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An rud seo ar a dtugtar an saol


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A book stood open in Kyla's hand, her gold flecked green eyes staring toward the words on the pages without seeing them. If someone asked her what those words said, she couldn't have given the correct answer. No, her mind was far away. Although it might be more appropriate to say it was too close. Too inward. Introspective.

In a few short days, everything in her world changed. No coven. No beloved. Few friends. Not a single person had reached out but perhaps she was partially to blame. She'd not said any farewells either. She simply left.

For better or worse, she didn't know which, and it would take time to determine. For the first time in centuries, Kyla felt the weight of her years press down upon her. In this world, she was well and truly alone. Before now, it was a fact she accepted with grace, even preferred. Alone meant no watching others she loved wither away, no giving out pieces of her heart until there was none left to give. Except in the last year, she had given her heart away. Her whole heart without reserve. Now she felt that loss keenly.

The book was closed and placed onto the table ever present at her elbow when in the overstuffed chair, and she pinched the bridge of her nose. This feeling, this state of mind would pass, she knew, but it was a cold comfort. Kyla unfolded herself from the chair and gazed around the normally warm and welcoming livingroom of the grand old home in Eire. It was her place of solace in the human world and served as an anchor point in the ever-changing scenery of life.

Not today. Today it left her feeling confined and restless.
January 07, 2020 11:53 am


Forgive me.

Loss of control was yet another foreign experience for Kyla.  That's not to say she never lost her temper or let emotions get the better of her.   She was Irish. A hot temper came with the territory and ran as deep as her hair was red.  But this? No. It should never have happened.

The days passed, the way days do.  Kyla found it amusing how humans needed their concept of time.  They based their entire lives on it and many of them forgot to live along the way.  Time was relative. Except she knew precisely the measure of time between now and the day her life changed.  Again. Also again, the walls of her beloved home confined rather than comforted. Needing an escape, anything to get away from the smothering sensation, she stepped outside barefoot and shrugged out of the baggy knit sweater, despite the coolness outdoors.  Her body temperature ran hotter than a mortal's, anyway.

Kyla needed to burn this restless energy.  She needed to feel the earth beneath her feet.  She needed to run. So run she did.

Normally the forest surrounding her home, or anywhere she ventured, embraced her.  When she passed, if at speed, branches and leaves shifted to keep her from harm. They gave her an affectionate caress of recognition and nothing more.  Due to her extraordinary heritage, Kyla was a primordial creature, elemental into the marrow of her bones. At one with Mother Earth.


Today the limbs whipped and grabbed at her.  They broke off and stuck in her hair, slapped across her face and arms.  By the time she came to a halt in sheer frustration of her inability to rebalance, there were angry welts covering her exposed and even blood seeping from a few.  The marks stung and only served as yet another reminder that she was not herself. A wave of molten hot rage boiled up and exploded. Kyla whirled and slammed her fist into the trunk of the tree behind her.  

Her hand dropped to her side and she stood there, eyes closed, until something fluttered against her cheek.  Upon opening her eyes, Kyla recoiled in shock and horror. The once beautiful, thriving tree had been petrified.  Crystalized from the inside out by the heat of her rage. The flutter on her cheek was needles, now ash, drifting down off the branches.  It might have been snowing for all the ashes floating down now.

Kyla closed her eyes once more, pressing her hands and forehead against the bark of the dead tree.

Forgive me.
January 14, 2020 11:47 pm

Manannán mac Lir

The waiting was the worst. Manannán stood looking out over the swampland that contained the coven he had newly joined. He hoped for a word from Harlie, but in the end, thought it best to leave her alone for a while. Perhaps she preferred being in New Orleans in this dark place. Manannán had to admit it had its own beauty and old magic that seemed to coat the land like an unruly weed. He enjoyed the smell of it.

To keep himself busy, Manannán would head to Derrynane beach in his beloved Ireland. It was time for a change, so he decided to demolish his old home overlooking the beach and put up something new.

The small town had tourist life now; there hadn’t been any when Manannán initially made this place his own. He briefly wondered if the locals ever gave a thought to why the fishing was so good, or the seas unusually calm during festive seasons. He was an Irish sea god after all, and he protected the waters that directly surrounded Ireland. Though to be honest, his heyday was many centuries ago, and people didn’t exactly invade these days. Regardless of that, this small stretch of beach frontage that looked out to the Celtic Sea was his favourite place in all of Ireland.

Scattering through the ether, Manannán reformed on the hill in front of his home. He went inside and found a fine bottle of single malt whiskey from the Dingle distillery a couple of hours drive away. Taking the bottle, he sat on his porch overlooking the beach and watched the swell of the tide. He would make the changes he wanted at nightfall; of course, he would entirely use magic to do so. He lived almost like a human enough of the time when he was amongst others. When on his own he would usually use his god-given powers instead.

Closing his eyes, Manannán took a deep breath of the air and felt something in the ether. It grew until a massive jolt of power, both familiar yet unexpected vibrated through his body, the source was here in Ireland. His eyes snapped open. He set down the items he was carrying and followed the energy in his etheric form.

A bright head of curly red hair was the first thing he saw then noted scratches on the face and arms of the woman. Manannán looked about for an assailant and saw none. Great waves of grief and sorrow flowed from her. Stepping from the etheric plane as if descending stairs, Manannán solidified in the forest a few feet away.

“Kyla. Cad a tharla?”
January 21, 2020 07:17 pm
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