Who am I?

Canberra ACT Australia, outside National Gallery

Living in a world on the other side of the mirror

I see our parallel universes – a complete mirror image

with a two way doorway

where transcribers help navigate

decisions made and become

changeable or reversible

I’ve seen particles capable of switching between the two sides

I’ve been torn between the two

watching the mirror of myself

wondering which portrays the best of me

Review – Beckoning of the Gate by Benjamin J Ryan

The debut novel ‘Beckoning of the Gate’ by Australian writer Benjamin J. Ryan is an intriguing and well written story. It brings to life a strong female lead by the name of Santha Lathagin who overcomes major obstacles of human depravity, malicious Fae and the eldritch realm of magick.
The Vāyilian Threads Book 1 draws the reader in with the great character build of Santha where she struggles to find herself in the human world and then comes across the Fae key that turns her life upside down. She is then taken on a quest to find the gates of the faerie lands and help the Fae get home.
This fantasy story is fantastic and a hard put down. The ever present beasts are brought to life in such a way that the reader almost feels their presence.
The ending brings the cast of characters together in such a way that it leaves you wanting more.
Definitely a book to be read! I hope the second book is travelling well to publication.

I recommend reading this great story

Goodreads link: https://goodreads.com/book/show/58839671-beckoning-of-the-gate…

Changing view

Walk the length of past and present

with the intent to improve the future

Use your imagination to restore cultural land

that was born in peace

Develop along the way

thoughtful protection stories and poems

that will change the narrative

Along the way build the framework

of colours that soften the view

Within this frame capture yourself

flying above the darkness towards

soft edged clouds

the colour of fresh snow

Share the scene with those that surround you

The future is within sight

in the framed picture of your life.

When the music calls

Monash University auditorium

The stage is set

Lights fade creating shadowy figures

moving between empty chairs

Cello bows rise in unison

while the viola brings forth it’s inner voice

The soft melody pulls

repressed emotions form past loss

whilst the song of the rhythm stick exposes your true nature

from my mind

Resounding drumming resonates

through your spirit world

and into my soul

Escape is a vanishing idea

with reality questioned

Age has worn my whole being

the music draws me forward

I surrender to the unknown embrace

Short story – Voice recognition

‘Hi George, how are you feeling today?’

 ‘I’m having trouble with my hearing. You’ll have to speak up.’

‘Okay is this better? We might have to keep it brief today if I have to shout. People are staring.’

‘But the shore is empty.’

‘How do you know?’

The only sound is the soft wash of the waves lapping the stony shoreline, and my breath echoing back on the line.

‘Why don’t you meet me at the pier and we can get a hot chocolate. They put a marshmallow on top. I wouldn’t have to shout then.’

‘Hmm, it’s too cold, maybe next week.’

‘You know you can ring my mobile. I gave you the number. It’s cold inside this box. It would be nice to sit somewhere. Or better yet I could come to your place. I can bring my marvellous marble cake.’

Silence across the line meant the answer is the usual no. Over the past two months, every Sunday morning, George had revealed by his moments of silence that he didn’t go out of his home and never allowed anyone in.

 It had been by chance that I answered the phone the first time. I waited in my car until the market ended and there were only a few stragglers walking past.  I’d set up my easel and was sketching outline of the coastal inlet, trying to create the depth of field with the mountainous rainforests in the background, when the phone rang in the red box.

At first I tried to ignore it, but it kept ringing, stopping and ringing again. In frustrated annoyance I entered the booth and said hello. The low toned voice on the other end engaged me instantly and I couldn’t hang up.

The conversation continued for over an hour with me revealing more than I anticipated and much more than what I usually share with anyone else. It felt easy to talk with another person without having a physical connection.  From then on I had set up my easel every Sunday, painting while waiting, for the phone to ring.

 ‘I don’t eat cake.’

‘By the way George, I entered my painting of the boat into the local art exhibition.’

‘Wonderful. I’m very happy you did.’

‘Would you like to come to the opening of the exhibition, I have two tickets. Only the entered artists will be there.’

‘Hmm, I’ll think about it.’

I catch my breath in my throat. This is the first time George has said he may meet up with me. My mind goes into overdrive creating pictures of the man on the other end of the line.

‘Oh, that’s great.’ I try not to sound too excited. I bite my lip trying to calm the instinct to nervously laugh.  ‘I would love it if you came. Um, how will I know it’s you? How will you know to find me?’

‘You’ll know by the sound of my voice, and I already know you.’

A lost World

Dawn signals the opening of the doorway

between future space continuum

and past cataclysmic events

We have become alien

living on our birth home

unable to stop the decay

Ancient graves fill the red zoned landscape

with ingrained stories of old

Finally at the boundary

when light will be lost forever

hope of a new beginning is revealed

Past discretions are written in volumes

of psychological thrillers

where technology organised all intelligence

and made the decisions on the human path taken

Lives were shaped by other people’s choices

that have now destroyed our home world

Stepping forward into the unknown horizon

with the distant red earth in mind

life changes for the brave

Dreaming

William Ricketts sanctuary, Mount Dandenong Observatory Victoria, Australia

The space between broken lines

dances across stone and moss

creating rainbows in 3D

II

Wild vibrations

move in synchronization

producing deep evocative laughter

from hidden ghosts

II

It devours the mind

II

Psychic energy displaced

within decayed walls

extracts memories

of distorted night time creatures

II

Multicoloured shapes weave side to side

echoing high pitched, mechanical screams

that escape between the dream worlds

II

Freezing air cuts deep into flesh

until it bleeds into worn fissures

sending a message

in foreign correspondence

II

Fracturing the impossible hallucinations

takes corage and belief

in a world beyond normality

II

Anticipation builds

immediately upon the world’s silence.

II

Just before dawn breaks

across the barrier of darkness,

the world stops spinning

as the angel of daylight

heralds the arrival

of the opening of the gateway