Phaedra was aware the sun was hanging low in the sky and would be setting shortly. She would need to make haste if she were to avoid the impending gloom once it disappeared into the horizon. Her mind had been …
Lost in the forest of dreams She walked in the shadows Wrapped in velvet night A blessed cloak of darkness Soothing her unquiet Soul ~Eily Nash 2018
Beguiled by her terrible beauty And the lure of Obsidian eyes I followed her essence willingly Into a midnight velvet world Only to find my beloved’s heart Forged in a foundry of darkness Somewhere North of Midnight …
As the Orchestra struck up the music and the dance floor of the Waldorf Astoria glittered into life, Florence stood up. She reluctantly took the outstretched hand of her long time dancing partner, Old Nick. As he swept her …
Deep within the darkest heart of night dance slender beams of soft Moon Light. Brushing aside the despair cloaking the ancient ruins, La Luna’s children playfully danced amid dank and gloomy walls all that remained of the glories of the past. With carefree abandon the darting …
“I knew these people…once…It was a long time ago…” She looked like she needed to talk, some fragmented ghost of a memory rattling around the caverns of her mind seeking to find a voice. So I pulled up a chair and …
Daughter of the beguiling dusk
In the space betwixt day & night
Incantations, incense, liminal rites
Conjure a bridge across forever
From the binding chains of reality
To your magic castle in the sky
Where you can touch eternity…
© Eily Nash (2018)
Fancy a #iamreading #treat …
A delicous #shortstory #book for you…
Free on the Apple Bookstore ~Get your copy now!
A delicious collection of short stories, with supernatural undercurrents…
Midnight Movies ~Night, that strange nocturnal world, inhabited by amoral London drug dealer ‘H’ who may have just sold his soul to the Devil.
Beguiled By Beauty ~ ‘I am an actress,’ she said, ‘A weaver of dreams and a maker of magic!’ Maude beguiles a married man in a bar in MidTown, New York. Will he betray his wife?
Dancing To Darkness ~ Johanna choses to ‘Dance with the Devil’ when she takes up with Nick Mephistopheles only to find there is a price to pay. Nick already owns New York City and now he wants to own her, body and soul.
On A starlit Sea ~ “If you could, would you?” From her Manhattan Penthouse, Stella looks out over the twinkling lights of New York searching for something…or someone.
Angel Of The North ~ Darkness comes creeping in and Cassie is lost and alone under Newcastle’s iconic ‘Angel Of The North’. A beguiling stranger offers to guide her way home, to herself. Will she accept his help?
Image: Pixabay.com
With his beautiful mind and stellar intellect, Helios was an adept of depth psychology reading people like the pages in a book.
But when it came to her, unable to decipher his own feelings, the Supernova that was Elara remained an enigma, and so the mysteries of love, like the furthest reaches of the Universe, eluded him.
Eily Nash ~2018
She was a dangerous secret, kept hidden from the world.
How could he explain that when he looked into her Obsidian eyes he was afraid of what he saw looking back, reflections of the darkness in his own soul.
Who could understand, when he could not make sense of it himself, the deep feeling of love he had for the Nightwalker dwelling in the tangled forest of his mind?
Many women came and many women went, as he tried to forget her. But he knew she was just a whisper away and if he were to say her name, she come. Yet fear kept him silent for he knew only she could assuage the longing in the dark recesses of his lonely heart …
Eily Nash ~2018
Photo by icon0.com on Pexels.com
Phaedra was aware the sun was hanging low in the sky and would be setting shortly. She would need to make haste if she were to avoid the impending gloom once it disappeared into the horizon. Her mind had been full of thoughts of the talking Owl she had met in the Night Garden at dusk yesterday. She had been eager to share with Hepzibah, who smiling, had observed, ‘That garden is full of witch’s weeds, you need to realise that some of those herbs can be hallucinogenic, My Lovely.’
Once again, Phaedra was left confused by the paradoxes she was encountering in Wychwood. Either the veil between worlds really was very thin or else she was suffering serious delusions. As the overgrown dirt track meandered downhill, her eyes were firmly fixed upon her next step in an attempt to avoid stumbling on the loose pebbles. Nimbly side stepping one of the many offerings left by an equine traveller who had preceded her on the ramble, Phaedra looked up as a glint of light caught the corner of her eye. Stopping in her tracks, she became aware of a perfect circle of chestnut trees as she watched the sunlight dappling golden light on the rich green leaves. The branches slowly swayed to the music of a gentle breeze, leaves quivering and dancing to the soft low hum of the wind. Golden light twinkling and sparkling on the rich verdant leaves and the deep brown nuts that littered the floor, cracked open from their protective spiky casings.
Gently stepping over the fallen harvest, Phaedra answered their invitation and stepped within the circle of trees, noting by the girth of their trunks and the strength of the long outstretched branches, that these were indeed Grande Dames of the woodland. Their age and wisdom were apparent from their gnarled and knotted yet strong proud and beautiful trunks. Their outstretched limbs intertwining and interconnecting with each other, embracing each other in an intricate lattice work of wood which seemed to grow tighter and more close knit as Phaedra moved to the centre,
‘Ah, the circle is cast!’ she thought.
The norns Urðr, Verðandi, and Skuld beneath the world tree Yggdrasil (1882) by Ludwig Burger.
Within their protective conclave she became aware of a quiet communication, first between the whispers of the wind, and then between each sister tree. With a jolt, she realised that the trees were speaking not only to each other, but also to her, to Phaedra! They were imbuing her with a sense of themselves, of what it felt like to have roots that sank deep down into the verdant rich dark soil, their root systems mirroring the branches above, all interconnected and intertwined. Phaedra felt tingles in the soles of her feet and with a start realised that she had sunk ankle deep into the earth, but she did not feel any fear, just an awareness that her toes; the bones and nervous system and veins seemed to be growing and extending beyond the confines of her flesh.
She was growing roots!
Roots that meandered through the earth, touching, connecting, wrapping around those of the trees that surrounded her, and it felt good. Phaedra raised her arms up high in sheer joy, and once again the tingle, and her fingers seemed to elongate, the flesh, veins, bones, nervous systems stretching, stretching up to the tall branches, connecting, weaving, latticing into those of her sisters around her, for now Phaedra felt at one in the circle of the Horse Chestnut sisters.
Above her upturned face, the sun in a final swan song, burst through the density of the leaves, bathing Phaedra in a golden light. It felt so good to pull the light of the sun into her body. She felt it travel through her limbs and trunk, and then as the sun sank on the horizon she became aware that all was suddenly dark. From the blackness of this void a light appeared, whirling before her eyes, as its motion slowed to a standstill, there hanging in the nothingness was a perfect golden hexagon. And within the six points of the star, a silver tree was transposed, its branches perfectly fitting the three upper points of the star, and its root system stretched out in symmetry over the lower three points of the star. Then a blinding flash of light in the centre of her brain and the symbol seemed to be absorbed through her crown chakra with the words,
‘As Above, So Below.’
In that moment in time, Phaedra knew the cosmic synergy of heaven and Earth and the importance of the trees as fully sentient beings upon the Earth, working in Divine Service of Source.
Then nothingness, the void.
The loud chattering of the birds stirred her to her senses. Phaedra was surprised to see the Sun was rising, no doubt awoken from her slumber by the sweet call of the birdsong.
She was lying curled up on a carpet of springy moss and sweet smelling chamomile, under the protection of one of the huge Chestnut trees. Stirring to remember how she had come to be here, a whirl of thoughts flooded her mind and senses…feelings of being one with the trees, of having roots that stretched deep down into Gaia’s warmth and received sustenance and grounding; of having strong branches that stretched heavenwards. She felt the warmth of the sun bringing life giving energy down through her body, she recalled the feelings of pleasure of having beautiful leaves, and bearing flowers and fruit that in turn delighted and nourished. She was pleased by the shelter she gave to the birds of the air, the insects, and creatures of the forest. Of the pleasure of the wood nymphs coming to dance and play, and the heavenly delight of being of service to the Light of Source and beloved Mother Gaia by providing oxygen on the Planet.
As Phaedra stood and stretched, she noticed a young sapling delicately rising from the rich earth just by the strongest and oldest tree. From one of its tender young branches a glint caught Phaedra’s eye. Stretching out her hand, she felt a familiar tingle, and there in her palm was a perfect silver six-pointed star pendant, on which a tree was wrought in gold.
The young tree seemed to whisper on the wind…
‘My gift to you, Mother…’
Phaedra knew her child, laying still within her womb, would be born with the wisdom and strength of the trees.
As above, so below.
© Eily Nash ~ 2012
Extract from my book “Wychwood” available on Amazon.
image from Pixabay.com
Kyle was a star Poker player He kept his cards close to his chest, never showing his hand, confident his next move would be undetected until he made it.
That was until he met Nell.
It wasn’t until the last hand, he realised that all along Nell held all the aces even though Poker was not her game.
Chess was.
Nell was used to taking King’s down, planning her moves many steps ahead.Too late, Kyle realised he needed to change his game.
Checkmate…Game Over…
Eily Nash ~ 2018
#flashfiction #microfiction
My heart dances
To Your heart’s beat
For You are the rhythm
And I am the song …
Eily Nash ~2018
Image:Pixabay
I have an insatiable hunger
Yet I cannot feed~
For my only appetite
Is my dark desire for you…
~Eily Nash
Image:Pixabay.com
Knowing you did me wrong
I penned the lyrics to a song
Oh the sweetest agony
Of your truth and lies
Behind innocent eyes
You played me hot
You played me cold
Who would you choose
Could I bear to lose?
Was it her? Was it me?
Was I your Queen
Was she your scene?
What are you to me?
A bittersweet symphony.
~Eily Nash~
I see you
And all you do…
You do not see me
For you do not have the ‘eye’ to see…
Eily Nash -2018
Haunting Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
Lost in the forest of dreams
She walked in the shadows
Wrapped in velvet night
A blessed cloak of darkness
Soothing her unquiet Soul
~Eily Nash 2018
Photo by Pete Johnson on Pexels.com
The sun rises
I breathe
I laugh
I cry
I die
The sun sets
I am gone
Leaving the River of life
To flow on…
~Eily Nash~2018
Image: Courtesy of Pixabay
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
Beguiled by her terrible beauty
And the lure of Obsidian eyes
I followed her essence willingly
Into a midnight velvet world
Only to find my beloved’s heart
Forged in a foundry of darkness
Somewhere North of Midnight
Had captured my eternal soul
Eily Nash~2018
Beauty Image courtesy of DarkSouls 1 @ Pixabay.com
If I were to slip away from you,
As a Shade in the night,
Would you hear my silence
Carried on the wings of regret?
Eily Nash~2018
Is waking reality all it seems
Does Truth lie within your dreams?
In your thoughts and in your head
The Shadow Dancer in your bed
She is the ice, she is the fire
She is the flames of your desire
Through the ethers Magic flew
Did her witchcraft enchant you?
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
Eily Nash (2018)
Image courtesy of Pixabay
When the Music stops
Your name plays on…
For you are the notes
In every love song…
Eily Nash -2018
Hidden in my heart
There is a magic field
Where wildflowers grow
From the scattered seeds
Of all my broken dreams…
Eily Nash (2018)
Artwork: Veronique Charron
It’s Friday afternoon and here I am curled up on my favourite couch, pushed up close to the red brick feature wall, it allows me a sweeping view of the rest of the dimly lit interior, it is the best seat in the house. Comfortable and discreet and perfect for me to enjoy my favourite past time, people watching. I’m enjoying the enticing aroma of freshly ground Arabica beans brewing, all the better to tempt the taste buds of of our patrons. I also see a fresh lemon drizzle cake has arrived on the counter, baked by the fair hand of Cassie. I’m sure there won’t be much of that left this evening!
I’m Henry and I run things around here at the “Black Cat Café ”. That’s Cassie over there, with the fluffy blonde hair and huge amber eyes, if she were a feline she’d be a playful Persian Kitten, but you do have to watch her, sometimes Kitty has claws! Cassie is a people person. Me? I’m far more reserved, cool, detached and maybe even a little introverted. As you have noticed I am an actual Cat, a rather lovely Burmese, with silky black fur and jade eyes that miss nothing. Maybe I am biased but just like our downtown coffee shop, I am rather unique and special.
Could be “The Black Cat Café” feels like home from home, a little haven nestled amongst all the bustling commerce, catering to that strange human need to hang out with other humans. It’s cosy and intimate with discreet seating, an eclectic mix of distressed brown leather sofas and sumptuous armchairs covered in velvet hues of deep purple and forest green. We have lots of plump Liberty print cushions scattered about for patrons to sink into and enjoy a leisurely break from the humdrum world outside. Low, mahogany tables with fresh Freesias in china vases and tiny tea lights in coloured glasses add to the sense of being in an intimate space. An ornate gilded mirror picks up all the twinkling fairy lights strewn around the walls. Cassie happily hosts local artists, displaying their vibrant work. The vibe is vintage, eclectic and super cosy. There are plenty of little nooks and crannies for those desiring a quite tete a tete, friends sharing intimacies, lovers sharing secrets. We cater for those wanting to see and be seen too. Sat outside at our cast iron Bistro sets, they are welcome to light up a cigarette, sip an espresso and watch the world go by European style. And all from our Waterfront pavement in our quaint little corner of Providence.
Interesting what you see in a coffee shop, all the little vignettes of peoples lives, how they interconnect and entwine. I like to people watch, maybe because I’m such an introvert, a window on the world without getting too close. Maybe I am just a discerning cat. It is just like front seat watching your favourite day time soap opera as life’s little dramas play out. I can tell a lot by just looking at a person, where they choose to sit, what they are drinking. Now, you for instance, are a cat person, I can tell you will enjoy just sitting here and soaking up the atmosphere, the scents and sounds. Cassie likes to play the blues on the stereo. I prefer the sultriness of Lana Del Rey and Beth Hart, she plays them too. Says they capture raw emotion, love stripped bare. Cassie gets things, that’s why she is my person. I don’t like to share her.
Come and join me, I’ll be glad of your company and happy to chat for a while. Plenty of space on this old couch. Grab yourself a steaming mug of your favourite brew and people watch with me. Don’t be shy, I find that introverts like to join me, they don’t feel so obviously on their own with a cool cat for company.
“Why thank you Henry, don’t mind if I do. I think I’ll go for a Macchiato and a slice of that lemon drizzle cake. Let me introduce myself, I’m Tyler, I’m a writer, people watcher too. Like to observe the depth psychology of interpersonal relationships. See him over there in sports clothes, with the well dressed woman, what can you tell me about them?”
Ohhh…Those two…They meet in here every Friday, same time, same seats, same drinks. An English Breakfast tea for her and a Skinny decaf Latte for him. I admit I like them. Good. Decent. Married. The last six months I’ve watched it all happen and watched it all unravel.Observed the other players in their little world, too. They haven’t noticed me, noticing them.I can tell you it all, what went wrong, ripped them apart. Shame really. I would have liked to have said something to them, let them know they could make it better, but it would not have worked. They wouldn’t have heard me.I’ve had eyes and ears on them. I think this is a ‘make or break’ coffee date…I know Cassie thinks so too. The whole thing has put her on edge. Oh, my steamed milk has cooled down, just a few sips and I shall share my observations, my dear Tyler!
“I’m intrigued, Henry, do tell!”
Black Cat Pixabay.com
He’s called Chase, he’s from the Mid West. Tough guy. Made it out of the ghetto and sidestepped the gangs into law enforcement, rapidly rose to Captain in one of Chicago’s toughest precincts. Had the heart of a lion, fearless on the mean streets, got burnt out, saw way too much too soon. She’s a New Yorker, Manhattan, a real UpTown girl. I’ve intuited all this from the stories they tell each other and things Cassie has said. Life brought them here to Rhode Island. He may be in his late thirties now but still has a great deal of stamina and physical strength, keeps himself athletic, runs marathons. Cassie said it keeps his head clear, I disagree. Who or what is he running from?
“What about the woman, she is beautiful, but a lot older, ten years easily?”
Her name is Venetia, she’s all Fifth Avenue elegance. Look at those pearls, the Chanel suit and those Manolo heels. If you get close enough, you’ll get a waft of gorgeous heady Italian perfume, classy dame. He smells of fresh pine, a forest of green stuff. My Cassie smells of fresh baked muffins, I think I prefer the muffins myself.
“They look like a mismatched pair, Henry, don’t look like they would have any meaningful connection?”
Looks are deceiving my dear Tyler, do what cats do…Look at those eyes, so dark but shine so bright. I wonder if that was the draw for him? Those eyes are cats eyes, see things that others don’t. I can tell that she ‘sees’ him. Knows him well. He seems to like that. She has a fierce intellect. He likes that too. Admires her for her depth, not threatened by her mind like some men would be in the company of a Psychologist. Her Practice is a few blocks from here, she’s been in with a few of her clients. The Black Cat Café is discreet, comfortable, puts them at ease to open up to her. Cassie is okay with her doing some counselling sessions here. Now if she were a cat, she would be a sleek and elegant Russian Blue, him he’d be a Savannah. Chase still has a wild side. Cassie says she has yet to meet the woman could tame that one and if the ‘one’ ever arrives that will be the last we see of Chase around here.
“So Chase is a bit of a dark horse, a player then, Henry?”
Hard to tell. His eyes are fathomless. They may be blue. They may be grey. Depends on his mood. I have wondered if he, despite all his physical strength, is desperately trying to keep bad at bay. He isn’t easy to read. But I noticed that Venetia saw down into that deep dark well and into the hidden place where he keeps those old hungry and angry ghosts on lock down.
“Oh, that is rather deep, Henry. It takes a lot to bare one’s soul. Somethings we never admit to, even to ourselves. World stays safe that way.”
Yes, you are right. The unsaid ‘thing’ … He knew she knew... and he loved her for it but he just could not tell her. It was complicated. Humans, funny things. Felines are so much further along the evolutionary scale, cats say what we mean, mean what we say. Demand what is ours. Take it if necessary…
“What happened, Henry? Do you know?”
Of course I know, I’m a cat, I know everything and I was right there, under his feet! Saturday night he was sat on my couch knocking back Jack Daniels, Venetia was at a conference in New York and Chase was badly missing her, couldn’t sleep, he gets these nightmares. Cassie was upstairs visiting the land of dreams so I decided to keep an eye on things down here. He called her. Too much alcohol, both of them, and it all came tumbling out…unsaid words, finally said…And he got afraid. Of her. The truth. Possibilities. Life… And she was ashamed, she crossed a line, didn’t know how to go back… Pity really, They were so good for each other.
“But he is still with her, sat over there? They are both wearing wedding bands. Surely it didn’t end that night?”
No, it should have done. Been cleaner. Better for everyone, and no one would have got hurt. Instead he did the craziest thing and ‘let the Stranger in’, took up with Maggie. Caused a lot of complications around here. I don’t judge, but I didn’t like that. No, not one bit. Cassie was very upset by all the drama.
“Who is this other woman, Henry?”
She’s the innocent looking blue eyed blonde at the counter, watching them, whispering in Cassie’s ear yet again. …wish Cassie would unleash her claws on that one, but she’s standing there listening to her … And because Maggie is her sister, Cassie is believing all her lies…Hiss…I wish she would get the hell out of MY Café and back to her Five and Dime store!
“Oh Henry, what a surprising turn of events!”
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
I wasn’t surprised, saw it coming, he was meeting her in here, right at their table! She tries to emulate Venetia, her wit and her wisdom, but she just isn’t her. A perverse thing in him needed to regain control. Shut those ghosts up. Make his world safe again. So he chased and caught Maggie . Felt pleased with himself until he realised that the hunter became the hunted and Maggie was not for letting go or keeping things under wraps. But something deep inside whispered, then shouted. His soul cried for the woman he truly loved… But to be with her he would need to be true to himself, stripped bare. Accept what she could and could not give to him. Would he choose to do the inner work she was willing to help him do? Or would Chase cut loose?
“This Maggie must have have something. Some people cheat because they can, others cheat because there is something fundamentally missing in them and they are seeking integration through another person, trying to find a way to make themselves feel whole again. What do you think, Henry?”
Maggie is the first, Chase is the second. Venetia told Cassie in confidence that in her professional opinion Maggie has a Histrionic Personality Disorder. She needs a lot of attention, demanding more than Chase could, would or even should give her, didn’t see past herself and that he was hurting too… God, how was he hurting. As a psychologist Venetia knew both of them had issues and thought she could help them both through it… She just ended up getting burnt in the flames of her own desires.
“All very deep, Henry, do you think he will choose Maggie? Or Venetia ?”
Hmm…Neither…I am hoping he wakes up, smells the coffee and plumps for his long suffering, loyal and understanding wife!
“I thought you said they were already married, Henry?”
I did. They are…
Photo by picjumbo.com on Pexels.com
…just not to each other…”it’s complicated”… I told you it was like a soap opera around here!
Chase is married …to Cassie…
“So Venetia is?…”
Venetia is Chase’s therapist and Maggie’s too and er, also her wife!
“So let me get this straight, Chase and Cassie, Chase and Venetia and Chase and Maggie?”
Yes…Humans…What are they like?!
Artwork: Veronique Charron
© Eily Nash 2018
A Haiku…
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Love’s Secret Desire
Kept Safe Hidden Within
Heart’s Locked Repository
Eily Nash~2018
Sultry Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
Under a blanket of night
Your scent sets me alight
Your kisses laced with fire
Ignite flames of dark desire
I am lost in the stars above
In the firmament of your love
© Eily Nash 2018
Image from Pixabay.com
They call me H, it’s not my name, it’s the product I sell. Work nights, late nights, all night. Suits me fine. I can’t sleep, keep going…the uppers, the downers, the highs and the lows. Night, that strange nocturnal world. For most people the darkness is a blanket to soothe tired minds, not me, I am unable to find a shroud to wrap my unquiet soul in peace and blessed sleep. You see, there are these wasps buzzing in my head. Angry, insistent. I don’t want to give life to them, those electrified thoughts. But they are incessant and won’t stop. Try to block them out, but the drugs don’t work, not now, not anymore. I did a deal with the devil, long time ago. Thought I wanted what he had to offer, fast cars, fast women, fast living. Respect. Power. Got it all then found I didn’t want it anymore. But there was no way out, no going back. You see, that old devil had sealed the deal in blood. I’d seen too much and done too much and he was there to witness it all. Told me the Man Upstairs wouldn’t want my sorry arse. No room in heaven when you belong in hell. And believe me, there is no hell worse than that of your own making.
It’s getting late, the night sultry, still greedily holding onto the heat of a scorching summer’s day. Somewhere sirens are wailing. I’m restless, edgy. I’m up, I need to come down. Take a few shots of Grey Goose and light a Dunhill. Pick up the phone and text my girl “Meet at the Heath in ten.” Didn’t wait for confirmation, knew she’d be there. Grabbing my keys I leave. It is a long way down from the seventh floor when the lifts are broken. I live a high life in a low life place. It’s a concrete jungle, and from the ground the sky is just a distant memory. The walls start closing in on me, feel like I’m at the bottom of a deep dark well. No way out. No light.Those wasps buzzing in my head again. Damn those thoughts, getting louder, shouting for attention. I need release and I need it soon. Firing up my Porsche, I kick down all 700 horse power and in just 2.7 seconds the turbocharger on the 911 powers 0 to 60 and I roar off into the night. A hungry beast looking to feed on fresh meat. In nine minutes the sprawling urban estate with all its edgy energy is far behind me, I’m in the lush lanes of Hampstead Heath and the pumping stereo is discordant and jarring here. But I don’t care, I want the noise distraction to shut those fucking wasps up until I get relief.
Photo by Juhasz Imre on Pexels.com
As I swing into West Heath Road, Kimber is waiting under the soft orange glow of a streetlamp. She thinks she looks good, all long blonde hair, killer heels and short black leather dress, with a tease of a lace stocking top on display. The bitch looks like a Hoe, just how I like her. Then like a miracle cure, the mind chatter stops. All I think of is her, wanting her , needing her, now. I grab her hand and lead her deep into the undergrowth. It’s easy to find a quiet place on the heath, there is enough space for all those other creatures of the night out doing their thing too. She wants to take it slow, I have other places to go. Goods to deliver, money to make. I wind my fingers tightly into her hair, pull her to me and kiss her hard. Its fast and furious and I am lost for a moment in time, caught in her sensuous scent and hoping she will bring me blessed release. She doesn’t and I push her away. I’ve seen that look in her eye too often, the ghosts of the women I’ve reeled in, beat them, cheated on them and then cut loose leaving them with kids, heartbreak, addictions, just walked away and all without a backward glance. No mercy, no remorse. Kimber could have been different, she was edgy, damaged and fun and took no crap from no man. I liked her, a lot, but she wasn’t the ‘one.’ Did I even know what I wanted?Someone to watch over me, love me for who I truly was and saw what I could be, not what I had become. Someone who would raise me up after my fall from Grace, and shut those fucking wasps up? An Angel, untainted by the filth that was my life? Did I even deserve a ‘one’?
Photo by automnenoble bogomolov on Pexels.com
“Go home to your husband, Kimber.”
“Call me?”
“Yeah…” Knowing I won’t. We’re done here.
I walk her to her car, she leans in for a kiss and I light a Dunhill instead. That look in her eyes again, but I don’t care. Reaching into my pocket I pull out a couple of wraps.
“Something for after, Babe, for you and the old man.”
She pushes my hand away, “I don’t want drugs, the drugs don’t work, I want you, I thought you knew that? Wanted it too?”
Shrugging I slip the Black Leb back in my pocket, I have plenty others want what I got. I don’t need “it’s complicated.” Suddenly her heady perfume is overpowering, her voice annoying me. I open her car door, I see tears in her eyes, she’s got the message. But her tears don’t matter, she doesn’t matter. I need release, I need peace and she isn’t it.
Looking at my Rolex, it’s ten before midnight. I get in the 911 and my slate grey beast roars into life and I am gone, leaving her with her memories. It’s a short drive to Primrose Hill. When the noise in my head gets too much I come here, park up and walk to the top. Only me and the demons who like to keep me company, sitting in darkness watching the lights over London town. I pull out another Dunhill, take a long drag of nicotine. I don’t do my own merchandise anymore, Kimber was right, the drugs don’t work. The devil, he showed me these lights once, from a different vantage point. I liked what I saw and grabbed the life with both hands. Now here I am sat alone in darkness, searching for something but not knowing what. I’ve had the cars, the money, the drugs, the violence, the women, the life. A big player in my urban prison. The devil sold me a deal. I sold him my soul. Now, I’m feeling like I want it back. The wasps start up again, buzzing in my head, driving me crazy. I’ll stay here from midnight until dawn breaks, watching my own personal open air screening of the double feature horror show of my own mind movies.
I want to sleep but there is no sleep for the wicked…
© Eily Nash -2018
Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com
Deep in the dark caverns of your mind
Thoughts threatening to capsize you
A small boat without safe harbour
Lost upon a vengeful and merciless sea …
My heart has heard your cries of pain
Felt the heavy burden of unspoken words
Weighing you down with secrets untold
Brought to me on the wings of the wind…
Photo by Denis Yudin on Pexels.com
And as a Lighthouse in the darkness
Allow me cast Hope upon your despair
Come find your way back home to me
For just one moment in time, stand still…
We shall drink in the sweetness of life
Smile at bees and wild flowers dancing
Walk through tall meadow grass
Listening to love whisper in the trees…
Photo by Felix Mittermeier on Pexels.com
For the magic of nature feels
The yearning of your heart
And I, your Soul friend, reach out
And silently say “I know…”
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
© Eily Nash 2018
Photo by Alexander Krivitskiy on Pexels.com
As the Orchestra struck up the music and the dance floor of the Waldorf Astoria glittered into life, Florence stood up. She reluctantly took the outstretched hand of her long time dancing partner, Old Nick. As he swept her elegantly into the diaphanous throng of chiffon and lace she stumbled. His vice like grip on her arm and steely glare ensured she would not cause him further embarrassment. She flinched and blinked away hot tears of anger and shame. It hadn’t always been like this. They were so in step before…
Florence once thrilled at being in the company of rich and influential Nick Mephistopheles. He wasn’t handsome and his age was indeterminate, but he had charisma and a dark charm. Nick’s business practices were more than shady, but as long as she was on the receiving end of his largesse Florence didn’t give a damn what people said about him. There were rumours he was part of the underworld, they said there were other women but she didn’t care. Florence was a night girl, drawn to danger. Nick’s lifestyle was an aphrodisiac. They said he ruled New York City and went for the jugular of anyone who opposed him. Was she afraid? No, it didn’t seem to worry her, it gave her a rush. She didn’t give a thought that there may be a heavy price to pay for his patronage when their first dance had begun all those years ago.
“What kind of business are you in, Nick?” Florence asked with an engaging smile,
“I’m a people person, a collector,” his reply was enigmatic and further enquiries subdued by the string of exquisite black pearls he draped around her slender neck.
“How can I possibly repay your generosity, kind Sir?” She already knew she would do anything for him. The lavish Manhattan lifestyle was highly addictive for a girl from a Brooklyn brownstone.
“Oh, I guess body and soul should be payment enough, yours and others I send you to collect!” There was a twinkle in his coal black eyes and she thought he had jested. Back then. Back when the dance had begun.
Nick was generous. Florence only had to express a desire and it was hers for the taking, fabulous jewels, designer clothes, the Fifth Avenue apartment and the prestige of being on his arm. All the hedonistic delights the city offered were hers for the taking. New York was his plaything, a bauble in his hand. No one quite knew where Nick’s power came from. No one dared to ask…
Nick liked to work hard and party hard. He liked all eyes on him and he had a ruthless and vindictive streak with rivals in both the ballroom and the boardroom. Florence was a huge asset to his dealings. Nick rewarded most handsomely when she performed. With a Siren’s call her beauty brought victims to Nick’s lair. It was all a game to Florence, well paid with a hint of danger. She liked that. The glitter and glamour were as seductive as hell and Florence willingly checked in all morality and conscience. The years passed and she continued taking to the dance floor and dancing to Mr Mephistopheles tune. No questions asked.
Tonight, there was unease in the air. Florence was tiring of their ‘Les Liaisons Dangereuses’and told him she wanted out. She told him she wanted more, she wanted love. Nick laughed in her face then grew possessive and wrapping his strong fingers around her neck he drew her close.
“Florence, we have a contract. I own you, body and soul.”
As she tried to pull away he kissed her hard on her ruby lips. There was none of the usual passion, just a stamp of ownership. She shuddered. The ballroom had become a prison and her dancing partner her gaoler. They had sealed the deal a long time ago – When you dance with the devil, there is no way out…
It was time for a new dancing partner. Nick would have to go. As the thought crossed her mind, she saw the Stranger and he saw her. And Nick saw him too. Savagely he grabbed her wrist, and snarled,“Stay with me, Florence. Better the devil you know...”
LeandroDeCarvalho
Florence broke free and without looking back made her way across the empty dance floor. All eyes were on her, but she saw no one only the charismatic stranger. He seemed to emit a numinous light. Music sublimely filled the ballroom and she moved inexorably into his arms.
“Do you want to dance?” she whispered seductively.
“Only, if you are willing to forsake Nick’s protection and come with me to the end of time, Florence.” He brushed her face with beguiling lips and shuddering she realised his mouth was as cold as the grave.
“I will…” she paused looking back at Nick’s table, but he was nowhere to be seen.
As the stranger held out his hand, it dawned on her he knew her name, but she did not know his. Just who was this beguilingly beautiful man? With prescience, he smiled and answered the question swimming in her mind.
“Lucifer.”
As she gasped, he swept her into his arms and onto the dance floor. The Orchestra struck up the music and the plaintive strains of Sibelius’ ‘Valse Triste’ filled the air. The Last Waltz would truly last forever as Florence danced with the devil to the edge of darkness…
Leandro DeCarvalho
© Eily Nash 2015
Beautiful Images courtesy of Pixabay.com
“Dancing To the Edge Of Darkness” from my collection of Supernatural Tales, available on Amazon as paperback & Kindle.
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
© Eily Nash 2018
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Beautiful Image from Pixabay
‘Would Sir care to join me in my bedchamber?’ she enquired, head tilted coyly to one side.
Adam was taken off guard by her request, this was a move he had not anticipated. Evelyn had been so elusive his normal confidence with women had subsided. The lady had spoken and he did not need to be asked twice. With gallant good humour Adam responded,
‘If the White Queen so wishes, then her Black Knight is honoured to acquiesce to M’Lady’s request!’ Adam made his way across the flagstones of the darkened Inn. As he followed the swish of Evelyn’s long Gossamer dress as she vanished into the all-pervading gloom, he smiled quietly. He had set out to play a game to win, a game of check mating her into the bedroom. Now the tables had been turned, Adam really did not care. He desperately wanted to be close to Evelyn, and not for any of the reasons he has started with. It was not lust that now motivated him, there was an almost magnetic pull to his beautiful, beguiling companion. They had started a strange journey together, and Adam was more than happy to see where it led to, somewhere across forever, he hoped.
At the top of the steep and narrow stairs everything was absolutely pitch black. He was aware his feet were treading on ancient wooden floorboards that creaked in complaint at their weight. Evelyn continued catlike down a long length of corridor. She did not seem to need any light to find her way.
Adam followed closely on her footsteps, not entirely comfortable in the pitch blackness. He heard a rasp as an antique door was scraped open across the ancient floor. Then totally unexpectedly light illuminated the darkness. He had gained admittance into M’Lady’s bedchamber and Adam Knight, arch womanizer was as nervous as hell.
Evelyn’s room was lit with a myriad of candles. They were on the stone window ledges of the two latticed windows and also placed in the hearth of the large inglenook fireplace in which a fire was lit and blazing with dancing red and gold flames. The heady scent of Patchouli filled the room.Momentarily, the thought crossed his mind that the entire evening Evelyn had not left the lower floor, what unseen hand had lit the fire and fresh candles? She walked towards her four poster bed which had been hewn from rich dark oak and ornately carved. The bed was draped with heavy silk brocade, purple and gold threads entwined in an elegant pattern. Adam was surprised. Downstairs the Inn had been so dilapidated. This room was fit for a goddess, for his own personal goddess of the Half Moon Inn.
And there she stood by the light of the fire in all her beauty. As Adam regarded his Eve, his heart filled with love. She was just so delicately beautiful and ethereal. He had never been a religious man, yet he found himself whispering to her a verse from King Solomon’s Song of Songs:
‘Who is this woman?
She seems to shine like the dawn.
She seems as beautiful as the moon.
She seems as bright as the sun.
She is as wonderful as the stars’
And in return Evelyn whispered softly.
‘My Beloved is mine, and I am his.’
Evelyn slowly removed the Gossamer dress, letting it slid down her body and fall in a gently crumpled heap at her feet, she delicately stood out of the dress and stood before him in her nakedness. There was a translucent quality to her unblemished porcelain skin, almost as if she were not of this world. In the soft light of the dancing flames she was timeless and numinous. Adam, enthralled, walked towards his prize and ran his hands through her long black hair and entwining his fingers in Evelyn’s luxurious, flowing locks. His eyes were fixed on hers, lost in their depths of darkness. She still held mysteries as yet unfathomed but the night was not over yet. He saw his own face reflected back in the light of her eyes, and saw softness there, he also saw compassion and tenderness. He saw Love. With exquisite tenderness she undressed him and taking a little vial of oil from the hearth, she kissed his head, hands and feet as she reverently anointed his body with precious Spikenard. The aroma of the heady amber oil filled his head as Evelyn, taking his hand in her delicate fingers gently led him to the little latticed window.
Throwing open the panes, a rush of cool air stroked their naked bodies.
‘Isn’t she beautiful?’ whispered Evelyn, looking skyward. The storm had passed and the night sky was a black velvet blanket covered with a myriad of sparkling diamonds. The moon hung low against this celestial backdrop, a perfect orb of brilliant milky white.
‘A giant pearl’, he smiled, ‘A moon pearl!’
Evelyn did not answer as she stood moon gazing. She was totally transfixed, entranced looking at the heavenly orb.
Raising her slender, milky arms into the air, her slender body swaying gently, she began chanting and intoning sacred words.
‘What are you doing’, he puzzled.
‘Drawing down the Moon’, came back her cryptic reply. With eyes closed and her body still slightly swaying she chanted melodic words.
‘I am the Maiden,
I am the Mother
and I am the Crone
I am the Hart and the Moon gazing Hare
I am the Holly, the Ivy, the Oak
I am the Owl, the Nightingale and the Crow
I am the Forest, the Meadow,
I am the Hearth and the Home
I am the Rivers, the Oceans and Seas,
I am the Light of the Night and Lilith’s Dark Moon
I am your Hopes, your Fears and all your Desires
….all that there is dwells in me
I am the Goddess of the Triple Trinity.’
Evelyn appeared to have an aura of shimmering light around her body. Her body was present in the room, yet he could see she was transported to another place that was not of this world. Adam saw she was lost in a trancelike state, caught between him and the magic and mystery of the moon.
Adam was not sure if the effects of the fire and candle light were causing him to see things. Her face was lost in rapture and she appeared to radiate an inner light. At that moment he did not know her. She was more than his delicate Eve, she was emanating a supernal light, a power and radiance. The moon beams were dancing in the room and there was a feeling of power and wonder. As Evelyn’s chanting and swaying increased he felt a surge of ecstatic energy course through his body, as if he were electrified and alive with her pulsating words. And then she was quiet and still, it all subsided and Adam, filled with emotion, fell to his knees, wrapping his strong arms around Evelyn’s slender waist. Burrowing his head in her soft belly he sobbed as he had never ever cried before. His hot tears ran in rivers over her soft skin, and Evelyn tenderly stroked his hair, and let the release come. All the pain stored in his heart burst forth. The dam had broken and the floodgates opened. Eventually the wracking sobs abated and he felt cleansed. Looking up at the brilliance of the moon, a peace descended upon him.
‘Thank you Mother’ he whispered into the night sky and Lady Luna shining her benediction down upon her son.
He felt the light touch of Evelyn’s skin on his. Tenderly she raised him to his feet, and dried his wet face with strands of her long black hair. Taking both his hands in hers, she led Adam to her bed. By the light of the fire and warm candle glow their bodies entwined. Every brush of her lips and delicate touch of her finger tips electrified his body. With a passion Adam had never felt before, he wrapped his woman in his strong arms and was lost in the sublime bliss of her love. Two bodies merged and two spirits soared. He felt as if he had left his body and was pure Spirit, as was his beloved. Two became one. Two bodies, two hearts, two souls unified across time and space. There was no Adam and there was no Eve, there was just unimaginable and unbearable ecstasy and Bliss. In the light of the flames and the half light of the night they danced in the light of love and experienced the almost unbearable light of being.
When their lovemaking was over, Adam held Evelyn as if he would never let her go. They lay together watching the moon in her beauty and fullness.
‘The Lady has blessed us Adam’, murmured Evelyn.
‘Ah, the Lady came alive in you my Love, Eve you are my very own Moon Goddess and I worship at you.’
Adam fell asleep in his lover’s arms, wrapped in her embrace. His tortured soul was at last content and at peace.
© Eily Nash 2012
Extract from my paranormal romance ” Torn From The Heart”
Photo by Reynaldo Brigantty on Pexels.com
“If you could, would you?” He looked at her quizzically.
“Just askin’…” Her smile held the promise of a secret she may or may not share.
Intrigued, he decided to indulge her cryptic question. “Fly around the world in a day? No, too far! Climb a volcano, thats another no, too hot! Sit on an iceberg with a Polar Bear in the North Pole, Brrr much too cold!”
“None of those things Cooper, they are too um…mundane… That isn’t the nature of the question!”
“Join a camel train and cross the Arabian desert to sip rosewater at an oasis?” Is that fanciful enough?” He saw a flicker of light in her dark eyes, decided to close her down, this was getting too deep and the game was about to start. “No, not for me!”
“Why? It’s not too far, not too dangerous, not too cold, hmm unless maybe at night. You could keep warm sipping potent Arak, and with the heady scent of incense burning wrap your arms around your true love and make love to me by moonlight and starlight! “
Cooper looked taken aback and out of his depth. He didn’t want fancy Arabian Liquor when there was a case of Coors on ice. Forget heady incense, the only smoke he wanted was twenty Marlboro Lights. And as for the desert, well his true love the New York Giants were playing in Las Vegas and the clock was on countdown to kick off.
“Is it because it is too hot? Don’t you like it hot?” Was there just a hint of sarcasm in her voice? “Afraid you may get burnt?”
“The Arabian desert is a big place just to grab a drink, and what if the Oasis was no more than a mirage, I’d be left very thirsty, can you grab me a Coors the game is starting in like two minutes.”
Purposely not taking the pointed hint Stella pressed on, “What if it isn’t more than a mirage? Unless you make the journey, you will never know.”
Walking into the kitchen, she filled herself a large glass of chilled Californian Chardonnay, took a slow sip and then another…The wine cooling her rising ire. It was all about him, it was always all about him. Saturday night, and all dressed up with no where to go, except another one way ticket to boredom city. She downed the wine, filled another glass, grabbed Cooper a beer and determined not to loose his attention stood in front of the T.V set.
“…In answer to my question ‘ If you could, would you?’ instead of sitting there watching life, what if you tried actually living life then what exciting, wonderful and amazing thing would you do?” Her voice had a sharp edge, the wine kicking in, unable to bite back the bitterness she felt.
He looked at her at a loss how to reply. Should he tell her if he could, he would shut her up, make her go away and let him watch the Giants in peace? Something in him knew he couldn’t give her what she wanted, never could, never would. She was different from all the women who had loved him and left him, a free spirit he had managed to trap and he was not about to let go, so he indulged her little flights of fancy, even though they bored him, then made sure the bars of the prison he constructed around her grew stronger and stronger, and her world grew smaller and smaller.
Seeing and mis-reading the panic in his eyes, she clasped his hands, trying to pull him up toward her. He remained seated, resolutely focussed on the TV screen behind her.
“Cooper! If you could, would you please put me first? If you could, would you please notice me?” And if you can’t would you please set me free to be with someone who would actually appreciate me?!”
“Stella, you mean everything to me, all I do, baby, you know I do it for you. Been a long week at work. The stock exchange is brutal, give a guy a break…Make it up to you. Can we set the world on fire tomorrow, You go to Nieman Marcus and get a fancy new gown and I’ll take you out to that new Fifth Avenue restaurant all the celebrities go to. The first game of the NFL season is about to start, so for tonight how ’bout you fix us a bowl of chips and join me on the couch.”
The weight of too many broken promises hung heavy in the air between them. Stella knew whatever Cooper did was all for him, none of it was for her. She also knew he was the one truly trapped, for in her mind she could always fly free…
With a sad smile she said, “I’m tired too Cooper, do you mind if I leave you to watch T.V you know ball games are not my thing?”
He nodded, relieved, “Sure thing baby, can you just grab those chips before you go?”
Stella walked back into the kitchen. Looking out over the glistening lights of the New York skyline she felt trapped in her Manhattan penthouse. Some where over the East River the stars were shining, but with all the light pollution she couldn’t see them. Stella downed the rest of her wine, wiped away the threat of hot tears and did as Cooper bid, as she always did. The Emperor called and the nightingale sang…
“Don’t get up to any mischief in your dreams, Stella!” A dismissive peck on the lips made sure she didn’t linger.
He knew where she was, safely tucked up in his bed. Once she was asleep he’d trawl through her emails and cell phone, just to make sure no hidden threat was lurking. He’d never managed to find anything incriminating, but that didn’t stop him looking. Couldn’t be doing with any one coming in and filling her head with nonsense. There was a way to handle sensitive types like his Stella, just pretend to go along with it all and then let her know she had hit a brick wall. He knew she’d tire soon enough and go off to sleep leaving him in peace. Dismissing her from his mind, comfortable in his T shirt and shorts he chugged his beer, lit a Marlboro and settled back to watch the Giants kick ass.
♥ ♥ ♥
Beautiful image by Soorelis on Pixabay
Her pillows were plush filled with Canadian goose down, the sheets cool Egyptian cotton. Stella slipped off her blue velvet dress and eased into the king sized bed. She could have cried but her tears had dried up a long time ago.
As she drifted of to sleep, the reflection of Manhattan’s myriad of lights reflecting on the East River became a starlit sea. And in a tiny sailing boat Stella’s nocturnal journey took her away from her Penthouse cage to freedom. She travelled by moonlight and starlight to a distant shore where he was waiting, in a place where love lived forevermore. The man of her dreams. Together they lived, they laughed, they loved.
And when she asked him “If you could, would you…?” He answered “If I could, I would love you for eternity Stella!
“Would you?” She whispered.
“Stella, I would stop time for you and hold you in my arms forever!”
And sweeping her up, her lover carried Stella further into the land of dreams.
She smiled in her sleep, knowing she wasn’t doing anything wrong…
After all, you are innocent when you dream…
Photo by Nghia Trinh on Pexels.com
© Eily Nash 2018
The Lament of Jephthahs Daughter (c1880) George Elgar Hicks
At the Twilight of the day
When the sun dies away
I see you standing there
Fading light upon your hair…
Feel me reach for your hands
Across time’s shifting sands
Beloved, come to me, I implore
Our Souls entwined evermore
Do I yearn for you in vain?
Do you not suffer as I do?
Hear me cry, feel my pain!
My aching Soul calls to you!
At the dying of the light
And the coming of the night
Like the ebb tide of the sea
You fade away from me…
© Eily Nash
You put a smile on your face
But it can’t hide that place
Behind your fathomless eyes
Where such deep sadness lies
All those secrets you hold
And stories never to be told
Your emotions under control
Pain searing your Innocent Soul…
I look and have eyes to see
For what is in you, is in me.
© Eily Nash ~ 2018
