The French cuisine was exquisite along the border. Emma reached for her steak knife, cutting deeply
into the honey glazed chicken, as she was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight in a quiet corner of the café. The meal reminded her of a certain general who always wanted her, honey glazed
The plan worked.
show ‘em a little leg, have him caught in a web of a beautiful seduction, and before he could be her champion… she called forth the wolves,
he learned his deadly mistake as he quivered on the marble steps. She had towered over him
another Nazi leader decimated,
then fertilizing the moss covered soil that would one day carry Allied tanks.
Emma poured herself another glass of wine, smiling sardonically, looking at her reflection in the shine of her steak knife. Then she cut deeply again into the honey glazed chicken, while a wolf howled in the distance.
When I took the elevator down to the third floor basement, I didn’t know what to expect. But there she was as soon as the doors opened. In all her glory, her skin actually shining in the blue/green healing bath and her naked chest bobbing gently. I was stunned.
“Don’t look too much stud man, you belong to Mari”, were the first words out of her mouth. I carried the tray to the table next to her and put it down. “Emma, you are absolutely gorgeous, your skin is shining, and your chest is extensive, so what do you expect me to do, walk with my eyes closed?” She smiled to the side of her mouth and said, “That’s just my way of razzing you stud man. Wait. I shouldn’t call you that, most men get their egos inflated that way.”
I offered her a drink, “Here, you need to stay hydrated.” She looked me over while drinking and said, “Mari was right you really are gorgeous. Brown skin with a touch of white and some Filipino. Gorgeous!”
“Don’t look too long supernatural one, I belong to Mari!” I couldn’t resist that one. A look of surprise dawned on her face. “Touché, dear one! And you have a sense of humor too. You really are the complete package.” Handing me the empty cup, she sank deeper into the tub, dunking her head, and for the first time I could see the tips of her damaged wings.
When she came up, I was bold enough to ask about her black eyes. “Your eyes are black so are you….” I stopped. “A vampire??” She finished it for me. “No, well in a way…. but it’s a long story. Don’t worry, I don’t drink human blood, especially that right wing crap! That stuff is horrible….” I decided not to ask any further.
After I handed her a towel she stepped out. She was very tall, and her wings were huge even with the burned edges. I turned away while she dried off and got dressed. Well, sort of dressed. “Pull up a chair. And we need to find you a new name…. it’s a type of rebirth you know…. we can even have a naming ceremony”, she said.
I sat down when she walked over. Bending down, taking my face in her hands, she searched, looking into my eyes. She touched my hair. “No dear one, an animal name won’t do for you…. H’mm.”
If you’ve never had a supernatural being look into your eyes I don’t recommend it! It’s like she could see every part of me, all at once.
Standing up she said, “I’ll have to think about it… Now go make love with your beautiful Mari, before I forget who I am!”
Perhaps there have always been healers and seers among the People, but one in particular is still talked about today. All the People could see she was a very special child from the moment she was born. To this day her mother says that when she was born, Holds the Fire sang instead of cried.
No one understood the language, and some said it was an ancient one from when the People were first created from the Earth.
When she was 3, Holds the Fire ran to the injured Songbird, when she was attacked by a bear. At first, Holds the Fire was pushed away, but she snuck through the crowd and touched Songbird. Everything changed from that moment. Holds the Fire’s beautiful brown skin changed to red and then orange, glowing as if embers from a holy fire.
It was in her hands. Healing was in the hands of Holds the Fire. Songbird, who had been screaming in agony and fear, immediately calmed down. Healing washed over her as waves from the sacred lake. And Holds the Fire spoke in that ancient language again, the language no one could understand.
When she was older there was much work to be done. Rattlesnake bites, war wounds and emotional trauma took their toll. And no man was brave enough to ask her to marry. Maybe she didn’t want that type of life anyway.
To this day though…..all the People know….. she is their Mother.
Well, I’m not sure how it happened really, but there has been a noticeable change in the direction the stories have taken. I started out with some great series, including the Sacred Mountain and Sword of Talon Series.
There you will find kings and queens, swords, adventure, and romance. One of my favorite features were the Living Bows (as in bows and arrows). I was having a great time.
But you know what?? My focus as a writer has changed. Now I write a lot more about compassion, and angels helping people, and even God caring about us……h’mmm. Perhaps that was the real me in the first place.
Currently an angel is shaking up the site, his name is Henry Vu. Originally Henry was from Vietnam, and let me tell you, this dude is powerful! Powerful, as in filled with compassion.
Anyway I’m saying/writing this to let you know you will see some changes over there, including the name! I’m not sure about the new name yet, but I think it will have the word Sky or Skies in it.
Thanks for reading.
P.S. This is not my normal morning post. I’ll be sending out a love poem shortly!
It was one of those mornings where the wind had no mercy on the Great Oak Tree. The huge bare branches creaked as the tree moaned in pain. The temperature was about 6 degrees, enough to weaken even the strongest oak.
But really the oak had no thought of himself, because he had a greater concern. As the poet walked by briskly, mumbling words from Rumi, or was it a prayer? The Great Oak Tree made even more moans and creaking sounds to catch his attention.
The poet stopped and listened. He heard very distinctly the wind speaking through the branches, “Please don’t forget the poor this year, especially the ones without a home.”
A tear fell from the poet’s eye, or was it just the cold? And he did go on his way, mumbling again words from Rumi, or was it from Tagore?
But he did not forget the poor, and kept thinking as he walked …… what he could give this year.
She lay awake, next to him listening to him breathe. It was dawn now, and she didn’t want to disturb him, but she really did want to see if it was snowing yet.
As she quietly peered through the window, and into the grey dawn, she saw the wind was up, and carrying the snow almost sideways. What should she get him for Christmas? She sighed, and lay down again, touching his shoulder.
For some reason she needed to tell him how she felt, and she whispered to his sleeping ear, “Did you know you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me……?”
He did hear the words, and he let them sink in deeply. It was the greatest thing anyone had ever said to him. He opened his eyes to her beaming smile.