October’s Heart-Bits with Magaly, 2017

Writing fills emptiness. Words help heal hurts. Stories spell fantasies real… Would you write with me? I combined Witches in Fiction and Dark Poetry for the Cruellest Month, and they have birthed a new Autumn event: October’s Heart-Bits with Magaly. I hope you are ready to art deliciously dark words that nourish and tickle the eerie bone.

This year’s theme is simple: Love Is Love Is Love… and Words. Some might think the topic too tame for October (when the Veil thins and the Dark thickens). But love is only as bright or as dark as the feelings that feed the hearts doing the loving.

For our first October’s Heart-Bits with Magaly, let’s art love… all sorts of loves:
– if you are a storyteller, write a tale that shows us how you love words (even why).
– if you are a poet, or a painter, or a gardener, or a sculptor, or a chef, or a singer, or a potioneer, a jewelry maker, or an eccentric dragon who delights in hoarding princess dresses and exquisitely tiny teacups full of dainty skulls… create an entry that shows and tells (even chants) why you adore your chosen love, how loving your art makes you stronger, happier, more human (or just slightly less inclined to slap random people).
Your posts must contain at least one magical element and some sort of love (dark love, sweet love, ridiculous love, terrifying love, insane love, gentle love…). Short stories should not be longer than 513 words and poems no longer than 5 stanzas.

Need an example? Fine, I’ll give you some…
– I love words, so the story or poem I craft for this event will reflect how writing and reading (and all things bookish) can feed mind and soul. I might birth a loving, lusty (or lovingly lusty) entry about ink and paper and love. It will contain the sort of word-love that speaks to me, maybe sentences like this one: “The screams of the world try to eat at my bones, but I have red ink in my soul. I will spell armored words onto my skin, let them become part of my flesh and bone, and share the wild word-magic with all.”
– If you are a lover of Japanese tea ceremony, you could craft a tale or poem or paint something that illustrates your love of this deep and sophisticated art (and if you are feeling extra nice, you could even walk the rest of us through the wondrous steps).
– You paint, garden, perform, sculpt, photograph…? Birth a new piece, infuse it with the pleasure you get from it, then write a story or poem that shows us your pleasure.

The fun starts on Fri, Oct 27th, at 10:13 am EDT. It will continue until Tue, Oct 31st, at 10:13 pm EDT. On party day, I’ll have a post for us to link our entries. You don’t have to do anything right now, other than leaving a comment to let me know you are in. If you’re feeling extra celebratious (that should be a real word), spread the news.

“Love Is Love Is Love… and Words”, by Shelle Kennedy

Writing fills emptiness. Words help heal hurts. Stories spell fantasies real…
…felt art (loved and shared) can accomplish anything. Would you write with me?

 

“I Am So Proud of All of Us,” she said. And I smiled…

…the smile sprouted out of my eyes, spread to my lips, and took root in my witchy heart.

Yes, my Luvs, that’s how I feel after Witches in Fiction 2016: Spelling Healing into a Rotting World. I chose the theme because my body has been a bastard for a while now… and because the world is being poisoned—literally and figuratively—by bastard(ish) people and situations. I was looking for a way to share my frustration and outrage, but your posts gave me more than that. We gave each other so much more than I expected. And for that, like Oma Linda, I am proud of us.

Thanks so much for being you, and for helping me do the same… especially when times get this tough on my flesh and bones. I promise to pay it forward, give the same back, send it around…

*three deep breaths…

…okay, two more*

Before I share the names of this year’s giveaway winners, I wish to thank our talented sponsors: Alchemy & Ashes, Eliora, Little Gothic Horrors, Magic Love Crow, Olde Baggs & Stuffed Shirts, SunshineShelle, Three Cats and a Broom, and Touch of the Goddess, you absolutely rock! Goodness knows that you didn’t have to do this, so I’m beyond grateful. Thank you!

So… the winners of the Witches in Fiction 2016 giveaways are:
1. Little Gothic Horrors’ giveaway – Ms Misantropia
2. Three Cats and a Broom’s giveaway – Melancholy & Menace
3. Eliora’s giveaway – Gail Ragsdale
4. Alchemy & Ashes giveaway – Rommy
5. SunshineShelle’s giveaway – Patsy Bachus Ridlon
6. and The Basket, brought to you by Magic Love Crow, Touch of the Goddess, Olde Baggs & Stuffed Shirts, and yours truly – Bookgirl (and Kai Brink, who will receive the Touch of the Goddess portion of The Basket)

Congratulations, my lucky Wicked Luvs! Please message me with your mailing information to magalyguerrero AT live DOT com. Please add the title of the giveaway you won to the subject line of your e-mail. I shall forward your information to the sponsors. Congrats again. ♥

love-baby-crow-by-magic-love-crowI am re-sharing “Love”, by Magic Love Crow, because every time I look at that HUGE smile, I find myself smiling too. I can’t help it. It must be the teeth, and the heart… and Stacy’s energy.

Dance, Old Bones

“Humans are mad. I like that about them. My best friend finds that fact about our companions somewhat worrying. But no wise soul could expect any less from a dog who was named after his severe separation anxiety. I, on the other paw—”

“Cobweb, would you please stop mewing to yourself and come with me to our Mistress’ studio?”

If my dear friend, YoBoy (which, by the way, means I’m going in Spanish) had one imagination bone in his body, I would tell him that I’m narrating for you. But every one of his bones is made of dread and of need to please, so I won’t waste my spit. “I was not mewing to myself, dog.”

“Sure you weren’t,” YoBoy barked. “But we’ve no time to discuss your feline weirds right now. Our Mistress and her friends are writing and painting and singing and sculpting and sniffing… and, as always, they are doing it separately. We need to show them that if they are to rescue the others from the killing man, they must craft as one. Our human needs our help, lady cat.”

“We can’t go—” I began to say.

“We must. Everything depends on it. If we don’t, everything will stop being. We would never be able to come back. Don’t you know what that would mean, cat? Our home won’t exist! Our…”

I stopped the neurotic dog’s yapping right before he choked on his own desperation. “We can’t go before we pick up Old Bones. Our influence hasn’t been enough. We need her help, YoBoy.”

The dog was panting too hard for words, but he followed my steps to our Mistress’ bedroom.

dance-old-bonesOld Bones sat on our Mistress’ mantel surrounded by candles, flowers, stones, and old photos of long gone humans. Her perpetual grin looked… peculiar. But I couldn’t figure out why. “YoBoy, do you noticed something different about Old Bones?”

“The flowers,” YoBoy said, in a shaky voice that turned him into a puppy. “Look at the flowers.”

“I saw the flowers, and they stink to high hells,” I hissed. Fresh flowers always made me sneeze. “I don’t care about the damn…” Fresh flowers? I finished in my head. “That is not possible,” I said. “Those flowers have been dead since—”

“The flowers died on the same day your Mistress stopped dancing,” Old Bones said. “With the stillness of human feet, came the rotting of rivers, the shriveling of unripe fruit, the slowing of flesh, of blood, of hearts.”

“You can’t be talking,” YoBoy said to Old Bones. “You’ve got no lips,”

I glared at the dog, and said, “We come back from the dead every All Hallows’ Eve, and you are shocked by a talking skull?”

“I…” He began to whine. “Old Bones never talked before. I just thought—”

“No you didn’t,” I said. And pretended I wasn’t feeling as perplexed as he was. “Help me with Old Bones. We need to take her and some of the flowers to the studio. If this doesn’t give our Mistress the push she needs to get started, then nothing will.”

I held my breath and gently closed my jaws around the stems of three daisies.

YoBoy, his expression haunted, tried to grab Old Bones with a shaky paw. When that didn’t work, he bit the side of Old Bones’ left eye socket and followed me out of the room, whining.

dance-old-bonesA cat, a dog, and a talking skull walked into a tiny room and no human found that strange. They smiled at us, before returning their gazes to the cauldron bubbling in the middle of the studio.

YoBoy and I placed the flowers and Old Bones at our Mistress’ feet. She arranged them by the cauldron, next to a camera, books, a spoon, knitting needles, and a puppet that smirked creepily.

I smiled, and said to YoBoy, “Maybe they can come up with a spell that will make the others better, and get them away from the killing man.”

Old Bones spoke through nearly transparent lips. “They are working together, my girl-child and her friends. The healing has already begun.” Three daisies multiplied around Old Bones’ skull, to form a crown that encircled a brow, which wrinkled with a smile that was a longer-lived version of my mistress’ grin. All Hallows’ Eve magic gave Old Bones arms, legs, feet… and she danced.
.

the wee notes…
– YoBoy was my brother’s dog. My brother failed to name his dog. And since the dog followed my brother everywhere, and my brother was always crying “Yo boy!” (I’m going in Spanish”) whenever my mother left the house, the dog started answering to YoBoy. The name stuck.
– Cobweb was my sweet friend Yvonne’s cat. Cobweb is no longer in the world of the living, but I know that her feline soul (and her memory) will always live… to boss others around.
– This is my contribution to Witches in Fiction 2016: Spelling Healing into a Rotting World.
– Linked to Prompt Nights – A Million Years Howl When Voices Whisper Among The Trees – Halloween Special

spelling-healing-into-a-rotting-world“Spelling Healing into a Rotting World”, by SunshineShelle