The Occulta

Photo by Todd McKinley

Sybil awoke to the sounds of birdsong. It was a strange sensation, almost foreign.

How long have I been surrounded by dead stone?

She opened her eyes and beheld more green than ever has been seen in her short life. A veritable sea of green stretches through the sky, with only traces of blue between reaching limbs.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, unable to keep her feelings contained. She was a child again, a feeling of wonder sinking deep into her mind. Vast trees as big around as entire citadel towers stood all around her, reaching impossible heights.

“I never . . . Not this much,” she felt herself say. Beneath her, the ground sank into a soft spongy moss. She wanted nothing more than to languish in the spot and giggle to herself. But years of learned propriety forced her to stand and take a survey of the situation.

She was alone, or so it seemed. The sounds of trickling water filled the air about her.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” she asked, knowing full well there would be no answer.

Silence.

Somewhere far off a bird took to flight, it’s wing beats almost a scream in the forest.

“Hello?” she called again. Nothing.

Call out with your mind, a sudden thought spoke to her, as if whispered in her ear.

Ask us, anything.

The sudden intrusion into her mind left her speechless, and thoughtless. Her legs faltered and she fell back upon the heap of green moss.

“Who are you?” she blurted out, and then remembered the words she’s heard.

Who are you? Sybil asked, her mind echoing as never before as if her thoughts were being listened to, are you there?

Yes, came the reply, more powerful than she could comprehend, yes we are here.

Sybil looked up at the trees once more and then it dawned on her.

The trees.

Who are you, she asked again feeling her confidence grow.

There was a pause and then the trees reverberated.

We are the Forest Occulta.

-M.E. InkOwl

The Devil’s Tooth


Photo by Todd McKinley

It’s said that when the light was divided from the dark, and land torn from the sea, the Darkness could not contain his jealousy.

In anger, he pulled away from the light with jaws of poisonous death.

The light cast him from the heavens, her scorn white hot and eternally sprung.

With mouth spread wide, the Darkness fell, an ungodly scream born from his throat.

And break he did, with shattered teeth upon the mortal realm.

But one tooth stuck fast to a mountain’s peak, never to move again.

And upon that mount darkness grew, from silver-white tooth divine.

-M.E. InkOwl

Guest Submissions Wanted

Calling out to all writers and bloggers who would like to be featured for the month of February! The Ink Owl will be once again taking submissions from guest bloggers and writers to be featured throughout the month of February. (Let’s see how many times I can reword that statement.) Anyway, I always call February the “Month of Love” because it’s never a lovely month to me. I feel like I always end up slogging through the month with all the gray melting snow and bare trees. But not this year!

This year I’d like to shake things up with a new challenge, one that will hopefully test your limits as a writer. This month I would like submissions to be about self-love. Not self-obsession, narcissism, or conceitedness, but actual, genuine self-love.

As defined by Merriam-Webster online dictionary self love is: regard for one’s own well-being and happiness.

Guidelines

I would like guest writers to compose a piece that is about having self-love or compassion for themselves.

This piece can be in poetry form, journal entry, or letter form but must be addressed to you, yourself, the writer.

As always there is a limit of 50 to 1700 words.

You can submit your piece to this email: michael.erickson512@gmail.com

Submissions will close on February 1st. (I usually end up extending it.)

You’re probably scratching your head, or at the least scrolling through to someone else’s post, but I hope you stop and consider participating. I think each of us could use a little more compassion for ourselves, and we learn best by doing.

-M.E. InkOwl

Smiles Upon The Ice

Hunting in the light of a darkening day,

I found you carved between ribbons of ice.

Snow wreathed you brow with a crown of diamonds,

And touched your lips with a sweet dusting of opals.

An age of time had passed since I’d seen you last,

Yet there in the cold flesh of a dying afternoon you were there.

A smile touched your lips,

One of bemused serenity and softened with a cherished thought.

I was too late to save you in the Autumn of our youth,

And now winter has laid its claim upon you.

-M. E. Inkowl

Snow

 

 

 

Individual

Containing infinity,

Distinct, Unique, whole.

-M.E. InkOwl

January On The InkOwl

Welcome to January on The Ink Owl! This month will continue to have selections from my story, The Darkwell Chronicles. I’ve loved hearing feedback on such a personal story that I want to share more.

Between these excerpts I have decided to feature a series of winter poems. I think the mix of these two will provide an interesting read for all of you. Thank you for your views, likes and, thoughts on my writing, it is greatly appreciated! Happy reading to you all.

-M.E. InkOwl

Hope

Photo by Todd McKinley

Though darkness walks upon this land, breaking it asunder.

And mountains tremble beneath snowy peaks, whispering of their folly.

The free folk flee before a host, domineering and proud.

And countries quake beneath a load of slavery and compliance.

Hope is not lost, as the sun blots out, from fiery death and destruction.

For a day will come, when the elements will rise, freed from their prisons tethered.

And light will walk upon the ground, combined with powers of each.

For the Elemental will grow, from wind and water, tempered by earth and fire.

-M.E. InkOwl

Parmara, Shield of the Sea

 

Photo by Todd McKinley

 

Between sea and land,

Upon white teeth of a winding shore.

There lays a city of ruin and growth,

Continually beings swallowed by the sea, and rising from fields of green.

It is where Chimerans reside.

Creatures of myth and strangeness beyond imagining.

Continuously caught between an Empire and it’s rebellions,

Parmara continues to shine, a hardy jewel among tumbling stone.

Shield of the Sea, it means.

For once the crumbling towers and city walls were young and strong.

On one side the sea raged, desperate to destroy the foundation of stone.

Yet as wars clashed from all sides, the city remained, forever between the sea and land.

For hundreds of years, thousands of people come and gone,

Parmarian towers still stand, shielding the land from its eternal nemesis.

Forever caught between.

-M.E. InkOwl

 

 

The North

Oh to the North I am called,

Upon a voice full of ice and snow.

Between the mountains Atrox I am drawn to begin.

Foot upon foot, step upon wintery step.

Where creatures of ice and starvation thrive, and the green world shrinks from view.

Home.

I am called home, upon a voice of ice and snow.

To the North.

Beings that dwell within caves of heat and labyrinths so deep they find the very roots of the earth.

Tall men with eyes of white commune with spirits of light.

Upon voices of ice and snow.

They beckon me to go,

North.

Home.

I will be one burdened with a secret dripping of lies,

Whispered to by ghosts of old.

A secret that will bring down the world, and raise the very mountains to the ground.

Some call me Truth-sayer, some liar.

But I have touched the light of eternity.

Infinity has swallowed my eyes, blurring my vision and bestowing Their own.

My tongue is set upon Their breath, a burning sheet of ice.

And now I see and speak as the gods do

Here in the North.

Where I am called.

For I am a Seer.

-M.E. InkOwl

The Lament of Argeatum

It is said that cities of old were once the size of a cluster of farms.

Their people were one with the earth and growing things thereupon.

Within the nourishing arms of Solumra did the first peoples of the world gain succor.

And for a time the world knew peace and prosperity.

But then the crown of Solumra slipped from her fingers, spilling precious jewels upon mortal grounds.

A mistake, a blessing, but no one will acknowledge that it was a curse.

That of Solumra and Her unsatiable greed.

Now the green farms are gone, the forests laid bare.

And between petrified trees of Lacer and the Grumul peaks lay vast walls.

Walls set to divide.

Walls placed to remind.

Walls to inspire fear.

For the Empire has conquered even here.

-M.E. InkOwl