Archive of ‘Short Stories’ category

Casting the Circle

The Moon asked the Crow - Christian Schloe

The Moon asked the Crow – Christian SchloeS

I want to sing in the darkness, like the nightingale, of beauty, of a path through the night, of a world beyond this one.

Of a sheer shimmering veil, so thin, moving in the breeze, letting through light and beauty, like snow falling through your window. One moment, a closing of the eyes and you could be there, appear as though by magic, standing by a streaming river, under autumn trees, and a sky like sapphire, whispering of more, so much more, of magic and wonder. A whole new world, a path through the forest. 

Casting the Circle 

She cast her circle under the full moon, by crystals glinting in the silver light, and knelt hugging herself, praying to the Goddess, calling upon the light, upon the angels, and the sacred power of the night. She brought her hands to her heart, and then to the heavens, seeing the moon through her window, floating in the sky, in the lake.

She got up and went to her cupboard, pulling out jars and wax, and sweet smelling oils. Her room was bathed in light as she worked, and she hummed softly to herself, chanting a melody of magic, a hum to the Goddess as she made her moon candle, strewn with gems and silver threads. She put her hands to her heart, then to the candle, blessing it, praying over it. She felt white magic going into it, and it seemed to glow, as though lit from within, or perhaps it was the moon playing tricks. She strewed rose petals and chamomile, and a little sage over it, letting the herbs blend with the wax, then kissed it, smiling to herself. Gently she picked it up and brought it to her altar, lighting it. She sang softly, knowing this was a magic of love. A flame  burning for love of the true self, of the spirit, and beauty growing out of darkness.

Her chant continue into the night, and then she fell silent as the moon set behind the mountains, and the first grey of morning lit the trees.

Something filled her up, like the touch of rose, and she sat shivering, crying, salty tears running down her face. She felt the air was full of the fragrance of roses, of softly colored things, among autumn leaves and the first frost. She sat for a long time, afraid to move, afraid to leave the thread of peace that had been gifted her. She whispered thanks to the moon, to the Great Mother. She felt the Goddess smiling, – a warm glow at her core, in her heart, in her bones, and she remembered that she was a priestess, a daughter of the Goddess, and even though it was difficult, she wanted to live that way, it was the path she had chosen. But she begged for strength, for her wounds to heal, and finally closed the circle. 

She went outside and breathed in the crisp morning air, and went barefoot across the field, in her white dress, kneeling by the stream, drinking deeply. Sunlight played in the water, clouds drifting overhead and she rolled over on her side, gazing into the sky, into a morning breaking forth, the last stars fading, the moon hidden by the day. She felt her wishes, her dreams, the magic of the night floating upwards out of sight, hidden, yet visible in the flowers soon to spring forth at the touch of the Goddess. She smiled, as though from relief. Her prayers had been received; she had drank from the potion of healing. The Goddess was with her. 

My Short Story Is Now On Kindle

Little Flower Cover

My short story is available on kindle. I feel flutters in my stomach as I write this, feeling a little terrified to finally be sharing something so close to me.

Book Description

To you who are walking through a long winter. 

To you who have loved and lost. 

A little flower finds herself all alone one early spring. She shivers in the cold, and wonders if she is loved. Why did the sun leave? Where is the light? 

This is a short story about grief, about healing a broken heart, and learning to trust again.

From the Heart

This book came straight from the heart. Some of you might know that several years ago, I lost my parents and sister, and that I’m still on a journey to heal from that. 

I’m still walking this path laid before me. It’s only lately that I’ve had the strength to write, and it has brought me relief like nothing else. It has opened up a pathway to beauty, love, joy, and connection with the divine. 

 Little Drips

The Little Flower was a story that came to me in little drips. It was inspired by my walks in nature, and feeling that I too had seasons inside of me; a long winter now breaking into spring. 

There is also an old poem made into song, that I knew since I was a little girl, that always moved me deeply. It’s about a little flower growing in the shadows of the forest. It’s a song about hope, about faith, and that even though we may be small, we’re still very much loved and looked after. 

I hope you enjoy this little story. For now it’s only available on kindle, but I might make it available in printed form as well. If you like it, please share it with friends and family.

Love and light. 

 

 

 

 

 

Daughter of the Wind

d2b948bb48ddd17b0663a2809c877ef1

“Artwork: © Kinuko. Y. Craft, All Rights Reserved http://www.kycraft.com

She stood in the wind. Arms open wide, eyes closed, chin raised towards the sky, a smile on her lips. Her hair whipped around her face. Her feet were close to the edge of the cliff, green grass painting the fields behind her, the ocean crashing against he rocks below.

She wished she could fly. A thrill of freedom went through her, one she had never felt before, never allowed herself to feel. Duty had always seemed more important than the whispers of her soul. But now she had taken the first daring step towards a life she had not dared believe in. She had thought she would be punished, that she had somehow angered the gods by being disobedient.

Instead she was met with a clear, crisp morning and a new intimacy with the goddess that surprised her, humbled her. She felt love she almost didn’t dare touch. It was wonderful and terrifying. Perhaps she could truly take control of her own life.

She danced in the forest

800px-Miranda_-_The_Tempest_JWWShe danced in the forest as the sun glittered between the trees. Patches of snow mingled with green moss, the rushing stream in the distance. She felt timid at first, unsure how to move, wanting to be elegant, yet unable to let herself go. She was still a little stiff, but the yearning to dance, to express herself, her power, was burning inside of her.

Her eyes flickered nervously to the snowy path, worried someone would walk up on her, afraid to be seen. Silly, she had never seen a soul walk these woods as the same time as her.

She swayed, she moved beneath the treetops and a clear blue sky. The wind increased as she danced. The sun throwing specks of gold all around her.

There was no music of course, except for the stream, the wind. In a book she had once read about dancing to the tune of the world. It had touched something inside of her. She tried to sense it, feel the energies around her.

In her mind she dreamed of a long forest green dress, of a long forgotten past. She fell into a stance with her arms reaching towards the sky, her legs far apart, calling upon Father Sky and Mother Earth. Asking for strength and protection, feeling the glow of the witch inside her…