The Vision: Part 1 The Land-Warden

I was tending Her altar after Evening Services in the Chapel of the Moonways Temple, when I happened to glance down into the water-filled silver basin. It struck me; blasting the breath from my body; the shimmering surface sucked me in and pulled me under. It shook me as a terrier shakes a rat; an agonizing pain pierced my being. I stiffened in response and heard a metallic chiming as the basin fell from my numbed grasp, crashing to the granite floor. Distantly I felt the splash of water on my sandal clad feet. Wrenched from the peace and serenity of the Temple by the powerful force of it; my astral self-whirled up and away. My senses spun from the blurring speed of my outward-bound travel. Something snagged my spirit, reeling me in like an angler with a fish. I slowed, and then halted. My overwhelmed mind cleared, perspective returned. I beheld the sea raging below my immaterial position. Dimly I recognized the Norton Ocean; I focused on a ship a sail, tiny in comparison to the vast heaving mass surrounding it. It tossed violently as a wicked storm raged around it. Massive waves threw it up and down, wood and sails creaked and groaned in protest. Rain poured down in torrents. Lightning flashed and the thunder was a continuous rumble. My attention focused tightly on the deck. A figure I recognized stood poised near the helm. Sailors worked frantically to steer her. They scrambled to lash every scrap of canvas down tightly. With a sulfuric boom, lightning struck the tallest mast. It cracked at its base and toppled over the side. The far end dug into the seething water; acting as a sea anchor it jolted the orientation of the ship. Instead of facing the smashing waves head on, suddenly she turned sideways to them. The darkest section of the grey sky belled joyously. My eyes discerned a Water-Elemental, a huge glowing blue figure with long flowing hair and beard, flourishing a trident. It wore a crown of pearls and coral, bright fire flashed from its eyes. A wave more massive than the rest raced towards the ship. Axes and knives chopped at wood and lines furiously. The wave broached the ship. The ship tipped over on its side further and further. She paused for a moment and started to roll upright. A second more massive wave engulfed the ship. It turned keel up, and dove deep into the water. I could hear the faint, despairing screams of the crew and passengers as she sank, and the ocean drank them down into the depths. I heard the booming laugh of the Elemental echoing across the ocean. I screamed and then merciful oblivion grasped me.

   “Maeve, Maeve, what happened to you, girl?” The crisp voice of Cheruse Mercia, the High Priestess was insistent. I could feel the light slaps of her hands on the cheeks of my face as my presence returned to the Temple.

“They’re dead! They are all dead! The Duke of Varyle has no heir!” I screamed at her.

“Calm yourself.” She commanded. “Who is dead?”

“My cousin Wyllyam, his wife, his children, the other passengers, and the entire crew.” I was sobbing now.

“What passengers and crew? How do you know that they died?”

“A storm. A terrible storm on the Norton Ocean, caused by a Water-Elemental. The passengers and crew of the vessel Storm Petrol out of Eastshore Bay, Aertathia. Lightning sundered the mast and the waves pulled her under. I was there, I Saw it all.” I moaned in dismay.

“Which Elemental?”


“Let Sister Urtring examine you, Maeve.”

Sister Urtrings’ blocky form grasped me gently. I could feel her Looking at me. I shivered and cried in her arms. The warmth of her presence comforted me.

“It was a True Seeing, High-Priestess. Storm Petrol and all aboard her are gone. “

“Was it really Poseidon?” She questioned worriedly.

“He wore a crown of coral and pearls and carried a trident, who else could it be? Maeve is going into shock now. She needs to rest and get warm.”

“So, matters deepen.” Mercia mused dispassionately. “See to her Sister Urtring. Sister Farice send word to Varyle Keep and to the Capitol Chapterhouse. The King and Duke Varyle must know what has happened.”

“At once High Priestess.”

I was bundled into my bed, the sheets warmed with hot bricks.

“Drink this Child, it will help.” Sister Urtring held a cup fragrant with herbs to my lips.

Obediently I swallowed the draught and let blessed sleep take me.

High Priestess Mercia faced her clerics, sword straight and solid. “I have summoned you here to consider some tragic news; one of us has had a vision. A Major Elemental, Poseidon himself, has slain all of the heirs to the Dukedom of Varyle. There is something seriously wrong with the Balance.” Mercia stated bleakly. “This matter requires investigation. See to it immediately, Sisters!” She snapped resolutely.

I’ve been looking for the opening scene for this story for some time, today’s prompt provided me the inspiration I needed.


Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge March 12, 2019: Write any kind of piece dealing with the topic of water.

Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge March 12, 2019



scenic view of beach
Photo by Pixabay on

Each half day what delicate ephemeral traces
/Footprints, paw prints, bird tracks/
Each incoming tide so quickly it scrubs and erases
/coarse sand wiped clean like soft wax/
Waves rolling, purling, crashing forevermore
All pounding and breaking upon the seashore
Which proves stronger in the end, land or sea?
The answer lies in the fine grit wrought of eternity.


Exactly 59 Words

Weekend Writing Prompt #96: “Seashore”

Where Your Soul Goes


Where your soul goes
I hereby disclose
The karma my spirit chose
To let the same fate impose.
Where goes yours there goes mine
Two souls as one intertwine
Their essences harmonically align
Their sum total to combine.
So let loose the reins of destiny
Brace against the storms of devilry
Pray for the gentle winds of clemency
Moreover, cling to each other desperately.
Whether our destination be heaven or hell
My heart’s fears I steadfastly quell.


Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge: March 5, 2019: Use the phrase Where your soul goes.

Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge: March 5, 2019

Cupboard Love?

Showing true devotion
My cat greets me at the door,
Rubbing, twining around my legs
Before a loud demanding “Meow!”
Signals his bowl needs filling.


Exactly 25 Words


“Did Somebody say Treat?”

In loving memory of Selleck.

Sammi’s prompt of devotion brought back what used to be a common event at the end of my work day.

Weekend Writing Prompt # 95: Devotion


Legends Don’t Die, They Just Fade Away

Photo Credit: Susan Spaulding

This is Caleb Carlyle Curtis reporting live Sunday, February 17, 2019 via web-cam for my blog, Genuine Confessions of a Myth-Taken Freak. I tracked him down here deep in the Wisconsin woods after long arduous months of searching involving the follow-up of false leads, rumors, and word of mouth. Today I shall share with you the truth! I am always awed and amazed at the reality behind our legends. This time was no different. It’s true what they say about people shrinking as they get older, Paul Bunyan is living proof, no longer a robust giant eight feet tall, he has dwindled to a grey-haired mere six-and-a-half feet, he can still swing a mean axe although arthritis is starting to take its toll. He is currently earning a living creating custom-designed log houses. He proudly escorted me around his latest masterpiece. When asked about Babe, Paul admits shame-faced, that when times were hard during the Depression he traveled down South. People down there were starving and as a result, Babe went up to see the Great Logger in the sky; he stated that the great Blue Ox made a wonderful barbecue that fed half the state of Texas.


Sunday Photo Fiction – February 17, 2019



The wide horizon beckons
Time for me to check-in
The cost of exploration is hard to reckon
Space teaches hard lessons.
I am proud to be an astronaut
Though the life’s sometimes fraught.
Moving in Zero-G is a familiar feat
I slip easily into the pilot’s seat
My take off is sweat
I state without any conceit.
The spaceship’s engines roar
Stars and planets galore
The universe is mine to explore
Outward and onward evermore.


Exactly 74 words

Weekend Writing Prompt # 93: “Horizon” This weekend your challenge is to write a poem or piece of prose in exactly 74 words.


Photo Credit: C.E. Ayr

Rhaelke Drifficent, Dragon-Mage, blinked her eyes at her strange surroundings; everything was boxy and square, not a fluid curve in sight. Flora colors were wrong, bilious greens in place of gay oranges. The sky! It was blue not red. Her eyes watered, it was too bright, no comforting concealment from numerous smoking vents. Her weight crushed down on her lungs, she struggled to inhale; the air was thin, lacking in sulfur. Her guts roiled and churned, gurgling ominously. She could feel her Power fading. Saliva formed in her mouth, tasting of bile, frantically she gulped it down. Carefully she growled out the words for the anti-nausea charm, nothing happened. She tried again, concentrating on pronouncing each syllable exactly. She experienced a momentary relief and then the charm just fizzled. She sought the energy-web of this world. Stunned she found that this world was completely devoid of Magick! Her anxiety rose as she realized that she was quickly losing control of her flame. A loud ‘burppp’ racked her frame. An embarrassingly small puff of flame trickled from her jaws. The landscape wavered, moments later she was safely back home. She swore a solemn oath, “Never again shall I drink queruill-berry juice!”


Sunday Photo Fiction: February 3, 2019