Sounds of human laughter and music were all around. Candles and open fires replaced the light of the sun, and shadows danced across the walls all around. Zeinab stopped to watch some of the humans that were performing, their joy filling her heart with warmth. She saw a little girl among them and let out a soft howl.

The girl came over straight away and handed Zainab some of the smoked fish she had been eating. Zainab took the fish carefully with her teeth as they looked into each other’s eyes. Her silver ankh caught the last rays of sunlight and shone gold for just a moment.

“Find Erum-Mahi Nuzat.” The girl whispered, her tiny fingers combing through Zeinab’s golden fur.

From behind, a woman called out. The girl leant forwards and kissed Zeinab’s forehead before running back to the other humans and tending to a small bush of blue roses. She looked up at Zeinab suddenly, smiling.

*

As Zeinab woke up, she played the last images of her dream again. Her home that had once been so full of life and colour, and the little girl with magic in her fingers.

“Mama? I’m hungry.” Nura, her youngest cub was nestling into her side.

“Me too! And I’m so thirsty.” Amal cried, sad golden eyes looking up at her.

Zeinab sighed and looked out at the wasteland her oasis had turned into. Soon they would have no choice but to leave the safety of the town walls if they were to live. The vultures circling above were also aware of it. They had been waiting around the ruins for some time now, there voice the only other sound left in Jinan.

“Soon, cubs. We’ll eat again soon. I promise.” Zeinab said softly. It had been almost a week since any of them had eaten. “Where are Khaliq and Masoud?” Fear pounded in her heart as she noticed the two boys were nowhere to be seen.

“They went to the lake.” Amal said.

“They said not to worry about them.” Nura added.

“Still, let’s go check on them.” Zeinab said, her gaze still watching the vultures above. She struggled to her paws, trying hard not to let Amal and Nura notice. Then, she led them towards the old lake which was almost dried out entirely.

To her relief, she found both Khaliq and Masoud playing tug-of-war with a branch close to the lake and unharmed.

“Mama, look what Khaliq found!” Masoud said when he noticed Zeinab had arrived. Khaliq let go of the branch and trotted over to a small clump of dried out roses. He came back with a silver chain thread through his fangs, from which hung a small anhk.

“What is it? Is it magic?” Khaliq asked.

“Yes, it is.” Zeinab smiled as she remembered her dream and the little girl again. “It’ll guide us to a place called Erum-Mahi Nuzat.”

“Where’s that?” Masoud asked, the branch long forgotten as he joined his brother and sisters.

“Is there food there?” Nura asked.

“Will there be water?” Amal added, looking sadly at the tiny amount of green water that was left.

“There certainly will be.” Zeinab said, feeling in her heart that that was what the girl had meant. She looped the chain over Khaliq’s neck as she’d seen the girl wear it. “Make sure you get plenty of rest today, we will leave at night.

*

As the sun set, Zeinab woke her cubs up and made sure they drank from the lake even though they moaned about the taste. In the distance, she could tall clouds of rain and longed to feel the droplets on her fur, but even the rains never seemed to fall anymore.

The land was sand and stone as far as the eye could see in all directions, not a single hint of colour of life in any of it. The distance terrified Zeinab. She had only ever left Jinan twice, and it had taken her several days to find another oasis. Her cubs huddled beneath her, all of them looking at the scorched wasteland.

“Was it always like this?” Nura whispered.

“No. Once it was full of life and woodland. There were rivers to swim in and long grasses to play in.” Zeinab replied.

“What happened?” Masoud asked.

“The humans needed the trees, so they cut them down. Eventually there were none left, and the ocean of sand took over.” Zeinab said.

“Mama? Will we be okay?” Amal whispered.

“We will, if we believe.” Zeinab replied softly. You must make it… Zeinab thought to herself as she nudged all four cubs forward. Then, she stepped out of the ruins of Jinan without looking back.

The wolves walked constantly through the dark.

Away from the stones, the night became bitterly cold. The cubs whined and cried in protest, but Zeinab knew they had to keep going no matter what. When the sun rose, the world turned from ice to fire. The road Zeinab led the cubs down burnt their paws, and their throats were painfully dry.

*

By the fifth day, the cubs could barely lift one paw in front of the other. Zeinab looked up at the sky. The vultures were still circling above, but below them, songbirds fluttered around. They were close to fresh water again.

She heard the sound of a car coming along the road, then a metallic snap from behind. Khaliq had wandered from the road to inspect a blackberry bush and gotten caught in a trap. He cried in pain and tried to pull free as Zeinab rushed over, pawing and biting frantically at the metal.

Zeinab called Masoud, Nura, and Amal to her, and crouched over all four cubs as the car stopped on the road beside them. She heard a door open. Then footsteps moving closer. The human paused to pick something up.

Zeinab looked up and her eyes met those of a young woman that held Khaliq’s ankh in her palm. She let out a soft howl and the woman smiled back. She pulled some smoked fish out of her bag and gave it to Zeinab as she crouched down in front of the wolf.

“You’re safe now.” The woman whispered, leaning forwards and pressed her forehead against Zeinab’s. “Let’s all go back to Erum-Mahi Nuzat.”

Original article: The Last Wolf of Jinan.

Original article: The River.

Light entwined with darkness as the egg at last halted from its waxing and trembled in the twilight. A crack echoed through the void and the shell broke into two, the silver crescents forced apart by jadeite limbs that stretched from the light and the darkness quivered.

The light of silver and gold which had enveloped the egg drifted apart, becoming a dragon and a phoenix; manifestations of Yin and Yang. They circled together in dance before separating in a flash of golden claws and silver wings. The empyreal dragon soaring ever upwards from its twin, while the terrene phoenix begun its slow inclination.

Pan Gu, the Coiled Antiquity, emerged from the fading light of the nexus; a colossal dragon made of jade with innumerable coils of nephrite. Letting the crescent shells drift into the ether, Pan Gu opened his eyes to the twilight, one of silver and one of gold.

The dragon and the phoenix had gone as far from each as they could bear, their bodies which had once been one yearned again for that completion of self. Pan Gu stretched out to them, a shimmering jade column spanning from silver to gold and connected the twins once more. He took the heart from each and switched them so that they would be connected evermore, and at last the twins settled; the dragon shifting into the firmament and the phoenix into the world. Pan Gu closed his eyes and let darkness ebb through the cosmos once more.

*

How long had it been? How long had he held down the land and raised up the sky? Roots had sprung from his talons and entwined deep into the ground while a crown of branches had grown from his horns to hold up the heavens. Crystalline folds chimed through the gloam as Pan Gu shucked off his jadeite skin and slithered free; a great tree which fixed the world and the sky in place remained. With the promise of immortality growing into peach blossom upon the tree, Pan Gu began to fade away; his essence giving life to the trinity he had forged with the dragon and the phoenix.

The perpetual flux of contrasting energies of yin and yang had brought wuxing into being, the five elements. Spirits emerged as starlit dew from the boughs of the tree. First wood, then water followed by metal. Earth came next, then finally fire. They slipped from the tree as serpentine flashes and skipped through the cosmos igniting each other as they came too close. They were the wuxing, born in disorder.

They were as chaotic as the primordial dark, clashing frenetically as the ground trembled and roiled and the sky flashed and howled. Cyan. Vermillion. Incarnadine. The quarrel fractured the twilight as the wuxing tore away from themselves, leaving incandescent trails throughout the sky.

Though far apart, the wuxing tormented each other. Their volatile energies brought discord back into being as they sparked and erupted, sending such commotion that the jade tree shuddered and sent the jewelled fruit towards the ground.

Pan Gu leapt into the expansive twilight; his body now more feline than serpent. From between his ivory fangs, a thunderous roar echoed endlessly and rattled the cosmos. The wuxing ceased their quarrel and were subdued by the fearsome voice.

Fire to water. Metal to earth. In a precise dance, Pan Gu moved slowly through a web of light of elements that sought pandemonium. Earth to fire. Wood to earth. The Coiled Antiquity moved carefully as he moved the unstable elements through dark paths. Wood to fire. He was cautious the wuxing wouldn’t cross each other so that they could become fixed in mutable harmony.

*

The cosmos brimmed and pulsed with energy as the boughs of the jade tree shifted in the wake of the wuxing. Pearled leaves tinkled softly in response with the promise of life.  Pan Gu understood the song deep within his heart and set forth from the tree for the final time, down to the fertile silver mass of the phoenix.

The earth below was cube of secrets, her corners brushing softly against the circling heavens. As Pan Gu soared through the heavens with gold light warm upon his back and silver immanence below, his mind was overflowing with eighteen thousand dreams. The beads of sweat had gathered on Pan Gu’s body fell into the air below to form a sheer veil that drifted across the surface.

Trees of golden peach had formed a grove where the seeds of the jade tree had fallen during the wuxing’s wrath, and it was there that the Coiled Antiquity reached out his claws into the viscous ground and laid down his head at last. Silver and gold watched over the world as his body shimmered in black nephrite and diamond. His body that had once moved with such agility through the skies had petrified into five great mountains that spanned towards the heavens.

Letting out a slow breath, the four winds were born. To the east went the Azure Dragon of spring with a sprig from the jade tree clasped between its talons. The Vermillion Bird took flight and went south in a flutter of warmth from its fiery plumage. The rumbles of Pan Gu were still echoing through the heavens as the White Tiger went towards the west, the thunder captured in its throat as its fur shimmered pewter for a moment. Through a misty veil of water formed from the droplets of sweat, the Black Tortoise slowly made its way North, the beads glistening across its ebony shell. A yellow dragon was also born from that breath, the Quilin. It remained within the grove of sacred peach trees and watched the world unfold as peonies blossomed at its feet.

Rich fields and verdant forests came from the flesh of Pan Gu. His lifeblood emerged to the surface of the five mountains and cascaded in waterfalls of aquamarine and lapis to become rivers and lakes. His skeleton that was deep within the hardening earth shifted into myriad hues of rocks from which veins of metal begun to flow. Jade and pearl were created from his marrow and semen, the jewels gifted to the world by ocean and rock.

The world sang with so many different voices as the wind whispered through grasses and trees. Rains pattered softly on stone, and far away he could still hear the chimes of the jadeite tree marking time through space. The nephrite scales that had been a part of Pan Gu since he burst forth from the egg sparkled like stars upon the ground as he looked down at the world that he had become. The four winds circled around the sacred grove and lifted the scales, carrying them to the four corners. Zephyr fingers brushed over Pan Gu’s brow as his eyes closed to the world. The first night.

The left eye shone brighter still and begun to lift towards the firmament in Aurelian light. The right eye was softer, more secretive and subtle. It lingered behind the golden orb, transmuting the golden light of day into the silver of night. The scales which had been raised by the wind began their slow metamorphosis as the ink black sky faded into dawn. The sun begun its ascent from the Eastern horizon in a fiery wash of colour before reaching the azure zenith. The first day.

Humans emerged from the scales of Pan Gu and looked upon the immense world that stretched away from them until it met the sky all around. They stood in awe, their black hair shifting in a playful breeze that whispered to them of their origin. Their eyes scanned the heavens, search the veil of blue for the majestic dragons of creation or for the jadeite tree. But behind the pearlescent clouds of alabaster, it was only the sun and the moon that looked back at them, dancing perpetually between worlds.

Reflections on the Chinese Creation Myth

I have a fascination with creation myths as I have written fiction in the past which looked at how cosmoses and worlds came into being (as inspired by J.R.R. Tolkien as a child). The story of Pangu and the cosmic egg in particular speaks to me as it focuses less on deities, but an almost scientific approach with the existence of energies that create life.

I chose to work with the Chinese creation myth of Pangu specifically as it stood out to me in particular with the way in which it is presented. There is an incredible beauty with its simple and fragmented form, and also that there is so little known of the myth particularly when compared to Ancient Egyptian and Hebrew Bible creation myths.

From chaos came Pangu, born from a cosmic egg along with the energies of Yin and Yang. Pangu was the first god in Chinese myth and was also known as the creator god. The polar energies of Yin and yang create a constant oscillating flux from which the elements (wuxing) were created; and from which all life could come into being. Upon Pangu’s death, his body transforms into the earth’s landmarks with humanity also coming from him.

Most of the myths known in China come from oral traditions which pre-date the first recorded myth in China’s earliest text, the Classic of Poetry[1]. Many of the myths were spread across fragmented forms within various other written sources[2] with the most notable resource for Chinese myth being the Shanhaijing (The Classic of Mountains and Seas). During the Age of Philosophers, writers of philosophy and history would use fragments of Chinese myth to illustrate and add authority to their arguments[3].

There is also the common theme in China is that the universe is in perpetual flux which ‘follows a fixed and predictable pattern either of eternal oscillation between two apparently opposed poles or of a cyclical movement in a close orbit’[4] also known as yin and yang.  Guo Xiang (died 312 CE) is one who questions the origin of oscillation of the Daoist movement[5] in reference to the idea of Yin and Yang energies being in constant flux, and asks that how being could manifest from non-being, and also writes that being could not therefore revert to non-being.

This thought from Guo Xiang influenced the way I re-told the creation as it touches on ‘how could something come from nothing?’; for everything to come into existence, it had to have come from something which ultimately stems from a primordial chaos energy.

Knowing that the original myth has a core structure which remains the same throughout every re-telling with finer details that vary with each writer; this allowed for full creative expression when re-telling the myth in the form of a short story.

The mystery surrounding the myth adds an arcane interest which I developed through the re-telling of the myth by focussing on how a physical existence was slowly created through cause and effect; the transmutations of energy and self, and of the various metamorphizations Pangu goes through for the world to exist.

Footnotes:

[1] Anne Birrel, Chinese Myths, First University of Texas Print edition, 2000 (Avon: The Bath Press, 2000), p.13.

[2] Lihui Yang and Demning An, with Jessica Anderson Turner, Handbook of Chinese Mythology (Santa Barbara: ABC-CLIO Inc., 2005), p.6.

[3] Anne Birrell, Chinese Myths, First University of Texas Print edition, 2000 (Avon: The Bath Press, 2000), p.13-14.

[4] Encyclopaedia Britannica, Inc., Creation Myth (2016), https://www.britannica.com/topic/creation-myth [accessed 22 September 2020]

[5] Encyclopaedia Britannica, Inc., Creation Myth (2016), https://www.britannica.com/topic/creation-myth [accessed 22 September 2020]

Bibliography

Primary Source(s):

Anne Birrel. (2000). Chinese Myths. First University of Texas Print edition, 2000 (Avon: The Bath Press).
Lihui Yang and Deming An, with Jessica Anderson Turner. (2005). Handbook of Chinese Mythology. (Santa Barbara: ABC-CLIO Inc.).

Secondary Source(s):

Anthony Christie. (1996). Library of the World’s Myths and Legends. (Hong Kong: Chancellor Press).
David Leeming. (2001). A Dictionary of Asian Mythology. (New York: Oxford University Press).

Online Source(s):

Encyclopaedia Britannica, Inc. (2016). Creation Myth. https://www.britannica.com/topic/creation-myth

Encyclopaedia Britannica, Inc. (2020). Pan Gu. https://www.britannica.com/topic/Pan-Gu

Wikipedia. The Four Symbols. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Four_Symbols

Wikipedia. Sacred Mountains of China. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sacred_Mountains_of_China

Wikipedia. Wuxing. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wuxing_(Chinese_philosophy)

Original article: Ascension of the World.

The one, solitary figure still outside when everyone else was asleep and deep within dreams turned his head away from the sky as lightning traced a brilliant path right across the valley, his attention caught by something that captured the blaze of searing white and reflected it back just as quickly.

Wind begun to howl through the empty streets and carried large droplets ahead of a fierce rumble that caused the buildings to shudder. The man spared a quick look in the direction of the coming storm before crouching down and hastily untangling an old, rusted key from among the brambles and grasping it in his hand. More flashes of lightning lit the alley up and the man could just make out a curious engraving of a magpie perched atop a branch, a single teardrop forming from its eye as it looked skywards. The man shook his head as the storm broke above the town and took off in full sprint as heavy rain pummelled into every surface.

Blue skies and harsh sunlight bore down on Ibsen relentlessly as he stared blankly at the computer screen in front. Numbers trailed across the spread sheet and bled into one another until they formed a senseless, migraine inducing blur. Even with all the office windows opened as far as the hinges would allow, there wasn’t the slightest breeze to shift the air and offer relief from the humidity and sweltering heat. He rested his forehead in his fingers while his colleague behind him cursed and took to hitting the computer as the fan ceased to work. Ibsen raised his eyes back towards his own monitor as it flickered several times before the power failed all together.

“Well that’s great. Now what do we do? We need to submit these accounts by four o’clock.” Ibsen’s colleague grumbled.

“Power’s out across the whole town by the looks of things. There’s a huge storm over Daihilu. chances are it’s hit the main power station this time, we won’t have any power back until sometime tomorrow. Probably. Anyway, there’s actually another week before everything needs to be submitted. Boss wants everything done so he can take a few days out.” Ibsen replied stoically. It wasn’t like either of them had been getting anywhere even with power functioning. 

“You mean he wants us to work our magic so he has enough budget left to invest in some fancy bullock being shown off where he’s going to.”

“Something like that. Might as well go home and do what we can later.” He shrugged at his colleague with a grin and left the office. The smell of spiced cloud noodles being cooked in the street below had tangled in the humid air with the sweet aroma of fried bean tea, distracting him all together for several hours.

Knowing that his small top floor flat would be as unbearable as the office until night fell, Ibsen set off towards the lake at the edge of town with his dinner. Meilin was slowly building its way around the whole lake, but for now at least, it still offered breath taking views towards distant mountains and the cold breezes the had rushed down from snow and ice of the peaks.

The sweet scent of peony lingered in the air and Ibsen found himself taking a detour down the same overgrown alley that led to the older district of the town where he’d seen the strange magpie engraving before. His free hand automatically felt for the key that he’d strung on a leather thong around his neck since, eyes scanning for the bird among the brambles.

He passed under a brilliant red torii gate at the far end which opened onto a street of houses built from thick grey stone either side of a deep and fast flowing stream. Arched bridges crossed over the water frequently and buckets of peonies adorned either side of all the doorways. People bustled around him focused on their business of setting up for the festival. The slightest breeze shifted through the street and traced across his skin, carrying his focused towards a small gate at the end of the street.

Unlike the rest of the street which was immaculate, the gate and the path leading into the trees were slowing being consumed by wildlife. He felt for the old key again, suddenly overcome with a desire to see if it would unlock the gate; knowing somehow that it would, and deeply curious to see where the path went. The pressure in the air intensified and a sense of urgency rushed through him, that he needed to get to the end of wherever the path went before the weather changed. Behind him, towering black clouds were gathering and seemed to consume all of the light and air from the world. Magpies chattered angrily from a nearby cypress and hopped up and down branches, their irritation with the whether catching throughout the street.

Ibsen pulled the key free as he walked towards the gate. It bore the patina of age and countless years buried in the undergrowth, but a lot of the corrosion had been sanded away and the stem of the key had a soft sheen to it from the years of being held again. He had no idea why he had  picked the key up then, or why he was now so intent on going through this gate; or even if he should. Instinct was calling him, carrying him to the gate. Trying to look like he was meant to be there, Ibsen carefully brushed the ivy away from the lock and inserted the key, scrunching his eyes shut as he lightly turned his wrist. The lock clicked quietly. Even though he’d somehow known the key would work, he let out a small sight of relief all the same before hurrying into the jade shadows of the path and securing the key back around his neck.

He went forwards without looking back, occasionally having to duck under heavy limbs of ancient cypress or covering his face as dense fronds whipped back savagely if he moved the younger branches, causing him to walk blind until the trees finally thinned back out and he found himself at the edge of the lake. Clouds of dense mist obscured much of the view in a gauze of refracted light as cold air from the mountains collided and entwined with the hot air of Meilin, though the skies above were still an idyllic azure.

From the central depths of tranquil black waters, a white pagoda glistened subtly from within the gauze clouds reached by an ornate stone walkway that lead from either shore. He could faintly make out the sounds of Meilin a short distance away, yet in all his years living in the city he’d somehow never come across this place. There was another torii gate a short walk along the lake’s shore that opened on to the bridge, a small bell suspended in the centre and chiming gently as the breeze shifted it from time to time.

On each column that adorned the bridge, handsome magpies had been carved from marble. The style reminiscent of the carving he’d seen before, though these seemed more cheerful in nature. The water of the lake was dark as pitch though the surface sparkled beneath the sun and the balustrades either side were an intricate web of finally carved stars; and walking across the bridge reminded him of the milky way constellation that was the highlight of the summer nights.

Magpies chattered and trilled all around the lake and the bells of the torii gates knelled softly, the only sounds aside from a gentle clacking and intermittent thump of a loom being worked inside of the pagoda, though as Ibsen passed under the last gate of the bridge, the sounds from inside the pagoda stopped abruptly and a young woman with brilliant silver hair stepped out, amber eyes barely noticing him as they focussed intently on the small box in his hand.

“You have Meilin cloud noodles?” She asked, her gaze finally meeting his with a startling intensity. He nodded, uncertain of what to say or do. “You…don’t remember me, do you?” She sighed and dropped onto one of the benches circling the building, looking wistfully towards Meilin. Buckets of peonies adorned the circle walk round the building here as well

Memories begun to surface. A different hot summer when he was still a child, another storm…he’d wandered far from home and taken shelter in a small shrine to the wolf spirit. Back then he’d been petrified, but he’d met a girl close in age to himself that seemed overjoyed by the storm and kept peering out from the eaves to watch the heavens clash and thunder as the rain kept them both captive. He’d felt outside of time or in a dream that day as they shared a flask of sweet bean tea, both wondering how much trouble they’d be in when they finally made it home; the girl otherworldly with her bright pewter hair and sparkling amber eyes…“…Fen?”

She looked back up at him, an infectious smile lighting up her face. “You do remember!” Ibsen sat down next to her and set the noodles and tea between them. “Are you sure you want to share this tea with me for a second time?” Fen asked, a note of mischief creeping into her voice. Lightning flickered across the horizon and the wind shifted towards them, the bells around the lake sounding with a deeper song that resonated across the still waters.

Original article: The Weaver’s Pagoda.

It’s considered the local landmark and serves as a hotbed of tourist attraction, featuring in several famous paintings over the centuries. Now conspiracy theorists are always all over it, and instead of being the subject of fine art, it dominates a sub section of the internet. Ideas range from it being some kind of crystalline battery for alien spaceships right through to it being a portal to a different realm or a military test sight for the government.

All around the base is barricaded off due to a “structural instability and risk to life”; and though there isn’t a physical guard presence these days, every angle of the rock is monitored by CCTV to keep anyone out. I’m pretty certain it has its own drone on standby these days from the intermittent whirring in the vicinity. Anyone who comes within five meters is instantly detained, no questions asked.

A drifter that would come and go from the city kept touting that it was artwork from visiting extraterrestrials; much like we ‘go to lakes and stack stones, or build sand castles at the beach’ he would say. Many of the locals always laughed him off, and even I grinned up at the abyssal sky that was leaching the last remnants of twilight away as I recalled that crazy theory. He definitely knew more about the crystal than he let on.

Closing my eyes to a sudden wind that rushed impatiently down from the mountains. The youthful leaves of spring chattered in the rush of jasmine perfumed zephyrs and one by one, stars pierced through the darkening indigo. The lone bell of the church called out it’s final peel of the day. Deep chimes rolling out from the streets and through my soul where I lay in the grassy hill overlooking my home.

Reaching for the age-worn shard of black crystal I had worn continually for two years, I thought back to a different sleepless night. My parents were out of town and a storm had been building all day. The humidity was insane. My head felt like exploding and the air was pulsing static. So I went for a walk. I bumped into the drifter outside of city as the storm broke in a violent crescendo above us. Via an unsuspecting cave, we found ourselves taking shelter deep in the heart of the crystal rock.

From the outside, the black was reminiscent of a void and even standing a few meters away from the structure, the air took on an icy chill that gnawed a person’s bones. Inside however, it was the most beautiful thing. The crystal slowed the lightning down and detracted the bolts into shimmering waves of opalescent light that washed against the crystal walls like a lazy ocean wave. The thunder that tore at the sky and shook the earth purred to us. There was such a surge of energy inside of me. I wanted to run. To dance. To fly.

My heart was skipping beats and fluttering wildly as the air pulsed around us, intoxicating and charged in ozone and sweet spice. Beneath my back the crystal was smooth and warm to the touch, like a heavenly embrace that seemed to stabilise the chaotic madness of my soul.

I woke up back at home and would have thought everything a dream if not for the yellow oversized hoodie that had been placed over my shoulders or the black crystal pendant my fingers were clutching. Now I had more questions than ever. The only thing I knew for sure was that the crystal was alive in some way and chose who could get close and being to know its secrets.

The sonorous voice of the bells finally fell silent and the wind paused its flight. My heart was again fluttering in anticipation of what was coming. The ochre of the crescent hunters moon was captured by the gossamer cloud and pooled into the ink of night. Stars shone in ferocious competition for dominance of the night sky, each a brilliant diamond. Both were silenced as static whispered in tongues of silver light edged with gold trim that gracefully wove a path across the sky, shimmering and coiling together. Teasing. Lingering. Like the scent of sweet spice that trailed faintly behind the jasmine breeze.

Original article: Writing Prompt – Starry Night.

***

I’m back with another writer challenge prompt from The Writer’s Block by Jason Rekulak. It’s good to be back writing anything again.. I think the recent period of winter-summer helped give me a boost of creativity. I was able to make it (1) out of the house and (2) actually made it to New Quay for a few hours basking in the sun. I really don’t know what it is with winters, I just switch off. So hopefully that weather forecast of unto 13 inches of snow being dumped somewhere on the UK in the next few days isn’t accurate…

Anyway, back to the point of this post and the writing prompt this time: “Imagine that you could wake up tomorrow in someone else’s body. Whose would it be? How would your life change? What are some of the first things you’d do?”

This turned out to be an interesting challenge for me, and I went with fictional characters rather than myself personally as I wanted to use this prompt to create a story. I also ended up writing in first person narrative and in the present tense which are two styles I normally run in fear from.

Do any of you use writing challenges or tags, or anything else? Let me know all about them!

‘Why don’t we swap lives for a day?’

…Why don’t we… My eyes shoot open to someone else’s life. Normally, I’d wake up to the constant grumbling of heavy traffic on the road below and the sporadic chatter that accumulated at the bus stop; to my life, back in Bristol. I’m not sure where I am now, only that there’s a blinding amount of sunshine pouring through the thin curtains and no hint of traffic anywhere near. I sit up and knead at my temples trying to piece things together. 

I had been meditating before falling asleep and decided to try astral projection for the first time in many years. My life is rather stagnant at the moment and I wanted to feel a connection to the arcane again. Anything to feel like my life had more meaning to it than a potato. Anyway, that’s when I bumped into someone else. Billie. Her name was Billie. She seemed as lost and frustrated as me, so we started talking. Turns out she wanted to escape from the mundanities of her own life as much as I, and that our lives were opposites, and that’s when she suggested we return to each other’s bodies instead of our own. I agreed, thinking it was nothing more than the madness of my own mind and my astral travel had morphed into lucid dreaming.

Yet here I am. Awake in someone else’s home. Oh god, what else did she say? Where did she work? What hours? I turn to the bedside table and sigh in relief that she leaves her phone in a similar spot to myself, and attempt to figure out the finger recognition. Someone called Rachel Scallywags sent a text asking to swap shifts, so Billie doesn’t need to go in today. I study the conversation so I can reply as authentically as I can and put her phone back down.

In a way, I’m kind of gutted I don’t get to go to her workplace. I came out of university a couple of years ago having gotten my Masters in journalism. Since then, there’s not been a single sniff of work anywhere. It’s utter madness that I live in a city and somehow can’t land a job. I’ve just been festering in my apartment being the scourge of society and avoiding people while trying to navigate the online world of self-publication and blogging.

That reminds me actually… I pick her phone back up and open up the map to see where I am. Some village called Gwithian. It’s right on the coast and I’ve picked out a cafe close by that looks like a surfer’s paradise and a good place for breakfast.

The phone beeps at me, bringing me back from my coffee and surf filled reverie and I can see it’s a response from Billie’s work colleague again. I wonder if Billie is a social butterfly? That thought sends a rush of dread throughout my body and I turn the phone off. Sorry, Billie, your phone is mysteriously dead today. I hope no one panics about her. I mean she seems close in age to me, so surely one day of silence isn’t going to cause a mass freak-out?

Okay. I’ve got someone else’s body for the day and where ever I am, the weather is way too good to be indoors. I’m also aware that Billie’s body works properly, you know, has normal energy levels and all. She probably has a better lifestyle and diet than me, which I’m no doubt about to butcher with a fully loaded bacon buttie at that cafe.

***

I’ve so far made it halfway through the day without any kind of disaster or run-in with a part of Billie’s life. I’m also one hundred percent coming back with my own life as soon as I can. I think the guys up at the cafe have started to sense something un-Billie about me though. I’ve made several trips for provisions and pretty certain I used my last life or something on the last trip for more coffee and the chilli beef nachos.

Billie must know one of the staff members that just came on, and I’m guessing the may well be a vegetarian or vegan. I should leave her a note apologising profusely before the end of the day. I stop my thoughts from contemplating what she could do with my life. Whether it’s good or bad, I don’t want my demons to follow me here and wreak havoc in paradise.

Right now, I’m sat with my back against a well-weathered granite rock that’s warm from hours under the sun and doing wonders to get chill out of my bones from being in the water for a couple of hours earlier. I had to relinquish the sea when a group of six surfers appeared, which is fine with me as I now get to watch them instead.

Someone in a blindingly white jacket is currently storming on to the beach. Judging by the scowl visible even this far away, I wouldn’t want to be the one at the end of his wrath. I turn my attention back to the surfers and wriggle my toes into the coarse sand, breathing in the fresh air that is perfumed with the intoxicating scent of gorse and tase the salt on my lips.

I’ve got to get away from Bristol. There are so many pros to living there…but I feel like I’m home here in this tiny village no one has heard of. It’s like my eyes have opened to a completely different world of slumbering ancient power, arcane secrets and wild spirit. I can feel my soul responding and connecting to this place in a way it never has before.

The sea is the most delicious shade of colours reminiscent of a peacock’s feather. Indigo and lapis melt into sapphire and turquoise as pearls of white flash through the sun with each crashing wave. There are miles of golden sands stretching away in either direction disturbed only occasionally by the jagged outcropping of granite that adds to the wild energy of this place. I can also see a striking white lighthouse further around the bay which is Godrevey point. Basking in the wonder of this place, I can understand why artists love St Ives so much, there really is something about the lighting here.

“I’ve been looking all over for you for hours. I only heard about you being down here by chance from Rachel who saw you heading this way. Why is your phone off?” Approaching me at a rate of knots is the guy I noticed moments ago, piercing green eyes flashing in the sunlight. Why is the name Rachel familiar? I don’t know any Rachels. Wait, the girl Billie swapped shifts with… More to the point, who is this guy and what does he want with me?

Now I can clearly see his expression, it’s somewhere between really hacked off, and also someone who’s been fretting for several hours. Was Billie meant to have been meeting him? Maybe I shouldn’t have turned her phone off… but instead, put it on airplane mode and checked it intermittently. He’s incredibly beautiful though. I feel like I’ve met him somewhere before, which is insane as I’ve never been to Cornwall before today.

“Oh…it died and I couldn’t find the charger.” I lied. Actually, I know exactly where the charger lead is. It conveniently fell behind the sofa cushions first thing. He stops inches in front of me and I can feel his eyes scanning right through me. It’s kind of unsettling actually, it’s like he knows something is off….something isn’t quite Billie.

“What’s gotten into you? You’re not yourself at all today. First you drop off the face of the earth without a message, and now I find you, you’ve been in the sea?” His eyes are boring right into me and I realise a fatal mistake. Billie doesn’t like water. The expression on this guy’s face is making that point especially clear to me right now. 

Wait a minute, is this… oh no. Oh crap. It is. It’s Billie’s boyfriend that I’m only just learning about now. He’s crouched down and pulled me into a crushing embrace, probably thinking his Billie is having some kind of mid-life crisis. Which she is. We both are. She wanted out of this life for a bit, and I’m now trying to work out how to be someone else’s girlfriend without crossing any lines.

“I’m sorry I didn’t text you or anything. I just…wanted to get out.” What? How lame is that excuse?

I know it.

He knows it.

There’s one hell of an awkward silence stretching out and I start watching a surfer who is about to have an almighty wipe-out any second. “So…how was your day?” Yes, turn the conversation back on to him, I can figure this out.

“It’s been a weird day all around. The computers at work have been crashing non-stop and calls have been dropped or crossing wires. Anyone would think Mercury had gone retrograde or something.”

Now I’m starting. In my entire life, I have never met a single bloke interested in magic or astrology or even anything of the sort. Yet this guy just casually mentions something like a planet moving back on itself. Why on earth would Billie want to get away from her life? Even if the job is crap or something, she’s got this guy. I’d go through hell for someone like this. Wait. What am I saying, I don’t actually know this person. Right now, I don’t even know his name. I also don’t know that much about astrology and he’s waiting for a response. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He’s looking at me suspiciously again. At me and the offending evidence of my lunch that’s still lingering nearby. I was really hoping he wouldn’t clock that. Please don’t ask me about diet related questions?

No. I am definitely not okay right now. “I’m fine, really.” Yup, just go with the fake smile Morgan, there’s no way he’s going to see straight through any of this. I feel like I should reciprocate some sort of physical attention right now, instead of simply sitting with my fingers idly drumming into the sand.

“Okay, so you’re definitely fine to come with me to see the boys in a bit?”

“Of course.” I keep doing the best natural smile I can. He’s trolling me now, I just know it. Who or what are the boys? I also know that no matter what tricks I try to use, he is not going to give me a clue on what I just let myself in for. “I can’t remember we agreed for dinner plans though.” Food or weather. Always a safe conversation topic.

“We didn’t agree to anything.” …Or not in this case. Thankfully his attention was caught up by the surfers, so he missed the horror that no doubt just flashed across my face. If every day is like with for Billie, I can see why she’d need a day off. Casually as I can, I finally pull my hands away from the sand and wrap my arms around his neck, burying my face into the warm skin. 

I can’t just sit there like a potato anymore. But it also feels completely right. It’s like he’s weaving a spell around me as he turns his gaze back to me. Even though neither of us are saying it, I feel in the core of my existence that he knows I’m not Billie. My head is spinning like crazy and I can feel the madness awakening inside of me as his fingers trace down my spine. We’ve been here before. Somewhere. Sometime.

I realise something at the back of my mind. The madness isn’t waking up because of this guy and the crazy scenario I’ve found myself in. Something has happened back in my life. Don’t ask me how I know that right now, but I can feel white-hot rage gathering in the pit of my stomach. Or is it Billie’s rage? Can she sense my proximity to her boyfriend? No…that doesn’t explain the insanity that’s trying to summon my demons here. I have to get back to my reality, everything is starting to make me feel violently ill and confused. I have to somehow-

“What’s going on?”

He sounds terrified, and I can’t answer him. I just press myself further into his embrace and feel my fingers twine into his hair. I can feel his embrace tighten even more and feel the searing pain in his heart. I want to scream that I’m not Billie, that he’s holding on to the wrong person. I want to stay in this moment with him forever. I can’t though, this isn’t my life.

My mind finally reaches into the abyss of meditation and the strange swirling, floating weightlessness that comes with astral projection. I keep my eyes and my mind focused on the faint ball of indigo light that is guiding me back to where I need to be and ignore the other spirits around me. I can see the ghostly image of my body sleeping between worlds I drift through fields of celestial matter and quicken my pace towards it, the ominous sensation clawing at my heart with every step. What has she done in my world?

“Morgan…” I feel the sensation of the ocean tugging me back as someone whispers my name through crashing waves as I start to reconnect with my body. Something important and unintelligible continues to whisper through the darkness, so many voices trying to be heard. There’s some lingering sensation in my heart that doesn’t want me to return, but I can feel the tingling in my feet that tells me I’m almost awake. There’s also still the opposite sensation of foreboding waiting for me in the physical world. “Wait, don’t leave me.”

***

I’m bathed in the amber ambience of Bristol streetlights and staring back up at my ceiling again with tears falling into the pillow. How long was I asleep for? Why did it take waking up to realise who was calling out to me just before I reconnected with my physical body? I remember why he was familiar to me all afternoon too, I’ve been dreaming about him for over ten years and never knew his name.

I’m also not alone in my flat.

Original article: Borrowing Someone Else’s Body.

The Wolf and the Mage is a short story that I initially wrote over ten years ago and became the inspiration to Vaenel and Aengal in Sykajume. I recently re-edited it slightly to tie directly into the Sirin Chronicles with the corresponding characters and locations – when I first wrote it, it was based in an entirely different world. Influencers for The Wolf and the Mage come from Fenrir in the Norse mythology and from stories and tales of Atlantis.

*

Once there was a great wolf that stalked the shadows of the great Rannan Forest, his name unintelligible to the ears of man. Cast down from the heavens and cursed to stalk among the chapel pines and sentinel oaks for all eternity, the beast of darkness hunted any foolish enough to enter the secret depths of the forest, for his appetite was insatiable.

At the meeting of wooden boughs and stone buttresses, the shadow wolf made his den. A forsaken glade where crystal clear water cascaded into shallow pools of the phantom crystal where only the rare astralae plant grew, for nothing living dared to near such a place.

Then one day, the silence of his glade was disrupted by the sound of silver bells and bangles colliding together as the wind whispered through the leaves and carried the fragrance of geranium to him. His eyes searched through the dappled shadows, falling upon a young woman walking alone through the dusk. Her eyes looking straight into his soul and silenced the madness already wakening deep inside, though he feared the ravenous appetite that would surely come as the scent of her blood beneath delicate skin assailed his senses.

A powerful mage often walked alone through the deep forest chapels, especially at sunset when golden light set fire to the dust motes dancing within an idle breeze. She was a priestess in training at the Temple of Stars of Kata Jinja. Enchanted by this latest intruder to his secret world, the shadow beast watched her from afar as she came with each setting sun, foraging for the finest herbs, fruits and seeds, following the rush of water.

Their eyes met more than once, her soul-piercing deep into his own as though she were reaching out to him through a dream in the magic hour of twilight, a vision crossing different realities and different times. With pearlescent, shimmering skin and the piercing eyes of burning gold showing from beneath her mantle of indigo, he was reminded of the ethereal home of his kin, and the children sired from stars.

The power within the mage reverberated around her soul, her presence somehow silencing the wolf’s curse a little more each time she came into his presence. She was often gathering herbs for cleansing and healing the skin, the astringent smell often mingling with the intoxicating perfume of geranium that lingered on her skin.

The wolf, calmed by her presence, began to collect the astralae plants that grew in his glade and left them close by, howling softly through the twilight before melting back into the safe shadows of his forest. His keen ears would pick out the jingling music of her presence and his heart would beat erratically, urging him to turn back.

This vision was the life the mage never had and a great sadness came over him. His mournful howls slashing through the night as he rushed through the forlorn chapel of decaying forest, searching for the lost soul of the mage as his snarls and growls of frustration thundered from the ancient forest and made the mountains tremble. Why couldn’t he remember the truth about the mage?

He remembered the dream of her before his ruination and fall from the heavens. The youngest child of the Sykajume that looked to the stars every night, always finding him even as he hunted through the vast ocean of celestial matter. Was that before or after this dream? Night after night, the dream would come in some guise again and soothe the wolf’s soul, only to awaken to a bleak and vengeful dawn and the stagnation of death all around. All at once he had lived for thousands of years and none at all.

One night a different dream came to him. At last, he had somehow left Rannan Forest and was carefully moving through an overgrown garden of a castle courtyard that was as ancient as he sometimes felt, and collapsed in many places. As he stopped to lap at the cool water of a spring, his ears heard the rustling of someone approaching, and he felt something small collide with his flank as he turned. A young child, too pale for the harsh sun of the castle’s location, was nestling into his fur full of contentment, clutching tightly as though frightened he would vanish.

When he next opened his eyes, he was startled to find the mage had reached the glade. He stood as impulsive rage and defence overpowering the innate strength of the young woman and her control over his curse. He towered above her with his fangs bared, her scent consuming him and the madness threatening to consume him entirely.

The mage never quailed, simply standing resolutely before him with a curious expression in her eyes as she raised a crystalline dagger to the level of her heart. Diamond light filled the blade, splashing into the air like starlight, her fierce soul binding him to the spot as the blade flicked through the air and severed the celestial chains of fate that bound him to the forest and confined him in time.

She fell to her knees before him from exhaustion, beseeching him for help with a curse placed upon her by her own family as her breath ravaged her once strong body. The words came to him across a great distance as he turned back in the direction he had come. In the instance of his liberation, his spirit had rejoiced and he took flight, dashing from the cloying shadows of his prison for the powerful, icy winds of the mountain peaks.

He knew already it was too late to help the mage out, she had already gone. He had seen the ruins of the great temple of Kata Jinja and the black scarring from the flames of an ajukara. For a long time, the great wolf sat watch above Kata Jinja as memories returned to him. He had been cursed twice, first by his own kind, and then by the family of the Sykajuman girl. Somehow that girl had broken the first of his curses and tamed his wild heart, and unable to speak his given name, she had started calling him Vaenel.

Finally moving from his perch by the temple entrance, he walked towards the mighty crystal tree at the far end of the small town that still maintained its faded glow against the dark world and guarded it’s most precious treasure. Dropping down through a gap in the routes, Vaenel found the sepulchre created by the soul tree in the moment of the Sykajuman curse, perfumed by countless geraniums growing within.

The girl’s body was suspended in a capsule of soft golden white light as though she were falling through space, preserved for all eternity by the power of the tree exactly as she had fallen. The curse had formed celestial fate chains that snaked all around the girl’s limbs, biting into the skin as his own had done for so long.

How many times must he lose her soul? They had been cursed never to cross realities again, though the soul that had forced the girl from her body was still searching for him, fighting against the odds and searching the depths of the ethereal realms and insanity to reach him.

The wolf carefully plucked a geranium flower and placed it into the girl’s hand before reaching into the light to join her in one final embrace. He discarded his physical form and gave himself back to the world of dreams and the absence of time. Unbound, he was free to travel the ethereal worlds unhindered and could search for his mage in as many incarnations as it took to save her soul from the darkness.

• Artwork by Scarlet Letter (Pixabay)

Original article: The Wolf and the Mage.