The Castle Logoria – Part One

The inn was old, but charming as the carriage drew up to the lit yard. However, this was no normal inn as it was situated high up the road from the prospering village and at the base of a large, abandoned castle. A castle that was sturdy, but clearly starting to decay and crumble. It was as if the inn had not idea there was something majestic behind it.

The coachman stepped down from the box and opened the carriage door just as the innkeeper, Henri, opened his welcoming doors, sending out more light from the cheery interior. He was the first person Aline saw as the coachman helped her down.

“Welcome, welcome,” the jovial man said. “Come in quickly and we will get you warm.

Before Aline could take a step, a proprietary hand reached out from the coach and stopped her.

“Wait, Aline,” the cultured, but spoiled voice said and a tall, thin man stepped from the coach. Roland Verninac, Baron Rogier, surveyed the inn, a brow raised as his eyes traveled up the castle walls.

“You must come in quickly before the fog and mist settle in,” the innkeeper urged. “Your driver can take the horses around back to the stables. Jean will help you.” Henri motioned for his stable boy.

Both Aline and Roland looked around, and sure enough, a mist was rising from the valley, thickening the shadows. Aline shivered and drew her green cloak closer around her shoulders.

There was an eerie silence all around as the mist sifted closer and for some inexplicable reason, Aline felt a pull to enter not the inn, but the large ornate doors of the castle.

Her ears tuned out her brother and the innkeeper as they directed the stable boy and coachman to take a few necessary satchels and her case down from the coach. She stared, mesmerized by the doors, and involuntarily she moved towards them. One of her hands reached up to clasp the large silver cross on a heavy silver chain and she fingered the cool metal.

Whispers called her. Whispers tugged her closer and closer. All other sounds were tuned out as she stepped up to the doors and rested her palm on the wood. She didn’t hear the should of alarm from the inn yard.

Over and over the whispers called her.

“Aline, sweet child. Come. Come sweet one. Unlock the doors and com in. Come dearest Aline.”

The whispers were in her head. They knew her name. She wanted to scream for the voices to get out of her head. She wanted to push the doors open and do as they commanded. Pushing and pulling, she felt the invisible forces tugging her to the door while her hand on the cross pulled her back.

“Stop it!” She screamed at the voices in her head. “Stop! Stop!”

Suddenly the screaming in her head wasn’t just silent. She started screaming out the prayer she had learned for deliverance.

“Concede, quaesumus, omnipotens Deus, Sanctum nos Spiritum votis promereri sedulis, quatenus eius gratia et ab omnibus liberemur tentationibus, et peccatorum nostrorum indulgentiam percipere mereamur. Per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen.”

She repeated the words over and over, sobbing, tears streaming down her face as the whispers tried to drown out her words, becoming screams themselves.

A hand gripped Aline’s arm, jerking her away from the door and thrusting the screams back where they belonged. The whispers abated and she stood in the fading light as the mist from the surrounding areas crept into the in yard. Her face was dry and she found that all her screaming and crying, while she thought it visible, had been only in her head. It had all happened in her head.

She shivered violently and heard a soft curse. She looked at the large hand that still gripped her arm and she followed it up to the man who was watching her intently. He was very tall with dark features; deep set eyes, eyebrows that slashed, and a grim mouth. He wore simple clothes, a basic white shirt and dark brown breeches tucked into scuffed black boots that went up to his thighs. Striking. The man was very striking and Aline tried to pull away from his grip, but he held her firmly.

“You need to come away from the door,” he said softly, his tone far softer than she would have imagined with his fierce look.

 

 

…………………………………….To be continued

 

Have I hooked you?  This all came from a very strange dream I mentioned a week or so ago. It gets more interesting, in my opinion, after a time. There is no continued plot, but well, I thought I would see what you all think. It’s not meant to go anywhere other than me having some fun at writing.

Kate

 

 

 

Here We Come A-Caroling

tumblr_mxqqphYSxQ1qkpc62o1_500This year my Christmas music choice has been more melancholy and quiet. Folk with older acoustic and country, with a touch new age.

If you click the picture, you will be taken right to one of my current playlists that is really hitting me this year.

Each year music, like my nail polish choice, changes and depends on my mood. I think last year I was in the oldies Christmas music with forest green nail polish being my choice. This year, due to Boris telling me, “It’s red. It’s always red;” in regards to my nail polish, I am wearing red for him. I was going to go turquoise, but well, I might splurge right at the end of the season. I have to admit, red is rather nice. And my music choice is something you could listen to in a library, or maybe in a cozy bookstore. I was writing in the stacks at my library the other day listening to it. Plopped down on the floor by the poetry, headphones in and scribbling frantically away in my notebook. It’s rather nice.

So, tell me dearies, what kind of Christmas music do you like? Does it change from year to year? Do you start listening to it full force once the holiday season starts? I’d love to know.

Listening on

Kate

Lanterns

Emily Dickinson Lanterns  When I saw this quote from Emily Dickinson, I thought it had to be from a poem  and I wanted to find it. Sadly, it seems to be just a quote. I feel it could have been something marvelous.
I found this wonderful picture, and combined the quote with it, and I think it’s perfect.
It reminds me of Loreena McKennitt‘s song ‘The Mummers Dance,’ and sometimes I feel I need to go looking for myself. What a more romantic way than by lantern light.

Happy Sunday
Kate

Sure, Anyone Can Write, but…

Kate's Bookshelf:

I feel this is so spot on that I said it was ‘Damn straight’ to my parents. It’s rather scary when I think about how spot on it is, too. And yet I can’t change who I am. Read it.

Originally posted on Presents of Mind:

pointI don’t personally know any professional writers, but there’s something about the quote below that describes the temperament of an unemployable (and non-professional) writer like myself. If you write, maybe you can relate to some of it as well.

Psychologists have found out a little bit about the personalities of writers. They are individualists, skeptics, taboo-breakers, mockers, loners; they are undependable and likely to be behind on their rent; they keep irregular hours and have strange friends. Professional writers, like criminals, really live outside society: they have no regular jobs, they come and go as they please, they live by their wits.

Writers in my experience are more inquisitive about a broader range of things than most people; they are more intelligent, more interesting to talk to, and more unconventional in their attitudes. Writers are people who don’t like to work for other people. They have vivid fantasy lives, and…

View original 27 more words

Eve and Noel – Flash Fiction

green-velvet-bow-long-sleeves-1950s-vintage-dress blue-velvet-short-sleeves-1950s-vintage-dressEve and Noel, identical twins in almost every way. Born only a couple minutes apart, Eve on the 24th, and Noel on the 25th, they were named after the holiest of days. Serene and elegant, both women were lovely to look at and calming to be around.

They both attended the Christmas Eve service with their parents. Eve wore a forest green, velvet dress, the skirt full from layers upon layers of tulle, with one of the layers edged in delicate silver, giving a glint as she walked. Her heels were matching velvet, with silver glitter on the four inch heels, twinkling as she walked. She kept with the theme of forest green on her nails, and a huge emerald and silver ring on her middle finger. Silver and green like a diamond Christmas tree, said her father. She had giggled in delight. Every year a specific color stood out for the holiday season. Last year it had been cranberry red, the year before, silver, black, and red.

churchatchristmas_2772351b 6332648515_fbf297138e_zWhile Eve was resplendent in green, Noel was in shades of sapphire blue. They set each other off perfectly with their red gold hair, similar to Rosemary Clooney’s in White Christmas. They were a statement as they walked into the little chapel, arms linked as they made their way to their favorite pew to the delicate strains of “It Came Upon A Midnight Clear.”

Heads turned as watched the two women. Neither of them were proud, but it was impossible to ignore the stir they made.

“Our girls look like models,” their father remarked as he and his lovely wife followed behind their daughters; and it was true.

 

Okay, I wrote this piece of flash fiction last year on Christmas Eve. There wasn’t much of a plot other than velvet dresses and Rosemary Clooney. Enjoy

Kate

Christmas Stories

So the title of this post is rather misleading because I’m not talking stories about Christmas, but books that happen to have Christmas within the pages of the book.  Sadly enough, what first came to mind when I was thinking about this was a romance novel by Lisa Kleypas titled “Suddenly You.”

I love books that have that Christmas theme running through them.  It doesn’t have to take up much of the story, but I love when you draw it in and it is what makes up an intrinsic part of the plot. Maybe a gift from the hero to the heroine. Something personal even though they are at odds with each other.  Maybe it’s the heroine going away to her parents to regroup after being totally befuddled by the hero.  So you have her staying there during the holidays, and her crazy smart sister gives advice that leads the plot on further.

Maybe, like the case of Dear Mr. Knightley, by Katherine Reay, the heroine learns more about herself and being loved and loving others. (I loved the Christmas part in Dear Mr. Knightley.

In Suddenly You, the heroine is a spinster that breaks down and goes to the lavish party being held by her new publisher, a rakish man.  The party is incredible and the hero is sexy, and heroine is sweet, and they finally give in to their desires and decide to do something about it….. I mean sex, by the way.  Lol.  I’m so laughing here because, really, is this what Christmas has boiled down to?  Sex?

I’m just joking because I really do love this part in the book. And in any book where it comes to play.  There is something magical about the holidays, and the attitudes of people.

If I had been having a novel written about me, I went to meet my boyfriend years ago on the holidays.  That was a massive mistake, but it made me who I am now. And I could have probably written some interesting stuff about that holiday.  So long ago, and that said boyfriend is now married to someone else and they have a baby girl. Go figure.

So I’m curious, does anyone have a specific book that has Christmas within the walls of the book that just makes them feel ooey gooey inside?  Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone has one of my favorite Christmas themes in it. I love the wizards chess and the cloak… (I’m afraid I’m thinking of the movie as well)  And I love the Chronicles of Narnia The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe and the Christmas-y theme in that.

So what book do you love with a Christmas vibe?

Kate

Three French Hens

3-french-hens-550x320It’s the 3rd so I’m just going with the ‘Three French Hens’ and playing off that theme.  I dare you to not sing the rest of the song….

Two turtle doves, and a Partridge in a P-E-A-R TREE!  Now you will be singing it the rest of the day. You are welcome.

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These were one of the sets I found today. So french. So me.

French. All things French or Francais.  I have a thing for France.  Part of this is coming from the fact that I found more notecards from Le Jambon Paperie at my second hand store today.  This stationary store at Etsy has been out of stock of the adorable French note cards. I actually originally found them at my second hand store and swiped them up without a thought otherwise.  And just today, more designs were out.  Oh how I love my second hand store.

I love sending notes to Jules. Or Boris. Or my grandma. Or anyone else I can send a note to.  And these are perfect with a thick card stock, smooth for fountain pens, and a gorgeous design. Totally french.

And carrying on the french theme, I know some, having taught myself french, mais oui, and I collect french things. I have several dictionaries that are English/French and books that are plays, and grammer, and scarves, and a Muffy bear with a Paris outfit.

Oh how I love French.

86820d2efe91ac81d3254bd9e1154a95And now, just to go to France would complete me.  I’m trying to get Boris to take me. See, he goes to Monaco every May…. Which just so happens to be my birth month.  Oh if only he would take me.

And I think I could do Paris at Christmas.  Tres bien.

 

Au Revoir ma chéries.

Kate

 

 

Christmastime Rewind A La Charlie Brown

charlie brown christmasIt’s the second of December and tonight A Charlie Brown Christmas will be playing.  I’ve yet to watch It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!  I feel like I am horribly behind with these Charlie Brown’s. I think he’d be proud.

I seem to be quite behind with certain things. I haven’t watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade….. Yes, I dvr’d it. This seems to be my MO for a lot of holiday things. I record them then get back to them when I can.

Sometimes I wish life was like this. I wish I could record something or put something on hold till I had time to get to it.  Pause a part of my life so I could skip forward to what I want to do or need to do.  Rewind if I make a mistake. Fast forward when I really want to get out of the icky parts.  Not that I’ve had a ton of ick, but you know, sometimes it happens.

Life hurries by to quickly, but then not fast enough sometimes. I’d like to be able to stop and savor or fast forward at will.  For instance. I’m a 32 year old woman who lives at home and is waiting on Mr. Right.  (I am not willing to settle for Mr. Right Now) Years ago, this would be okay, but by societies standards, it’s not.  Yes, I run the family business with Mrs. B, since Mr. B can’t, but still, I am a 32 year old woman living at home.  My parents would like me gone, but at the same time they tell everyone they couldn’t do it without me.  They tell me I can go at any time, but they also are getting up there with health issues that I am not ready to help manage.  I feel like I can’t even manage myself.  Heck, I can’t even find a guy who will take me. (that sounds really weird when I write that out….)tumblr_luwdgfhdkp1qb9pa3o1_500

I’d like to fast forward this part of my life.  I want to speed by and get to the point of where I meet Mr. Right (if that ever happens)

But then if I were to do that, I’d miss all the other things in life. It’s the unknown that get’s to you.

And if I could I wish I could rewind to moments in my life when it was really good. So that I could go back and savor.

But then, you are living in the past, before you knew what you know now. Was it really better?  Probably not. We think life would be easier if we were kids again, but that only works if you don’t know anything that you know now. If I were a kid knowing what I know now, I’d go insane.  Ignorance is bliss, and that is so true.  Yet, saying that, I don’t want to be ignorant. I want to know as much as I can and keep learning….

And all of this because of Charlie Brown. (This was not where this post was going at all. I was going to talk about Christmas music. Another time, I guess) But a rather morose post. Sorry, dearies.  But on a brighter note, this is my 400th post. Whoo Hoo!

Signing off

Kate

Trees

2013's Christmas tree at the home of Kate's Bookshelf.

2013’s Christmas tree at the home of Kate’s Bookshelf.

It is the first of December already. How is this possible?  Wasn’t it just July? Wasn’t it just hot?

Normally by this time of year we would either have a. purchased the Christmas tree from a tree farm, b. already had the tree up, or c. it was in the bucket of water waiting to go up. None of those apply this year. We have yet to get our tree even due to relying on a friend to cut down a tree from the National forest and bringing it to us.  Where we live, we can get a lovely tree for only $10 if you get a permit from the Forest Service and go out into the forest and cut one down.

There is nothing quite like having a fresh tree from the forest.  They are spectacular, bugs included because yes, they come with bugs. Or spiders.  I mean, it’s from the forest. What do you expect? Sterile and sprayed with chemicals? I don’t think so. And I don’t do artificial.  Last year we were getting our permit from the forest service and the two young guys working there, rangers, were discussing the fact that one of them only has an artificial tree and sprays it down with pine tree scent so it smells.  What The!!!?  I mean, come on. You work for the forest service. You know where the trees are. You know that the forest is filled with too many trees. (and people that live in the city and are liberal, don’t try to tell me we are running out of trees. that is a pile of crap. A huge load of hog crap [why hog? because it smells worse than cow])

I love having a Christmas tree up. Usually it is up for a good two months. Yes, just when people are thinking about Valentine’s Day is when our tree is finally coming down.  Sue me. I love Christmas.

So, I am anxiously waiting for our tree. Not quite ready to figure out the rearranging of the living room to fit said tree, but well, that’s part of life.

So, when do you put up your tree?

Signing off

Kate