Life is hard sometimes. Like now.
We're facing the loss of a very loved person in our family, my father-in-law. The doctors give him about six to eight weeks. I don't know what to say, or not say, here on the blog, except that he will be terribly missed by all of us when he's gone.
He is in hospice care now and we will all be spending a lot of time there, so I don't anticipate blogging much for the next couple of months.
Until later, then, hug your loved ones and be well.
M
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Merry, Merry!
Yes, Mrs. Mitty lives!
'Tis the season, however, and the blog has had to pay the price.
So before it's too late, I want to wish you a very Merry and Blessed Christmas! For those who don't celebrate Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Happy Yule/Winter Solstice, Kwanzaa or whichever other winter holidays you may celebrate. {s}
I wish you peace, happiness, and love this season and always.
Monday, December 04, 2006
Snippet Day
I decided I would have a 'post-a-snippet' day and see if I can get anyone else to play along. I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours...that kind of thing. Oh, heck, I'll show you mine, regardless. {g}
So without further ado, a snippet from ~
THE BINDING OF THE MARU
copyright MH Ward 2006
{Young Kailia speaking here -- }
I picked up my pack and shifted it onto my shoulders, bestowing a farewell glare upon the House of Mysts. Drawing a deep breath for fortification, I picked up my staff and stepped out onto the road to Gilphord.
About to round a bend in the road that would obscure my view of the place, I glanced back for one last look and saw... not the House of Mysts I had only just left, but a tangle of low, thorny shrubs bordering the road, and beyond them, a long pasture speckled with grazing sheep. There was no structure there, and not a trace of human trespass.
It was...well, a fortnight ago, I'd have said 'impossible'; now it was merely peculiar.
Judging by the sun's position, I had about an hour of daylight left. This would be a night of no moons, so I needed to arrive before the sun was gone. I increased my pace. I had no intention of being caught out alone on the road after dark.
While I hiked along, my mind turned again to picking at the Mystics' message; it was like a nut I couldn't quite get the shell off; I just couldn't leave it alone until I exposed the meat of the matter. (I had cause to wonder, later, if they had meant it to be so, or if it was just another unfortunate case of my curiosity being more than they bargained for.)
It wasn't that I doubted their word or wisdom, but by all that is blessed, they could not have been more vague if they tried. When I begged for more information, they would only respond in that maddening way of theirs, "Have no fear you will miss him, child. What is to be shall be."
Surely I would encounter dozens or even hundreds of men in gray, traveling the roads as I was. How was I to tell which was the one? And if they thought not what he seemed suggested any hint, they could go fish. I had yet to meet a man who was all he seemed on first acquaintance.
But no, come to think on it, they said, "a man of gray", not "a man in gray".
Could that be significant? But what could a "man of gray" be other than a man in gray? Gray hair? What else was gray? Clouds? Animals? Shadows or mists? A dead man? I shivered, hoping very seriously that there was no way at all that a dead man could be vital to my journey.
By the Creator, I would drive myself mad trying to puzzle it out. They might better have told me nothing than let my imagination run amok. Besides, I realized that concentrating on their riddles was distracting me from really noticing the few passers-by; though I was fairly certain I would have been jolted from my woolgathering had a dead man strolled past.
It did not sit well, but I supposed I must trust in their parting words and just go about my business. Certainly, if what was to be was to be, I would not miss the man.
I approached the outskirts of Gilphord as the sun began to sink into the treeline, so I wandered off the road and sought out a good spot to make camp. I found a peaceful clearing in the wood with a creek a few yards beyond and began hunting up firewood. There was plenty of deadfall to last me a single night so I needn’t do any chopping.
Just to be on the safe side, when I finished placing my fire and blankets, I pulled from my pack the ball of twine and the small bells I carried to stake out an alarm.
No animal and no man - dead or alive - was going to sneak up on me while I slept.
# # #
So without further ado, a snippet from ~
THE BINDING OF THE MARU
copyright MH Ward 2006
{Young Kailia speaking here -- }
I picked up my pack and shifted it onto my shoulders, bestowing a farewell glare upon the House of Mysts. Drawing a deep breath for fortification, I picked up my staff and stepped out onto the road to Gilphord.
About to round a bend in the road that would obscure my view of the place, I glanced back for one last look and saw... not the House of Mysts I had only just left, but a tangle of low, thorny shrubs bordering the road, and beyond them, a long pasture speckled with grazing sheep. There was no structure there, and not a trace of human trespass.
It was...well, a fortnight ago, I'd have said 'impossible'; now it was merely peculiar.
Judging by the sun's position, I had about an hour of daylight left. This would be a night of no moons, so I needed to arrive before the sun was gone. I increased my pace. I had no intention of being caught out alone on the road after dark.
While I hiked along, my mind turned again to picking at the Mystics' message; it was like a nut I couldn't quite get the shell off; I just couldn't leave it alone until I exposed the meat of the matter. (I had cause to wonder, later, if they had meant it to be so, or if it was just another unfortunate case of my curiosity being more than they bargained for.)
It wasn't that I doubted their word or wisdom, but by all that is blessed, they could not have been more vague if they tried. When I begged for more information, they would only respond in that maddening way of theirs, "Have no fear you will miss him, child. What is to be shall be."
Surely I would encounter dozens or even hundreds of men in gray, traveling the roads as I was. How was I to tell which was the one? And if they thought not what he seemed suggested any hint, they could go fish. I had yet to meet a man who was all he seemed on first acquaintance.
But no, come to think on it, they said, "a man of gray", not "a man in gray".
Could that be significant? But what could a "man of gray" be other than a man in gray? Gray hair? What else was gray? Clouds? Animals? Shadows or mists? A dead man? I shivered, hoping very seriously that there was no way at all that a dead man could be vital to my journey.
By the Creator, I would drive myself mad trying to puzzle it out. They might better have told me nothing than let my imagination run amok. Besides, I realized that concentrating on their riddles was distracting me from really noticing the few passers-by; though I was fairly certain I would have been jolted from my woolgathering had a dead man strolled past.
It did not sit well, but I supposed I must trust in their parting words and just go about my business. Certainly, if what was to be was to be, I would not miss the man.
I approached the outskirts of Gilphord as the sun began to sink into the treeline, so I wandered off the road and sought out a good spot to make camp. I found a peaceful clearing in the wood with a creek a few yards beyond and began hunting up firewood. There was plenty of deadfall to last me a single night so I needn’t do any chopping.
Just to be on the safe side, when I finished placing my fire and blankets, I pulled from my pack the ball of twine and the small bells I carried to stake out an alarm.
No animal and no man - dead or alive - was going to sneak up on me while I slept.
# # #
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