blog gothic.

The Direful Secret of Castle Mayo

by

Elena and Toujours

Chapter 1:

[by Elena]

The lightening flash with the trailing rumble of thunder served only to darken this mood further. Lord Mayo, or the Dark Lord Mayo as the villagers referred to him in hushed whispers, turned from the window. He had grown tired of watching the approaching storm. Tonight a storm of a different kind was brewing inside his own castle walls.His ears caught the sound of the restless woman downstairs in the castles main room. They were waiting as always for his appearance. Always waiting in hopes of catching a brief glimpse on the man behind the mask. With quick strides he moved across the room to the bedside table. His hand touched the cool brass pull of the drawer. Should he open it and unleash the hidden truth that was held within? Would the women flee in fear?

To be continued in the comments below!

saturday night.

*floats down to the portrait over the mantel*

mayo,

i was working on a little research project today, something that occurred to me and caught at my fancy. it required reading back over the old posts and old comments, and it was so interesting to watch all our relationships build and tighten and solidify. it gave me a stronger sense of our history here, even though it is only five months in length. blogbelieve time has it's own scale.

it was a good way to spend a pacific northwest winter day, researching, drinking coffee, listening to favorite music, and watching snow turn to rain turn to snow turn to rain. it left me feeling nostalgic, and sad, and happy, and grateful.

and when i turned my thoughts to what i needed to say to you tonight, rising out of this even-tempered day came the desire to give you something. why? i don't know why. and it's not like i can give you anything spectacular, i'm not even corporeal. but maybe i can share across the screen that separates us some of the gentle mood of my day, carried in my gift like a charm.

*shrugs and smiles*

so, let's see...what can an ectoplasmic lady share with the lord of the blog?

oh! i know!

i don't write much poetry anymore, and what poetry i do write is actually more prayer than poem, but here's one of them for you.

*settles self on the mantel, closes eyes, and recites*

silver crescent smile in the night,
green dancer among the trees,
be within me the harpstring that sings to the colors of the earth and sky,
be the hawk i soar with in a smooth spiralling glide,
be within me the balanced heart partaking freely of solemnity and cheer,
be the oak i lean against to stand steady in any storm.
by your example, let laughter spill from me,
by your example, let compassion reside within me,
for you are the ground of my being and the song of my soul,
and gladly do i claim:
sweet lady, smiling lord,
i am yours.

*opens eyes, and looks at where feet would be if feet could be materialized*

well, so. there you go. i hope you like it?

best go now. wishing you well, mayo.

good night.

*smiles at portrait, and rises, and fades*

friday night.

mayo,

it was an uneasy day for me. my last at work, and though i'm glad to leave it behind, i was sad to say good-bye to my co-workers, and that surprised me. i hadn't expected to feel so solemn. once i was home, i ended up reading my journal from the last year of my marriage. it was a good balance to the optimism of the night before, a good reminder to stay a tiny bit wary around my ex, but obviously, not really a good read. hard memories in that volume. and then tonight's noise and ire and anons. i couldn't even linger as ecto-tj.

mayo, i don't know where you are in your head right now. i don't know if the pain of this entry is still lingering with you, or if the act of writing it was enough of a release. maybe your surroundings are enough of a distraction to enable you to regain some balance. i hope so, because this blog of your's, before all else, should be a place of refuge for you. it is for so many of us, but it's your blog, and if we allow the anons to goad us into chaotic behavior that disrupts the benefits of this place, then we have failed you.

that's how i felt tonight.

i'm sorry, mayo. this place is important to me, and i know it is important to you. i don't want that to change. this blog should end only because you decide it is finished, not because it has cracked apart from internal and external stresses.

it's late for me, i'm tired, and worn out. i haven't fully realized that i don't have to go back to work next week. i haven't fully understood that today i crossed the threshold into the unknown, again. i'm unsettled and unbalanced, and found no security in your home tonight.

our fault.

tomorrow will be better. it must.

today i was given daffodils as a going away gift. they're my favorite spring flower, and always speak to me of beginnings. are there any flowers yet where you are, mayo? just beginning to bloom, or perhaps displayed in bright bundles? look for them. flowers always have a smile for you.

good night, mayo.

wednesday night.

mayo,

elena told me that thoughts of death are always with us, sometimes walking beside us silently, sometimes making us stop and face them. it's true with memories of the dead, as well. sometimes my dad is with me through a penny on the ground or a familiar face on the street or a familar scent on the air, and i smile. sometimes he's with me as he was when i saw him last, and then i can't help it, it brings up tears, though i fight them.

it was always such a mystery to me before, how someone could just cease to be. it seemed impossible. and now i'm learning that they don't, not really. people you carry in your heart for whatever reason never really leave you.

and i was realizing that goes for those that are alive, too. it can be such a crowded place, my heart!

and so, even sitting here alone, i don't always feel lonely. my dad is gone, but i can still remember him and smile with it. my friends are busy with their own lives, but the emails we've written give me things to think about, just as if i am still having a conversation with them. even people i've never met, but who have come to mean so much to me, can come into my thoughts and warm my heart.

i was so wrong back when i thought i didn't need anyone in my life, back when i thought being a hermit was a desirable lifestyle.

i do need people, kindred spirits all, heart to heart and mind to mind like air for my lungs.

remember to embrace your own, mayo, with all your heart.

good night, and the best of dreams to you.

tuesday night.

mayo,

i was still thinking about my dad today. every time i read this post, your words describe those weekends in portland, and nothing else. i think i forget that he's truly gone, sometimes.

and then the unbelievable news about heath ledger.

and chased away from the blog by more rancor.




have you ever had a day when you wished you could just be a little kid again? when the security blanket was enough, and a hug from a parent was a panacea? when no one went away forever because you didn't understand what forever really meant?

tomorrow i'll be a grown-up again, i will, but tonight i just wish i was a little girl once more, with someone to tuck me in, and make everything good.






you can't be strong all the time.

good night, mayo.

sunday night.

*floats down from the ceiling*

*notices the dust on the top of the portrait frame and makes mental note to take care of that when next in corporeal form*

*whispers*



no words of wisdom tonight mayo, again no ramble. i think you might not need them as much these days, and that's good. take care of yourself, and sleep well.

good night, mayo.



*gives portrait a fond smile and drifts off to bed*

saturday night.

toujours said...

mayo,
i've been thinking today about how busy our days can be, how filled with bustle and noise and rushing around in circles, and so i thought that tonight, instead of giving you my usual excessive ramble, i'd give you a nice quiet moment:





breathe in...
this moment










breathe out...
beautiful moment










breathe in...
this moment










breathe out...
holy moment











sleep well, mayo, and have delicious dreams.

: )

thursday night.

dear mayo,

it's the listening.

there's always someone here listening. (well, reading, actually, but it doesn't feel like that. it's more active, more filled with presence.)

tonight i felt extremely non-corporeal. discouraged by real world business, i was barely even ectoplasmic, but even so, i kept returning, refreshing, and sitting with my friends for a little while. just like elena did. just like you do. (i know you do.)

there's always someone here.

there hasn't been a single time that i've reached out in fear or sorrow and not found a response, not had the weight of my fears reduced, or the burden of my sorrows eased.

no one's ever alone here.

sincerely,
most gratefully,

-toujours

wednesday night.

hey mayo,

that really was kind of startling to be nattering on tonight and suddenly see your comment when i posted mine. you must have secret passageways all throughout the place, huh? *grin*

my personal theme these past two years has been one of transformation. do you know the tarot? i've had the fool card up in my devotional space ever since the divorce, to remind me to step off the cliff, happily and willingly. i stayed on the safe paths too long. and i think i'm actually getting the hang of it now, at last.

but i marvel that transformation is played out here, too, where i hadn't expected to see it. i feel it in myself, and can trace so much of it back to this place and the alchemy of blogbelieve. i see it in others, as well. and of course, we all see it in you.

i don't think what is happening here is transformation the way we normally think of it -- the make-over, changing one thing into another (better) thing, a magician's trick. i think it's transformation the way an egg is transformed into a chick, the way a seed is transformed into green growth and bright color. it's real transformation, real magic. we are all learning how to become ourselves without fear, how to have trust in our true selves, all in our own ways.

it is astounding.

and, honestly? i'm excited to see what's going to happen next. i haven't been on the safe path since i first became "toujours" here, and i'm finding that i like not knowing what's around the corner. sure, sometimes it's a small-minded anon trying to irritate, but hey, sometimes, it's you.

well worth it, in my book. *grin*

good night, mayo. hope your feet are taking you around some interesting corners these days, happily and willingly.

monday night.

mayo,

one of the unexpected gifts i've received from this blogbelieve of ours is the reacquaintance with my artist-self. making the leonard & fred drawing at christmas reawakened a part of me i really thought might be permanently asleep.

one of my favorite things to do back when i was with my ex was to sit at the table together all afternoon and just draw. we would work on our own projects, or paint award scrolls for our medieval group, or play drawing games. heck, one of our first dates was to sit side-by-side and color in coloring books!

it was such a satisfying feeling, and an invigorating one too. what he drew inspired me in my work, and what i drew inspired him, and of course, we never lacked for models when we were both sitting there at the table!

after the divorce, though, the projects i was working on just slid away. i didn't have the energy for them. they seemed unimportant, and held no enticement. my artistic self was so entwined with his, i didn't know if it was truly mine anymore.

but it is. it is mine. i'm drawing again, encouraged by everyone here, and the feeling of it is just so right. tonight, i sat here at my computer, ectoplasmic at your place, wandering around the rest of blogbelieve, and drawing.

just, drawing!

this place we have here, it's making me whole again. how is it doing that? is it a little bit like what you're getting out of it, too?

i hope so, because this is a fantastic feeling. i'm becoming me again. and i honestly don't know if that would have happened without this unique experience of ours.

and i still need to say thank you. every night i need to say thank you! i close my eyes and it fills me up, this gratitude for everything that's been happening, here and in the real world, a sweet bubbling spring within me that brims up in a smile curving the corner of my lips. i can't help it. it's too good.

share some of it, won't you, mayo? there's enough.

and so good night to you, and sweet dreams and sweet days.

(oh, and the check-up was fine. i'm all good, persephone aboveground again. *grin*)

sunday night.

mayo,

i'm glad i had yesterday here at your place, because today i had to scurry around and get all my weekend chores done. tomorrow will be spent going up to seattle for my regular check-up with my oncologist. that takes a while with public transportation.

it's not such a big deal to see him, though. i catch up with his staff, he checks out my lymph nodes, i give them a bit more blood. this march i'll be six years out from my diagnosis, and i've been considered officially cured since last year.

but i'm always going to have to see him. there will always be a chance that it will come back, or i'll develop a different cancer.

most of the time, i don't think about it. i actually even forget about it altogether, in light of my dad and my grandma dying of cancers of their own.

until the check-up comes around.

that's when i feel a little shadow at the edge of my thoughts. "you can pretend," it whispers. "you can downplay that year, but i was there with you. i remember even if you don't want to."

every year, the whisper is more faint, but it's still enough to make me clench the back of my jaw. this is how i learned how to do the things i didn't want to do. this is how i learned to walk forward even with my eyes closed tightly.

by tomorrow night, it will be over for another six months, and i'll be persephone aboveground again.

but tonight i taste pomegranate.

that's just how it is. we don't always get to choose what needs to be done. maybe that's why it's so crucial to do those things that we do get to choose, those things that we want to do, those things that fill us with delight, not fear.

balance.
balance, and breath.

good night, mayo. thank you for this place. thank you for joining us here. it balances out so much else, so much more than you might realize.

best of dreams to you, and the best of days.

open for business.

ghostly, innit?

*grin*