you melted my heart that chill winter’s day when you lured me into the woods
by the flickering fire clothed in candlelight I rapidly fell for your charms
night after night smouldering bright my whole body liquified
but by Dawn’s harsh light my love for you fell like snow on stony ground
~~~~~~~~
Image credit: Sean Boyd @ Unsplash The image shows a rough track leading to a cottage in the woods. The track is bound on both sides with a wooden fence. There is a layer of snow on the ground.
Joey shook the woman’s hand awkwardly, regarding the smartly-dressed pair standing in front of him with a growing sense of unease; he wanted to turn away, but the man’s steady blue-grey gaze forced his feet to remain rooted to the spot. The woman smiled a thin-lipped smile, ‘we are looking for a new assistant, perhaps you might be interested?’ the woman’s smile broadened, although without a trace of warmth, while the grey-suited man moved in, taking Joey by the elbow, ‘Patterson will help you to the car.’
With a swish of her floor-length fur coat, the woman strode off, Patterson propelling a bemused Joey behind her, while the flunky, engaged to handle their luggage, followed in their wake, clutching a collection of leather and canvas bags.
Twenty minutes later, a midnight-blue Silver Shadow, with Patterson at the wheel, glided to a graceful halt outside a grand, several-storied red-brick building; Patterson got out, adjusting his immaculately-tailored jacket, before pacing around to the pavement side of the car and opening the front and rear passenger doors.
The woman stepped out, gesturing for Joey to join her. ‘I am Aurora,’ she threw out her arms in an expansive gesture, ‘welcome to my empire!’
snatching up the tools of her trade gathering together her books, her notes small remnants of her life
eyes wide with fear her flatmate clutches their little dog to her chest
travelling by train, on foot they finally reach the border her skills, at least are portable
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inspired by an article from yesterday’s SA Sunday Times in which three SA final year students escaped from Ukraine to Slovakia (their little dog, Mowgli, made it out too) Image credit: Houcine Ncib @ Unsplash The image shows a girl carrying an oversized geometry set in her arms, looking directly at the camera.
Ceridwen regarded her visitor, there was something familiar about her, although she was sure they’d never met.
Cullen jumped up beside Cynthia and started grooming his silver-grey fur; Cynthia’s face lit up, ‘what a beautiful cat, a perfect pedigree, like my own handsome cat, Asmar,’ she smiled at Ceridwen, ‘I feel I already know you, being another of Ms Hall’s characters – we were talking about you when she came around to invite us to her book launch* this Friday,’ Cynthia caught Ceridwen’s puzzled expression, ‘ah, but you would know her by her pen name, Holly Atkins, I suppose.’
A flicker of recognition passed over Ceridwen’s face and Cynthia pressed on, ‘I came to warn you about the potential danger you’re in from the Jade Camel – that little statue that Joey found the other day – you must have felt its aura.’
‘I did sense something, but when Joey went out earlier whatever it was left with him.’
‘Just be careful, I don’t know what Ms Hall has planned for the little series you’re in, but that camel means trouble,’ Cynthia stood up, suddenly feeling rather faint. It was time to get back to the familiar surroundings of her own book.
~~~~~
*The author is indebted to Spira for the promo video
Trudging through dark, rain-drenched streets, sodden feet sliding over cobbles, hope ebbs away, like rivulets flowing over muddy gutters. The storm rages beyond the border, and wave upon wave of the cowed and the cowering flee; families struggling, dragging straggling old folk and hungry, wailing kids. Doors open, women beckon, many are taken in. But not us.
midnight approaches and now the streets are empty will we ever find refuge?
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Image credit: Carter Saunders @ Unsplash The image shows a red neon sign that reads “Vacancy” over a black background.
‘The figurine is near, Patterson,’ the tall, turban-clad woman turned to her elegantly-suited companion, ‘I can tell, the vibration is strong,’ a smile spread across her carmine lips and her floor-length fur coat swayed as she swept across the deck of the RMS Redemption. The crew was preparing the vessel for disembarkation; following in her wake, Patterson with a graceful wave of his hand, signalled to a nearby lacky to attend to the mundane task of handling their luggage.
On the quayside, Joey broke open a new pack of cigarettes; he shoved the cellophane and silver paper into his pocket and drew out a battered yellow matchbox, turning from the malodorous Mersey breeze, a cigarette clamped between his lips. The match broke as he struck it, Joey cursed and fumbled another match from the box.
An arm, with a precise half-inch of shirt cuff showing from a fine grey-wool sleeve, proffered a flame from a silver lighter; the end of Joey’s cigarette flared and he inhaled deeply, nodding his thanks. The owner of the arm held the young man’s eyes with a hypnotic blue-grey stare; a regal-looking woman appeared at his side, extending her hand and smiling a red-lipped smile.
fingers slipping joints clicking every moment counts digits creaking thoughts fading time is running out no more posting no more scrolling you can’t WhatsApp me now battery’s dying signal’s failing . . .
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Image credit: 8machine@ Unsplash The image shows two skeleton’s hands reaching towards a digital device enveloped in purple-pink haze.
Yep, my little spam problem is back *sigh* If you see I’ve just popped a like in your post, please check your spam. Very likely you’ll find me there fuming. Please fish me out🎣
The sludgy stern wave of RMS Redemption smudged over the peach-coloured sands of Crosby Beach as she made her entry into the Port of Liverpool. Two figures stood silhouetted against the backdrop of the dismal docklands, the woman’s steely glare raking across the city, reaching out for something within its smoke-darkened dwellings.
Not 200 yards away, on the other side of the iconic Liver Building, Joey’s bus lurched to a halt, while a deafening blast from the Redemption’s horn, heralding her arrival, rumbled through the fabric of the towering edifice; Joey looked up, almost expecting the two birds that graced the building’s twin clock towers to take flight in alarm, and a quiver ran through his hand, as if the little camel statue had briefly flickered into life.
Cullen’s ears pricked at the distant sound of the ship’s horn and Ceridwen glanced up from the tarot cards in front of her. Troubled by the aura she’d sensed around her young neighbour, she turned to cartomancy in an attempt to divine its source. She turned over the Knight of Wands, mounted on his rambunctious steed, rearing up over three pyramids in the distance: not a card she’d normally associate with Joey.
He eyes her through the filter of his almost untouched wine glass, while she stares absently through sparkling windows at manicured gardens. Stiff as the starched collar of his borrowed shirt, he rehearses the lines he wants to say. He takes another taste of wine, the unfamiliar liquid rolls across his tongue. She sweeps from the table without a glance, leaving long-stemmed roses scattered in her wake.
seizing the moment clutching a crimson flower he strides after her but she’s already dancing in the arms of another. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Image credit: Olga Solodilova @ Unsplash The image shows a couple dining. The man has a glass of wine in his hand and he is looking at his companion. The woman is staring the other way, holding a few long stem flowers.
A gust of gritty air greeted Joey the moment he stepped outside, his keen eye falling on the bright blue ink of a bank note tumbling among the accumulating detritus scudding across the path. He scurried over, the front door slamming behind him, and fished a fiver from heap of kinked crimson leaves and dented dull-hued wrappers – a brand new five pound note! what were the chances of that? – his luck was surely changing.
Driving the note deep inside his back pocket, Joey headed towards the bus-stop with a spring in his step, sure of success in trading his new-found prize, and with none of the normal sinking feeling which frequently dogged his steps.
Joey’s fingers curled around the smooth curves of the jade camel nestled within his parka pocket as the bus lurched around the corner, offering him a panoramic view of the river Mersey from his privileged perch on the front seat of the top deck.
A huge four-funnelled cruise liner was entering Liverpool Bay, Joey wondered what it would be like to sail on such a vessel; he squinted to read the lettering on the curving bow: RMS Redemption.
luna's on line 