You have walked into my Diary. Welcome! Hopefully, my musings will touch you. Check out my novel "The One That Got Away" on amazon http://tinyurl.com/ljcj8xh

Moon Shadows

Dear Diary .... by Kellianne Sweeney

moonshadows

Dear Diary,

Moon Shadows

A cloudless night softly blooms

Seeping, sliding in my room

Moonlit fingers sigh and caress

Urgently gliding through my dress

Coy Shadows linger, biding their time

Softly they whisper on the fringe of my mind

Shadows play, wander and dance

Sweetly humming of romance

Jealous Moon chases Shadows away

Pulls me close, keeping Shadows at bay

Moon insists and we passionately meet.

I yield, I shudder, in the cool heat

Slowly, Moon withdraws, gently easing

Shadows flit close, touching and teasing

They cradle me as Moon slips away

Murmuring, embracing, and with them I lay.

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Maneuvers In The Dark

window

Dear Diary,

The darkness was deep. It was more tangible and dense than she had anticipated, but she was determined. She went over in her mind again the tidbits of information she had gleaned by listening intently to their conversations. But it was bright then. Here it was so dark. Everything needed to be accomplished in the dark. Were they able to see in the dark better than she, or was it that they became so used to the procedures that they did not need to rely so much upon their sight? Perhaps her underdeveloped eyesight was one of the reasons that they had insisted that she wait? She steeled herself at the thought. She would not wait. She would prove that she was ready.

Getting inside the window proved to be relatively easy and bolstered her confidence. It had only taken her two tries to be successful. She surveyed her surroundings. A sliver of light stretched across the floor from the hallway through an ajar door. The extra light relieved her, but the intimidating dark mass in front of her that required her attention sent an apprehensive flush through her petite frame. It became apparent to her why they normally worked in pairs until their skills became ingrained. If needed, one of them could distract while the other accomplished the goal. She did not have help because she had not wanted help. When this call had come in after they all had left, she had decided that she would personally take care of it herself. She was not too young.  She would show them. She reminded herself sternly of this purpose, but it did not still the fear that she was now feeling. What if she failed? What if he saw her? Another thought suddenly chilled her: She had forgotten to bring the Replacements! She had departed in such a rush that she left the knapsack at home. What was she to do now? How could she complete the mission without any Replacements? She wrung her slender hands in dismay and agonized over whether she should flee. If she hurried back she might be able to alert one of them to come take care of this before it was too late. But what if none of them had returned yet? Earlier in the evening she would have had time to locate someone, but now the night was waning. There was no question that this needed to be accomplished tonight.

She glanced frantically around the room for something to use as a Replacement. The moon suddenly slid from behind a cloaking cloud and its’ light fell upon a shining object that was peeking out from under a rug. It sparkled brilliantly and entranced her immediately. What was this? She swiftly flitted over to it and decided it was the perfect thing. She lifted the coin with difficulty because it was almost as big as she was. Her tiny wings struggled under the weight of its’ added burden. Perhaps this was another reason why she had been told to wait until she was fully grown. Her wings had not developed into their full span yet.

Laboriously, she carried the coin to the bed that held the large, human boy. She was grateful that he was facing the wall instead of facing her as she approached. She set the shiny Replacement on the bed and pushed it the rest of the way under the pillow. She held her breath and dived further within to locate his tooth. It was close by, just as she had hoped. She wrapped both arms around it and flew back out clutching her prize. She was thrilled! It was the best kind of tooth; a First Tooth.

Just as she cleared the bed, the boy stirred and turned. The fairy whizzed behind a dresser just as the boy’s eyes fluttered open. Upon awakening, his hands immediately searched under his pillow. The moon shone on his excited face as his fingers touched the coin. He set it in his palm for only an instant before he bolted out of his bed and out of the door.

“Mom! The Tooth Fairy brought money!” he shouted as he ran down the hallway to his parents’ room. “Have you ever heard of that? She brought money!  Mom!”

The fairy flew from her hiding place and alighted on the window sill. She adjusted the tooth in her arms before slipping through the magical opening she created in the glass. She smiled with satisfaction as she sped upwards to her home. She would suggest to the others that they should give money as Replacements instead of the usual small toys or treats.

 

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Dear Diary,

I have been on a blog hiatus because I have been mad at work on a young adult high fantasy trilogy entitled Insidious Whispers- Wizard Wars Book One. I am collaborating with the prolific author Vincent Golphin. We are in our fourth draft version and are entering into the beta reading and cover constructing stage. I am excited to share the first chapter with you. Stay tuned for more excerpts and progress. Happy New Year!

 

Chapter One

 

The Queen’s Demand

 

Princess Stipinia of Palandara

 

 “No!..No, no, NO!”

I was being rather overly dramatic. Part of me is aware of that, but the little voice way back in the farthest reaches of my head that tells me, Your out of control, is not in charge at the moment. I didn’t care to listen.

It was more important to express the utter emphatic disgust I felt at my sister’s constant insistence on trying to control my life. The passion rising in my chest crested into a tumultuous wave that threatened to make my head burst. I could tell that my face was flushed. That was confirmed when I grabbed a quick glace in a mirror. I could feel a tiny headache forming between my eyes.

Ever since she became queen when our mother died twelve years ago, my sister has become unbearably bossy. That goes double when it comes to me.

Today, I must be completely clear with her, I told myself.

I have told her before that I did not want to do this. Victarine never cares about my opinion.

“You don’t see how complicated things are,” Nia, she says. “You’re so young. You’ll better understand some day.”

She treats me like the kid she thinks I am, but my sister doesn’t get it. I am all grown up now. I have dreams. I know who and what I want to be.

Victarine thinks because she is queen, she can control me like the rest of her subjects. I am princess of Palandara. I have a voice. She wants me to seal my fate with a Delphyte bond, to make me a part of the world that took up all of her and my mother’s time and energy. I will not do it.

“No,” I said again. I paused to let my statement sink in.

My sister Victarine’s expression showed frustration with me. She exchanged looks with her Delphyte advisor, Lady Kulipa, and Mama’s Senior Delphyte advisor, Lady Grinnell, before her piercing blue eyes focused on me.

This time I tried saying it calmly and firmly instead of screaming it. “I will not let you make me be queen.”

Victarine clenched her thin jaw slightly before she spoke, “Stipinia…”

“I said no,” I interjected. It felt wonderful to interrupt the Queen of Palandara. “I will not go to Severen to bond with a Delphyte in preparation to be the next queen. I will not let you seal my fate.”

I was quite pleased with myself for finding a way to use that seal my fate phrase in a sentence. It sounded regal and appropriate for someone with royal blood to say. Even if I didn’t want the responsibility for ruling I could still carry myself royally. I had real style.

“Why do you want me to do this now anyway?” I continued. “You’re doing a fine job being queen. I don’t think you’re planning on dying any time soon. And besides, even if you die tomorrow, why don’t you just have Gratiana be the next queen?”

“Perish the thought,” Victarine said resolutely.

“Why not?” I asked. “I’m sure she’d want to.”

” I’m sure our cousin would be honored to be the Queen of Palandara,” my sister answered. “However, you are in direct line to be queen, which makes it your destiny and duty.”

Victarine smiled wryly. “She also doesn’t have nearly the spirit that you do. Your high spirit may be out of control at that this time, but it is the very ingredient that provides the will and strength of character that is required for a successful monarch.”

I was about to retort, but saw an uncharacteristically fragile look flit briefly across Victarine’s pale features. I actually found it a bit disconcerting, but decided to ignore it. Treanon, Victarine’s husband stood beside my seated sister. He placed a comforting hand on her thin shoulder. Victarine reached up to touch his hand in return. He fixed me with a disapproving stare but said nothing. That hurt. Next to my father, he was the man whose opinion I valued most.

I let Victarine continue.

“Stipinia,” she addressed me in a firm, unwavering voice, “only you are the heir to the Golden Throne of Narmock. It is your duty to be the next queen of Palandara. It is imperative that you bond with your own Delphyte advisor immediately.”

“But I refuse!” I shouted vehemently.

“You may not!” she said abruptly. Victarine paused because a hard cough took over her answer. She seemed to almost choke. When she recovered herself she said in a raspy whisper “I am your queen, and I decree it will be so.”

“You are my sister, and I don’t want a Delphyte advisor,” I shot back. “I want to live a life of travel and leisure. I want to get out of Shar and explore the world. I don’t want to become like you.”

I could see Victarine wanted to blast my words, but again she seemed caught by that cough. I was glad. After she pulled that I am queen stuff, I did not want to hear anymore anyway. I had the advantage as far as conversation, so I seized it.

“You are always so busy ruling and worrying about the kingdom that you don’t have time to do anything fun.” I said. “You’re always stuck here, in these marble halls, unless you have some official ceremony to attend or something. And you always force me to be stuck here, too. Your nosy guards watch my every move.”

Victarine tried to answer, “That’s for our protect…. ” I refused to allow her.

“Even while we are both stuck here, you don’t even have time to spend with me! How can you claim to care so much about all of those faceless families outside these walls when you don’t care about your own.”

My anger at my sister was white hot. But now I was also angry at myself. I hadn’t meant to say that stuff about caring and family. I didn’t want my sister to know that I secretly craved her approval and attention. I’m not some kid that needs her or anyone. This palace life has taught me that it is foolish to expect to be first in anyone’s heart when you are a royal. Even the boys that dared to try to court me talk about the crown more than me. That is why I learned to be alone. I needed to get out of here.

Victarine started to cough again quietly. Treanon rubbed her back. My anger eased a bit as it became apparent to me that she really was struggling with her sickness and that Treanon seemed genuinely concerned. Part of me wanted to go help her, but not after what she said. My sister has the power to order me, but she cannot make me love her. If she makes me do that Delphyte thing I will hate her for the rest of our lives. My anger replaced itself with self pity and I found myself desperately missing my father again.

“I wish Daddy were here,” I unexpectedly blurted out. He would have made her listen to me. “Why did he have to die? He was the only one who really cared about me.” I immediately wished that I had not uttered the words aloud.

“That is not true,” she said. “Our parents….”

“It is,” I cut her off. “Mama was always too busy being queen and so are you.”

“Please Nia, ” she said, “you are far too young to understand what really happened. You were not here during the Wizard Wars.”

“Neither were you! ”

“Trust me,” she said. ‘You have no idea what is at stake. The future of Palandara is still not secure.”

Daddy always made me feel secure, I thought. I could feel my composure crumbling. I didn’t want Victarine or everybody else in the room to see me cry. I forced myself to look fierce and determined.

“The Princess Stipinia has spoken,” I said with the same above it all timbre in my voice. “I hereby resign my role as princess, and heir to the Golden Throne of Narmock.”

Victarine gathered herself and stood proudly “I do not accept your resignation, or any other idea, other than that which I propose, sister,” she said resolutely. “You will do our bidding.”

“Why?” I shot back undeterred. “Give me one important reason. Like I said, Gratiana will do just fine. I’ll even occasionally help out at major events. And, of course I’ll visit you and Treanon from time to time, especially on holidays. At this point in my life I have other things to do and see.”

“Stipinia,” Victarine began, “I know you are upset.”

Her arms spread wide, she said, “Come, let me hold you.”

“Absolutely not!” I sputtered curtly. “I am not a little girl. I don’t need hugs from you anymore.”

The look of hurt and disappointment in her eyes made me feel better. At last, I was not the only person in this family in pain.

“Stipinia, be reasonable,” Treanon spoke empathetically and took a step toward me.

“No.” I started to back away. “I have nothing more to say to you people. I am leaving.”

Victarine allowed herself a small sigh, then nodded at Grinnell. The Senior Delphyte waved her right hand in my direction. I froze. Suddenly, I could not move a muscle. I had been about to turn and make a swift and grand exit out of Victarine’s chambers, but I could not move.

I panicked for about ten seconds, then the realization dawned on me. I screamed inside. I wanted to holler out loud, to protest, but even my mouth was like stone. I tried with all my strength to turn my head to glare at Grinnell. Nothing.

“I am sorry to have to do this, Stipinia,” my sister said wearily. She looked at Grinnell, then at Treanon, then me. “You leave me no choice.”

Grinnell walked into my view. I always found her to be wise and grandmotherly.

You conniving cow, I screamed in my mind. Now, I was furious with her. She used her Frost power to trap me. I was like a statue. How dare she?

I am heir to the throne, I raved to myself. She thinks she has the right to freeze my ability to move any part of my body.

I moved my eyes enough to see my reflection in one of the several intricately decorated mirrors on Victarine’s walls. I saw an attractive, curvy seventeen-year-old girl with long, honey brown hair, dark olive skin, deep brown eyes and a nasty scowl… frozen.

Oh! I thought. This is so annoying!

Grinnell gestured to one of the servants to bring two chairs. They did.

“Be seated, your Highness,” Grinnell said. When she gestured toward the seats she somehow managed to move my legs just enough to sit. I tried to use the opportunity to run away, but I could not force my body to anything but sit politely in the plush chair before me. Believe me, I tried. As an afterthought, Grinnell lightly touched my twisted mouth. My lips dropped into a placid, relaxed position.

The older woman smiled kindly at me. Her startlingly green eyes twinkled. She seated herself in the chair opposite me, then folded her long, tapered hands in her lap.

“Dear, dear Princess Stipinia,” she began. “Your sister and I thought that perhaps if I relate to you the history of our beloved Palandara you might be less hostile about your position in its future.”

The silver and green haired Delphyte smiled at me again. Her right hand covered mine. I could feel her touch, but I was still unable to move a muscle.

“I know in the past you have been impatient and disinterested in the story of this world, and how your ancestors came to rule,” she said slowly. My sister sat on the couch trying not to cough. Treanon watched quietly with the occasional nod. I only half listened to what she said. They could imprison my body, but not my mind. Then, the Delphyte continued.

“For this moment you definitely need to lend an ear. Some things are far more important than what we want to do.”

 

 

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Dear Diary,

I have been working on multiple writing projects and today I am sharing my favorite parts of my revamped children’s picture book “My Favorite Things”. It is a whimsical look at everyday objects through the perspective of children. I am currently shopping literary agents and publishers for this one.

 

An acorn wears a little hat

for when it’s cold, you know.

And if I plant its head right here,

a forest I will grow.

 

Bubbles always make me laugh

as they float around.

At times they give a slobbery kiss

and burst without a sound.

 

Dandelions are sunshine spots

nestled in the ground.

I will gather all I see

then give you what I’ve found.

 

Eggshells hide a slimy prize.

But what delights me more,

is that moment of surprise

when they end up on the floor.

 

Grass is a poky, comfy carpet.

Perfect for lots of things-

rolling, digging, crawling

and chasing stuff with wings.

 

Mud is very nice to apply-

all oozy, cold and smeary.

I would offer you some in a pie,

but your face looks rather leery.

 

A rainbow sprouts from rain and sun.

I see it floating there.

If you help me find the gold

I promise I will share.

 

A swing throws me into the air

when I stretch my toes up to the sky.

And imagine where I’d love to go

if I could really fly.

 

Mr. Turtle, why do you hide your head?

I’m knocking on your shell.

If you come out and play instead

I promise to treat you well.

 

The vacuum eats dirt and little things

scattered on the floor.

Could it be hungry for my toe?

I worry it wants more.

 

Wind kisses my face and pulls my hair.

I love to feel it blow.

I like to think if it is strong,

up in the air I’ll go.

 

 

Inevitable Chasm

The chasm is

beyond the bounds of normalcy.

It drops off sudden and steep.

It is murky and dark

to the cautiously searching eye.

Those who have gone before are mute to tell

what lies on the other side

of the noise and ceaseless maneuverings

that compiles living.

The abrupt end of known existence

is unfathomable.

Its presence hovers

peripheral to life being lived,

best ignored

until that corner is turned

to find the feet placed

at the cliff

gazing fully at the unrevealed expanse,

unable to return.

Flight

flight

Dear Diary,

 

You already told me

that I can fly.

The breathless beach day sky beckons

but the wings are not ready.

Impatience chafes

as the wings are dressed and redressed again,

fitted and groomed for distance flight,

not for short sprints.

Wings of strength and force

must be honed

to arc and soar instead of to flit and flutter.

 

You already showed me

that I can fall.

Stranded on the earth

until muscle and feather are reconstructed,

better equipped for future flights.

 

You will not enlighten me

where I will go or what it will take to get there.

But you have prepared me to fall and to fly,

to embrace the cycle

with fully extended wings.

To leap further than before

without reservation,

into the extraordinary blue.

The One That Got Away

book cover

Dear Diary,

Have you read my book THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY yet? Here is chapter one for you. On amazon the e-version is available for $9.99, paperback for $10.76 and hardcover for $22.95.  Please enjoy.

Chapter One

Did I ever tell you that I thought you were dead when you were born? I really don’t think that we ever got into that sort of conversation. Your birth was rather surreal to me. Of course, I had nothing to compare it to and they did give me something to calm me down because I was in a full blown panic when the contractions got intense. I think you would agree that this reaction seems quite out of character for me. I really don’t ever remember being in any sort of panic about anything before this incident. You know I’ve had to deal with crisis situations, but I’ve always been able to approach them with a certain detachment. I have thought this very clever and superior of me to be able to do that. So, I was quite surprised at myself when I experienced this burbling, spine tingling, overpowering surge of panic rising from some deep place within me. The initial rush choked me and my ears buzzed violently. A single thought kept searing my mind over and over: “My baby is dead.” I believed that I was merely thinking this gloomy thought, but apparently, I was screaming it. At this point it seemed that every nurse and doctor and any other available person had their hands on me trying to get me to lie down. Some voices were firm, others were kind but I couldn’t distinguish much of the murmurings because of the incessant buzzing. I do remember someone asking about your father. I believe you know that he was out of town on business. You took us all unawares as you were three and a half weeks early. I also remember my doctor asking for some sort of medication for me. And whispers that my baby was fine. I could not believe them. I struggled and wailed frantically and begged them to save my baby. When the sedative began slipping into my bloodstream the vision began. At first, the edges of my sight were studded with fuzzy, gray spots. I tried to blink them out of the way, but this merely changed their location. Then the people in the room began to blur and ooze some sort of colorful mist. Not all of the colors were the same. I was no longer panicking. I was frozen with fascination. I did not dare blink. I felt warm. And then hot. And then terribly hot. The acrid smell of blood and birth filled my nostrils. And dirt and sweat. I was slick with sweat. I couldn’t see anyone anymore. It was so dark. I could sense movement, that I was not alone. I couldn’t see…. Then I realized that there was dim candlelight. Candlelight?

“Ralf,” I heard myself whisper. My mouth was so dry. My spit stuck to my tongue like wallpaper paste.

“Ralf…”

“No, dear, not yet,” a vague female voice answered. “Soon.”

I felt reassured from her kind voice. She knew what she was doing. I would see Ralf soon and I would tell him how things would be different. How I wanted this baby. His baby. That I was determined to be a good mother. That I would not be selfish. That I loved him so desperately, like he loved me and the baby too and….

A hard, agonizing contraction grappled my body. I knew to push. I pushed hard. To see my baby. To love the baby like I loved Ralf, like Ralf loved me….

I heard the woman cry out. I heard her whisper something to someone else in the room. Her voice caught. Dear God. Something was wrong. My baby. Something…… She was holding the baby. Bloody. Still. Why didn’t she clean him? Why didn’t she wrap him? My nose burned with the smell. I felt vomit rise into my throat. My baby. I looked at the woman’s face. Her face was pinched. Her eyes sparkled with tears that were about to fall. She was holding my baby. Still. No breath. I started screaming. It was my fault. Ralf jerked the door open.

My shrieks abruptly halted. My eyes caressed his disheveled sandy hair in the candlelight. His wolfish gray eyes were dark with concern and fear. His slender jaw was tight with worry.

“Roese,” he choked.

I drank his presence with great thirst. It was so hard to speak.

“Ralf, please forgive me.” I barely breathed the words.

Sudden, stark brightness. I was numb everywhere. And very detached. I watched as the doctor cut your umbilical cord. You looked blue to me. Your eyes were closed. You were still. You were dead. But then you slowly arched your back and wriggled slightly. I gasped and began to cry with jagged gulps. You were not dead. You were alive! The relief was overpowering. The doctor gave you to me. A nurse was trying to hand me the phone to speak to your father. Other hospital staff bustled about importantly. I shook off the lingering dread that hung on me like a damp cloak and concentrated on holding you close. But Roese still hovered in the fringes of my mind.

Shiny Spot

friend

Dear Diary,

Today is the birthday of a longtime friend….

The first smile we took from each other
so long ago
grew into a radiance
that steeped and settled into a permanent warmth.
The melody of the laughter we have shared
echoes into the march of countless years.
The thoughts and words we have created together
have sculpted a treasure securely embedded.
Our friendship began in our springtime
and has laced its way into our autumn.
Across the miles and large gaps of time
You remain a bright presence.

Light On Dark

 

roses

Dear Diary,

 

Behind the crafted mask you wear

I know what’s really hiding there.

 

Within the silken threaded lair

Lies a not so clever snare.

 

I step inside from light to gray

Knowing I will likely pay.

 

Fragile flowers I will lay

On the dark and dense decay.

 

The flowers rest upon the stain

Wilting as they soak the pain.

 

Their dimmed brightness is not in vain

Dark is lighter where they are lain.

My Goodnight

IMG_2499

 

Dear Diary,

I am definitely well into the second half of my life at this time. Being in this place causes occasional musings about mortality, evaluation of past accomplishments and wonderings about what still needs to be done before the hourglass drops its last grain of sand so to speak. I am not going to reveal my age, but it is sufficient to say that I look much younger than I am. This is not due to any skin care product or particularly healthy living. On the contrary, I don’t put much of anything on my face at all and my dietary habits have actually been criticized. My age defying appearance could be chalked up to genes and luck, but I like to think it is due to the grace of God and my youthful outlook.

 

I have had a full life. I have several children, been to many places, participated in a large variety of activities, spent time with many lovely people and have had a plethora of interesting experiences. If I died tomorrow I would be satisfied with the canvas of what my life has been. I have lived with the mentality of putting my whole self into my endeavors, purposes and those around me. I have stayed true to the spirit of who I am regardless of setbacks.

 

During a low point in my life a few years ago I began to think that perhaps my turn was over, that I was getting older and needed to step onto the sidelines and let the rest of my time here ebb quietly outside of the mainstream. But at that juncture, something within me rose up and insisted that I was not done yet; that I would never be done while I still had breath. I now believe that life is a continuing journey that needs to be walked actively and passionately with the same spirit and goals until the very end. I must fill it with as much impact as I am able until then.

 

I recently installed one of those digital photo frames. It is a random slide show of two thousand moments in my life that are captured on film. It makes me happy to walk through the room that holds the frame to glimpse a piece of the life I have lived thus far. Sometimes one of those pictures will cause me to reflect on the background surrounding that moment. Some of these memories are joyful, others remind me that I was smiling through unseen tears. But the sadness that I endured shows me that I have persevered through difficulties to give me the edge I need to preserve my joyful spark. Perhaps the intense need for keeping that spark and the sense of continuing purpose is what keeps my attitude and countenance youthful. I insist on being positive and carrying on with verve.

 

I will close with an excerpt from Dylan Thomas’ poem “Do Not Gentle Into The Goodnight” which speaks to living fully to the end.

 

“Do not gentle into that goodnight

Old age should burn and rave at the close of day

Rage rage against the dying light.”

 

 

 

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