Dust In The Wind

Nanncy J Steward

Description

The Wheel of the Year turns, seasons come and go and meld into myths of the past, present and future. It was a time when man, fairy, animal, witch and preternatural creatures freely walked the earth. The Bards, the story tellers of yore, told their tale throughout time, forever written in the stars.

Sujets

• Fiction
• Fantasy

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris US
• Date de parution: 07 novembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781669854401
• Langue: English

Extrait

DUST IN THE WIND
 
 
 
 
 
 
Nanncy J Steward
 
Copyright © 2022 by Nanncy J Steward.
 
Library of Congress Control Number:
2022920675
ISBN:
Hardcover
978-1-6698-5442-5

Softcover
978-1-6698-5441-8

eBook
978-1-6698-5440-1

 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
 
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
Rev. date: 11/07/2022
 
 
 
Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
845370
CONTENTS
Dedication
Incubus
Valley of Shadow
All Hallows Eve
Life Everlasting
Winter Masque
Hauntings
Narcissus
Solstice Dreams
Island Universe
Unbound
Night Moves
Starry, Starry Night
Twilight’s Song
Serenity
Lady Day
The Mourning Dew
Phantom
Dark Abyss
Visions
Witch Hallow
Desolation Blues
Magic Charm
Solitaire
The Witch’s Familiar
Tyme
Ghost Ships
Shattered
Dust in the Wind
Presence
Eyes Wide Shut
Midnight Bliss
Twilight Secrets
DEDICATION
To my beloved Monster and Pooh whose unconditional love and devotion has gotten me through the best and the worst times. No one could ask for better familiars. And to all my other familiars waiting in the Summerland, I have not forgotten you…I’ll hug you again one day. To my gingers Mango and Magic who brighten each and every day.
For you, Mom, you never truly believed in me. To you writing was a waste of time…now you can believe.
To those who have believed in me through the years, thank you; your words of encouragement meant the world to me. Thanks for making me laugh Danny!
And to my mentor, Cecil Neth, who made my days at Colorado State University special.
INCUBUS
In the pitch black
Of the witching hour
You whisper my name
Beckoning me from
My slumber
Your icy touch glides
Across my warm body
Like a welcome breeze
On a hot summer night
Urgently expressing
Your desires
My unearthly lover
Your breath, cold yet inviting
Tantalizes my senses
Your kiss endearing
But sweeps my breath away
I am drawn to your embrace
Like a moth to a flame
In the darkness
We are bound by
Our seductive dance
Of unbridled passion
Time seemly stands still
Within this preternatural universe
Moans of desire
Echo through the ebony night
As dawn peaks through
The crack in my blinds
I awaken cold, alone, spent
Your touch lingering
Along my thighs
Your scent still in the air
The taste of your kisses
Etched upon my lips I lay in dream-like state
Awaiting your return
In the witching hour.
VALLEY OF SHADOW
The world is a bleak tableau
And I, cast from the panoramic stage
Weep for all that has
Been robbed from my being
In one shattered moment
As array of dreams
Lay in shards beneath my feet
The blood runs cold in my veins
As the earth greedily enfolds
The sacrificial offerings
In icy hibernation.
ALL HALLOWS EVE
Wind blowing through the screen
Black cat howls
In the dead of night
Awakening the spirits
Who roams the realms
When the veil between
The land of the living
And the land of the dead thins
A ghostly melody floats upon the winds
As the underworld dandy
Dances through the tombstones
Flirting with the long departed
Souls of ages gone by
Exalted visions bound upon the terrestrial sphere
Witches weave spells in the darkest hours
Familiars watch swaying
To the beat of the ancient’s chants
As the night comes to life with
The myths of the generations
Candles burn, flicker as the dead
Pass through the veil, then fade within the shadows
On their way to the Summerland
Magic is afoot
Wear a mask out into the night
To ward off evil that lurks
In the stillness of the darkness
Stay far away from the churchyard gate
At the midnight hour
Or you might become the cemetery walker
Honor all those gone before you
Whether they be beast or human
Light a candle of white
To guide them on their journey
All Hail All Hallows Eve
LIFE EVERLASTING
It was the year 1887. The cool, crisp autumn was filled with magic, just a hint of frost in the air. I was twenty three years old. The last harvest was upon us, a time my father had called Samhain. I felt invigorated for the first time since my father’s death in the spring. My house keeper had been busy baking breads and the aroma of delectable dishes of the season filled the air.
“Tilley whatever will we do with all this food?” I said laughing.
“Sorry Miss,” she said bowing her head. “It’s a hard habit to break having done this for your family all these years.”
“I know it’s alright…really. What we don’t eat I’ll have sent down to the church.”
“Will you be having dinner at midnight?”
“Yes. Father would be so disappointed if we didn’t. Tilley curtsied and turned to stir a pot on the stove. “Tilley, be sure to dress up nice for dinner it’ll just be me and you. We’ll fill our plates here in the kitchen and eat at the grand table in the dining room.”
“You want me to join you, Miss?” she said. “I thought Mr. Daniels would be joining you.”
“No Tilley, he didn’t even respond to my invite…” her voice trailed off.
“Ungrateful, unforgiving lot they are, Miss, after all your father had done for this community this is how they treat you.”
“Yes, it appears I am to be shunned by the Sacred 36 and all within their circle because of the scandal.” I wiped away a tear that rolled down my cheek. “Now Tilley will you be joining me for dinner?”
“Oh yes, Miss. It’s been a long time since I able to dress in one of my good dresses.” Tilley smiled as she bustled about the kitchen.
“Good. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather share dinner with. I think I’ll go to the parlor and read until it’s time to change into my gown.”
As the ancient clock in the corner chimed the 8 o’clock hour I went up the winding stairs to my room. I stopped at my father’s door, remembering how I would watch him as he fumbled with his tie as he got ready for a dinner party. It seemed long ago since he’d stood in this room, far longer than the six months since his death. I stepped into the room it was just the way he’d left it. I lovingly ran my hand along the velvet bedspread. I picked up his smoking jacket, holding it close as I inhaled deeply of his scent and the spicy scent of cloves. Tears filled my eyes as I ran down the hall to my room.
The 9 o’clock hour chimed as made my grand entrance down the stairs dressed in the latest fashion from Paris. My dress was low cut showing off my cleavage; it was made from red satin, covered in a black lace overskirt with tiny beads dangling off the hem. I wore my favorite leather boots that father had brought back from Italy two summers prior. My auburn hair was combed away from my face but left to flow freely down my back. As I descended the staircase I greeted my invisible guests with my most dazzling smile, nodding haughtily at the Denver high society. I thought of witty things to say with just enough sarcasm to make the comments sting.
I laughed walking about the room pretending I was still part of the sacred high society, lost in my fantasy. I sat before the fireplace in the great chair and sipped a rum and punch as my illusion faded enjoying the quiet solitude within the darkened walls of the stately mansion on Grant Street. My thoughts turned to the weeks before my father’s death. He’d died amongst rumors of witchcraft and hedonistic rites being performed within our gardenwalls; his character tarnished, leaving me alone and shunned by everyone. A nosy passerby had heard him chanting in the garden and had climbed the wall to see my father naked performing a ritual one full moon night. The rumors flew through the city like a wildfire catches in dry tinder, unstoppable until it runs out of fuel.
Denver society suddenly turned their back on one of their most beloved professors, the university said they’d no longer needed his consults and the students he tutored left his service one by one. Father never let on the rumors of devil worship bother him he walked down the streets with his head held high and greeted everyone as he always had. But the lack of visitors to the house, the loose of his friends took its toll. He busied himself with his studies, started to write his epic novel when he caught a cold. The cold lingered for weeks, finally turning into pneumonia. My father died late one spring night with me and Tilley by his side; neither his friends nor colleagues came to his funeral. We buried him on a cold, over cast morning in the cemetery on the hill. Tilley and I walked with the hearse to his grave as people we had called friend turned away as we passed by.