The night-black Raven
Bright shiny things in his eyes
Flies away alone

Dream of the Raven's Gate VIII

Lost in the timelessness of the Dream World...



A shiver ran across the spine of the Great Key. It's silver skin flashed the subtlest of despair, and it once again resumed it's place in my mind.

My body lay dying on the cold tile of the bathroom. I could not hear the shouts of the men at my door, nor could I feel the tugging and pulling as the scene developed in slow-motion into one of the many stereotypical take-down reels to be shown at police conferences for years to come. The one overzealous rookie shot me 4 times after I convulsed, and would never again serve in the uniform. The paramedics arrived, working frantically to save this murderer, and the scene continued to spiral deeper into chaos. I was dragged off, resuscitated, with the hope that I would make a recovery and be able to be held accountable for my egregious actions. I saw all of this through the far-off eyes of my dream-self, and prayed that I would forget before waking. My home was ransacked, and my life rent asunder by the men trying to prove my guilt. It should not have been so difficult, as the clothing I had worn was in plain view, and my bedclothes were still covered in the filth of the night.


In the darkness of a long-dead tomb, a green glow began to pulse with certainty. The faintest of glows began to spread into the retched darkness, and Death still hadn't taken notice. So finally, after so very long, The Great Old One stirred. Storms, the like unseen for centuries, spread over the seas in places rarely covered on maps. Ships caught in these storms suffered as few living understood. And for so many, madness came in their sleep. Words, unspoken and strange, were uttered in the sleep from the very mouth of chaos. Children begged for their mothers and babies started awake unable to be cooed back into slumber. It had truly begun, and there in the cell where He had been bound, He began to prepare for the coming reign.


Karasu frowned at me from the shadows... He could see the recognition on my face. He knew I knew, and could not yet decide if I should be led into the arms of understanding. He decided to leave, and turned away from my eyes and vanished into the nether. The train sidled onwards...

Continued

A Jaunt

Follow me in the night
Follow me in the morn
Follow me in dusty boots
Through evening, dusk, and dawn

Follow me in sunshine
Follow me in rain
Follow me when skipping rocks
Through joy, heartache, and pain

Follow me into your eyes
Follow me into your heart
Follow me into your very soul
Please don't ask me to stop

Angus

Angus MacRae's body lie face down in the snow. Blood pooled under him and an eerily festive crimson stain spread to reach far from where he lay. A small dog sat patiently at his feet, and pawed his master's pantleg from time to time. Quietly and without drama, the moon set and darkness finally came. A host of animals emerged from the woods all around, not to feast upon a dead body, but rather to pay respects to one of their own. Angus MacRae was a Vampire. He was a singular creature who understood what a demon was supposed to do, but never forgot what it was to be a man. He never lost his connection with the world he left behind centuries ago, and he never took for granted that he was anything more than a shadow; a beast to be shunned when the sky grew black and children cried out in fear of the night. Angus MacRae spent his time here in this world acting as a custodian of life, and carried a dream of love in his still heart. He knew, deep inside his being that although he could never again gaze at the Sun, it did not mean that he had to forsake it's existence.

Angus was an ancient creature, and grew weary of his gift of immortality. So long ago, he decided that he would will himself to live and die as a man. He took a wife, a woman so fair that the night itself dared not come too close, lest it be turned back in to daylight. Her infinitely deep eyes saw in him what he did not see in himself, and that kindness was repaid into the world around him. He cared for his home, his community, and his town as any man of wealth and power might. He fed only upon those unable to cross into the beyond by themselves, being merciful and kind in his choices. He tended his gardens by nightfall, and was generous with their bounty. But time waits for no creature, and even though he begged her to join him in eternal night, she refused. His love, she had said, would keep her forever young. She was wrong.
As all mortals must, she passed from this world. However, she left while wrapped in the arms of a demon, while his bloody tears streamed from love-sick eyes that would never again see anything quite so beautiful. Her death affected the creature in ways he had not foreseen. Love would forever more be a stranger unwelcome to his heart. At least the kind of love that kept him anchored to his home. She passed. He wandered. Time marched on.

Angus MacRae gave to the world. He gave himself. He stalked in the night men who made his kind seem weak and harmless. He stripped these men of their gift of life, a gift wasted on madness and hate. He took any he could find, and slowly, began to feel as though he was making a difference. He waged his war on evil for decades, and made a small piece of the world a safer and kinder place. Children ran in the night unafraid, and mothers did not worry quite so much when a place was left empty at the dinner table. They knew the child would return. Children always returned. It was fact. Unlike the love of Angus MacRae's lonely existence. She was gone, never to return, and that bound his heart to a life without human companionship. He chose, instead, to keep a dog. A small dog that reminded him of the whimsy that he knew must still be in his heart, no matter how deeply buried. A dog passing would be less hurtful, he thought. Again, he was wrong. The first death brought back all the pain of the loss of his beloved. He wondered if it were possible for a Vampire to die of a broken heart even after all this time had passed. But still, Angus kept dogs. No matter where he went, he kept a small dog by his side. And those that came to know him, could recognize him no matter his visage by the accompanying pet. It made the knowing humans feel less threatened by his presence. It helped make them trust him, and as they came to know him , love both him and his dog. And Angus MacRae understood that being loved was as important as loving others. A lesson he thought he knew, but yet still had to learn.

He watched as children grew into parents, then grandparents, and so on, until they then marched off into the beyond. He saw the world change ever so slowly. He saw times of war, and peace. and all manner of new developments. He watched as the world became smaller and smaller, relative to the people who lived on it. He watched as the places he tried so desperately to protect succumbed to the ever-expanding modern world. And he realized that he would not be able to keep it safe forever, even though he would be there for as long. So one evening, Angus MacRae finally did what he felt he could do so very long ago. He willed his own existence to be snuffed out like a spent candle, and fell, face down, into the crisp, fresh snow that covered the grave of his beloved.

Sonnet Two

Whispering in flowers touching my eyes
The fresh scent of blossoms in the crisp air
Your hand and your heart a sweetness the prize
Kisses and kindness and beauty so fair

Does not your very breath speak of my name
When sleep comes in darkness silent and free
Your bedclothes wrap'd around your graceful frame
Holding you fast to dreams of shores and sea

Does the wide-open sky shelter your smile?
Will you hide it under stormy clouds gray?
Will the soft rain bring you peace for awhile?
Please give me your hand and promise to stay?

Your love it is pure and gentle and sweet
With beauty and joy your gaze I shall meet