so the spider hangs – New Book

My new book is now live!

It’s a short story concerning an Earth Angel, Love, Life & Death, Nature, the Universe, Imagination, Reality, Awakening and Existence.

It’s available here at …

LULU

Barnes & Noble

Amazon UK

Amazon.com

And other online stores.

~

The image with the prism rainbow is a reflection from my window and I think it looks pretty neat especially as it gives the shadow some light and fits pretty well with the story.

Thank you.

Edit.

I forgot to add some snippets from the book, so here they are 🙂

There is a silent calm travelling through his life, it permeates his being, his actions, his connections: he is a tree amongst the noises of humanity. Sometimes he thought of himself as wandering in soulless oblivion, then he thought of himself as wandering in search of she who understands. She who is equal to his silence; she who is the shadow to his tree, or he the shadow of hers.

~

Sitting one time in the silence and deathly stillness of an emerging sunrise he had a moment of acuity, for there on the horizon time was being born. He became aware of how mighty is silence and stillness and of how, even for a few seconds, this gap in time was magical and eternal. He lived in this moment and came to see the endless possibilities of thought.

~

The raven in the sunshine gleams in its blackness. Its bulky shadow gives flight to its consciousness and thus its intelligence. Its beak points while those eyes, looking beyond what mere humans can see, penetrate the arena and off into the fields of time and mystery where the knowledge of all things become known. The raven in the sunshine gleams deep in the pleasure of its secrets, and at once he sees the beauty of it all, but seeing is not having. He can hear the distant musicians. He can see the collection of art. He can see the butterfly dazzling the flower with its own beauty. He can see the clouds as they move in their silent caress of the universe. He can see the colours of humanity, and at once the pain of it all struck him with sharp needles of confusion.

~

Naked are the stars in winter as they caress the evening sky with their immense solitude, like so many leaves blinking when they fall and flutter in the breeze as moonlight kisses them. He lays upon the ground watching the rhythmic blinking where he drifts into an unconscious moment of trepidation. Dare he allow himself to sink into the flesh of life shining above him? Dare he allow his soul to touch those many deaths and births? Dare he begin to forget her so he can begin to know her? Dare he and if he dares, how does he begin?

It’s here! Proof copy, cover reveal.

The proof copy of my latest book has just arrived. The cover is more or less how I wanted it with it being a tad off focus, so I’m happy with it, although the grey could be a bit more grey, bit darker perhaps but screen grey and book grey do differ. Overall I like it and I’ve gone for a matte finish instead of the gloss.

Now I just need to read through and read through again, and even though I’ve read it so many times in Word and printouts I do tend to find blips in book form, but fingers crossed it’ll be ok. Aaaaand I’ve already found two items that need to be changed, grrrr haha, so it certainly won’t be ready until next year!

It’s a short story of roughly 9,000 words with poetic feelings. I’ve been calling it my Surreal, Elemental, Spiritual, Love Story. It concerns a man with his search for that mysterious elemental fragrance of life and love. We are at the end and the beginning of his transformations, his awakening, and his first steps into becoming a Listener – an Earth Angel, although as he says to a mother and daughter on a train when the daughter asks if he is one.

“There are many different kinds of Earth Angel and it isn’t our name or what we are, but it’s the closest to how we are.”

a fragment of spring

… he sits feeling the warmth of the spring breeze. A chaos of midgies hover near the edge; some are caught in a cobweb as mallards float along, birds hidden in the trees make themselves known and little buds begin their openings.

All these goings on are disturbed by the noise of a chugging barge churning the silt. A magpie swoops to the other bank to peck at something in the grass and there a moorhen comes out from the dark overhang. The magpie does a little dance and is gone as a another barge comes along in the wake of those returning mallards.

It’s quiet now but for nature’s song. The magpie returns with its mate pecking and tugging with hungry abandon, and there they’re off to the trees.

He sits trying with all his will to feel to engage with all this beauty but of course he fails. He’s not a part of this, he’s merely an observer and this saddens him …

~

“It’s Friday.”

A rather strange story from March 2013

~

Thursday is a funny old day come clocking off time. Funny because we get paid on a Thursday, and funny because we get paid not only in cash but also in booze or any particular thing we care to partake of at the hotel bar; it’s a sort of end-of-week treat and yes I know, Thursday isn’t the end of the week but we never work Fridays.

I clock off and head for the bar as per usual only to find it shut; isn’t it a bind when something steals the rail tracks from our routines? What to do now, it’s never shut and never ever on a Thursday, as that me-thinks is when they claw back their money. I turn around and head for the exit but flip me if that door isn’t shut too!

Confused is only a mild term to what I’m feeling now. I turn around and head for the reception desk to speak to our most heavenly Matilda; I tell you, just looking at her gives me tingles, and her perfume, ah.. my god it sends the tingles into eruptions of synaptic bliss.

She isn’t there! The Bar shut, the exit shut …

Instantly the tingles are replaced by a cold sweat, my head whirls in confusion and I faint but not before having the most delicious whiff of her perfume.

I wake up and I’m in bed, but not my bed. I’m in bed with Matilda and the tingles are back.

She looks into my puzzled eyes and whispers, “It’s Friday.”
“Friday, but..?”
“Call it a promotion, we’ve been watching you and you suit our purpose just fine.”

She leans over and I’m hers … oh that fragrance …

I wake again to find myself covered in a kind of fluid sheet. Matilda is next to me, joined to me, digesting me …

Oh, perfect sweet chemistry … I feel like a Beatles song.

I thought she was an angel

This story was written in 2013 in response to Kellie Elmore’s prompt: Time & Place

You’re young. You are standing in front of a shop window watching something on the black and white television inside. A woman grabs your hand and runs down the street, pulling you along…

***

The image on the screen … embedded inside my mind like a dart in a board.

Her grip was like that of a feather gripping the sky; I thought she was an angel. When she looked down on me as we flew along at speeds my little legs were incapable of understanding. I saw in her eyes a smile of something unseen on earth; on the little bit of the earth I had seen in my young life.

We flew so so fast, the dart came loose and the image was gone as it became mixed with the blurring of the streets and cars and the people, the ignorant people. Ignorant because I didn’t cry, because I thought she was an angel, my angel, for me.

She smiled with her mouth too, but that was a different smile. It was her eyes which captivated me, captivated me …

They caught me each time she looked down and when she turned her face away towards the horizon, I ached for those eyes to return to me and when they did, they were beautiful … I thought she was an angel.

I thought she was an angel

but I was wrong

… and now I am.