Archive for the ‘Insperation’ Category

Hello everyone, I figured since i have been on this blog for a couple weeks now, and my silence over the last couple days has barred fruit I’d share some of it with you dear readers.

Welcome to the excerpt of “The Hourglass”

[preface]

The three sisters sat around the fountain of life. A spinning wheel whirring away as one spun the thread on the wheel, another measured its length, and finally the last sister snipped and gathered the thread. Silence reined the blackened area around the three sisters, yet they heard everything in existence all the same. The deities of fate and destiny, called by many names by many people. These three ruled even the gods.

As if one, they lifted the thread from the wheel, each taking their sections with delicate fingers. They walked slowly away from the fountain; quickly it was absorbed by the darkness that surrounded them. All too soon, a large hourglass stood before them; carved out of the finest of materials found in the realms of gods.

Atropos- third of the sisters lifted the top of the hourglass, slowly taking her section of the bundle she slid it into the container. As she let go of the thread, it started to thrum in time with a heart beat. That beat echoed through the vast silence.

Lachesis- second of the sisters removed the ‘reed’ from the length of thread, guiding it further into the hourglass. As she too stepped away from the thread it shimmered faintly a silver tone. The heart beat grew louder, fluttering.

Clotho- the first sister stood before the hourglass. Her spindle still clutched in her ebony fingers. She took a slow breath as she let the spindle drop into the hourglass. She reached up and closed the lid.

Three hands rested on the top of the hour glass. No words where spoken, yet a blessing passed. The hourglass began to hum. Vibrating, the ‘glass’ singing a high note through the vast emptiness. The thread brightened within as if silk touched to flame, yet -nothing burned. A dragon’s head and feathered wings where etched into the top half of the hourglass by an unseen hand.

As if in response, the room filled with the resonance singing of uncountable hourglasses, their inner threads all glowing the same silver colour. Suddenly as if it had never happened, the hourglasses blackened and became silent once more. Not even an echo remained from their singing.

Only the distant sound of the spinning wheel could be heard in the void of the fates.

I hope you enjoyed this (first) draft preview of my new fantasy novel, The Hourglass.

If you did enjoy this, Please remember to Like my fan-page at www.Facebook.com/TrishaEllen You can also follow me on twitter @TrishaEllen1. Or you can always do the one step method– On the left hand side bar!

Writing Always,

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Azrael is watching

What the Cat Sees: Blogging from her perspective

It’s not easy being a cat, after all were not kittens anymore and humans are so engrossed in that buzzing contraption that doesn’t seem to be useful accept for sleeping on– but the humans watch it and smack their strange large paws against it every day. My human more so then most. What’s worse is when she isn’t smacking that thing, she’s either playing with the small human or trying to divide her attention between me, and the other cat in the house. 

But I Digress, today I am going to tell you about my Human’s daily ritual. 

Every daybreak as that brave bird taunts me from the other side of the invisible wall, my human stirs. Some days I try to pin her to the den she’s made by laying on her, but that doesn’t usually work– I am either suddenly pinned under the human’s weight or find my self without reason entangled within the cocoon she has shed rather reluctantly. 

As I fight my way out of the clever trap, my human stumbles unsteadily out of the room her long fur tangled and in need of a grooming. Her bared lower paws thumping against the hard room’s floor. I stretch because it feels good before trotting after her, Already the other cat is Meowing at her begging for affection, food, or what ever else fits in his rather small brain. 

I sit on that morning chilled ground and watch my human fumble with the cupboard and pull out the glass retainer for her strange brown water. I don’t like that water, it’s bitter and makes my whiskers curl. My human however, she can’t seem to wake up without drinking it. With the glass thing full of that bitter water my human shuffles over to that buzzing contraption and sits down with a rather loud thump. I watch her open it and yawn at the light that shines from the inside. 

By this point every morning, my tail is twitching with annoyance, the human hasn’t looked in my direction yet, there she is, sitting before that strange machine scowling at something– Interested at what could make my human scowl so, I jump up on to the ledge in front of the invisible wall and watch her over her shoulder. We cats are very good at watching things from high places with out being seen or heard– Some times though I wonder if my human is slow, or just likes to ignore me. 

The loud box in the relaxing room is playing some screaming show with the miniature human sitting eating her first catch of the day and my human is staring at the buzzing machine as if it just stepped on her tail. I don’t particularly care what it is she is looking at, but i find it strange that there would be much smaller humans trapped inside this buzzing machine, and I guess it makes some sense as to why it buzzes like a bee hive….

Oh Pardon me, I just had to scratch that itch there– now where was I? Oh yes, my Human, after her scowling she suddenly sets down the foul water and starts smashing her paws against the machine in a fashion that makes me wonder if she doesn’t have fleas that torment her. Just as I think it’s safe to jump down from my watching post– i really want my food now– she lets out this horrendous growling. 

I must admit, it makes my fur stand on end when she does this, because lets face it– she only makes that sound when I am on the counter– purposefully trying to get her attention; or when the bee-hive thing does something she doesn’t like. 

Now cats, we don’t pace– not unless our prey is cornered and we can’t quite reach them. It gives the prey a sense of possible escape and flushes them out of hiding. My human however, after that slightly frightening growl paces– A lot. She paces and paces and grunts, groans and make sounds that have no sense what so ever– especially no sense to me when she’s not talking to me. 

After an obnoxious amount of time, my human flops once again in front of that bee hive of super mini people and starts smashing her paws against it faster then before. I watch as the white light fills up with little black squiggles, and I’ll admit- i want to chase the line that makes those squiggles– I resist, only because my human doesn’t like it when i pounce at the buzzing machine. 

When my Human sighs and stops her smashing paws, i deem it safe to force my attention on her– maybe she’ll top up the water bowl with cool water or even better get me some of those shaky bits that taste like fish– I love those, they’re my weakness. So I jump down from my perch and sit beside her, yet she doesn’t notice me. After a time i get annoyed with being ignored again and stretch up my front paws to her legs that are curled on her perch in a fashion that should hurt. 

Her hand FINALLY lowers to pet me, rubbing my ears and patting my side, but that’s it- anti-climatic I must say. My human seems satisfied over the smashing she has done, and stands up, the machine buzzing louder then before. She leaves the room and I trot after her– FINALLY she puts new water in the bowel that i have to defend from the moron of a male cat who nearly drowns himself every time he takes a drink, and then she puts down new food. Which again I have to defend from the idiot other cat. 

My human walks away and I hear distant meowing from my human that are as close to purring in happiness that humans get. She’s pleased with what ever is on the Buzzing machine and decides to make her way to harass the mini human– chasing her about the house, or even flopping beside her giving me the opportunity once my belly is full to clamor up her legs to steal her body heat once more. I learned that morning that pinning my human isn’t smart. I get love and affection and the computer starts making noises My human makes to move and i’v had enough- I purr at her and smack my flat paw on her face– Now is My affection time. 

Now don’t get me wrong, My human will go back to this Buzzing machine through out the day to check on what ever it is that she has smashed into submission– but i don’t really mind after the morning cuddles, I get my revenge after all– by trying to sleep on her face every night– It’s quite fun. 

That’s the morning adventures of my Human. She ignores me, she pets the loud mouth cat, heck she even beats up the buzzing machine with out qualms, but she’s my human and i love how she knows just where to scratch under my chin. 

Oh and if you where wondering– Here’s the idiot of a feline that my human rescued– he’s not that bad, so long as he doesn’t get in my way of snuggle times.

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yours purrrrfectly:

                        Azrael– (picture at top of page)

Words worth writing

The words you and I put to page everyday may seem to some as if they don’t fit the criteria placed before us by the great writers and thinkers of ages past (or even present). Yet, how does one know where the words worth being remembered for come from? Is it from the heart of a poem ripped from the soul and placed upon the page? Is it stained across the stage of a grand production implemented by the greatest of talents? Is it the novel that people spend half their live writing to get everything properly into place, or is it the half day short story someone writes in high school?

No one can say what words will be remembered, or who will be remembered. All that can be said is that anything placed into the written word is worth reading to someone– whether it be simply the author for later reflection. To the teacher in tenth grade who needs that essay to evaluate your comprehension of the subject matter at hand.  Or maybe it’s people across the globe that finds the words inspiring or even motivating.

At the end of the day, if you feel accomplished in what ever written work you’ve produced, even if it isn’t writing, then that is all that matters.

With this two cents of Mr. Benjamin Franklin’s quote, I welcome you to the Psychotic Journey that all of us take through life. Whether your life is writing about the mystical worlds of dragons and fairies, or even the darkness of human emotion– whether your inspiration comes from Edgar Allen Poe– It doesn’t matter; I’m here on this journey with you, and I’ll be giving you my thoughts and or hardships that I face on a daily (or sometimes weekly) basis. Maybe, hopefully, my journey will help you find the beginning of the next steps in your journey.

Always Writing;

FOOTER2