Anthology Excerpts

   Here is almost half of the short story/novel excerpt that appears in Twisted Vine: An Anthology of

Short Stories and Poems, my recent release.  It will also appear within the story of the prequel to my Where the Horses Run series, Realms of the Earth, and Book III, Ciphers of that Horses series.  Those two books are closely connected, which is a hint, but not a spoiler.

   There are three names included which come from Tolkien's writings because he wanted his created world to be like a true history/mythology of his country, which was bereft of any, having been lost during the time of the French conquests.  There are also three names I created.  It would be interesting to see if you know which is which.  All the other names are real places, either actual or names from other legends.  There are references to others who are in Celtic myths, but one term which has a Roman origin - the Isles having been occupied by the Romans in the distant past.

Do you know what Island I speak of here that is Jana's home?  Hmmm, I wonder.

I hope it makes you hungry for more.  Enjoy!

*  *  *

Jana's Vision

There, on the great mountain that towers above all others in Emhain Abhlach, is a small level place near the peak of its steepest hill.  It overlooks a wide plain lying beyond the Isle’s troubled, encircling sea.  Jana approached the Crown Gallan, the great standing stone, to gain the message of her inner sight, which was stirring her heart.  She was called by a whisper caught on a new breeze.  She placed her hands on this giant cold stone where herein was inscribed the secret and mysterious rune message left by the Others, Unwritten Lares—ancient and illustrious dead of a prior age.  Wisdom of their knowledge was proclaimed long before the divisions of the worlds.

Atop the runes was the horizontal form of the dual interlocking circles, the Vesica Pisces, the Goddess' own symbol of the union of spirit and matter.  Her passage is centered, the between place, held on each side by forms of her waxing and waning crescent moon.

Jana contained all this within her own ancient memory so it was on this figure she locked her eyes.  The white light shone through the center passage until the great stone and all surroundings vanished before the vision visiting her in this high and sacred place.

The falling snow of apple blossoms covered her steps as she passed over the shore glade and went up through the mixed forest of trees and stones.  She’d followed the steep, winding, stone-step path with Bobaran, the old druid turned grey wolf, watching and following half hidden in the brush.  She came to stand now transfixed as if struck deep with a long arrow, hearing only silence.

Rinn, Lord of Shadow, was near, but no fear could stay her from her calling.  She knew she tread only a thread between worlds, but his hand would not take her hither to his, nor would his beguiling voice coax her eyes to look upon his most fair face for she listened to another—the Supreme Light within.

Her face flushed hot as blood rushed to her head, throbbing with her heart as her sense of self took flight changing the purposeful course of her existence.  Slowly the weight of her body left her, draining all sensation through her bare, jewel wrapped feet as she became suspended between the earth and the sky which she could not reach with her outstretched arms, palms up in supplication.

Her soft, pale blue gown hugged her frail form as the breezes rippled it behind with its fluttering, arrhythmic song.  Only the delicate kisses of the soft wind touched her face and bared arms, as the loose ends of her bound claret-shaded tresses caressed her cheeks, neck and back to below her shoulder blades, a twisting golden cord binding its full braided length.

The Spirits filled her as another sight opened a new view of the world in all directions, beyond the horizon seen by her eyes.  She felt safe, as a feather caught on the whispering winds encompassing the world.  But hers was now a different world than that known by the senses.

And, though her Isle is mighty in the spirits' hands and distinctive in many ways from the harsh lands of their remnant peoples, she knew a horror could befall it as she witnessed the possibilities of a most frightening change.

*  *  *

Emhain Abhlach is surrounded by a wide, rough and raging sea of deep, dark blue waves.  Their white foam caps raise the tiny, mystical horses leaping to the fore with every wave break, each tiny scream proclaiming their momentous joy of airy freedom, while together roaring as a hidden beast rising from within.  Its anger is fed through the western inlet by each crashing wave from the world's Grand Ocean battering its mighty tides against the stone cliffs standing as sentinels at their narrow veil, framed by the stonewalls’ imposing archway.  Each thrash churns the gelatinous waters to rock fiercely to and fro between the hidden path and this beautiful, but tempestuous moat it feeds.

Though the veil is thin no disenchanted ship can sustain a battle with the merciless waves if they thrust themselves between the rocks to reach these secret shores.  It was Mannan’s purpose when he cast forth his magic.  Vain attempts leave splintered wreckage as evidence of foolish dreams for many are drawn by the strange music no ear can tell from whence it comes.  It tugs at the heart with a magic song sweetened of perplexing sounds spiraling even the grasses, blowing drifts of thistle down, chiming the bells of the Lilly of the Valley to blend all harmoniously with the multitudinous little leaves' variety of murmurs.

More than the border between a new land and a world ocean here lies the boundary between two worlds sharing a similar space on this rare Earth.  For now, it connects with the Earth itself, but the wanderers who will adventure for that which they know not will spread their dark wings.  Their shadows will crawl toward the scattered havens with only the mists on the far shores to confuse their way.  If any succeed in severing a protective veil the magical connections will end and the enchanted lands will cease giving their protection and guidance to the remnant of their peoples in the land.  Jana's awareness of this made her tremble.

*  *  *

The young acolyte's suspension held fast as the message she heeded descended over her and she remembered the future.  Peace transcended the moment though the chaos she witnessed in this horrific vision as coming soon was meant for their preparedness.  She watched as her current worldview evolved in a fast-forwarded metamorphosis she could scarcely grasp.
Slowly spinning in her suspended state, gaining an encompassing view of all things affected, she saw many of their distant Ilses – to the Old Man stone pillar known of Storr on Loch na h-Airde, the Isle of Skye, and to Llan-y-tor, Lundy Island, the Land of Sacred Groves, network center of the beacon signals.  There stands the Face of Bran under the Caer Aranuhod, Arian's Lighthouse, to become better known as the Tower of Bre near the door to Annwvn, the Otherworld of eternal youth standing at the mouth of the Severn.

Her vision continued to span far—to Llychlynn, Norway, and even to the Celestial Ring where stands Almunden, flickering the crystal light image of the Elven realms:  Aman, just off the western shore of the island of Tol Eressëa, the Lonely Island best known as the Isle of the Blessed, home of Elves.  It lies in sight of Valinor and the eastern shore of the Kithles Isle centered in the Bay of Horns.

She could see past the remaining walls of the great mountain barrier of the Pelóri, once raised on the far western coast and meant to isolate.  There she first beheld the Isles of Enchantment – Araman to the northeast and Avathar to the southeast, even to the remnant where their once great island of Mendendór was raised, now separated from their realm.  All now lie across Gaerenthal, the grand ocean which fills their celestial sphere.  It claims the Straight Road over the path called the Heart's Way through the strait of Axëlnon where these blessed, undying lands, once found across Belegaer, are now long removed from the circle of spheres with their world.

   Finally, she was turned to Tir na mBeo, called the Land of the Living, then finally back around to Loch na h-Airde, close to the ruins of the promontory fort.  It would later be linked to the sea only by an artificial Viking canal.  This names only a few of Myrrdin's many.

Continued in the Twisted Vine anthology

Now here is almost half of a short story that appears in both anthologies, but I'm referring you to 'Tis the Season for all the other East Texas Writer's Association authors.  It begins with a winning sentence so I just had to write the story.  I think even the guys will enjoy this one.

Sweet Cherie Pie

After my record thirty-third blind date calamity, I embedded my so-called lucky charm into a wad of my nephew's Silly Putty and gave it my best Texas quarterback toss…out into the Hudson.

   No more lucky charm, and no more blind dates, but I’ll have to take Andy another Silly Putty on my next visit to Roanoke.  He can fill the new one with spaghetti, too, if he wants.

   The faint aroma from my doggy bag reminded me of the long evening’s misfortune.  I retrieved it from the bench to shuffle toward home.  I was feeling mighty low.

    It has to be me.  She was lovely…but too practiced with that dismissal—a polished New York professional.

   Cold shivers ran up my back shaking my shoulders.  I wasn’t sure if it was an early autumn chill, or my mood.  It generated a myriad of thoughts.

   I guess I’ll never blend in, even with these Armani suits.  I’ll start wearing my western cut suits again.  Without an employer to tell me how to dress I could do that.

   I kicked an imaginary rock with my tasseled Gucci loafer.  My situation fell heavy as an old cloak over my shoulders.

   Ah, get real, Joe, you chump.  She brushed you off because the big cutbacks locked you out of the financial district.  Gawd, she probably makes more than I ever did.  Wonder if she saw me as the gold-digger?  Katy’s not going to like my report on her “best choice” for me.

At least the chef accepted my compliments.  Nice touch, the free dessert.  Guess I’ll have hers for breakfast.  Did I look desperate, taking the leftovers?  I can’t believe she paid the bill.  How low can a guy get?

   I sighed deeply as I reached the corner, before hailing a cab.

   It’ll be the subway soon.

   Just the thought made me claustrophobic.  I stopped the cabbie before he put his foot to the pedal, handing him a couple of bucks.  I had to walk…get lost in the night’s crowds.  The noise and bright lights were good.  It kept me from thinking too much.

*  *  *

   A week later, after two curt interviews and nowhere else to go, I got a call from my best friend and old teammate, Jake.  I hoped he didn’t have another prospect for me, unless it was job related.   Before he could get into it I spoke.

   “You chose better than I did, Holtster.  Being a doctor with lots of opportunities is better than being a financial whiz kid with no place to go.”

   “Feeling sorry for yourself?  Don’t worry so much, Magnetti.  You can always stay with us till you get on your feet, but I think I’ve got just the cure.

   “This one’s the one, bro.  Take it from your doctor friend, the guy who knows you best.”

   Gotta be better than my sister, Katy’s, picks.  My thought only allowed a moment for that disgruntled exasperation that comes from friends trying too hard to fix your life.

   “O…kay,” I mumbled, “here we go again.”

   I hesitated, slapping my forehead.  My hand slowly rolled down over my face as I listened.  He gave his best sales pitch ever.  I finally gave in.

   “Yeah, alright…okay, but only because she’s from Texas.  And this is the last time.

   “What is it with you married folks, anyway?  Just because I didn't have an old girlfriend to transplant to the big city like you did doesn't mean I want one now.  Hell, I’m jobless.

   “The next time someone calls to arrange a blind date, or if this one’s as bad as the others, he'll be put at the top of my Hit List.”

   “Just make it apple this time, goofus.  That's my favorite.”

   “I don't know.  Those juicy red globs looked pretty funny dripping down all over your face the last time.”

   “That was to celebrate...a long time ago.  And I still hate cherry pie, thanks to you.  It’s only okay because we’re still friends.”

   “Yeah…best ever…for life, buddy.  Just remember that when you have my pie all over your face again.”

Continued in 'Tis the Season and Twisted Vine anthologies