Tag Archives: Guardians

Fridays Flash

I thought I would share a little excerpt from Wytch, which introduces my anti hero, Brom, to a certain extent. It’s more about the messenger, than the man himself.

It’s been a tough few weeks where my writing has been concerned.

Wytch had to take a rest, or rather, I had to take a rest from Wytch. There are several reasons for this – Story line and plot, my two heroes battling it out for stardom, and the time line (again!) It seems that when ever I solve a problem, I create a new one, sometimes even two.

So I put it away.

I worked on some short stories instead.

I worked on my joint project with my writing partner.

I caught up with boring jobs, like ironing.

I caught up with old friends for a ceremony to say goodbye to our friend.

Today, I am trying to get serious again.

I took Wytch out. I looked at my notes and have decidede that there are a few things that just aren’t quite right. I still don’t know whether this is due to my trying to combine two different stoies, or three different time lines. I’m pondering.

However, I promised Fridays Flash, and so far have only provided one. so here’s the second.

Have a fabulous weekend 🙂


“The child stepped gently through the red and golden leaves that now lay on the forest floor, highlighted by the light-show of crepuscular rays breaking the monotony of the trees.
She adored this time of day, walking through the woodland, listening to the world around her as it woke from a perfect night of sleep.

The job of bringing in the netting and thread from the stream down below her though, she did not like.
It was her duty as the youngest girl. To rise before her sisters and brother was almost like a punishment to her; she tried so hard to not do things wrong, to go through life quietly and carefully.
She tiptoed along the carpet of moss and stones. Seeds and dust particles circled her as she disturbed the stillness of air; tiny winged creatures hovered around as she knelt at the waters edge.
Pulling on the thread, that her sisters had weaved the previous day, she noticed there was a tension, a tension that she had never felt before, and as she pulled it tighter, winding it around the stick, three fish broke the surface of the water, attached to the hooks on the thread.
She allowed herself a giggle, anxiety released its grip from within her stomach allowing relaxation to return, usually there was only one fish, today there were three, this was why the tension was different.
Silly little girl, allowing superstitions to play games with her mind, she tried to focus on her task, and rid her mind of such foolish thoughts.
However, as she pulled at the fish, she saw that the talisman seal was broke. How could this be? She shivered, as her heartbeat quickened, what would it mean for family.
The forest lights went out, and she felt the cool air change to a hot flash.

On the floor beside her, were two hooves, almost cloaked in green fabric, she followed the skirt upwards to a brown leather corset and the woman who wore it. Her hair looked like horns and she had dark coal eyes, she was holding a finger to her lips and slowly smiled at Sala.

“I need you to go to your brother and tell him it is beginning. “
She spoke quietly but with a warm intensity, not quite a demand.
“Do you understand me, Sala?”
Sala nodded, she didn’t know exactly what this meant, but she had heard the tales about broken seals and hooven creatures. She thought her grandmother and brother were just entertaining her, she never believed it could all be true.
The woman stood, and began to make strange markings on the tree.
She glanced around at Sala and raised her voice this time.
“Go. You must go. Do it now Sala.”
Sala turned and ran, she left the fish and the thread, she left the forest, and she didn’t look back.”





The Wytchwood Tree

For this weeks Fridays Flash, I thought I’d give you a glimpse into the past. By looking into the past, we learn who we are in the present and also our potential for the future. I haven’t spoken much about my heroine, Emeline, so I think I might concentrate on her for a couple of weeks. Here is how she was created – In a way!

It was as though no one saw the crows, all seemed deaf to their calls, they even ignored the feathers they dropped. Rare indeed.

Not one person chose to hear their messages.

Lugi called his crows back after a while, it was no good, had the witches turned their backs? He stalked over to the Wytchwood tree and leaned his forehead against the wide trunk. Blonde and brown bark grown into narrow avenues and hills stretching up from earth to air, rough and smooth, up and down. He stroked the trunk and the tree moaned and moved, its branches shivered overhead.

Pan would not show himself. Silly boy, thought Lugi. For ones who deliver courage and strength to all who ask, they run and hide in fear when someone enters the forest, they couldn’t keep a little for themselves? The tree sighed. “Oh, who asked you.” said Lugi.

He pushed himself away from the Wytchwood and stood for a moment. “So what do we do then?”

The tree sighed again but dropped a seed.

Lugi stared at what lay at his feet.

“I couldn’t.” He spoke quietly, not taking his eyes off the seed. It was the size of a crab apple, with a smooth, brown casing. The seed within held ancient magics, if planted at the right time, and in the right place, Lugi knew that as the seed grew, and its roots sought out the nourishment of the earth, the Lullie would grow with it. A renowned female warrior, the Lullie would posses the magics of the Wytch, but also the darkness of the Woo. For every wytch born, a wytchwood was first planted.

Rare it is for a crow to drop its feathers. Rarer still that a wytchwood may drop a seed. 

His crows circled above him and called out for him to take it. Lugi remained stationary, he knew he would, but he didn’t dare pick it up.

“Do it!” a voice called from behind him. “If the Wytchwood has spoken to you, and you know how to do it, then the only thing left is to, well. Do it.” Pan stood with his chin tilted up to Lugi, his hands resting beside him with a curved bow in one. “Too cowardly am I?” he asked pursing his lips and pouting in jest. “Look at you, you’re too scared to plant a tree!” The two laughed together at the simplicity of the action, yet they both knew the dangers.

Lugi’s crows had stopped their squawking; flown south to deliver the message to the Volva.

All they needed now was the Nixen and there would be no excuse, no reason not to. Lugi looked up to the moon, its waning phase cast a shadow of concern over the bright wisdom of the Goddess. “We’ll have to wait.” said Lugi. “Yes.” Pan agreed. “We wait. We allow the wolf to pass. The stag will eventually show himself and then we will work.”

“Who do you think she will be?” Lugi stooped and picked up the seed, holding it in his hand. Such a small thing, such promise of life.  

I am Wytch

A dulcet chant, sang by witches before their deaths.

Their belief is simple – that they return to the energy from whence all life came, that the energy of spirit lives on in others. That even death can not sever their belief, that the Wyt will continue on.

Will it continue on?


“I am wytch, a witch am I.

A wytch in life, a witch as I die.

I call upon all guardians of earth,

to hold me strong in spirit and verse.

I ask of you, guardians of air,

to whisper the truth and carry mine there.

Guardians of fire, fuel my intent,

empower my magic, as it is sent.

To water I implore, my guardians here,

deliver my plea, without strife nor tear.

Of spirit within, and spirit without.

Release my fear, release my doubt.

Lord Son of sun, light my path.

Return my body to dust and ash.

Blessed Lady Luna, guide my way.

For others, my life, I gladly do pay.” 


Wytch Mythology

Some may call this procrastination, some may suggest it’s a much needed part of the planning. I think it’s definitely procrastination!

Let’s face it, we have paper and pencils to do this kind of a job, if it’s even required at all.

But I like to mess about and faff. It gets my left brain/right brain calibrated, and that can only be a good thing. Anyway, a good diagram into the way my worlds religion works ‘ain’t gonna kill anyone – Is it?

With that in mind, it’s time to stop playing, and get back to my writing, because actually, I do have a death scene to write, it’s a dirty job 😦


Wytch Hierarchy

G is for Guardians

The Guardians are four races of character who protect the quarter they are from:

The water element in Mariburgh County is protected by the Nixen. Who represent the ebb and flow of all life.

Fate and destiny.

They deliver tears of change.

Although they live within the waters; ocean, rivers, streams, wells and springs etc. They can come on land and shed their skin to take on human form. The men are considerably handsome and seduce women. The women have a long term plan however. Once their skin is shed they take on the human form and craft a spell using their hide to entrap their prey into falling in love with them and marrying. The Nixen are the one guardian of the four who like to interact with the people of Dagda Mead.


The earth element in Nareton is protected by the Pan. With soft brown skin and amber eyes, long golden hair that has leaves and vines twisted throughout. Pan prefer to remain in the cover of the forests and woods. However, his presence can be felt in all of nature.

They represent the survival instincts and the hunter of the people of Dagda Mead.  Warriors are made in the north. The wytch can communicate with this guardian through the ogham alphabet.

Pan is the hunter and the prey, he is rebirth.

Balance and vibration.


In the fire quarter of Agnistead, the guardian is Volva. A hooven creature with horns which she wraps her long blonde hair around. She can walk both worlds without disguise as she is the most human looking of all.

Volva is the keeper of secrets, the ward of hidden knowledge. In her fires, people are held captivated and entranced by their future selves.

Purity and transcendence.

She prefers to remain hidden as Pan does, However she isn’t as shy as he is, and if called will gladly show herself.


In Limenstowe, Lugi is the guardian of air and the east. Shapeshifters and messengers. Which, means he must have a crow/raven, right? (I do like my ravens in stories, in mythology, in real life!)

He has black hair like the raven, and dark pools for eyes. Lugi is the wind that whispers, the bird in flight, the howling in a storm.

If one of the other guardians needs a message delivering he is the power that moves them. Without Lugi, the others would become weak. Lugi makes himself known by a gentle touch or a calling of your name.

Lugi is love and compassion.




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