'Writers are liars by nature, but just because of that, don't discount us. For it is through our lies that we tell the truth. Our stories become the mask.'

Saturday 31 December 2016

Stepping onto the Train...

 
Hey there...
 ...all you travellers of the wayward side...

   We've reached a turn, finally made it to the shores of a new year, maybe even a new era in our lives.
  It feels like something's tapping at my window, that something's tapping at all our windows...
  And I think I want to let it in.
This year is the year I want to say that I did that. In saying, I'm starting slow, one building block at a time.
   And I'd kinda like to take you along.
I want to enter the writing world beyond just the writing. 
  To be found we must be seen.
My first destination this New Year, is to once a month go to a writing event.
  My sights are set on the Melbourne Literary Salon. Held on the 31st of January 6 pm Federation Square. I have other plans too, to once or twice a week go to some kind of writing, book-related event.
 Over the period of 2017 - 2019 it is my aim to achieve publication for my first book: 
  The MatchSpark Revellings: Volume I. The beginning of an End.
  I will take you through the whole path, from editing, events, competitions, the whole shebang that is involved in reaching publication.
   With some delights and the return of some old friends thrown in for good measure.

    Imagine, making sure every day is devoted in some way towards our goal, to making it happen.
   You never know what's just around the corner...
  In delirium after binging on fruit mince pies...
  Next step is getting a job and a flat...a space to create. With a job I can get to even more events.
    
    (A small description of my first book...)

   My Book is about a dragon who was a girl. A monster with a God-complex and a boy with ocean eyes and a heart of electricity. It is a tale about being in the darkness and finding your way back again.
  
  All my love and wishes for 2017.

Miss C.L.Scarlett xox

Saturday 24 December 2016

Lyla's Lake



There was a girl, whose Father was the Moon. Her hair was the hue of moonlight, her eyes the color of the Sun: her Mother, it is said. She was born in a time before the foundations of the earth were laid, and in the spaces of darkness she would play the mandolin. Play music to the stars that was so beautiful, great hosts of stars would perform dance. Some used to say that the whole of the universe moved in time, in dance to her melody and that if she were to stop playing, the world would stop...even cease to be.
  She was happy and yet, often she would look down upon the earth, and pine for the men she would see wandering its expanse.
  For she was lonely.
  One in particular - a man of the ocean - captured her heart. Day after day she would watch him from her cove in the sky. At night, her songs twisted in New ways for him. But a Daughter of the skies can no more touch the earth, or love, than a child of the earth could touch the skies. It was said, that her pining grew so great that she began to search the universe for a way, a way to be with he who she loved. Eventually, she went to the lowest, deepest realm and found in there a Primordial Darkness. It whispered to her another story. That if she were to give her heart to It, she would be able to set foot on the earth and be with he who love her. There would be a further price though, the Darkness murmured. She would never be able to return to the Heavens but be doomed to walk the earth for eternity.
  The girl agreed, her pain too great to refuse. She gave the Primordial Darkness her heart and left that place. When at last she found her way to earth, she searched high and low for the man. When at last she found him though, she discovered only dust within herself. She felt nothing for the man. It was only then that she realized her mistake. She could not love a man when already she had given her heart to the darkness. 
  She left the man and wandered the earth until sorrow overwhelmed her utterly. She fell to her knees and began to weep. She wept for a century and, slowly, a great lake formed from her tears. Many more years passed and at last, the Moon looked down upon his Daughter, his silent fury at her actions long spent and his heart filled with mercy. Though he could not undo her curse, he placed on her a gift, of a kind.
  He bid her presence to become one with the lake, allowed her spirit to roam free within its vast waters. There she remains, in a world of peace, apart, yet close. There she plays her music.
  It is said that when people drown in the lake, they can hear Lyla's music right before the dark takes them and that it is she that leads them to the next world, to the Heavens, where those souls become stars and for that brief, brief moment she can step amongst the skies again.

Tuesday 8 November 2016

...

                                 

  'I am what I am, as are you my dear...and what belies our nature settles within us our souls, forever mute, forever unyielding...just as it is, and as it shall be, for it is the one thing that time and death cannot steal. That which lingers on...into eternity itself...' (Leviathan)

Tuesday 18 October 2016

The Road to Colder Lands...



  Something stirring...
Listen, Listen.
 Listen to what lies within...
Come now,
  Step closer a little...
Let me take a good look at you,
Now, just breathe...
  Look into my eyes now,
Let your heart still...
  Just drift away,
Allow me to see...
  And now my dear,
Truly you are lost...

  Ah but please mon Cheri,
Allow me,
 Allow us...
To introduce ourselves.
  We are the still silence...
Crackling in the corners of your mind,
  The pale figures that haunt your...
Afterthoughts, afterimages...
  Through your dreams we follow,
The thinnest of webs that twine through your subconscious...
  We who pierce our hooks through dreamcatchers,
  Stealing the beads there...
Snatching souls.
  For we glide...
We float.
  We drive insanity with chains,
With whips...
   And ever so soon,
It is you who seek us...
  Oh at first it is tentative, yes,
The steps we make,
  Into your realms...
Into your mind.
  But we are there in the darkness,
Where your whispers fade into silence.
  Yes...
We are the impulsion in your demise.
  Your poison,
Your madness...
  We the sweet bitter end,
Your voice of fate...
  We who sleep where the worms creep...
Where a glimmer of light sparks for eternity,
  We thread our way...
Through your heart, head, soul,
  We will not rescue you,
From your prisons...
 Oh no.
We cannot hide you from the horrors,
  But we will be the embrace that holds you together...
  When you are shattering.
The silent word in the midst of your chaos...
  The claws that brush your shoulder,
And hold you back from the abyss...
  Whisper that you will always run...
Always fly away,
  My dear...
You cannot always disappear,
  But perhaps...
Just this once,
  We can show you a way out...
And hear now,
  To the oldest of rhymes...
Pack your things,
  Leave somehow...
Blackbirds song,
  Is over now...
Rivers dry,
  Pastors bed....
Dead dead dead.
  So go child's,
Bide your time,
  Then seize the chance...
Leave,
  Start again...
Don't fear,
  For we stand beside you...
When none else shall,
  Trust us...
For who else sees you as we do?
  Do not fear...
For blackbirds song,
  Is over now...
Travel the coastal road,
  Past the many seas...
Through lands of wildflower and gnarled tree,
  To a land colder and far away...
Nestle within the candlelight glow of her stormy shores...
   Grey churning sky,
Wind that touches your skin with an icy embrace,
  Of trees where ghosts whisper...
Where wolves fashioned from rain,
  Dart and wind through the aged forests...
Sounds that creak beneath the rich earth,
  Her waves that roar and unfurl ...
The land that lies within all your hidden memories,
  Behind the pages of the story...
Way back way.
  To there you shall fly...
There you shall be safe,
  There your island awaits...
Perchance.
  Walk our way,
Keep your minds eye on that distant glow...
   And one day soon,
You will step away from their suffocation
  Unlatch their chains...
And fly,
  Nothing but distant, fading memories behind you.
  So seek...
And know that we are here,
  Settle still...
Bequeath your souls to us.
  And you will be free.

Monday 3 October 2016

The White Gate



What binds us keeps us...

A door through the dark,
into the dark...
Again and again the acid burns its' way through us,
Making us sick,
Making us murderers...
While we silently count these hours,
And wait in the shadows...
We are the monsters in your closet,
We who creep beneath beds and boards...
See yourself disappearing,
Always disappearing.
We are ghosts...
The trails of the living?
Man we haven't walked those trails in forever...
Laugh, because otherwise,
You'll pick up the knife and really use it this time...
Oh and by the way,
By the way...
There was something,
Something we remember...
A face in the dark,
A white door in the dark...
We espied a white door,
Upon the distant sand...
The aged stars whirring above,
The salt waves that coiled...
Step through its' doors,
Step away from the world awhile...
To a place where rabbits search the galaxies,
where octopuses waited in ballrooms and carousels sparkled in the late night streets.
Stare at the reflection, and realize that it does not belong to you...
It never belonged to you,
And the truth we hide from ourselves...
The way that is closed.
That door leads only to him,
Unto his sweet demise...

Don't worry Scar, that is neither here nor there, better now rather than later and really, don't you see? I am as possessive of you as she is with he...

Scar


Sunday 6 March 2016

Fly Blue Night...


And today I set forth... 
To fly to the land of the cloud,  
To hunt demons and mystical mountains... 
I go. 
And to write, 
Fair well land of cruelty and scorched beauty... 
I am no longer bound by this boa constrictor. 

Scar xx

Monday 11 January 2016

The Goblin King - a small tribute....



Sing your heart of fire... 
Wings of dawn lift you up, 
And take you to new light... 
New heart. 
New sky. 
There you dance and laugh and shine. 

RIP

David Bowie

January 8th 1947 - January 11th 2016

Join me in your own Remember David Bowie day each January 11th.
Remember the man who was out of this universe and who taught us how to survive the Labyrinth. 
Wear something beyond crazy -  that you'd never wear -  and post to your media in his honor. 
May you ever live in our hearts. 

Scar xx