Halloween Wishes...

Image used: Bloody_Mary_by_LunarDiamond 2

 

It’s 1904. Pretty Ella Wilson is a very excited young lady. She is going to be allowed quite a unique opportunity of taking a glimpse into her future ... Ella has a dream, she would dearly love to see her future husband-to-be, and on this ‘Hallows Eve’ she has been told her wish will be granted ... But listen, and remember... (Be careful what you wish for)  

 

5-45pm... Monday 31^st October 1904

I’m overjoyed, my shift is finally over. It’s Monday 31^st October in the year 1904, and my friend Polly from the kitchen has told me it’s ‘All Hallows Eve’ but wait, here’s the exciting part... if I really, really want to, then this would be the absolute, perfect night, to sit in a darkened room, hold a mirror out to my front, just so I may catch a glimpse of my beloved, my future husband...  The very thought that this might be so, fills me with astonishment.  Oh I know what you’re thinking, ‘what on earth is she going on about’ but please, listen...  For over two long, lonely years, my dream’s been love, marriage and babies. Yes, I realise I have to find a partner first, sadly though to me this dream’s a million miles away....

 

Let me introduce myself, my name is Ella Wilson; I work as a domestic maid for an eminent Doctor and his family in the heart of London. It is unusual, but I live out which suits me just fine.  This evening as I leave work, I distinctly feel a lighter skip to my walk. My emotions are high, and although I’m not sure why, I feel overwhelmed almost like I’ve won a prize. I feel hopeful as well as in suspense with recent advice and information; I carefully store a list of things in the twirling vortex of my mind. My first stop before catching the tram home is to pop into the nearest shop; I must obtain a bottle of wine, just to help me relax for the evening ahead.

Within the quaint little shop I smell the over powering aroma of liquorice. As I Look around I spy big juicy pumpkins, and decide there and then to make a Jack-o-lantern. I smile at the thought of an enclosed candle flickering warmly. With a most welcome relief I realise it will illuminate the surrounding darkness in my little room, which is where I will sit for the event. With all my heart, I hope and pray that tonight I will get to meet my future husband. The very thought seems nigh on impossible...

10.00pm...

Sat in my favourite armchair, excited, and dressed in my Sunday best with gas lights extinguished, I relax as it grows progressively darker... Two more hours need to pass... as I lean back I admire the pumpkins big bright but scary face, its candle flickers in a sinister way, whilst nightmarish eyes grin back at me...  Outside, the night is black and icy; cold begins to penetrate my little room.  In the dark, I’m able to watch as fine spits of rain, sizzle on the gas lamps outside my window, causing little puffs of smoke to evaporate into the chilly night. The front door’s been knocked countless times; I ignore them, because this evening is mine. I must remain calm, relaxed and open to the fact that I’m going to see my one true love, my sweetheart... tonight.

 

The clock strikes the 11:00^th hour, only one more hour till magical strike of midnight. Slowly, deliberately, I pour another glass of deep, dark delicious wine; as it usually does, it hits the spot. My eyes close, my mind slides to an inviting grey light, which nestles snugly behind tired eyelids, here I see myself and the past... I do hope day dreaming is allowed before one sees a future vision... I shiver as I observe loneliness, and as I behold my eternal wish for a proper family, and sense its importance as it illuminates through the greyness. I know my past has not been good, but at least I work, and I have a place to stay.  I want to be positive. I need to concentrate hard on the good bits of life; anything extra would be the bonus I’ve long waited for. Maybe this dream is for idiots or for fools who want to wish their lives away... Who in their right mind would wait till midnight to catch a glimpse of someone they don’t even know... smiling, my grin spreads wide.  I already know the answer to that laborious question. I also know it would be a fool who did not seek-out what they want.  All I know is that I need to know, I have to know, even if the answer is good, bad or indifferent, I have to see.

 

Pouring yet another glass of wine I visibly flinch at the time.  11.56pm; I need to set the scene. Gripping the cold wine glass, I take a final sip... looking deep into my beautiful mirror, which I acquired when I took up residence in my little room... I admire the stunning, ornamental decor of this outrageously heavy mirror which is made from solid oak; it stands upright on its own stand... To my right, the Jack-o-lantern flickers softly on my little wine table. In a heartbeat I note the air abruptly chills... its deathly quiet. Unexpectedly I smell apple cinnamon, not sure why as I don’t recall buying any. I hear the ticking of a clock; I don’t possess a clock that ticks... Why?  Because I can’t stand them with their perpetual reminder that life ticks on by....

12:00 ~ Midnight:

I wonder if these new sights, sounds and smells have anything to do with the magic I’m about to witness... Motionless, I tentatively peer into the mirror, nervous now by the sudden appearance of swirls of fog, its denseness goes from thick to thin, then abruptly it starts to clear... stretching forwards I crane my neck further towards the mirror.  I don’t know how, but I do know the time is imminent; fog seems to be disappearing, but then the odd swirl blows towards me from within the mirror... is that possible? Polly said nothing about fog penetrating my front room, but hang on, there’s something else, my body feels strange and oh so peculiar.  I cringe as I feel the hairs on my arms and neck stand to attention. A petrified feeling within my stomach churns over, and over, I’ve felt this feeling before... its fear.   Fear with its tentacles begins its climb up towards my chest. I’m unable to move my eyes, staring hard into the mirror; under no circumstances do I want to miss my loved one... I know as if by instinct that something is about to happen, the room starts to turn, the mirror clears again.

 

Hang on I see something...  someone’s moving, crawling forwards, perhaps like me wanting a better look... I see a figure from the other side pushing closer to catch a glimpse... Heart truly singing now... I know I’ll see him shortly. Damn the fog is here again... the mirror darkens, I’m almost standing to catch a glimpse of who’s within my mirror; I hear something, someone... he’s calling my name.  Clearer now, “Ella, Ella... Closer, come closer, I can’t see you... Come to the Mirror Ella, come...“ Standing tall, this is it, I touch my face and smooth down my dress, I feel a heart full of love as I nervously step forward... A gurgling sound echoes throughout the room...  another step up to the glass, then a crescendo of a thousand bubbles explode as they escape from the mirror...  

 

A green light throbs as it pulsates from behind the glass. I’m just able to make out the outline of his skull; he’s here, my beloved... His arms open out towards me, lovingly, I thrust my own arms forward, I am quickly horrified to see them disappear into the mirror; the glass gives way like liquid metal... but before I get a chance to scream, I’m noisily sucked into the dark green, murky water, like a loose weed I’m gone... Gone forever with my love on the other side of the mirror, lost in his twilight misty world of fog...

 

Disorientated, I float helpless back towards the front of the mirror. From here I look... and scream as I witness the absolute horror of it all... and as I frantically push both hands onto the inside of the glass ~ I look out to see the Jack-o-lanterns chilling, twinkle as it stares menacingly back at me, I catch a glimpse of my upturned wine glass, with its contents still seeping into the carpet, but oh my god, that’s nothing to the most frightening sight of all...

 

A grotesque man sits in my wonderful, comfortable armchair, and with a ghoulish grin he waves at me.  

 

© 2014 Jane Ewen  

 

 

 





Eden Raven 1849...

Image 'Charles W Morgan 'ship from Wikipedia

A Taster...  

His thoughts dream and drift towards many possibilities. His love for her has no end, but he knows beyond the stars and back, she is many things with many faces... Right now this beautiful woman has produced a tangled labyrinth in his tortured mind. The plot thickens as he senses trouble lurking closer. Now more than ever he knows it's time he steps toward encouraging her to see that his warm heart is genuine and real... Why is this so complicated, why do things have to turn? His observations prove this woman holds her secrets close, inexplicably he knows he's the one to help, the one to be there, hold her close when it all becomes clear... He also knows in this life what you see isn’t always what you get...

There is just one pressing problem, they have yet to meet!

Dense fog swirls dream-like around the largest ship, which lies securely docked against the towns harbour wall.  Frost sparkles from every visible flat surface, and in the slowest of motion, tiny waves hit the ship, making rhythmic thumping sounds from small pieces of ice which bang alongside its beautiful, dark aged wood. This magnificent ship has managed for the longest time, to keep all who have sailed in her, safe. 

Leaning against cold metal of the lamp-post, Drake smiles, he lights yet another cigarette and then puffs acrid grey smoke upwards, towards the bright light of the moon.  He recalls how his mother had time and time again told him the story of his name; she’d wanted to call him ‘Drake’ after Francis Drake, who had sailed around the world in the 1500s. Oh how he smiled when he thought of how her face would crinkle with happiness, at the very thought of her own boy sailing away on his own adventures, taking in the sights and sounds of the world and then bringing them back to share. His mother wanted treasures and stories from the most interesting people, but most of all she wanted to hear about the warmest places.

In his faraway state he jerks as he hears the clip-clop of a maiden’s foot-fall.  

Darting towards the darkness of a nearby door-way, he huddles within. 

Drake’s heart beats faster than a trapped moth whose wings bang savagely against glass in its effort to escape.   

Why is she here again he thought?

The silhouette of a woman glides effortlessly past, stopping briefly she glances round, and then she gently stretches out pale slender fingers, which tightly grip the ships thick rope, she is relieved that there’s no one there. Breathing out, she gingerly embarks upon the ships rickety platform. The bustle her silk dress irritates her, and as she stops again to ensure that she has definitely not been followed, she quietly moves on.   

Drake emerges from the darkness, still cautious just in case she looks back.

Stealthily he creeps along the side of the ship, knowing he just has to follow; he wants to find out what is going on. Nearing the top of the ships platform, he hears voices.

Pressing himself against the creaking wood he holds on to his breath...

“How much?” she cries

“I’ve told you time and time again” he growls.

“Dear sir I cannot afford such an extortionate price; she whimpers, I need you to take me before it’s too late”.

“Get off of my ship this instant and do not come back”

“Please sir I beg of you, I need to go as soon as possible... you are my one and only hope”

“I want 20 pounds and if you can’t afford that, then you need to leave” he smirks.

The young women fights back tears; she would not let this cruel man see her cry.

“I am at your mercy sir... please”

“Get OUT” he screeches... roughly pushing past her he rips open the cabin door and points a bony finger into the darkness.

Back on the platform she hears the cabin door slam shut. Her heart broken, what will she do? The captain is leaving in a few days, and she just didn’t have that kind of money, she was more than willing to pay her fare, she was even prepared to work on board, but dear lord he was not agreeable for that to happen.

Leaning against dark, damp wood, she wipes her eyes; she would figure something out... he was not leaving this harbour without her; she would make sure of that. Holding on to the rope, she makes her way down the platform. Already she has a plan formulating, but it would take some thought... she needed more time.

Once again he moves out from inside the shadows, Drake watches as she disembarks and without looking back she hurries along damp cobbles towards her reluctant destination.  Shaking his head, he makes his way home, but not before following Eden, he must make sure she gets home safely. 

(©) Jane Ewen  2014

 

The Glorious Sea...

One fine day when I live by the deep blue sea, I’ll happily share the delights I know I will encounter. The dream has been a long one; time has shown me that there is certainly a deep timeless yearning that may possibly go on forever... I happily suffer hallucinations and with warm enthusiasm, I welcome all future, blissful possibilities they represent.   

I will fully endeavour to describe the way the sea kisses its shore; I will help you the reader to visualise sea creatures as they tentatively step out of from beneath the ocean’s froth, on to fine sugary sand. As I breathe in deep, I will open with honesty; blue eyes wide, so that you distinctly hear the most amazing sounds, breathe in the most beautiful smells and see with crystal like clarity, indescribable sights...

There is a world where one can go, a world that needs to be enjoyably viewed by invitation... If I have the sight to describe my world to you, then hopefully you’ll have your own uncapped power to soak up all its magnificence... I don’t mind saying, my world can be full of mystery, my dreams beyond compare... Stark thoughts are ever abundant.

All of these ever increasing qualities grow consistently week by week, year by year... giving so much to my globe, my imagination. I may build a universe, describe a war or even share my deepest thoughts ... and quite often I find that my head spins uncontrollably non stop ... the hardest part I occasionally find, is not the sharing of my passion... but retaining it.

I want to delight, appeal, fascinate, tempt, enchant and charm... I have just got to touch your deepest nerve, penetrate your softest core so that you understand every single day there is someone you can touch, help and support with a simple smile... I know this like I know, night follows day...

The story is not yet over; it begins with all of us every single day! 


~JaneEwen~

 

Writer's Connection...

White fresh paper with blue/black ink... or if you’re a bit more like me, then it will be a clean keyboard, and crisp computer screen. Then as you prepare for your precious session, there’s a silent but indescribable noise that only you can hear... so when its high pitch screech hums for you to come, play... You'll then realise for a millionth time, that writing is a wonderous participation, and sharing your well thought-through contribution, after  you’ve finally edited the piece as much as you dare, is quite often payment enough! Writing, reading, editing... reading editing and feeling tiny stirrings of butterfly-ish delight as you realise... it’s you who wrote the words, you’re the one responsible and then as your about to publish, it hits you... your writing is a journal of consistent healing, it’s a wonderful continuance of the work you so love to do... I find whatever I write always adds to the health of my wellbeing, and with one article after another I watch, learn and grow... 

I’ve always thought, if you don’t like a story then all you have to do is write your own... use life experiences with preferences towards bringing to life a scene, a moment or an encounter that no other could have experienced in the way you did. That’s the magnificence of writing, and for me it’s also the beauty of reading... to sit, read and feel what a writer is trying to portray... Take in their words, see the scene and understand as much as possible ~ The Story ~ Their Story ~ if you feel connected, it’s possibly because you’ve been through similar.  

It’s also my belief that if there is passion, and the narrative comes together correctly, then you can rest assured someone, somewhere will enjoy your work... a lot won’t but that really isn’t the point, there is a saying, a quote I think from Abraham Lincoln,  

‘You can please all of the people some of the time, and some of the people all of the time, but you cannot please all of the people all of the time’

Recently in the writing world I’ve been communicating about what others might feel are appropriate terms which might describe a story, the situation or even a character... It came to my attention that some individuals don’t like the way writers, can and do express things for instance... recently a writer was (politely) questioned on using the term ‘Guys’ when addressing people ~ They felt there was a possibility it could be demeaning to women... for me personally, it’s not a problem and the point I would like to make without waffling, is that, if the way a writer writes offends, then please don’t read their stuff. When I write I like to think I write as I speak, if the occasion permits I like to shorten, lengthen and use words that I feel comfortable with... I don’t do this to offend anyone, or demean, I'm just being me and to be fair I don’t know any other way to write... All I am wholly aware of is that I want to talk to you with a rich, warm, welcoming voice... so that reader’s feel like it’s just we two. I also do visualisation when writing, so to be honest as much as this post may be read by many, I only see one. However in my heart of heart's, I like to think my writing touches many and it is hoped you get a lot from my words and experiences. I have lived through much, and always try to share what I can, so it will continually be my wish, to help, even support whoever stops by.

I hope you never stop returning to AngelJanes World... there’s usually something being discussed or shared, and has is always felt... please remember, I care that you stopped by.

Stay a while, because you’re more than welcome  

When I was 12years old...

Today is a wonderful day for most because it’s ‘MOTHERS DAY’ and yet how incredibly strange it feels for me... to know that my own biological mother is in a home dying... I came to the conclusion last night, that whatever she inflicted upon us she's suffered tenfold.

So on this wonderful Mothers day I write my post with so much love and haste, so that I can dedicate it to my beautiful girls... I write from my heart and I smile with its beats, because whether I ever make it in the literary world of beautiful, creative arts... I want both my darlings to know my work is for them. It’s filed, password protected for both of you... you will always have me near and within... I don’t plan on going anywhere just yet, but it’s a thought that I’ve never disclosed and so today with everything I know, I feel it’s the right time to share...

When I was 12years old I was what I always refer to as a ‘Child of Salford’... at that time I was happily in the care system. Saturday morning’s would find me in my own dream world, lying on my bed reading, and I always sensed, such captivating magic in-between each and every line or speech bubble... Education wise, I didn’t start school properly until I was 8yrs old, so you will understand catching up to my peers was ultra important to me. I recall excelling at English, however math’s was a complete disaster, and still is but you short change me and you’ll know about it! 

Back then I told myself I would be a writer, but then I lost sight of the dream with the toil of life and just living, getting by each day. I suppose I realised my late start in school and the important issue of missing parents and siblings, really had a devastating effect on life as well as my aspirations.  Instead it issued me with a dreadful sense of my own lack of confidence... I was not articulate and my grammar usually escaped me. Then four years ago when I had a real life-crisis, I suddenly realised writing was something I wanted to do more than ever. Finally I started writing a few pieces, and then I nervously produced my BLOG AngelJanes World... I also recall the elation at having a short story published by the Scottish book trust. To see and feel my very own words in print did something to my heart and soul. I guess you could say it made my spirit squeal in a way I’d never heard before.

My true belief is that although I’m sure I haven’t quite found my voice yet in the literary world, the one thing I am super sure about, is that I have a way of writing which I hope to retain... I want people to sense my passion and feel the genuineness in my voice, I want them to take the words in and know as I speak, I write... In taking original thoughts and ideas out, polishing stuff up and taking the edge off things... isn’t how I want my writing presented... although please don’t misunderstand, I want the work to be presented to you in a way that is intelligible, I just don’t want to lose the original voice or enthusiasm. I love the fact that most times when I read back, I feel like I’m having a conversation with myself... I also imagine certain faces and dreamily wonder what they might think...

On my journey of realisation, I further became conscious and subsequently watched as a whole new healing process beautifully took place, and I recall wanting to shed tears at all the unnecessary time I’d wasted. How much better things would have felt if I’d allowed myself the freedom to write, even if it was just for me....? Layer by layer sadness peeled back, I was able to face things which I’d refused to do previously. I hate conflict, I would run away from challenge and quite often I'd hide my head in the sand to avoid having to feel any more pain...

It’s taken so long to get to this point in time, but I’m deeply happy to be able to report that being here feels extraordinary. I’ve always known, and maybe, just maybe, this is why the journey's taken so long... that personally for me, writing usually depends very much on how I'm feeling, and I can honestly say I have never felt as internally happy in mind, body and spirit as I do right now... My life, although it's not perfect, is as perfect as I can make it... My family mean the whole world to me, and as most of you may already know, I blissfully married in 2011 to the most amazing man who believes in me, and with him he brought so much to life... he also miraculous taught me, that I can do whatever I want by just being me... So in being me, I say to anyone who is listening... life maybe short, but the time you spend on this gorgeous planet and those choices you make, sometimes have the most profound impact on those around you. So with my love and best wishes I whisper, be careful!  
 

Have a wonderful day!

Don’t forget stay close... just so I can reach out and touch you!

 

Google Image (artful-s-quotes-WhenPeopleWalkAwayF)