FICTION & POETRY, WRITING

Wild Roses

‘Let me take you by the hand, ‘ he said.

‘I will take you to to the place where the wild roses grow, we will sit a while upon the the lush green riverbank beneath a sun kissed sky and watch dragonflies dance upon peaceful waters as they flow by. There is no other, my dear, I plight my troth to thee!’

I took him at his word and my True Love gave to me a rose. Petals as dark as blackest night. The thorns tore deep and caused my heart to bleed. My red blood fell upon pure white snow. My tears lost upon turbulent seas. A murder of crows cawed at my misery, the truth was there to see. My True Love lied to me.

🖤🌹🖤🌹🖤

Eily Nash (2019) ⌒*✰‿✰*✰‿✰

LIFE, Uncategorized, WRITING & BLOGGING

FEELING PRESENCES

blur cemetery colors cross
Photo by mali maeder on Pexels.com

 

Feeling Presences: a little true story…

There is a woman I used to know  Eloise, I helped her a lot with stuff over the years, younger husband falling for a younger woman, his cheating, the divorce that ensued and an old lover who put in a reappearance in more than one way…

Back in the day the love of her life, Carter, treated her badly, preferring bikes, beer and mates. They split but she never really loved anyone like him. Years roll on and they meet and seeing she is (as she supposes) happily married they stay just friends, with the occasional benefit. He wants her back but she knows it would not work. The friendly beers with the boys had long ago turned into addiction.He was a highly functioning alchoholic.

Anyhow, he died suddenly, his once fit body ravaged by years of abuse gave out way too soon. She was heartbroken. Came to see me for tea and sympathy and maybe hoping I may get my Tarot cards out. There was no need, as  Eloise walked into my kitchen, Carter came in too!

I saw him as a large grey shadow by her side. I could ‘sense’ what he looked like but not see him other than this very tall, grey shadowy  shape. I told her he was there and where he was standing. 

She said she knew, she felt him come in too and hoped he would give me a message for her. 

Then to my shame something happened I regretted.  This was years ago and I didn’t know how to use the ‘gift’. 

I heard him inside my head, his voice. Wanting me to connect my energy with him to let her Know he was OK. 

I was scared I would not get rid of him, so I closed down. But not before  he told me to let her know he had loved her, she had been his true love, the love of his life and he had thrown it away. I thought Eloise would be hugely upset, but she wasn’t, his words were what she needed to hear to lay the ghosts of their past to rest. Eloise left and she was  happy…Until the husband’s skulduggery came to light, but that is a private matter, not my story to tell.

Now many years have passed, and many Spirit visitors later, I do know how to send them on their way, just always feel bad about that one!

The spooky stuff that has really happened to me, I have enough to write a book and not one of my usual fictional ones!! Maybe I shall…one day.

 

© Eily Nash

Uncategorized, WRITING, WRITING & BLOGGING

Over The Sea To Skye

The Seashore~ Henry Margetson  (1900)
The Seashore~ Henry Margetson (1900)

 

“Wild is the beauty Of Barra’s Land

Harsh Waves Crash Upon Silver Sand

My True Love Abandoned Me Today 

Left Our  Unborn Child To Sail Away 

Brought  To My Knees, Left in Poverty

For A siren’s Call Across The Seven Seas”

 

I’ve always been fascinated by abandoned places and the fragments of the past lingering in the stale air. Is it the remnants of lost hopes, I sense? Fragments of dreams and burnt out desires? The Croft was one of those places with so many stories to tell and I wanted to hear them.

 

Crofts
© Steve Hynes ~ Reproduced by kind permission

 

Tapping into residual energies? It is what I do and I’ve never questioned it, accepting it just ‘is what it is.’ They never leave, those old ghosts from the past, their memories becoming just another layer on the atmosphere. And if they chose to reveal their secrets, as a whisper on the wind, then I have a greedy ear to listen.

 

IMG_3070
© Steve Hynes ~ Reproduced by kind permission
IMG_3071
© Steve Hynes ~ Reproduced by kind permission

 

I walked over to a small wooden framed window, dirty panes of glass, eyes dully staring without seeing, the wild beauty of the land. The taste of sea salt hung in the air flung up by harsh waves beating down upon soft silver sands. Who stood there, looking out at me looking in? Did they ever wonder what lay on the edge of the horizon, what lay over the sea from Barra to Skye. Intrigued and wanting to know more I approached the door, coated in  peeling paint of soft pink and covered in lichen. It beckoned to be opened. I reached out and grasped the iron handle, blackened and rusted with age, expecting it to be cold to the touch. Instead I felt it crackle as a jolt of electricity ran up my arm. The magic had begun, hands from the past were still imprinted on the handle. A melancholy creak and the door opened, allowing me admittance to a forgotten world. Who would be waiting and would they be willing to speak? Would I have too many questions, for which there were too few answers?

And then I heard her! A soft whisper in my ear as gentle as the kiss of a summer breeze.

I’m still here.”

“Talk to me,” I said, “tell me your story.” And she did.

Flora was her name, a bonny lass with red hair, flowing like molten lava down her slim back.  She shyly lifted her head to look at me, her eyes filled with innocent guise, and matching her simple muslin dress, a splash of cobalt blue in a grey place.

The impressions came flooding in, gossamer threads of the fabric of her life. She’d loved him and leaving the comfort and protection of her Father’s castle walls ran away with her Sailor boy,  freely crossing  over the sea from Skye to be with him in the croft.

Life was harsh but Flora comforted herself when it was cold outside the flames of passion and desire he ignited in her were all she needed. The warmth of his love and the fire burning brightly in the grate would keep bad at bay. Until the fire went out, leaving ashes and dust…

IMG_3069
© Steve Hynes ~ Reproduced by kind permission

Slowly Flora came to realise she was not enough for her man. She shared him with his Mistress. It was a bitter blow to see his eyes light up when he heard the siren’s call,  in a way they no longer did for her. With sad resignation Flora knew, once his Mistress summoned him, he would go. Much as he loved his young wife, when the sea whispered his name, he was lost.

Many a moon tide she stood waiting upon a lonely shore, looking out to sea and praying for his safe return. He would return. He always did once the yearning to be free and sail the seven seas had been assuaged, then he would hold her and love her and she would forgive and forget. Hope burnt brightly within her innocent heart. He was her lover, her friend and husband in the eyes of God above and father of her children yet to be born. Bonny bairns who would play at her feet. Strong sons who one day would go to sea and ease their poverty, such dreams had she!

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© Steve Hynes ~ Reproduced by kind permission

I sensed the atmosphere change. Anticipation, excitement and the thrill of laying in his arms replaced by a dull dread.

Silence. She was fading.

“What happened, can you tell me?”

Outside the sky was blackening, dark storm clouds approached. I smelt the promise of rain, harsh and bitter.

“Ohh..Flora…” I felt her pain, “Talk to me…”

I heard the rasp of the door swinging open.She had no words left. It was time to go. I took a final look around and followed her out. The croft was empty, love did not live here any more.

 

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© Steve Hynes ~ Reproduced by kind permission

The tide was going out and I made haste down to the beach, passing a rocky outcrop of granite monoliths. Had she too passed this way? Were the stones silent sentinels witnessing her silent scream as day became night and night day as she waited, fear descending as a clammy shroud.

At the closing of the day, as the light was fading away, I saw her standing there upon her lonely shore. Calling, calling…

 But her love did not hear, for he was lost to the deep embrace of a cold, cruel sea. The siren had called. He would not return.

Her words were carried on the wind over the sea to Skye for no one to hear but me…

© Eily Nash & Steve Hynes ~2018

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© Steve Hynes ~ Reproduced by kind permission

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am indebted to Steve Hynes for permission to use his atmospheric photography and for the gift of sharing his beautiful writing which brought Flora’s tale to life.

POEM, POETRY, Uncategorized, WRITING & BLOGGING

Lament for a Lost Love

 

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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