crescent moon

crescent moon
by Everett A Warren

May 1, 2006

crescent moon
hanging
hook in the sky
holding
a cloak of stars
or an earth-bound soul
dreaming

crescent moon
drifting
across the sky
whispering
a secret song
or an elegiac story
spellbinding

crescent moon
flying
breath of the sky
billowing
a sail of stars
o’er an uncharted sea
meandering

crescent moon
waning
from the sky
fading
a kiss of shadows
or an endless silence
descending

Copyright (c) 2006 Everett Ambrose Warren

Recently Read: Garth Nix - Grim Tuesday

The second book in the Keys to the Kingdom series, the second day, and the second sin. This is Gaiman lite - and by that, I don't mean to imply any negative connotations, rather I mean it as a compliment. Although Neil does write children's books (Coraline, amongst others,) most of his material requires an older audience. For some reason, Nix reminds me of Gaiman, but slanted for - not down to - a younger audience.

This book has a decidedly steam punk or, to use Kaja Foglio's more apt invention, gaslamp fantasy. This could be because a steam train - or its tracks - is central to a large chunk of the story, but there was that kind of aspect throughout, and in the earlier work as well. Nothing so hard and fast as a steam tech fan might desire, but I felt it was there nonetheless.

I look forward to the third day in the series, although I do hope the protagonist ceases attempting to go home after each key is found - that particular device worked once, but grated on me when he tried it again. Any admirable traits the character may have get lost in his overall selfishness - it can't *possibly* be cluelessness, can it? - that prevents him from staying and going after the next key proactively.

That particular aspect is a shade of one major failing point of the Harry Potter series - a failing *point*, mind you; I do enjoy both book and movie in that series - that, despite all that has happened, in each book Voldemort or his minions harass Harry, yet by now Harry has to realize a final show down is inevitable, and it might be wise to have some choice in where and when the next encounter occurs.

Purge

Purge
by Everett A Warren

An excerpt

A new world is rising in the ashes of the old. Time immortal reborn. Upon darkened battlements, I watch the spires of gleaming gold arise. And a tear trickles down my cheek.

Power and might, crumbling the foundations that have been set in stone. Across the blasted land, I hear the church bells tolling. Solemn callings of the faithful. I know – without knowing – that the bells ring far and wide, beyond my sight. All the churches I have seen, all in simultaneous orchestration. All the churches I have not seen, throughout the land, the continent, the continents. Together.

It is an omen. Who rings those bells? Do they communicate to one another, to arrange such a bizarre occurrence? Language barriers broken, a network of party lines spread like a web around the globe: now, on four, we ring. And a one and a two... No one rings the bells, yet they ring. Dawn is not hinted at on the horizon, although it is dawn and it is noon and it is every other time in one place or another, yet still the bells ring. Awakening from sleep, awakening those going about their day from a state worse than the comfort of the dreaming.

Lights, now, flare out. Sleepers fumbling from bed, to the window. Fists raised, perhaps. Complaints issued to the proper authorities. What answer? Permits to ring at certain times, so as not to interfere with another aural-neighbouring bell tower, permits broken. Ruffled politicians baffled at the nerve of the religions breaking the law, ringing their bells in the pre-dawn gloom. Leave it to the politicians not to sense that all the churches are acting in perfect harmony, all the faiths, even the secular bells, be they in the town halls or fire stations or wherever, all ringing. Set in stone, settled on the ground, handbells on shelves, bells tuned far and wide across the spectrum of sound, all echoing the identical pitch. What can it be, but an omen?

A dirge. Slow. I think it not a peaceful omen. Some will say God, some Jehovah, some Allah, some Jesus, and some Mary. Some will know it is an alien race announcing their arrival on Planet Earth. Smaller numbers will profess it to be gods from ancient pantheons, Odin, Zeus, and all the others. Some will say it is the leaders of their mind-numbing cults. Is it?

If they ask me, I could tell them, but they will not ask. They awaken. It is an awesome sight, for those of us who can see it. Throngs fill the street, curious or angry, cursing the gods or praising them. Together, like the bells. All the world stirred. Bells ringing in the remote locations, where no bells have travelled. It is time now.

Copyright (c) 1994 Everett A Warren

You can read the complete story in my collection, Cautionary Fables: Warts & All, available on Amazon.com or by order from your local bookseller.

Weekend Update

Okay, I delayed this until now - my mom's in the air, on her way back here. We'll see if she notices any of the stuff that was done over the weekend - most very obvious.

I must admit, this was my idea originally, but Deb convinced the kids to play along. Me, I was ready to give up moments after I first mentioned it. =)

( Weekend Updatia )