Brighid of Byrness

“I need some time alone with…with…the Shadow. Please.” James nodded his consent and led Scheherazade away from the fire. “I am so sorry,” Brighid said sorrowfully. “I have been hoping all these months that your death at my hands was really just a dream. It has never made sense. Why would I have done such a thing? I had fallen in love with you.” “I had fallen in love with you, too, Brighid. Your beauty, strength, and compassion far exceeded any woman I had met before Fate brought us together. I couldn’t believe my luck – disaster and near-death brought me a change in fortune. The pain I endured as I clung to life while you nursed me back to health faded into nothingness as soon as I regained consciousness and looked into your face. That night we spent together, as you fell asleep peacefully against my chest, I decided that I did not want to go on without you in my life. I planned on begging you to run away with me as soon as we woke.” Brighid didn’t try to stop the stream of hot tears which coursed down her cheeks. Guilt and grief – both had been her constant companions since that tragic night. “I think I understand what happened, though it doesn’t lessen my guilt. I should have been stronger! Fate knew what was in your heart, and also knew that I would forsake the vows I took as Keeper of the Hearth and leave with you. I would have followed you anywhere. Instead, I was led to take your life.” Brighid let the Shadow hold her while she sobbed. How can he even bear being in my presence? I killed him. I KILLED him. I deserve to die! After a moment, he lifted Brighid’s face and kissed her softly. “There is no need for you to feel guilt. You did not kill me knowingly; it wasn’t your fault. I still love you. I always will…no matter what.” He kissed her lips, her cheek, her neck, and then whispered in her ear, “My name is Alexander.” “Okay, okay…enough’s enough,” James said jovially, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s time for Lady Brighid to smear me with her healing goo and then we need to get this show on the road. That is, if you’ve decided how we’re going to precede, Brighid.” Brighid reluctantly took a step away from Alexander and looked back and forth between the two men. She had no idea what she was going to do, but she didn’t want to admit that just yet. “Yes, I’m ready. But first, let’s get rid of those disgusting lesions!”

Peaceful ^^ 60's here today, but I'm dreaming of snow

“I think this is a good time for you to explain yourself, James. We all followed you down here expecting answers, but all you’ve done is vent your anger and insult us. We don’t even know what you’re angry about, though I can venture a guess based on your mood swings, the innuendos you keep dropping, that strange watch you’re wearing, and now the appearance of the Butcher’s virus: you’re almost certain that your time is up and you still don’t have clue as to how you’re going to get out of your predicament.” Brighid stared steadily into James’ rheumy eyes. She could tell by the way he sat disconsolately on the ground, his shoulders slumped in defeat, that what she said was true. James looked down into the mug of tea for several moments before he replied. “It’s true; I don’t know what I’m going to do and time’s running out. I have a vague plan. It involves the wish I mentioned, but there is no guarantee it will work. And now these cursed sores are starting to appear,” he growled, holding his infected arm up to the fire so they could all see how the virus was starting to spread across his body. “I think I can stop the spread of the virus, James. And no, it’s not witchcraft that I possess, but ancient knowledge that was taught to me when I was being trained as Keeper of the Hearth. You have nothing to fear from me.” Brighid started removing sachets of herbs and a small pot of ointment from her bag. “But there is something I need you to explain right now, and please answer simply and clearly: who is this shadow man and why do you say he is a demon confined to my dreams? If he is the same man that was found wounded on the shore of Lake Penrith – the man I healed and fell in love with…and perhaps murdered – then how is it that he had a corporeal form at that time? Several of my villagers saw him. I know I wasn’t in the dream world the whole time! I need to know, James – did I carry him with me into the dream world and murder him there? Am I the reason he’s now without a physical body?” James regarded the woman gravely from where he sat across the fire. The Shadow placed his hand tenderly on Brighid’s shoulder and she whispered to him, "I don't know your name." She buried her face in her hands and sobbed, “Isn’t there anything that can be done?”

Eat, I guess...because if I keep sleeping without eating it will be like I'm dead anyway, and if I eat without sleeping I'll at least be spending my last time on earth doing something (because I'll eventually go crazy and die anyway!) angel hair pasta or fettuccine?

Progress!

Heavy Sunday night -- though paper weighs next to naught, paperwork crushes. Edited to add: as soon as I posted I noticed that I started the previous haiku with "heavy" also; I need to lighten up!

Echotide. I got this CD about a year ago and haven't really listened to it much since, but I found it in my car a few days ago and am giving it another go on the stereo. First song starts out gently with melodic piano and then builds beautifully:

Brighid kept her back to the lake until she heard James enter the water; she turned and sat down upon the mossy bank. She felt drained by the fear which had overcome her just moments before. What is this place? I thought the tunnels under the Pen were full of nasty beings: orcs or goblins or sleazy, slimy, sycophantic subservients sent here to maim and mangle according to their masters’ bidding. But we haven’t encountered any dangerous creatures. Yet this feels to be a far more menacing place, one filled with depressions, fears, and melancholy. As she watched James swim smoothly through the lustrous blue water, a thought entered and sat squarely within Brighid’s understanding: the four of them were wandering within the vast psyche of the Mighty Pen itself. This was not shaping up to be an adventure filled with swashbuckling heroics, but one rife with soul-searching. That’s why I found James in the courtyard covered in blood but I couldn't find a bullet or stab wound. He carries the wounds within his soul, and my healing herbs contain no efficacy against that type of trauma. The Shadow and Scheherazade joined Brighid next to the bank. “I don’t know how long James intends to stay in the lake, but we should build a small fire anyway; it’s damp and he will be chilled once he emerges. Plus, I could sure use a cheery glow midst all this gloom, even if it is only temporary. Scheherazade, do you see the small copse of trees on that side of the village?” She pointed about a quarter of a mile to the left. “Go gather what you can for kindling and a few small logs. As soon as you return, I’ll light a fire and brew you some tea which will take away your hunger.” The girl set off to do as she was asked, relieved that the path did not take her close to the lake where James was still swimming. Brighid turned toward the Shadow and studied what she could distinguish of his facial features. Whenever his form started to solidify it altered, like smoke in a shifting breeze. He’s here but not here. Seeing the look of overwhelming sadness come into Brighid’s eyes was too much for the Shadow, and he gathered her into his arms as firmly as he could, but his grasp was tenuous at best and was only present at all when he concentrated on the memory of the night they had spent together. Brighid closed her eyes and the sensory memories of that night settled over her. She felt the shadow brush her hair to the side, exposing her neck to the dampness. She leaned back into the moss as he placed gentle kisses upon her skin, but the kisses were just an echo of the firmness she had felt that night when his mouth was warm and she had felt ablaze under his touch. Reaching for Yasmina’s mirror within the pocket of her cloak, she held it up behind the Shadow’s back and opened her eyes. As she feared, all she saw reflected was her own face, gazing longingly up into the empty space. “I've got the wood!” Scheherazade declared triumphantly, dumping the small bundle on the ground next to Brighid and the Shadow. They both stood abruptly, careful not to look in each other’s direction, and Brighid busied herself with lighting the fire and concocting a tea. She removed a metal pot from her bag. “Scheherazade, please fill this with water from the lake.” By the time the girl returned with the full pot, the fire was burning cheerily and Brighid placed the pan on a flat rock just outside of the flames. She set the bag of herbs within the water to start brewing the tea. Reaching within her bag, she withdrew two drinking cups created out of the bones of some unknown animal. “I’m afraid I only have two cups with me. We’ll have to share.” “I’m afraid I can’t partake of your tea, Lady Brighid,” the Shadow replied ruefully, “so why don’t you share with Scheherazade, and James can have his own.” Brighid gazed fondly at the Shadow then filled the cups with her nourishing brew. Passing one to Scheherazade, she almost spilled the other when James startled her from behind. “What a cozy little scene this is! Just like one big happy family enjoying a lakeside picnic,” he said bitterly.

My favorite song from one of my most favorite albums. This song is actually on my turntable at this very moment Crazy bass....

Brighid held the sniffling girl close, smoothing back her hair from where it clung to her cheeks wet with tears. “Scheherazade, listen to me. If you know why James is acting this way toward you, you must tell me. Don’t be afraid. Why is he so angry?” “I…I don’t know why; really, Brighid. I think James hates me now, and I don’t know what I did.” “We’ll find out; don’t worry. First we need to find this wish he’s looking for. I get the feeling we don’t have a lot of time, so just stay out of his way until we do, okay? Let’s get moving and catch up to them; I don’t like being down here alone.” Brighid was reluctant to leave the soothing blue glow of the cavern and follow James and the Shadow into the tunnel. When she was on the run she had taken shelter in caves whenever she came upon them, and most nights she woke up from her nightmare and felt suffocated by their oppressive darkness. At least when she had slept out under the stars their bright twinkling had helped to soothe her back to sleep. She took one more look at the jewels sparkling on the ceiling – when will I see real stars again? Above this earthen labyrinth, outside the walls of the Pen, miles to the north above my stone cottage – and then pushed her fear and trepidation aside, prodding Scheherazade to move on ahead of her down the darkened tunnel. They only walked a minute or two before catching up with James. He had lit a small snub of a candle, just enough to cast an eerie glow around the outline of his upper body. Instinctively, Scheherazade fell back behind Brighid. The tunnel felt like it had suddenly dropped several degrees and was getting increasingly damper. Brighid reached out to feel the wall and recoiled reflexively; her fingers were covered in a slippery slime. “Ewww…” she hissed under her breath as she wiped the muck off on a fold of her cloak. Without warning, she bumped into the Shadow who had stopped and was standing still in the middle of the path. “Sorry, I didn’t see you!” she apologized. “I can barely see anything down here and you don’t exactly stand out against the darkness.” “And that’s exactly what I’m sorry about, Brighid. Don’t you think I wish—“ “Shut up, you two!” James growled, turning around to face them. “You can have your little reunion later on, when – or if – my plan works.” The candle illuminated his facial features grotesquely, and there was no mistaking the opaque film which had partially spread across his eyes.

True! Halfway through Fear of a Blank Planet on vinyl http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AKeTD8E8Nkg

Inspired by The Death of Rats, and in honor of coming across his "What?" post today just hours after jamming to this tune on my way to work (Once it came on the radio I cranked it up and sang at the top of my lungs with such emotion...I would have fit right in with them: http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/b60e20a654/hold-me-closer-tony-danza) Don't you just love synchronicity? Happy Friday, everyone (unless you're living in NZ or some other far-off land where it's already Saturday...)

Yes...you are! But also silly...and we all need some silly. (Confession time -- I was one of the backup dancers for my favorite camp counselor (read that as sexy, college-aged camp counselor worthy of a crush) when he performed this song for a talent night. Fun times waaaay back when!)

What?!!! Punny and ohhhh soooo fun!

"Ooooo...a wish! A wish! A wish!" squealed Scheherazade excitedly. "I have a wish! I have looooaaads of wishes!" Her eyes sparkled in anticipation. "Shhhh..." James replied harshly. Instantly, Scheherazade's smile faded and she stared down at the floor of the cavern. Brighid felt sorry for the young girl. Obviously, she idolized James. What was going on with him, anyway? When she first became acquainted with the two of them, Brighid got the impression that they were some sort of dynamic duo, off on adventures sometimes monumental and oftentimes insignificant. Now that this adventure was shaping up to be one of the important variety, perhaps James was going to crumble under the pressure. It still didn't give him a valid excuse to crush the young girl's soul. "A wish, you say. What kind of wish? Whose wish? What do wishes have to do with anything real anyway?! In my experience, wishes are insubstantial, inconsequential...flimsy, fragile, frail...flaccid little appendages of one's dreams which just hang there pathetically while life...." Brighid stopped her vehement tirade as she noticed her companions staring at her with open mouths. "Never mind." She sighed. "James, please illuminate us as to what we're looking for. Is it a specific wish?" The Shadow reached out through the shimmering radiance of the grotto and gently took hold of Brighid's hand. He gave it a slight squeeze. From somewhere deep within the crumbled ruins of her broken dreams, crushed beneath the weight of fears and regrets, Brighid felt the slight stirring of a wish being formed.

"Come on, Scheherazade, stop sobbing," Brighid said comfortingly to the younger girl. "Chin up! Whatever adventure James has in store for us, you need to trust in him as you have in the past." She gave her a brief hug and then looked into her eyes trying to convey how grave their situation was. "Plus, you know James far better than anyone else, and I'm counting on you to alert me if there's any change in his behavior -- if you sense any danger." Scheherazade, never one to stay serious for very long, slightly smiled and nodded her head in understanding. Turning to Yasmina and Swami Noguru, Brighid hugged them both in turn. "I'm looking forward to returning to the Boaz Room and resuming our little party; there have been many fascinating developments since the two of you showed up!" They both smiled back at her encouragingly. er encouragingly. "Here, this is for you." Yasmina pressed a compact mirror into the palm of Brighid's hand. It was unusually beautiful, encrusted with chips of emeralds and rubies. "The sorcerer who gave this to me said that it would reflect back to me the whole truth when I needed it the most. I've never tried it; I guess I was a bit afraid to, but perhaps it will be of use to you on your journey. Hurry back, and keep safe." Brighid hugged the belly dancer another time, and then looked over at Zool questioningly. "Go on ahead for now. I'll meet up with you in a bit," he said with a rueful smile. Brighid was reluctant to leave the portrait behind. He had swiftly become her confidante, and even though she had only made his acquaintance that morning -- Wait! Was it really only a few hours ago?! -- she felt like they had already spent lifetimes together. She blew a kiss in his direction, grabbed a hold of Scheherazade's hand, and nodded to the Shadow, "Okay, you may lead the way..." The adventurers stepped through the door and left the fantastical festivities of the Boaz Room behind....

Brighid smiled at the newcomer -- who most certainly was not a newcomer to most of the Boaz Room crowd -- and extended her hand toward the gentleman. "It's my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr.....I didn't catch your name. Zool, aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"

Am I to surmise you enjoyed your new album purchase?! Hope your speakers sound up to snuff Listening to this album on vinyl: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LsAFY6Ke5QM

Brighid looked over at her circle of new-found friends sitting across the room. She could see Zool standing in the corner of his frame watching her intently. She gestured to him inquisitively. He shrugged his shoulders back at her. He was leaving the decision up to her, but she could tell that he looked concerned. "Come on, Brighid! It'll be exciting!" Scheherazade exclaimed brightly, linking her arm through James'. Brighid felt an almost motherly ache of sympathy toward the young girl. On one hand, she admired Scheherazade's ability to bounce back from her near-death ordeal seemingly unscathed, yet it felt that her enthusiasm was forced at times and belied a hidden sadness. Turning her gaze toward the Shadow, Brighid realized that there was never any need to deliberate; she needed answers, and she needed closure to the mystery of her lover's death. "Sure, James," Brighid said steadily. "Of course I'll join you on the adventure."

Brighid felt befuddled. Her mind went racing down every probable possibility and back again, but she didn't want to accept the one option that refused to quit staring her in the eyes. "What is Scheherazade hinting at, Shadow? She can't possibly mean..." "Mean what, Brighid? Come on, say it. You know exactly what she's alluding to." "Did we...I mean, were you...uh..." Brighid bit her lip pensively. The swirling sights and sounds of the Boaz Room ceased to exist for Brighid, and she knew exactly what the Shadow was going to reply before he even opened his mouth. "Am I? Was I? Yes, Brighid," he replied pointedly,” it was me, or at least the ‘me’ that you conjured up. You healed me, and then we spent the night together. I was hoping for many more, but Fate stepped in -- Fate often steps in and usually steps on your toes -- and then...." he stopped his story. The Shadow could see how distressing this revelation was to Brighid, and despite everything, he had developed a fondness for her. Brighid felt tears form in the corner of her eyes. She didn't want to relive the horrifying image of reaching down and ripping open her lover's wound; she had watched that scene replay too many times already in the nightmares she couldn't seem to shake. "B-b-but why? Why did Fate do this to me -- to you? Who, what, are you? I cared for you, deeply. How could you be part of this? You let me kill you...." A scream erupted in the corridor outside the dining room. The Shadow pulled Brighid behind his form, protectively. Everyone held their breath, and no one dared to speak....

Heavy winter weight -- frigid, dense air holds me down to the frozen ground

Love the title...and your vignette? If art imitates life, does life imitate art?

Brighid felt like a panicked animal of prey, running down the corridors of the Pen pursued by a formless predator. She navigated the twists and turns by instinct, amazed at the vastness of the Keep; she never would have guessed from the outside how immense it was on the inside! The recent memory of the first few hours of fleeing from her lover's death was close to the surface, and at times it seemed as though the bare, twisted branches of the forest had followed her here to the Pen and were grasping at her from the walls and impeding her progress. But soon the rhythmic pattern of running allowed her thoughts to flow smoothly and she realized that whatever happened to James, it was not her fault. And like Zool had pointed out, she couldn't be sure that what had happened to her lover was her fault, either. Abruptly the hallway ended, and she was not the kind of person who liked to backtrack. Calling on Saint Brighid to guide her next move, she was astonished to find a tiny door and key appear within her hands. "What can I possibly do with such a diminutive door?" she asked herself distractedly, looking around for another way forward. Seeing none, she stared down at the little door lying in the palm of her hand. It was exquisitely detailed and delicate, like a door to a fairy's fine home. With difficulty, she managed to grasp the sliver of a key and insert it into the lock; instantly, the door grew in size. Brighid turned the handle, stepped through the doorway, and discovered herself back within the Boaz Room! "Zool! Swami! Yasmina!" she called out to her friends who were still seated around the table. "I think I found out who was shot. I discovered James covered in blood, lying in one of the courtyards, but I couldn't find a gunshot wound to heal. I think he's dead; he wasn't breathing. And where is Grimmael, anyway? He left me in my room to find my way, and I got lost! Luckily a magical door appeared or else I think I would still be running the halls! What is going on around here? Where's the Shadow? Scheherazade? Rydia? The Rubber Chicken???" Brighid stopped blabbering long enough to grab a slice of slightly dried-out hydra fois gras. Shoving it into her mouth, she finally relaxed into her seat and let out a long sigh. "Thank the goddess you're all safe in here. There's evil outside these walls..."

Elliott Smith http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0PcJO81ubI8

Brighid stumbled out of the stone archway and into a small courtyard just within the gate. Desperately she swept her eyes across the scene searching for friend or foe. Several feet away, James lay slumped in a pile on the ground, a small pool of blood seeping out from underneath and a gun in his hand. "James! Are you okay? Speak to me!" she pleaded as she ran toward him, but there was no response. She knelt on the pavement and put her ear to his chest -- no discernible heartbeat. With trepidation, she ripped open his shirt which was covered in blood, but incredibly there was no wound. What was going on here? With much heaving and strain, Brighid managed to roll James onto his side, but when she pulled up the bloody shirt to expose his back, she discovered again that he was wound-free. Her herbs would do no good against an invisible wound, and without knowing if James was truly dead or just mostly dead, the only thing Brighid could do was try to hide him from the shadow army and run for help. Grabbing James underneath his arms, she tried to pull him toward the doorway, but he was too heavy for her to budge more than a few inches at a time. Reaching into her pouch, she withdrew a small smudge stick and ignited it with a few words. Three times she used the smoke to trace the Rune of Concealment over his prostrate form while reciting an incantation to keep him hidden from any with evil intentions. She would have to leave him where he had fallen and hope no one tripped over him! "I need to get help, James,” she whispered in his ear. “I'm not sure if you can hear me or not, or if you're even alive. Stay here...I mean...don't move...uh...whatever! I'll be back with help as soon as I can." Brighid sprinted toward the nearest entrance and silently petitioned her patron saint to help her find the Boaz Room without getting lost….