Sex And Magick

Hello dear reader(s)!

Let’s start with a warning for those who freak out of over the concept of sex…

WARNING:  This post talks about sex baby.  It talks about you and me.  It talks about all the good things and the bad things that can be.  It talks about sex.  It talks about sex.  It talks about sex.  It talks about sex.  

That’s protected by parody laws, FYI.

If you’ve been reading this here blog-type-thing for any amount of time, I feel very bad for you.  But that’s not the point here.  If you have been reading this here blog-type-thing for any amount of time, you know that I am someone who is proudly sex-positive.

Being sex-positive, I view sex positively.  It’s right there in the words.  You’d know that if you paid attention in class.  I think nothing is inherently wrong between consenting adults with full knowledge of everything involved.

What is really cool (besides me), is that in my spiritual path, sex is viewed positively.  In fact, Beltaine is coming.  And Beltaine, is a very sexual Sabbat.  Sure it is the halfway point of the year, but in marking the changes that are taking place at that time, sex is certainly a huge a part of it all.  The bees are pollinating.  Taking away the flowers by taking their pollen and fertilizing the plants that will bear fruit.  If that doesn’t bring sex to mind, then you are a far cleaner thinker than I and I feel bad for your partner(s).

In my path, you can even practice magick using sex, called…wait for it, sex magick.  (I know, right?  Who would’ve thought magick during sex would be called sex magick?  That’s just totally unrelated!)  Anyway, I am not going to go into the practice of sex magick.  I am not an instruction manual, unless someone specific wanted a lesson, and called me “teacher”.  Maybe just showed up one day, like today.  And said, “Teacher, can you teach me sex magick, pleeeeeease?”  Maybe then.  Maybe.  If she was lucky.

But you don’t have to practice sex magick or be pagan to know sex is a kind of magic in and of itself.   (Notice the change to just magic, without the K.  That was intentional.  See, things can be magical but not magick.  It’s an interesting distinction.  Like a square is always a rectangle, but a rectangle isn’t always square.  I am getting off topic here.  Shapes get me all worked up.  Mmmm.  Quadrilaterals…..)

Sex bonds most people.  (Better than duct tape, even.)  It can keep connections strong.  It can allow people to feel safe and comfortable.  It can allow people to explore what is inside of themselves.  (How did that get in there?!?!)  It can lead to a deeper understanding of your partner(s) and yourself.  (Nice and deep…)  It can be an outlet for your deepest emotions and desires.  (Butter pecan ice cream?!?)

And sex can hurt.  If used improperly, it is capable of great harm.  Sex is powerful, and must be treated with respect.  “With great power, comes great responsibility.” – The rice guy.

Anything so powerful is magical.

In witchcraft, the acts you do, the spells you do, matter far less to the determination of whether it is light or dark magick than your intent.   (Which isn’t to say that anything you do in the name of magick is acceptable.  Like, no playing Nickelback during a spell or something equally horrific like live sacrifice.)

The same could be said for sex.  The acts, while they can be wonderful, (very, very wonderful, if you’re with me, baby…), matter far less than your intent.

You don’t have to be a follower of my path or a believer in magic to know that sex is powerful.  Even if you are a member of a more puritanical system of beliefs, you know that much of trying to control sex is based on the power it can have over someone.  Or the power it can give them.

But it’s my opinion that there is nothing wrong with power if you use it properly.  Whether it is magical power, sexual power, political power (can we please get someone to use that properly?), or any other kind of power.

Taking power over our lives, our bodies, and our desires is our right.  It can lift us up and remind us that we are feeling, passionate human beings.  It can remind us of what is within us that makes up a huge part of who we are.  It can also make us feel really fucking good.

For as much as sex is shied away from in our society, it is important to remember that we are only here because of the magic of sex.  Just because the sex you have isn’t intended to reproduce, it is not accident that in the right combination it is literally why we are here.  Fortunately, not every type of sex or every sex act is intended to cause reproduction.  The world is overpopulated enough as it is, and not everyone is intended to reproduce.  That is magic.

Straight sex, gay sex, self sex, monogamous sex, poly sex… if it is something between consenting adults who are fully aware of the factors at play, you are feeling the magic.  (If you are not totally selfish, your partner(s) is/are too.)  If your intentions are good, rough sex, vanilla sex, whatever you like, is good, positive magic and you should be proud to be living a magical life.

I hope this season is very magical for all of you.   😉

I leave you with a little mood music.

Featured Image By Yoninah – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10216975

Song A Day Challenge Day 4… Song vs Song

Hello dear reader(s)!

Are two songs competing with each other today?  Um, I don’t know.  Maybe I’ll have a few today that you can decide which you like better, but that isn’t why I chose this title.  I am, once again, following with the standard sequel title, ala Freddie vs Jason, or Alien vs Predator.  So for those of you expecting a steel cage match in an octagon of doom to the death between a couple of songs…well, if you want to imagine that, I guess have fun with that?

I remember when I first accepted the notion that magic was a real thing.  Of course, I am not talking about illusionists performing tricks, but of forces we don’t understand that seem to help grant us opportunities.  And as soon as I began to believe that was real, I started to notice the way things often seemed to come together in ways that are too organized to be coincidental, too directed to be born from the chaos of chance, and too perfect not to be magic.

And noticing it has helped me to do things I never thought possible.

Once I noticed, I began looking for ways to use it.  I sincerely believe I have used it successfully on a few occasions.  Of course, magic isn’t a science.  Not everything I do will be successful, but on occasion, it seems as though those failures are actually pointing me in the direction of a better success.  A deeper happiness.  More meaningful connections.  More internal strength to overcome challenges.

To me, there is no doubt my life has been touched by magic.  I have seen it.  I have felt it.  It is just as true to me as the fact that water is made up of hydrogen and oxygen.  Using magic is an art, but the existence of magic is as much of a science to me as physics.

I am not wihtout a little healthy skepticism.  Just because someone claims to be able to use divination to tell me hidden truths doesn’t mean I believe them without hesitation.  I do not automatically believe that because someone has a sign in their window that says “Psychic” that they absolutely are.  I know about cold reading techniques.  I know the power of people only acknowledging the truths of what people think they want to hear.  I understand that there is a psychology to certain claims of magic.

But I also believe that too many things have happened in my life to be explained by any other thing yet known.  I have met people with the ability to read into truths that are not possible to be known otherwise.  People who do not profit or aim to swindle anyone, simply to share their magic with others.  I have seen things that couldn’t be explained and were witnessed by others.  I have seen the immediate and specific results of spells I have cast.  I have done my own extremely accurate divinations and watched as the truths learned later came to light.

Right now I feel like magic has brought me to a place of extreme peace and contentment.  Maybe that is delusional.  Maybe it is a placebo-effect in my mind.  Maybe all these positive feelings are simply a matter of perception.  Maybe the seeming patterns and lining up of events in strange ways is simply something I want to see.  Maybe.  I don’t believe so, but I certainly can’t definitely prove otherwise.

But if it makes me feel great, and works to make my life happier, isn’t that magic in and of itself?

I was challenged to do a song a day challenge for 5 days.  I accept, but I want to make the songs an emphasis on a thought I would have already posted about that day.  I was challenged by the wonderful A Momma’s View, go check out that excellent blog.

The rules are:

  • Post a song a Day for five consecutive days
  • Post what the lyrics mean to you ( optional)
  • Post the name of the song and video 
  • Nominate two different bloggers each day of the challenge.

You may have guessed today’s theme is magic.  I can’t imagine why, it isn’t like I mentioned it in here or anything.  So on that note, I am going to work my magic on this post and post a few of my favorite songs having to do with magic.  And I magically extend this nomination to include anyone who wants to participate.

We start with That Old Black Magic, by Frank Sinatra

Moving on to This Magic Moment by Ben E. King and the Drifters

Moving on to Black Magic Woman by Gypsy Queen and Santana

And of course, my personal favorite song having to do with magic, Blood Sugar Sex Magik by the Red Hot Chili Peppers

Well dear reader(s), until tomorrow, make it a magical day!

No Fairy tale

The final chapter of No End, and No Beginning.  

Amber walked from the back room to the sales floor, expecting to see a regular customer who needed someone to push them into buying what they came in for; so when she saw him standing there waiting for her, she nearly fainted.  Her mind reeled with the confusion of seeing him standing before her, and the knowledge that he had perished in a plane crash.  She attempted to form the words her mind was throwing at her, but they came so rapidly and went in so many directions, she was unable.  After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, she ran to him and jumped into his arms.

After their passionate kiss, she finally managed to say, “I thought I had lost you!”

“I was on the plane, I remember going down.  I remember thinking the universe would not take you away from me.  I remember a brilliant light.  I remember a feeling of peace, and happiness.  And then I woke up, here.  Well, not here, in a hotel.  This morning.  I panicked, trying to figure out where I was.  There was a tourism brochure for your city, and then I knew.  I knew everything that happened.  Somebody decided to correct the mistake made of taking me from you.  My phone had your picture set on the wallpaper.  Then my maps program opened up automatically, with this address set to it.  I knew I had to come.  We are meant to be together.”

Isabella walked in from her lunch.  Unlike Amber, she actually did faint when she saw him.  Amber, Marco, and he rushed over to her.  As the three were leaning over her, Isabella opened her eyes.  She locked eyes with him, smiled, and fainted again.

“I think I had better leave, so she can actually regain consciousness,” he laughed.  “Do you have any plans tonight?” he asked, looking at Amber.

“I plan on going out with you tonight,” she replied with a smile.

After Isabella woke up, Amber and Marco explained what had happened, and how they could not believe what they were witnessing.  Isabella seemed convinced that she was insane and was hallucinating the whole thing, including having her coworker friends explaining to her what she had just witnessed.  It took almost until closing for her to finally believe it.  Just before close, she grabbed Amber by the hand, and pulled her aside.

“I think I am responsible for this,” she confessed to Amber.

“What do you mean?” Amber asked her, confused as to how her friend and coworker could have possibly brought him back from the dead.

“You were so down.  We were worried about you.  I performed a ritual in order to bring you happiness again,” she explained.

“That is very sweet of you.  I believe that if you put out positive energy to the universe, it comes back to you three-fold.  Thank you,” Amber told her.

“You don’t understand,” Isabella said, dropping her smile, “This isn’t some kiddy playtime shit.  I used my grandmother’s book of shadows.  The spell was to do whatever it took in order to bring happiness back to your life.  I didn’t think it would bring him back.  You’re not supposed to do those kinds of things.  People aren’t meant to jump realms,” she warned.

“Too late,” Amber retorted, “He is here now, that is all that matters.”

He was waiting for Amber when they locked the doors of the store.  He was driving a black Mercedes and she was stunned to see him standing by it.  The man she knew was barely making ends meet, and certainly didn’t have enough to afford a Mercedes.

“How did you get the car?” she asked him.

“It is mine,” he told her.  “The keys were in my pocket when I woke up.  The title, the registration, and insurance, plus a photo of it were sitting on my night stand, all of them in my name!”

Her mouth dropped open.

“There is more,” he began, “I have a house.  And my bank balance…”  He tried to hide his smile but it was no use.  “I’m rich!”

She smiled, but felt like there was something wrong about that.  They drove in near silence to the opulent restaurant.  The wine was amazing, and the food was excellent, but there was a new, odd tension between them.  Something was off.  She began to notice things about him that she did not like.  She got irritated with the way he ate his salmon.  She noticed how one of his eyes was a little smaller than the other.

He began to notice things about her as well.  She didn’t really seem engaged with him.  She wasn’t very nice to the wait staff.  She seemed tired, and distracted.  The few times she did laugh it was like nails on a chalkboard.  She seemed to act a little entitled.  She was constantly looking around the room, as if she was bored.  Still, he thought that he was meant to be with her.  He was taken from another realm for a reason.

He drove her back to her house.  They had an awkward kiss goodnight and he drove away.

“Maybe she was just in shock,” he thought to himself as she walked inside without turning back.

They went out a few more times after that.  About two weeks later, he came to her work to pick her up.  He saw Isabella standing there, with tears in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked Isabella, in an attempt to comfort her.

Amber walked out from the back room.  She was looking down.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore,” she told him.

“I was brought back for this?!?!” he shouted with anger in an attempt at hiding his hurt.

He peeled off as fast as he could go, and went home.  He was angry, and he was hurt.  It took him some time, but eventually he was glad she had done it.  He just wanted to know why he was brought back if this is how it was going to be.

His doorbell rang.

He walked into the foyer and opened the door, expecting to see Amber.

It was Isabella.

“She doesn’t know happiness when she has it at her feet,” she said.

Three years later, he was walking down the aisle, toward his beautiful bride.  He looked at Amber, her Maid of Honor, and thought to himself how fortunate he was that it did not work out with her.  He was glad she was happy, knowing that she did not need a man in her life.  He was glad he could be part of her lesson.

Then he looked at his beautiful Isabella.  His sweet, loving bride who was no second choice to him, but he just had been too hung-up on Amber to notice.  He thought about how amazing of her it was that she would bring him back to make her friend happy.

Isabella looked at him and smiled with the knowledge that nobody would ever know what she had done.

 

No Beginning

Continued from No End

The plane dove toward the clearing; the pilot fighting to gain control with the plane’s remaining engine.  The skilled pilot was doing a remarkable job of getting the plane under control again.

He still sat with his eyes closed, smiling.  He knew everything would be okay.  Surely the universe wouldn’t finally unite him with the woman he had loved for years, only for him to die the morning after.

The plane began to level out, and the screaming turned into cheers.  He opened his eyes and looked out of the window.  They were low, but it looked fine.  He started wondering if he should take the next available flight after they made it back to the airport, or if he should take an extra day to calm to down.

Unbeknownst to him, the blast from the engine had also caused a major hydraulic leak.  The alarms going off in the cockpit indicated that the pressure was almost lost.  The crew attempted an emergency landing into the small clearing.  They knew that realistically, there was no hope.

He didn’t even have time to wonder why they were descending again.

She was in the back at work, talking with her coworkers and waiting for the next potential sale to walk in the door.

“So?” Isabella asked her.

“So what?” she asked in reply, knowing full well what she wanted to know.

“You know what!” Isabella prodded.  “I’ve never seen you look at someone that way!  He looked at you the same.  You two were like…I don’t know.  Just wow.  It was like a romantic movie.  Just like a dream.  And he was so…”

“Nice?” she interrupted.

“Hot,” Isabella laughed.

“Well, yeah, I guess that too,” she giggled.

“He really did seem like a good guy.  I can see why you talk about him so much,” Isabella teased.

“I do not!” she replied.

“Um, yeah.  Okay.  Whatever you say.  Just because you always called him your friend, doesn’t mean none of us saw it.  But now I want to know.  What happened after you two left?” Isabella demanded.

She didn’t say anything, but the smile on her face and the way she averted her eyes answered Isabella’s question better than words could have anyway.

“Alright!” Isabella shouted and held up her hand for a high-five.  “Well?  How was it?”

“It was amazing!  I am in love.  I can’t believe it.  It was…perfect.  I don’t know how I am going to be without him for so long now.  I know he isn’t in a position to really come here right away, and I can’t leave yet either.  I just…I know he is the one,” she said.

Just then. her coworker Marco came into the back from the showroom looking as white as snow.  The fearful, pale expression on his face was something nobody had ever seen from confident Marco, especially given his olive complexion.

“Hey Amber?” Marco began hesitantly.  “That guy you were with last night?  Where did you say he lived?”

She looked at Marco with a confused expression and answered, “Chicago.  Why?”

Isabella chimed in, “Yeah Marco, why?”

Marco sighed with relief.  “Oh, thank God!  I did NOT want to have to tell you something like that.  But no big deal, this one was going to Denver.  Big plane crash, just heard about it.  Took off from here, and I know your guy friend was leaving today.  Just got really scared, you know?  I mean, it still sucks.  There were no survivors and all, but I am so glad it wasn’t anybody you knew.”

Amber went white, and Isabella rushed over to catch her as her knees gave out.

“Oh my God, sweety,” Isabella began, “He was changing planes in Denver, wasn’t he?”

Amber nodded and sobbed.

She wasn’t the same after that.  The loss of this man she briefly got to have, was just too much to take.  The smiles still came on the sales floor, but anyone who knew her, knew they weren’t genuine.  As the months passed, she sank into a very deep depression.  Her world turned to grey.

Her friends had tried to take her out in order to help her live again, but it was no use.  It was as if all the color had vanished from the world.  She compared all the other guys to him.  She knew that it wasn’t right, but there was nothing she could do about it.  She lived her life as if it was on autopilot.  Work, home, work, home, work, home, repeat.  She felt weak.

Her friends knew she was strong, however.  They wondered how she even found the strength within her to get out of bed everyday.  After everything she had been through before him, then getting together with him for just one night, they couldn’t even imagine themselves being as strong as she was.  So her friends met one night, and decided to do something about it.

The inner circle was small, and only they really knew the words to use.  The outer circle consisted of her coworkers and other friends mostly there for support and to increase the presence of the energy.  The fire burned in the center.  Her friends had decided Amber deserved to be happy.  She deserved to see more than grey once again.  She deserved to live a life healed from the pain she had experienced, and the terrible tragedy of the crash.  They did everything they could for her.

It did not appear to have worked.  She was a shell of her former self.  It was as if all of the life within her was lost along with the lives in that crash.

Nine and a half months after she had him, she was in the back room, waiting for a potential sale.  She was mindlessly scrolling through Facebook on her phone, when she saw Marco walk in, looking white as snow.

“Hey Amber?” Marco began hesitantly.  “Um…someone is here asking for you.  And, um…you better go see.”

 

 

 

Awakening, Part III

You can read part 1, and part 2 by clicking each number.  

She awoke from her dream surrounded by the bodies of three guardsmen and the screams of a fourth.  Confused, she looked in the direction of the screams and found the horse she had set free earlier, trampling the nearly dead guardsman.  There were no arrows in the dead guards, and Conor was nowhere to be found.  She approached the horse who stopped trampling as she neared.  She drew her sword and put it to the guardsman’s throat.

“What happened here?  To your fellow scum?” she demanded.

“Please do not do to me what you did to them!” the guardsman cried.

She was confused.  She had no idea what she did.  She didn’t want to let him know that, so she acted as though she had asked the question rhetorically.

“That’s right,” she smirked, “I shall spare your pathetic existence, if you leave your weapons and tell Lorcan I am free in Galicia, and the same fate shall meet him if he pursues me or harms my daughter!”

“M’lady, I can’t walk!” the guardsman replied as she disarmed him.

“Then I suggest you crawl!” she shot back with disdain.

As she crossed the river, she realized that Conor had never been there, and she had bested the guardsmen on her own (and possible with some help from her equine friend) before blacking out.  She felt her head for lumps, but felt none, and was not sure what happened.  She was not certain how she would survive, but began to awaken to the sense that she could.

It was close to five years later when Conor returned to Galicia in victory over the campaigns against the raiders from across the sea.  Her dream had been prophetic, he was a key warrior from Galicia, and because of this victory was being made Lord and High Protector.  She was in the crowd at the ceremony, and just as he was kneeling to receive his medal, he felt her presence.  He lifted his head, sending gasps through the crowd, and caught her eye.  As soon as the medal was around his neck, he stood up, bolted off the platform, and ran to embrace her.

They kissed passionately to cheers and applause, and he lifted her into his arms.

“I thought I would never see you again,” he told her once he could stop kissing her.

“I had to run, it wasn’t you,” she replied.

“You had to run?” he asked.  “Do you still not see what is in you?”

“Come home with me,” she said, before kissing him again.

He stopped kissing her and replied, “I’ll take you home with me.  To my estate.  They treat their warriors pretty well here,” he laughed.

He carried her home and they made love by candle light.  Her soft skin glowing against his hard body.  They were both very powerful, and there seemed to be a give and take between them and an unresolved power dynamic that left them both hungry for more, but too exhausted to continue until another time.  They collapsed into each other’s arms in exhaustion and ecstasy.

For the next year, Conor taught her the art of war and defense, in case she was attacked again while he was away.  He would never forgive himself for leaving her vulnerable the first time, even if she knew he was not at fault.  When he saw how much of a natural she was, and how he knew there was still more she wasn’t showing, he began to encourage her to confront Lorcan, and rescue her daughter.  He built her up, and addressed all her fears of Lorcan’s posititon with the guardsmen.

Finally, they headed out.

Lauryn knew that her daughter would try to rescue Clar from Lorcan, and so she planned to ambush her as she did so, attempting to end once and for all the threat her daughter presented to her dark ambitions.

They came unobstructed right to Lorcan’s unprotected house, and were surprised when he opened the door as they approached.

“Come to take this bitch off my hands?” he asked her.

Conor drew his claymore and put it to Lorcan’s throat.  “Respect!” he shouted through gritted teeth.

Conor’s reputation as a fierce warrior was well-known, and even Lorcan was not about to challenge him.

“My apologies,” Lorcan said, and added, “She is a handful, I am not equipped as a parent.  I am actually glad you are here.”

It was then that Conor felt a sharp pain in his side and went down.

She turned around to see what happened, finding Lauryn, holding a now bloody blade at Clar’s throat.  Then she saw the guardsmen emerge from the woods to surround them.

She knew Lorcan would not physically harm Clar, but Lauryn had no such limits.  She began to feel terrible fear.

She felt a tug at her leg.  Conor had reached up from the ground, and grabbed a hold of her dress.  She looked down to see him wink and smile.

Suddenly, a blade rose from Conor’s hand and plunged itself into Lorcan’s chest, killing him instantly.

“You can do this!  Awaken and show us all!” Conor shouted.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, as if she was about to have a seizure.  But then they began to glow a brilliant white.  She spoke some words of an unknown language before a beam of light shot from her eyes, eviscerating the encircled guardsmen.

Then she turned to face Lauryn, who stood trembling, still holding the blade to Clar’s throat.

“Go ahead.  Kill me!” she shouted, “But I’m taking your precious spawn with me!”

Conor rose and readied his claymore.

“NO!” she shouted at both of them.

Then  turning to Lauryn, she said, “I will not grant you the luxury of death.  My awakening was not the only one here today.  I grant you your own.  You shall awaken to the empathy you could never feel.  You shall feel the pain your lust for power caused others back upon you three-fold.  You shall awaken to the knowledge of your own insignificance, crone.  You shall live out your days haunted by your wasted life.  So.  Mote.  It.  Be!”

Lauryn, suddenly felt it all, for the first time.  Her mind could not handle the sudden onslaught of grief and pain, and she dropped the blade.  Then she fell to the ground, curled up in a ball, and wailed helplessly, unable to see anything but the darkness she attempted to use against others.

The new family embraced and then left toward home, awake to the power of love.

 

Awakening, Part II

Continued from part I.

Lorcan was a sadistic person who took delight in the torture he visited upon her.  The money was just a bonus for him.  Something was wrong with him on the inside, and he craved control over others.  When he met her, he made himself out to be a savior of sorts.  He took her to the kingdom where he lived and worked.  He worked in the stables where they tended the king’s guard’s horses, but was not skilled or sane enough to be a guard himself.  Because of his relationship with some of the guardsmen, he was able to act with virtual impunity, and acted as though he was a guardmen too.  She wasn’t the first one he had hurt.  In the beginning, he was seemingly an upstanding citizen of the kingdom, and everything she believed she wanted.  And then her daughter was born.

Knowing her love for her daughter could be used as a tool to prevent her escape, he began to show his true intentions.  He abused and tortured her mercilessly, and delighted in her screams and fear.

As much as Lorcan delighted in torturing her, he did love their daughter.  He was never physically abusive toward his daugher, Clar, although he certainly was verbally.  Lorcan loved Clar, even if he did not know how to love properly, and even as he kept her mother locked in the house.

After one night where Lorcan had nearly choked her to death, she attempted her first escape.  She made it to a nearby village, but was tracked by the king’s guardsmen who brought her back in irons to Lorcan.  He took her, beat her, and left the irons on, securing them to the wall when he was away.

Lorcan went off to the stables the next morning.  Chained to the wall, she did not even attempt to struggle.  Five-year-old Clar, however, had other plans.  She had witnessed all that Lorcan had put her mother through for years, and managed to pick the locks that held her mother there.

“Go mommy.  Run.  I love you!” Clar told her.

“No, baby.  I can’t leave you, and they will just bring me back anyway,” she told her beloved Clar.

“I can’t watch him kill you,” Clar told her mother.

“I shall take you with me then,” she said.

“If you take me, he will kill us both.  He won’t hurt me here.  Not truly.  Go!  I will find you, when I am of age,” Clar told her.

“You are wise beyond your years,” she beamed with pride.

“I am your daughter,” Clar replied.

“I love you, I will come for you!” she told Clar as she hurried away with tears in her eyes.

As she ran from the house, and the boundaries of the village, she considered turning back as the guilt of leaving Clar behind began to eat at her.  She thought about what her daughter had said, and knew she was right.  The only way to protect Clar, was to leave her behind for now.  The tears streamed down her face as she ran.  She didn’t have long to think about it.

The thunderous sound of hoofbeats bearing down on her was unmistakable.  It was a guardsman, about to run her down.  She increased her running to a speed she didn’t know she was capable of, and headed toward a dry gully.  Just as the horse was within striking distance, she jumped the ten feet down to the bottom, rolling to absorb the impact before leaping back to her feet.  The guardsman was so focused on catching her, he failed to lead his horse into the jump and they crashed into the far bank wall.  As the horse struggled to get up with the guardsman’s leg pinned underneath, she grabbed a bolder and bashed his head in until he lay there, bloody and motionless.  The horse was struggling, but seemingly okay.  She grabbed the reigns of the horse, and in a calming voice, helped to right the majestic black creature.  She considered mounting and taking the horse, knowing that she could make better time to another kingdom on horseback, but seeing the fear in the animal’s eyes, elected to remove the saddle and pack from the horse as she stoked its muzzle.  She unhooked the reigns, and told it to be free.  The horse wandered down the length of the gully, until finding a place shallow enough to climb out, and galloped off.

She turned her attention to the pack, and to the weapons of the guardsman.  She took his sword, his dagger, the pack, and his canteen.  She put the canteen to her lips, took a drink, and plunged the sword into the guardsman to ensure he was dead.  She removed it, and sheathed the still bloody blade before walking off to the neighboring kingdom, hoping to elude the guardsmen until she reached safety.

The pack was heavy, and she was growing tired.  She was nearing the river and knew she was close to freedom.  The king’s guardsmen were not going to cross the border into the next kingdom of Galicia, knowing of the superior forces on the other side that would decimate them.  She had heard Lorcan speak in jealousy of the Galician forces, and knew that even the elite guardsmen feared them.  She wasn’t sure how she would be treated there, but figured she couldn’t fare worse than she had.

As she neared the river, and the border, she heard the hoofbeats riding her down from behind once more.  They were guardsmen to be sure, only this time, there was at least four.  She knew she could not close the distance in time, and turned to fight, raising her sword.

She readied herself as they came near, unsure how she would defeat four mounted guardsmen, when she saw one fall from his horse.  Then another.  Then the third.  Then the last.  She saw arrows protruding from the final body to fall, and realized that the forces from Galicia had just saved her life.  She turned to face the river and saw a lone warrior, with his bow at his side.

She saw Conor.

 

 

I Know

I notice patterns.  There is not much I do better than most people, but you should have known that particular thing about me.  I guess that is part of analyzing things to death.  In doing so, I see things the people who accept everything at face value might miss.

I know it was you.  I had known for a while, before I confronted you, but your denial confirmed it.  You had to know I would see.  Why would you let me see, without admitting to it?  Did you think I would be mad?  Did you think I would find it to be inappropriate?  Did you not realize how much I wanted it to be you?  How I would dream of it being you all of the time?  How your obsession with me feels like a dream come true?  Yet, you still tried to hide it.

In stopping it, or changing your method, you confirmed it was you.  I confronted no other.

Perhaps you didn’t think I would notice, but I think you are cunning enough to have considered that I would.  So the only other conclusion that can be drawn is that you want me to know.

But why?

If I didn’t want your attention, I have ways of preventing it.  If I thought you were improper, I would say so.  I did not.  I merely threw out that I had noticed, and was hoping you would take the bait.  You took it, and you let me see you were hooked on the line.

So why do you still not let me reel you in?

Why would you rather be on the line, dragged in my wake?  Let me pull you to me, if that is where you desire to be.

As you resist my attempts, I do not know if you want me to set you free, or to try harder to catch you.  I have cut the line before, and just when I think you have gone, you do something else to let me know you are there.  When you don’t respond, I think you want me to let you go.  But you never do go, do you?  No.  I know.

I know you asked for me.  I know, because I was asking for you at that same moment, that night, looking up at the sky.  I saw you, on the other side.  Looking up.  She showed you to me.  Did she show me to you?  Or was it you, who wanted me to see you?  Either way, I know.

I know you cried for me when I was captured by the enemy and was about to meet my fate.  I felt your tears from across the sky and they gave me the strength to break my restraints and escape.

I know you had that dream about us.  You know which one I am talking about.  I know you would be embarrassed if I were to go into detail, so I will spare you that.  But I know you dreamed it, and I know you pulled me into it.  I know the images of our bodies locked together in passion there in the falling snow still fill your mind, and I know they are filling your mind right now.

So why do you still hide?  I know it has been too long for it to be a game.  Are you afraid?  Do you think I will snare you in a trap?  I know you have been captured before.

I have no intentions of snaring you.  I am warrior, not a hunter.

I have nothing with which to trap you.  I do not carry the tools of a hunter.  I only have my desire to keep you wanting to stay with me.

Or maybe you are afraid I will see the sides you try to hide.  Maybe you fear I will see your demons and will run the other way.  Maybe you are worried I am too blinded by your light to know of the darkness within you.

But, my Goddess,

I know.

This is fiction.  Is there some basis in reality?  I know, do you?