A Quote Post Challenge!

I was nominated for this Challenge by Charles French at charlesfrenchonwordsreadingandwriting.wordpress.com, a great place to stop by an refresh your creativity. Thank you Charles for nominating me.

I love quotes, I always have. It is wise, I think, to gather wise words to live by and here are several that give strenght, hope, and love too!

Einstein

“I have no special talents. I am only passionately curious.”
Albert Einstein

 

Oscar Wilde

 

 

“Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.”
Oscar Wilde

 

Lewis Carol

 

“Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”
Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

Rumi“The wound (in your heart) is the place where the Light enters you.”
Rumi

 

                                                                   

 

 

I nominate:

1. http://www.aviewtoabook.com

2. anotsojadedlife.wordpress.com

3. waywardspirit.wordpress.com 

 

 

 

                

Kurt Vonnegut: 8 Basics of Creative Writing. — A NOT SO JADED LIFE

Kurt Vonnegut created some of the most outrageously memorable novels of our time, such as Cat’s Cradle, Breakfast Of Champions, and Slaughterhouse Five. His work is a mesh of contradictions: both science fiction and literary, dark and funny, classic and counter-culture, warm-blooded and very cool. And it’s all completely unique. With his customary wisdom and […]

via Kurt Vonnegut: 8 Basics of Creative Writing. — A NOT SO JADED LIFE

A Review: A Veil of Time

A Book Review

A Book Review

A compelling tale of two Scotlands-one modern, one ancient-and the woman who parts the veil between them by  Claire R. McDougall

Imagine, if you can, waking up one morning to find you have gone back in time. You find it is difficult to breathe and you might even start hyperventilating. You hear strange noises as you sit underneath an outcrop of stones wondering “if there be dragons”.  You hear the sound of what might be Gaelic and hear what sounds like savages. Early human hunters are now climbing up the stone ridge not far from your hiding place. You suddenly realize, you are barefoot in your summer P.J.s, the ones that bought for a special occasion, rather sheer and lacy. The voices of the hunters are getting closer. You see them now! And, god save me, they see me.  The hunters are tall, broadly muscled and near naked. You close your eyes and click your heels three times, knowing you are not in Kansas anymore.

The following description of A Veil in Time describes perfectly what this book is about.The medication that treats Maggie’s seizures leaves her in a haze, but it can’t dull her grief at losing her daughter to the same condition. With her marriage dissolved and her son away at school, Maggie retreats to a cottage below the ruins of Dunadd, once the royal seat of Scotland. But is it fantasy or reality when she awakens in a bustling village within the massive walls of eighth-century Dunadd? In a time and place so strange yet somehow familiar, Maggie is drawn to the striking, somber Fergus, brother of the king and father of Illa, who bears a keen resemblance to Maggie’s late daughter. With each dreamlike journey to the past, Maggie grows closer to Fergus and embraces the possibility of staying in this Dunadd. But with present-day demands calling her back, can Maggie leave behind the Scottish prince who dubs her mo chridhe, my heart?

A Ship of Gossamer Wings

 

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I pray for a ship of gossamer wings,

To ferry me back to whence I came,

I wish to see the centuries past

Till I come once more to that sacred place,

Where I left my heart, my love,

On a silent knoll, on Gaelic soil,

Beneath the shallow shale and stony plain,

On a winter’s cold white snow,

I wish I could remain,

Until I turn to dust upon his grave;

Fair winds, I know will come with spring,

Our spirits will rise to take, at last,

The ship of gossamer wings.

@kdemersdowdall 2016

A Saturday Book Review For Romantics

 

DreamspellI am a romantic and although I love a good mystery, a good thriller, and a terrifying horror story from time to time, I love a gloriously written love story. Dreamspell is G rated and is one of those stories that you will fall in love with. It is about hearts and souls, not the physicality that haunts so many romance stories.  It is difficult to find the words to express how emotionally driven this novel is and how I fell in love with this timeless love story, complete with trials and tribulations, betrayal and redemption that soar in this beautifully written historical romance. Of all the historical romance novels, I have read; this one will stay with me long after all the others have faded from my memory. There are heart-stopping moments, unparalleled bravery, a love that transcends time, and characters that come to life so vividly that you will know them as if you really do know them. This one, you must read and you will fall in love with it.

 

THE HARPY

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I wish for a tropical breeze to lighten the intense humidity that hugs this August morning.  The porch, thank goodness, is high off the ground and the mildewed screens somewhat block the steamy rays from the sun.  The sky is intensely blue and the ocean is still and quiet—waiting. I breathe in slowly through my nose and exhale gently through my mouth, waiting for what I know must come. I am powerless to change my fate.

My notebook is before me and I stare at the blank pages.  I have been siting here now for what seems like hours trying to begin a story that I must tell.   I must make sense of it, at least in my own mind. Perspiration drips from the corners of my temples.  Tendrils of fading blond curls are damp across my forehead and I push them aside with the back of my hand.

The old mahogany armchair I sit in, with its old cane seat, presses into my bare legs making my skin feel sticky and I am sure that deep patterns, now imbedded on the backs of my thighs, will blister, courtesy of the mahogany chair.  I shift uncomfortably, and vow to retrieve a pillow from the sofa when next I rise.

The breeze I had been waiting for finally arrives like a soft whisper across my cheek and I turn my face toward its source, the sky and sea.  In the morning light, I open the notebook that is now somewhat damp from the humid air and I begin again searching for the right words, the truest of words. It will come to me…..I know it will. I close my eyes and I try to remember all of it.

_________

Out of the gathering darkness, a whispering voice, close to my ear, speaks, “Dare ye not linger lest she bring a curse upon ye, child.” I turned quickly to the voice, but nothing was there. A chill went up my spine. Moments later, again, the disembodied voice spoke, “Dare ye not linger lest she bring a curse upon ye, child!” This time the voice was urgent and fearful.

I feel an unreasonable fear, of what I did not know. I grabbed my cousin Jordan’s arm to plead with him to let us head for home. He took no notice of me and continued to stare at something that was standing beyond the gate. I turned to look and before us was something that could only have materialized out of a Grimm’s fairytale. She glared at me and her dark crystal eyes began to glow so brightly that the darkness disappeared around us. The hag-like woman, lifted by unseen wings, soared over the gate.

The whispering voice behind me suddenly gave out an ear-splitting scream that shook the ground where I stood. The hag-like apparition in front of me screeched with such an unearthly sound that I dared not move, even if I could. I was still holding Jordan’s arm and he turned to me as if to wonder what I was doing.

“Jordan”, I whispered, “What is that?”

“What is what, Ana?”

“You know, the old hag, the woman, Jordan.”

“Ana, there is no woman, only a light in the window, but there was nothing to it. Let’s go home.”

I was incredulous. Was I the only one who saw and heard the unearthly screams?  My young cousins, Richie and Anise seemed not to be at all aware of what had happened.

I couldn’t understand what was wrong with them and then once again, I heard the whispering voice behind me and I angrily turned to respond. The whispering apparition was floating in the air, in front of me, her hair aflame, burning as brightly as a bonfire, “Thou art hexed, forsaken in ye life, poor child,” she said. “I begged thee not to gaze upon the Harpy.”

The apparition’s voice was sad and low as she slowly disappeared into the night.

___________

 The Mahogany chair is now hot against my thighs as the chair begins to rock back and forth. I know what is coming. The Harpy now stands beyond the screened porch. Her dark crystal eyes peer out from under the dark mane covering her head.  Another form appears on the porch, near me. It is the apparition, I now know as Nellie, who has been protecting me all of these years. The Harpy’s unholy screech suddenly pierces the air and in turn, Nellie’s high pitch scream drowns out all else. These are the truest words. Listen, now, to the screams, should you hear them and abide, for it is far to late.