more than caught up on their tasks, and the next few weeks would not be spent in blind panic and hurried activities. They'd taken the necessary precautions before it was too late, and their patrons would be more than provided for during this rainy season. A lot of travelers would be stopping in, and they would have everything they needed for a comfortable stay, and be well fed without the burden of the leaving the inn.

Taking in the dancing light, she watched the flames lick the brick work before disappearing into the night, and she felt herself fortunate to have the life she did. It wasn't long ago that her own home had been taken, and the years of training had hardened her into a shield maiden, unable to form attachments to any living person that crossed her path. But he had been different, and with devotion and candor, he'd brought her back to realm of the living, and made her want for a life better than glory and dying young.

He'd done it so carefully, yet so easily, that she hadn't even noticed his integration into her circle until that first beside the fire when he'd asked her about the book she was reading, and whether or not she would recommend it? Her piercing green eyes had taken him in, measured him from the inside out, and she found herself talking to him of history and battles, dreams and hopes for the future. She'd never opened up to anyone, and the night had passed with such ease and bliss she hadn't been aware of his flawless assault at her icy walls until six months had passed, and he had given her a kiss under the moonlit sky and knew that she never wanted anything else, but to be his bride and live with him until the end of their days.

It was only a month more that she'd walked down the aisle to him, the boy whom she'd known since childhood, but had allowed herself to be separated from by their elders and trained as a soldier against their enemies, and she'd promised to be his, even in the afterlife in Summerland. That night, they took their passion in hand and felt their souls combine.

He had always been the one; her greatest protector in battle, her confidant before and after, and the dearest friend and devoted lover. His aura had combined with hers before she'd even recognized it, and now, there was only eternity.

Her eyes had closed without her knowledge, the comfort of their bedroom, the pouring rain, the comfortable pallet in front of a roaring fire all an elixir to relax her exhausted being, working to lull her back into sleep. However, the greatest gift had come when his arms encircled her, cradling her into him as he placed soft kisses to her shoulder, and whispered his love for her so gently she felt as if she were floating.

He had finished the last of the work, and returned to his beloved bride after hours apart. His scent made her crave to be with him, to ride out the rest of the night in total bliss, but she knew their time would come, and that, for now, all she needed was his love and his touch for her world to be complete.

As she fell into a peaceful slumber, she carried his devotion into their shared dream world, where time stood still in the Forest of Light, and they bathed in the moonlight; a God and Goddess of love as timeless as the ages, and immortal in the minds of generations to come.

               E N D

#romance #short story #writing #love

[candlelitsoul]

Sickness, Secrets, & Love: A True Story

The steady drip of water echoes off the dark tiled walls, the lights having long since been extinguished. The chill in the air permeated the very soul, and would have sent most fleeing back to the warmth and the light. However, on this night, it was a blessing to one individual who had sought the solitude as a sanctuary, a haven where sickness could lay claim and everything you needed to combat it or ease it was close at hand. Against the ivory skin, her brown hair was tied back into a lose bun, her eyes closed against the nausea and pain. Clad in only a dark grey t-shirt and a plaid pair of shorts, she'd curled herself into a ball on the dark blue floor mat, a towel in matching colors resting under her head to give support and what comfort it could offer. One hand rested against her belly, the other cupped gently under her cheek, the warmth in both having faded to natch the frigid environment. What had started as a not so pleasant day had now given over to a worse night, but if she could help it, he would nit find out. By the time he returned the next day, she would have ridden through the worst and be hiding behind a mask of makeup and hubris that only a trained eye would be able to penetrate. Thankfully, he hadn't yet been able to work behind the veneer when she was on point, and she was able to hide the lowest days, knowing the better would soon come. That morning, she'd risen early, despite the pain and nausea, and made him a hearty breakfast of eggs, toast, three kinds of meat, orange juice, coffee, and tea. He was going to need his strength to face the day and night that was ahead, and before he'd left, he'd carried her into the living room and made love to her in front of a roaring fire. In that space of time, the sickness and pain had faded to wonderful bliss, and he'd left none-the-wiser to the turmoil raging within his soon-to-be bride. As soon as his car has pulled away, and he'd sent the last of the loving text messages, she'd made it to the stairs before the pain settled in for another round. Her knees had given way, her hands catching herself on the carpeted incline. Her nails scored the fabric as she fought the urge to cry out, and she'd been able to pull herself up the stairs and into their bedroom. Two capsules of generic Pamprin and a few sips of water later, she took a moment to let the feeling in her legs return before she set about making their bed and putting the laundry in the basket. The pain continued its torment, but she knew that, for the time being, she'd have to ignore it. He had never once come home to a dirty house, chores waiting to be done, food not ready and waiting, or even soon to be ready, with a hot cup of coffee and a lively atmosphere to greet him. She'd promised herself to never be seen as her parents had once said she was, and she'd worked hard to maintain the reputation of strong against all odds. She would not give into her pre-existing condition when her self-esteem was on the line. After folding the clean laundry and putting it away, she'd tried to eat, and yet, every piece of food that touched her lips tasted stale, flat, and somehow having decayed when it was freshly made. The smell alone was enough to turn her stomach on end. She managed to nibble some saltines while she vacuumed and dusted, but even that didn't sit long. By 3pm, she was running to the bathroom as her stomach heaved, and everything was quickly lost. She'd hoped against hope that it wouldn't continue, but now, as the midnight hour chimed on the grandfather clock downstairs, she realized how foolish it had been to hope when the odds were stacked against her. Now, all there was to do was wait, and hope the daylight brought relief, and the strength and courage to face it. If she'd been stronger, faster, more accustomed to the monthly onslaught that had encompassed her life since the age of 20, she'd have hears the small "beep" that issued outside her home. She'd have been cognizant of the front door as it opened and closed. Even reacted to his voice as it called for her, and his quickened steps minutes later as he searched the unnaturally darkened household for his love, his heart racing when she neither spoke nor appeared. However, for once in her 30 years of life, she'd been forced to give power to her body, to let it ride out the storm, becoming as useless and limp as a store bought mannequin. His steps came fast towards her, her eyes unable to open as the overhead light shone down. His hands were gentle but firm as he lifted her head onto his legs, the palm of his hand gentle tapping against her cheek to try to rouse her. Her voice issued in his panicked voice, begging her, pleading with her to wake up, to look at him, "please baby, please, wake up. Look at me". In all their years together he had never come home early, his investigations keeping him away for a solid 24 hours at a time. On this night, she'd lost the upper hand, and would have to come clean to him about this condition, and every illness she'd tried to hide from him for the past year and a half that they'd been together. He would be hurt, maybe even angry with her for keeping secrets, but he also knew she was wary of letting people take care of her. Her parents had always stated that if people knew the truth they wouldn't stay, and she couldn't bear to be away from him for anything. Even if it meant her suffering alone in silence just to have him by her side, she would never break the image she'd given him of perfect health and radiance. But now, there was no hiding behind makeup, an image, or even an act. She was caught red handed, and would have tell her story. Her eyes opened to take him in; his blue eyes shining down on her all the love he carried, his concern for her well being, but a relief that she was was back with him at last. She couldn't help but smile as his lips came down to meet hers, their rough but gentle caress sending pleasurable chills throughout her entire body. He knew well what his kisses, his very touch did to her, and it was a welcomed distraction from the ailments that still plagued her. She was once again safe, loved, and would be cared for until she was able to get back on her feet, and be the radiant and glowing love of his life once more. As he pulled back to lay beside her, his hands stroking the away the tears that had fallen, she knew she was where she was meant to be, and would never again give in to the fear of losing his love and respect when he had shown time and again that no matter the days, the distance, the sickness, or the worst the world could offer, she was forever his one and only love, that would reside in his heart for all eternity.

#romance #love story #short story #writing #writer

[candlelitsoul]

Dreamers Moonlight

She steps outside the warmth of the small house, inhaling the sweet midnight chill. The wind is low, and sweet, filled with the scent of spring. She walks down the steps, and turns, heading towards the end of the concrete porch. The grass glistens with the newly gathered dew, shining under the light of the full moon. Stopping short of the yard, she gazes from under the overhang, letting the moonlight touch her pale skin. kiss her green and purple hair, and lull her soul into a safety and security granted to her under the night sky. On either side of the moon, two stars shine in their brilliance, looking like small diamonds on a bluish, black canvas. The wind drifts by, heading towards the north east, the scent of honeysuckle beckoning her further into the awaiting paradise. She kicks off her sandals and steps into the cool grass, her senses coming to life. It was as if, in a moment, she left behind the comfort of the familiar, and was transported to a distant world where beauty was the only sustenance one would ever need. Her eyes close as she stops, turning towards the moonlight. Her arms raise, palm up, shoulder height, the wind blowing across her skin, helping her to shrug off her final worries of the day. Her spirits soar as the wind picks up, her hands raising above her head, palms offered up towards the moon. She slowly bends at the waist, her hands falling in front of her, her head lowering. In this moment, she gives her thanks to the gods and goddesses who are watching over her, helping her, guiding her, feeding her the love that only nature can provide. Her heart lifts, making her rise, her hands cupped in offering, before placing that cup to the moon. She filled it with the white and blue light, and brings it into her heart, letting the majesty overtake her, and a peace she had always wanted to ease her worries, and allow her body and mind to rest, and enjoy this wonderful life. Her eyes open, taking in the brilliance and splendor that is nature, the world, and the life it gives to us all. She smiles, knowing that no matter what happens, she can sit underneath its light, and find the answers she has been seeking, but cannot find anywhere else. Before she heads back in to finish her tasks, and crawl in bed for a long nights sleep, she holds onto a branch of the honeysuckle bush, and inhales its magic, her senses brimming and overflowing with happiness. She takes this scent into her heart, raising her arms and spinning with happiness and content. This is the world at its best, beauty at its most ancient and powerful, and the place she loves to inhabit and forget the cares and concerns of the living world. This is her domain, her shelter, her playground, her time to be the Eidolon she knows herself to be. She doesn't have to impress or explain, put on a show or defend an opinion. There's nothign to fight, and everything to have. This place she will share with no one else, not even those who understand as she does. Turning one gaze to her heavenly protector, she slips back inside, at ease with the knowledge that even though the sun may shine, she can return to this sanctuary in her soul, until she can be with it in the physical, and then, for all eternity.  

#writing #writer #write #life #lifeisbeautiful

[candlelitsoul]

Reverie

The rain quickens its fall, drumming off the worn out roof, the cadence drowning out the frogs singing in the already full puddles in the street. The sweet resonance of Celtic music plays in harmony with nature, forging a calming atmosphere in the dark 4:30 morning. She lays on her side, watching the firelight dance inside the hearth. The warmth envelopes her like a sweet bath on a winter's night, lulling her back into the dreamland she'd left only an hour ago. Her mind plays over the past; the man she'd been with for so long and tried to make it work, the dance of power he'd tried to play on her heart, body, and mind, but had failed to grasp, and the journey back to recovery she'd hoped and prayed for since the beginning. In her mind, parts of her were the same, still searching for the same person to be with, and finding nothing but road blocks on the way. But she also knew, without even having to search, that she wasn't the same person she'd once been. The times had knocked her about, and she'd emerged stronger than ever before. She was doing what she loved, made possible by people who shared her sense of adventure of understanding. She was able to live the life she wanted because there were no longer those pushing her to do more than she was able, and not giving a damn if she was breaking down. In this moment, she was free to be herself, free to act or not as she pleased, free to day dream, write, or even kick back and stare at the rain on the window pane. Life, with all its splendor, twists, turns, mountains, caverns, sunny days, and rainy nights, was finally with her, surrounding her with its love and light. She lavished in these moments of solitude, and was always amazed at what came forward. Stories, poems, travels to great places, meeting great people, and seeing the world through her own eyes, enjoying the peace and serenity that came the deeper she delved. Tonight, she had seen the fruits of those labors during a livestream, when someone had remarked how calm she was, even knowing that people were watching. That she had a personality that was fitting for livestream, and that she was not afraid to be herself. The moment had finally come when she could look back and honestly say that THIS was the RIGHT time in her life; she would never wish to go back and do moments over, because it was those moments who taught her to be who she was now, who molded her into the person who could help others with her wisdom, and a person who, for the first time, didn't seek to justify herself through someone else. She was able to enjoy the solitude of being alone, and doing the things she enjoyed. A smile graced her features, her eyes closing as the 5:00 hour came to chime. These were the moments that were all her own, and she would never take them for granted. Not for anyone, not for anything. As she dropped into sleep, she wondered what surprises would await her that morning in her dream world. Would the love she sought be there to greet her, or would another wonderful story idea make itself known? Only time held that answer.

#writing #writers #story #short story #life #blog

[candlelitsoul]

Rain and Beauty

I love the rain. The smell, the feel, the sound, the calming, peaceful atmosphere, the breath of new life that the world gets; the slate wiped clean, revitalization of plant and animal life, flowing rivers, and the peace that all is right with the world. On nights like this, I feel different, inside and out. I'm calmer, quieter, more thoughtful, more intune with my feelings and emotions, passionate, caring, mysterious, insightful, and I love nothing more than to lay on my bed and imagine myself in her world; Crowsgirl's world. The streets are quiet, there's no work tonight to avenge the innocent because we are waiting. The rain falls, washing away the streets of their evil, cleansing the world of its filth, and bringing an aura of wonderful feelings. On this night, I rest on the windowsill, one leg propped up, the other hanging down, just listening to the quiet, relishing the sounds of cars on the wet pavement, going to their various destinations for whatever takes await them. I feel at ease with myself, knowing he's out there, thinking of me, waiting to come home to me, in our room bathed in candle and fire light, warm, inviting, safe, but most of all, a place of our own. Here, in this space, no one knows us, no one even thinks of us. We died so long ago, and the world changed, and even those who are still alive think us nothing more than dust in wooden boxes under the earth. That knowledge gives you such a sense of freedom and ease, that sometimes, you almost forget what it meant to be afraid, and to wake and wonder if it all had gone wrong? I smile as his scent washes over me, his hand resting on my leg, and my eyes open as he kneels down beside me. His eyes are alight with happiness and relief. Even now, he still worries for me and my sanity, but on this night, I am as golden as he left me. Our eyes meet, and it feels as if the world is right, as if we've accomplished all we've set out to do, and we can now spend eternity in the passion we once let slide for what we were told was good for us. And as I come back to the plane of existence I know, I can still feel as if I'm in that room, him holding my hand, and the world is peaceful and safe, as it ought to be. I wish I could help everyone to feel as I do on these nights. Put together a play list or a list of poems that can bring them to that realm, and ease their pain. One day perhaps. But for now, I'm content in bringing them videos that can erase those days, and share with them the good happenings that are all around.

#writing #writers #observations #dreaming #daydream

[candlelitsoul]

Life’s Little Quirks

I've begun to re-read, "The Diary of Anne Frank". I remember getting halfway through in 2013, and then I lost my job, my home, my cats, and some belongings, and I stopped reading. As I sit down, and read the first entry, I'm amazed how she and I are more alike than I thought. The first present she gets is a diary, and for me, that was always the greatest gift to be had. It didn't matter what the outside looked like, but the type of pages, whether they were creased or smooth, whether they could be torn out, everything on the inside was a matter of importance. Because for me, I can't write on just any old paper. I can't write on any that has a stain, a crease, is nothing but college ruled (I can't do regular lined because there aren't enough spaces for writing, and you run out too quickly, and they HAVE to have lines), and they usually have to be together, because there is nothing worse that writing on paper that are different sizes. It's an OCD and writer thing. But when you get that sheaf of paper, all you do are imagine the possibilities. You sit down and think, "What do I want to write about?", "Where is this going to take place?", "Should I just start with character biographies?", "Should I tear the pages out and keep them together, or leave them in and turn this into a 'one story only' type book?". The adrenaline that flows through your veins is like getting a shot of speed, and letting the pen, or pencil, in your hand take you away. When you're in the middle of all of it, you don't see anything but the story, the characters, how they play out, speak to each other, the scenery, and it's all so vivid, you forget exactly where you are. You can smell the air within the scene, hear the sounds, look the people in the eye, and be part of it for as long as the ideas flow. Even now, I can put myself into this, and just hear the thoughts as they drift in my head, pouring like liquid through my veins, and out through my fingers onto this black space, and create something magical. I have always cherished my imagination, and it feels so good when I'm able to see the end result. I feel like, a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, and I can go to bed with a free and clear head and heart. I think that when I get done with the next episode of Creepy & Haunted Places, I'm going to take some time to write here, and to work on some of the stories I've put on the back burner since 2010. It's time to balance my life. I'm hoping that I can achieve this easily, and that the people in my life will leave me alone to do it. I want that thrill again, that yearn, that desire. I want that burn in my veins, the rush to get it done, the want to see the end, the lavishness of taking your time, and watching the scene unfold, of putting on my headphones and drowning out the world. I can already feel it burning, even though I'm exhausted. Today is going to be a good day.

#writing #thoughts #blog #blogging #blogger #writer #writers #quips #observations