First of all, Happy Holidays to those celebrating! Though I haven’t posted of late here, there has been lots going on in my life, both business and personal.

On the biz front, I’ve been doing some work for a few clients through Virtual Genie. I’m also busy re-vamping Celestial Realms which has been on the backburner for some time. Blue Rose Bookstore has been keeping us busy with customer orders and our new custom products available via Zazzle. Feel free to check out our designs – click here!

On the personal front, I’ve been fighting a nasty little cold I caught from my son (who should be getting a place with his buddies soon. yay!). Not to mention fighting it while working up at Disney with hubby. *blech* But we got back home safely and I had a few days in bed to recuperate and rest, watching football and NetFlix movies. I figure another day or two should put me back to full health. Oh! And my torn arm muscle is almost 100% healed so I’ll be getting back to working out. I definitely miss my workouts! And I’ll be tickled pink to lose the pounds I’ve gained in the past few months *groan*. Hopefully, no more injuries will interfere with my weight loss plans which have been so sidetracked.

For a while I was pretty busy with a new neighborhood, the Caribbean, over in AncientWorlds. Something I’ve got to get back to and finish up. Next on the list is designing and finishing the Boriken hood. ImagineDome is still providing fantasy lit info as I can get around to posting it.

Our old car about bit the dust, so we had to spend lots of time looking for a replacement. So far, we’re very happy with our Suzuki XL-7!

The holiday madness hasn’t hit too badly here, but then most of the family isn’t located nearby. Our baby Christmas tree is up, new wreath made from Michael’s items is out front, purple lights up outside around the front door, and a few decorations around the house. Not too much, but enough to spur a bit of the old holiday feeling.

Lastly, I hope to get back to my writing and finishing my cross-stitch project now that things are pretty much set for the holidays and I’m caught up from being out of town. As always, there’s something going on or planned for the near future to keep me busy and creative. *grin*

Enjoy the holidays, spread joy, share love….and be at peace within!

Daphne Cochran-Shapiro is an Author & Poet, Designer & Crafter, and Entrepreneur who specializes in working with folks needing design assistance. My goal is to empower you to be the best you can be in ALL your endeavors. I invite you to browse my sites and share your comments on my works!

Her long black hair danced in the summer winds, but all her emanations were winter incarnate. I shivered, both fascinated and repelled. This nameless girl was a new student at the boarding school my family had exiled me to. It was only happenstance that we encountered each other at that moment. Or was it?

She stood before me, like a queen, cold and dire. But her eyes….her eyes…. My bones melted into nothing, and I knew this girl could demand of me anything she so desired. A wrench of will to look away. And the pain of that tore my heart. I looked to see if there was another soul upon the steps of the school library. One glance showed me we were alone.

One imperious queen, one shivering child.

Her hand beckoned me towards her side, but how her eyes drew me. There are no words to encompass such delicious fear and desire.

We began to walk towards the gardens at the side of the school. My blood ran as cold as her hand, which reached to hold mine with utmost dominion.

I recall questioning her, hesitant words dropping from my lips. She would only say, with her onyx eyes wavering between scorn and passion, “You are mine now.”

A heady terror. It engulfed me so entirely I almost wrenched my hand from her’s to flee. She seemed to sense that terror, whereupon a calm would fill me, as completely as the terror had.

Reaching a small grove, she turned towards me, my terror blooming again so that I almost fell at her feet in anguish.

She reached for me and held my shuddering body close. No warmth. Only the terror and the desire for something beyond my reach. With one firm move she slid her lips upon my neck and bit hard, deep. I cried out in pain! But there was no escape. Then, or now.

That day I died. That day I felt the curse of the Dark Lady descending upon me, as I died, and yet was reborn. Into what I could only speculate. Months would pass as I came to understand what I had been transformed into….a vampire. The Undead. A cursed being of deadly desire.

Oh, Mother! You would weep tears of horror, loss and despair if you knew what I have become!

A hundred years I have been this creature of blood-death. I am damned. The thirst for blood has doomed me to this life. My Maker, may she be cursed beyond eternity!, has chosen me to follow her path. I am her heir….but, I am nothing. Nothing of the Light. Nothing of the Divine. Nothing of Love. My heart is icen granite. My only comforts are blood, dark nights, dreams of life that bear no fruit.

And yet….and yet! Hope remains that one day this burdensome curse will be lifted from my soul. Till then I pray to the Dark Lady to gift me my freedom. Dare you wonder that I pray? Me, a vampire? With my kiss of death upon you, you will wonder no longer. You may pray, simply, to die.

Immortal. Broken and bound. Blood, the binding.

I decided it was time to find others of my kind. To understand more fully what I am. So many long years I searched, travelling Europe, the Far East, even unto the Americas. The trail of bodies behind me were a testament to hunger and hatred, dread and desire, pain and passion. Of myself. Of the mortals I drained of blood to satiate my desire. Of my Maker. (But, of her, I will speak no more.)

I found them when I returned to Europe, even more cold and despairing than before. Discovered them at a most miserable and dank place called Drakesheath Hall. Whether I will learn anything of import is still to be seen. The hope remains, damned or redeemed. One body to die in agonized terror, one despairing wail to echo into the shadows of the night. I pray I will find answers at Drakesheath Hall.

~from a roleplay at AncientWorlds

Daphne Cochran-Shapiro is an Author & Poet, Designer & Crafter, and Entrepreneur who specializes in working with folks needing design assistance. My goal is to empower you to be the best you can be in ALL your endeavors. I invite you to browse my sites and share your comments on my works!

Rest came fitfully, dreams drifting through her mind–mad demons seeking to bind her, unbind her. The moon above paid no heed to what occurred below her passive face. The sun rising over the eastern horizon also held himself aloof. No aid there, no relief or comfort.

The sudden ringing of the phone broke into Khorsia’s dreams like a song of hope. Wildly, body flailing out of the bed, she reached for the phone as if it embodied the last bastion of her faith. Dark hair draped her face like a shroud presaging fevered fears of a death to come. Hope and faith faded into the background, into silence.

“Hello?” she said, voice hoarse.

A man’s neutral voice asked, “Ms. Rosetti?”

“This is she,” wondering how true that was after such a night.

“I’ve been instructed to escort you to the Portland airport. A private jet awakes to take you further on your journey. You need bring nothing but your handbag and identification. All else has been provided for.”

A pause…when the mind finds itself unable to find rationality in the mundane world. No anchor. What the hell? she thought to herself.

“Uh, look. I don’t have time for prank calls. I’ve got to work today. Go find someone else to pester.” Without any further words, she hung the phone up. Jesus, some people are so easily amused! Fucking wacko!

For a moment, trapped between dreams and the phone call, she almost felt she’d go insane. Her hands balled into fists so tightly she practically drew blood. Shuddering gasps, tensed muscles, as if a pitched battle waged itself within her being.

The phone rang again.

She snatched it up, yelling before she’d even had a chance to decide how she’d react, “Look! This shit isn’t funny! Leave me alone!”

That neutral voice spoke up once more, as if it were immune to any reaction she might have, “My apologies, Ms. Rosetti. I am only doing my job. I assure you, most completely, this is not a prank call, or a joke. I’m utterly serious.”

Khorsia couldn’t maintain her rage, nor her bewilderment in the face of such neutrality. God, I can’t take this. Without warning, she deflated, all her emotions spent into ineffectiveness. The story of her life.

“Alright, tell me, again, why exactly it is you are calling me,” whispered without true caring at all, her eyes roaming the room, over the stained coffee cups and scattered books, as if a stranger lived there.

His voice droned on for several minutes. Something about a plane, a place to go, nothing needed.

A final attempt to maintain control, “Just who is wanting me to go God knows where?”

“I’m not at liberty to say, Ms. Rosetti. I’m sorry, but all will be explained to you in the proper time. I am merely the messenger,” he replied complacently, not sounding very sorry at all. The bastard. But she could not bind herself to her own will, the black mood in its insidious way strangling her slowly.

It seemed she still roamed the land of dreams. She moved. She followed. There were blurs of faces, places; sounds fell upon ears that did not hear. Some whirlwind of activity that could make no impact upon the numb state she’d fallen into.

The sun arose once more upon a day she had no knowledge of, he rose brightly, impassive as ever to her life, to any desires of hope and faith. She found herself standing in front of a gate, blinking at the shafts of sun coming down through the huge oak trees draped in hoary moss on the other side.

Oddly, she smelled the rich scents of roses and honeysuckle. She had arrived, but to where she did not know. A shiver passed down her spine, one soft moan escaping taut lips. Memory was no easy taskmaster. Not easy at all.

What have I done to myself now? she wondered.

“If you need to leave the world you live in
Lay your head down and stay a while
Though you may not remember dreaming
Something waits for you to breathe again”
~Evanescence

Daphne Cochran-Shapiro is an Author & Poet, Designer & Crafter, and Entrepreneur who specializes in working with folks needing design assistance. My goal is to empower you to be the best you can be in ALL your endeavors. I invite you to browse my sites and share your comments on my works!

“Fate does not dictate one’s actions, though it sorely tests the ability to exercise free choice. One must dance into the deep well of discernment.”

~ Jarrod Entraimion, First of the Spiral, Age of Legends

The rising sun draped the desert in topaz light. Silence ruled.

The moments shifted and shifted into the constant present. A slight breeze arose as the warming sun fell upon sands awakening slowly. One lone yerba tree sung a threnody in low tones. Upon a smooth dune two riguas dozed, awaiting the full heat of the day.

At the foot of the dune a shiver of sand trickles disturbed the sleepy desert. Dancing in response to some unspoken violence, the sand began to twist, heave, fall away. Shadow ate away at the topaz light, sucking it into some unseen dark well. A sudden wrenching, spurts of sand now raining upon the dune. No sign of the riguas–instinct directing a retreat. And now the wind racing into a whirl of wildness, sand blasting outwards in agony. Beyond the dune the yerba tree snapped in two, victim of violence. None to hear its destruction. None to bear witness.

Arising from the core of wildness, there appeared jaggedly the semblance of a man. Dark, bleeding shadow, bearing death. Vicious death. An arm rose above his head, accusation to wind, sun, sky. A thunderclap of power rang out and instantly it all ceased–the dance of sand, the craze of wind, the oozing of shadow. Silence ruled. Topaz light dim, weak in astonishment, fear. Fear.

What he brought. What he was. What he was the emissary of, the agent of…

Nos, Lord of Shadows, had sent him here, here to this accursed land of golden light. He hated it. Hated all of life. But it was never a question within that he could or ever would disobey his Master. He must find her, the woman with the hair of flame, the one in the ancient prophecy calling for the destruction of his Dark Lord.

The Nil served. They served wholly and without question. Served the dark with blood in their eyes, flesh upon their claws. He would find her. Death would find her. It was her fate…

~from the fantasy series I’m currently writing

Daphne Cochran-Shapiro is an Author & Poet, Designer & Crafter, and Entrepreneur who specializes in working with folks needing design assistance. My goal is to empower you to be the best you can be in ALL your endeavors. I invite you to browse my sites and share your comments on my works!

*a knock on the door startles Rhea and she drops her powder compact*

Dahling! What a fright you gave me! But don’t fret, my makeup always looks perfect no matter what happens. Please have a seat, and let me take a look at you. Hmmm….yes, you will do just fine, though I might do a touch-over or two here and there.

Now–I see you have a curious glint in your once-jaded eyes. Who wouldn’t be a bit jaded after visiting with Brother Oceanus? *chuckles* Let me explain a few things to you to satisfy that curiosity.

I happen to be the goddess Rhea, the “mother of the gods”. Not all of them, to be sure. But quite a few, which would rank me up there maternal-wise with that vixen Nyx and that Pollyana-ish Tethys. The Greeks finally decided I was the mother of the Olympians. I didn’t live with them, however, given that I’ve got this plush condo up here. Shhh, don’t ask where “here” is, sweetling. A diva must keep some secrets! I’m also considered to be a goddess of ease and comfort. Isn’t that just adorable?

My spouse is Cronus, whom you’ll be visiting next. My brood of children include Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, Hera, Demeter, and Hestia (Zeus had a tendency to want to swallow them knowing that it would be “off with his head!” by one of his offspring, so I sneakily hooked up with Mummy and Daddy to save at least our cute baby by hiding him in a cave). Cronus and I ruled as King and Queen during the Golden Age. I wear this lovely gold bracelet for sentimental reasons to remember that era.

Most depictions of me show me on my throne, with my pet lions nearby or even riding around on my decked-out starry chariot drawn by my handsome kitties. As usual, they tried to pin what’s-her-name?, oh yes, Cybele, on me. *delicate snort* Those demmed Romans! See that picture? That’s not Cybele no matter what they say! *humph*

I was first worshipped in Crete–my temple priests and priestesses were such wonderful devotees! I can still hear their supplications ringing in my ears! Just listen to this Orphic hymn:

“To Rhea, Fumigation from Aromatics. Illustrious Rhea, to my prayer incline, daughter of various-formed Protogonos divine, who drivest thy sacred car with speed along, drawn by fierce lions, terrible and strong. Mother of Zeus, whose mighty arm can wield the avenging bolt and shake the dreaded shield. Brass-sounding, honoured, Kronos’ blessed queen, drum-beating, fury-loving, of a splendid mien. Thou joyest in mountains and tumultuous fight, and mankind’s horrid howlings thee delight. War’s parent, mighty, of majestic frame, deceitful saviour, liberating dame. Mother of Gods and Men, who from Gaia (Earth) and spacious Ouranos (Heaven) derives her glorious birth. The ethereal gales, the deeply spreading sea, Goddess, aerial-formed, proceed from thee. Come, pleased with wanderings, blessed and divine, with peace attended on our labours shine; bring rich abundance; and, wherever found, drive dire disease to earth’s remotest bound.” *happy sigh*

*Rhea glances in her gilded mirror* Well, my dahling, I must get back to finishing my face and then I must get a manicure. Cronus and I have a date this evening over at the Titanium Club, the most posh club in the heavens. And I still have to figure out what to wear. This ole thing will never do (I wore it last year to the Annual Titans Fund Ball). I’ve also got to remember to feed my lions soon; they get cranky and refuse to purr when they don’t get their Lion Chow.

Be well, and enjoy your visit with Cronus. Please tell him not to be late!

Start the full tour – HERE!

{for AncientWorlds’ annual GoldFest 2008}

Daphne Cochran-Shapiro is an Author & Poet, Designer & Crafter, and Entrepreneur who specializes in working with folks needing design assistance. My goal is to empower you to be the best you can be in ALL your endeavors. I invite you to browse my sites and share your comments on my works!