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Please vote for a Mythies Story!

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  • herenistarion
    Greetings fellow Mythies, I would like to ask you all to help Jessie win the #1 spot by voting for her story. For those who are not on facebook, I have pasted
    Message 1 of 1 , Oct 18, 2010
      Greetings fellow Mythies,
      I would like to ask you all to help Jessie win the #1 spot by voting for her story. For those who are not on facebook, I have pasted below what Jessie wrote to solicit for votes, thank you in advance, even if you do not like it please support her as a fellow writer:

      From Jessie:

      So-- I entered a story contest. I think it's the first one I've entered in over a decade....and the first story I actually FINISHED in just about as long. It's a Gaelsong contest-- asking folks to write a 500 word story based on the cover for their Halloween 2010 catalogue. Hey, it's something. I had fun with it. Go to http://www.gaelsong.com/samhain_contest to see the catalogue cover. Facebook is freaking out & I can't upload the image here.

      And if you like my story-- hell, if even if you don't & you're a friend, you'll vote for me anyway (mama needs a new tarot deck & they've got pretty ones precious at Gaelsong...ringses too). Go to http://wildfireapp.com/website/6/contests/63385/voteable_entries/9280096 to cast your vote. The entry with the most votes by Halloween wins a $500 gift certificate to Gaelsong. We likes that precious.

      And here's my story....



      "The storm comes. I see it in the spheres, my Lady. The clouds part, revealing a single white flower set against the dawn sky. Hope will ever follow the tempest."
      "But, what about these signs? Naked trees? The blizzard?" She clutched her cloak, obscuring her face. Her voice changed from the light tones of a maid, to the harsher crackle of an old crone.

      "I see my Lady has the gifts. But see the turning leaves?" I pointed to the swirl of autumn in the largest crystal. "The trees aren't as bare as old bones. And see the hearthfire there?" My fingers caressed the smallest of the three spheres. "It's tiny, but present despite the winter snows. Spring always follows, my Lady."

      The woman sat back, seemingly satisfied, her flickering eyes fixed on me. A chill wind blew through the camp, heralding longer nights. Autumn had been my favorite—but when there was a door to shut and a hearth to blaze against the deepening night. A caravan plying wares and fortunes isn't the way an old crone needs spend her final winters. Pulling my threadbare shawl about me, I breathed life into my cold hands. Shrill raven-calls shuddered through the tent and the woman stiffened in her chair, muttering strange words, wyrding herself against the night.

      "You have read the spheres, old woman. Test your mettle now with these." Tapping a deck of cards on the table, cutting them deftly with her left hand, she spoke in a full, rich, motherly tone which caught the breath in my throat.

      "You falter, old woman. Are the cards beyond your skill?"

      "No, my Lady. Your voice takes me back—have we not met before?"

      She laughed deep. Again, the ravens-call. Tapping the cards again, "The storm comes and my children call me home."
      I drew three cards and turned them one-by-one.
      "The Moon, my Lady. Our Mother guides us with Her light and helps us master fear. The beasts howl and the blood stirs, but Our Mother will always lead home.

      The Wheel as the Lady's Circle. You are at a cross-roads. Despite our plans, Fate may choose a different path. But, the Lady will always protect us in her Circle and help us to the best road.

      The Princess of Wands. Trust thyself. The mind is the most powerful gift."

      "Your skill is comforting, old woman. Keep the cards, they were my mother's before me and I have no daughters to claim as my own." Tossing a purse on the table, she stood up. "Let this brace you against the storm." Again the ravens-call.

      "Will I have the pleasure of reading for you again, my Lady?"

      "You read not for me, old woman." Opening her cloak, she revealed a face shimmering with light—young but matronly with silver hair. Laughing, her voice became a ravens-call. Spreading her arms, she splintered into three great, black birds. The first flakes of the storm began to fall as they flew into the night.
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