A Strange Day Indeed (Lyr#19)

This is Part 19 of an on-going serial I’m writing called, “Lyr the Enchanter”. To read the story from the beginning, you can find the story index, here.


Walking through the underworld with my estranged wife beside me, on our way to visit her kingly father in his otherworld kingdom, where he was holding our son – a child I hadn’t known existed until a few hours previously, even though he was nearly ten years old – was giving my day a surreal bent.

So I thought nothing of it when my vision started blurring at the edges. Then I was falling, falling…and it was too late.

Lyr, you cannot ignore me. I’m far too strong. I won’t be denied. You must meet me, at the lane, at high noon, three days from now, or you will come to regret it.

Before my eyes, I saw the image of a cobbled lane, with ancient walls lining either side. I didn’t think I knew the place, and yet it felt strangely familiar.

“Who are you?”

You know. But if you don’t, you will soon enough.


Written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge #19 | And again, the words have gotten away from me. I’m 4 words over the 150 maximum… :-/

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Psst…

The Winter Ghost has made it onto the Open Novella Contest 2019’s Longlist!  Yay!  That was certainly unexpected…

If you’re interested in learning more about it, or would like to read it (yes, it’s free!), you can do so by following this link here, to Wattpad.

The Gatekeeper

This is Part 18 of an on-going serial I’m writing called, “Lyr the Enchanter”. To read the story from the beginning, you can find the story index, here.


Whatever was lurking in the dark only made itself known when we stepped off the bridge, although it never moved from the shadows.

‘Lady Arastia,’ it wheezed. ‘What brings you down below?’

I had seen the gatekeeper only once. He was old beyond counting, his form beyond comprehension. He was not of my world, but from the world of nightmares.

‘Mind your business!’

‘It is my duty to keep the gate, Lady. You know this.’

Arastia turned to stare into the gloom. Slipping her hand into a fold of her dress, she withdrew a small potion bottle and held it up for the gatekeeper to see.

‘You have a gift for me?’ he asked, his voice laced with ill-concealed desire. A hand of bone and nothing else escaped the darkness, reaching for what Arastia held.

When it was only a finger’s breadth away it vanished and the gatekeeper wailed.

Arastia, laughing, beckoned me further into her father’s otherworldly kingdom.


Written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge # 18 | Once more, I’m over the word count (159)…this story just keeps getting away from me…

Down into the Dark

This is Part 17 of an on-going serial I’m writing called, “Lyr the Enchanter”. To read the story from the beginning, you can find the story index, here.


The air was damp and oppressive. We continued downwards in silence. Although the way was dark, a slight luminescence was emitted from the rocks, meaning the blackness wasn’t quite so black, but the going was still difficult.

I hated the Otherworld. I didn’t like the Isle that existed on the edge of it, but it was far more amenable than the subterranean kingdom of The Bull.

Finally, the stairs stopped, and we reached a vast cavern. An underground gorge was a better description, the sides linked by The Bridge of Despair. Why it was named thus, I never found the courage to ask.

We crossed the bridge, still without a word being uttered. Perhaps Arastia was mad that I accepted her suggestion of enchanting her, so I might learn the truth – or at least, some of it.

The bridge was long and high up. I was thankful when we reached the other side. But only for a moment.

Something was waiting in the shadows.


Written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge # 17 | I’m a wee bit over the word count this time round, at 164 words, but I really couldn’t find anything else to trim…

Through the Gates

This is Part 16 of an on-going serial I’m writing called, “Lyr the Enchanter”. To read the story from the beginning, you can find the story index, here.


As I opened my eyes, the enchantment held fast. It would not fade. After some moments, I had to use my own enchanter’s magic against it and force it from my head. This troubled me. It told me whoever was behind it was strong. Powerful. And that was something I didn’t want to dwell on.

The Boatman was here. Arastia got in, saying to the cloaked figure, ‘I forbid you from saying a word. No soul-searching either.’

With The Boatman at the prow, Arastia sitting in the middle, I sat in the back of the boat. In silence we moved through the gates and into the blackness of the cave.

How much time passed, I could not tell. We did not stop until the boat pulled alongside a set of stone steps that led down into the earth.

Without a word being exchanged, we disembarked, and then began our descent downwards into the dark.


Written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge #16 – I’m a little over the word count this time round, at 154, but it was at 196 at one point, before some major pruning had to be undertaken.  I’ll settle for four over, methinks! 🙂

Imposter Syndrome

…a random photo…

I’m a charlatan

A fake. A fraud

I wear a mask

To hide the truth

You’d never know

You’d never guess

What lies beneath

This forged façade

It doesn’t matter

How hard you look

You’ll glimpse it not

This truth of mine

It’s buried deep

Concealed well

Sometimes I deceive myself

Believe the fiction

Life of invention

Figments of my imagination


Written for Weekend Writing Prompt #101 – Charlatan | Word Count: 61

Dead and Dying

This is Part 15 of an on-going serial I’m writing called, “Lyr the Enchanter”. To read the story from the beginning, you can find the story index, here.


I closed my eyes. Suddenly I felt a tugging at my core as I was unwillingly pulled inwards. The dream-weaving I had experience whilst journeying here with The Boatman replayed itself.

At first I thought I had worked out who was behind it: Arastia. This, however, I quickly dismissed. She was no enchanter, and I was sure if there was another here on the Island with her I would have sensed it. Yes, she was pulling my strings, manipulating me, this I now knew for certain, but it was clear that someone else was trying to do the same.

The vision changed…

All was green. Not a healthy green, but a sickly one. I was surrounded by plants. Some tall. Some short. Some creeping across the ground, others reaching high into the air. But they had one thing in common: they were all dead or dying.

What did it mean?


Written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge #15 – 150 words on the button!  Woohoo… 🙂  Next instalment coming Monday…