New Look!

Merry Christmas to all! And to those who do not celebrate Christmas, Happiest of Holidays.

My blog has a new look. I think I found "the one"! Ha! It reminds me of Gorey.

This is a shortie, but will write again in a bit.

Marsha

New Feature~ Add your Comments!

You can now comment on my blog posts if you are a follower of this blog.  Many of you have asked for this and I would love to hear from you.

Be Enchanted Always,
Marsha

www.Enchanticals.etsy.com

Orb Wands...Fact or Fiction?

Time really flies at this time of year! I cannot believe it has been a month since my last blog.

When I last blogged, I had set a goal to blog 2-3 times a week.  Well, I can’t go back, but the future is all ours…

Did I ever tell you the story about the enigmatic powerful and magical orb wands? No? Are you sure? Well, this is a wonderful time of year for me to tell you about them.

The orb wands are highly sought after, rare, coveted, and were protected. They possess magical abilities beyond your wildest dreams. Some people believe they don’t exist and never did…just a legend. While others, have spent their entire lives searching for them with no success.

Each orb’s magical power is housed/locked in the crystal orb, which is set, for protection, in an ancient hand forged medieval filigree metal cone to prevent it from being dropped and shattered to pieces, thus, rendering it completely useless. If shattered, its magic would ascend to the Universal Consciousness to await another vessel.

The cone shape was chosen to function as a wand to help direct the orb’s magic to its destined purpose.

To access the orb’s magical power, its key so to speak, and unlock/release the great power within, the possessor must know the three secret magical names, as well as the highly guarded secret rhyme, all coded in an ancient dead language which mixes symbols and letters.

The orbs, which can be clear or different colors, seem to glow from their surging power within. It is believed only seven were ever created. No one knows for certain who originally created these orbs, except perhaps the Knights Templar, their guardians, why they were created, and why only seven in total. Why seven?

Also, it is believed that perhaps only the Knights Templar have the instructions in an ancient coded language on how to access the orbs’ powers and use them. But, no one knows for certain. Perhaps that information was lost in the fire in the great library in Alexandria so many centuries ago. Yes, these orbs are, quite possibly, that old.

At one time, all seven of the orbs were in the watchful care, possession, and protection of the Knights Templar. The Knights Templar’s charge was to assure that not even one of the orbs fell into the hands of evil, demons, ones who wished to do harm, ones with their own agendas, ones who are immature and would use the orb for their own selfish gain, the scientific community who would try to determine whether the orb did indeed have magical abilities, and all other people of similar natures. The Knights Templar were also responsible for assuring that knowledge of these orbs never became public.

But, somehow, someone was able to steal the orbs, all seven of them. That means, that person, entity or being knows the three secret magical names, as well as the highly guarded secret rhyme, all coded in an ancient dead language which mixes symbols and letters.

(Wearing the “Cloak of Invisibility *, which he stole intentionally to obtain that which he desired, eluded the Knights Templar on watch. He snuck past them and went down to the sacred hiding place deep within the cave where the magical orb wands were kept.

It was pitch dark in the inner recesses of the deep underground cave, but his eyes had adapted years ago to the darkness, much like a bat’s eyes, since he spent most of his life in the dark.

Scanning the small tight area with his eyes, the man finally saw the orbs pushed far back into the deepest corner and covered in a sheer veil, resting on a purple velvet cloth. He could feel their energy vibrating. It seemed to enter his own body and he felt powerful and more confident. He said the ancient codes in all three languages aloud and snatched them up, showing no reverence for their power. He then put them in a satchel he was carrying under the “Cloak of Invisibility”.

He did all this while the Knights Templar “stood guard” above him in the upper reaches of the cave. Quietly and invisibly, he ascended, slipped past them, and departed the way he had entered.

As he was leaving, a small bud of hope grew in his heart, thus causing a tightening in his chest and throat. He hoped that perhaps one of these magical and powerful  orb wands would be the tool to finally remove the curse cast upon him so long ago…But, foolish man, little did he know what great power they held and what awaited him when he attempted to use one.
*From the Harry Potter series of books)

Not long after the theft, while the Knights Templar, not revealing that all seven were gone and having no explanation as to how or when, were charged with the immediate task of recovering all seven of the stolen orbs and move them to a new location in a different part of the world.

But, one by one, the orbs began appearing for sale on the black market of those “with the power”.

This caused much concern and worry at the Wizard’s High Council, the Witches’ and Warlocks’ Covens, and for the Queen of the Fae, as well as the elementals, fairies, and other inhabitants of the Enchanted Woods. So far the knowledge of their disappearance was kept quiet within The Enchanted Woods. But, something had to be done to find them. And, to the shock of everyone who knew, more than the original seven had been seen for sale.

So, several very powerful and wise wizards, witch High Priestesses, and the Queen of the Fae decided to form a group to determine why and how many orb wands were now surfacing and replicating. If there were more than seven, they were indeed replicating. Since ancient times, it was believed that only seven existed. If this were true, then, how could there be more? How?

Together these wise ones hoped to solve the mysteries surrounding the orb wands. Already one of the wizards in the group proposed a theory… perhaps the orb wands, when created, were imbued with some magical survival ability to replicate themselves. Or the original seven, when separated, were programmed to replicate themselves.

These two ideas captured the interest of the group and they all agreed to take one of the orb wands and conduct experiments and tests on it to see if this could be true. But, they were all fully aware that despite their individual wisdom and knowledge, as well as their combined ones, they still didn’t know the extent of the orb wands powers or how to access it. They heard an ancient document in code may have existed, but it was never seen or spoken of after the great fire that destroyed the library at Alexandria.

After months of study and experimentation, the group re-gathered to share their findings. Each had discovered some small things, but still did not uncover its real source of power or why the orbs were replicating.

So, it was proposed that together, they unite all their powers and put a spell on each orb in their possession and those that were not. The spell’s intent was to prevent any evil entity or being from using an orb to do any harm to anyone or anything ever. This small safety net would only protect evil doers from doing immediate harm to anyone or anything, but would not stop the orbs from using their innate powers when they were discovered and accessed or when used by the person, entity or being that stole them.

 But, this spell would give them all time to do more study and investigation into these beautiful, but mysterious orb wands, while the Knights Templar searched for the thief of the seven original ones which were under their care. If he was caught, then they could interrogate him and find out what they needed to know about the orbs and their powers. Little did they know that the one, who stole all seven orbs right from under their noses, was no longer capable of telling anyone anything.

He did indeed access one small portion of one of the orb’s powers, but, unfortunately, he, how shall I put it, mishandled its power and the orb’s power turned on him and he was instantly deformed and transported somewhere in time and space.

It would be impossible for the wizards and other inhabitants of the Enchanted Woods to buy each orb wand that comes up for sale and to house them in the Enchanted Woods. They would not be safe there. So, Enchanticals was given a great honor of trust to sell them to its buyers. They know Enchanticals’ buyers will not use them for any harm or evil.

In fact, there are some for sale right now. They would make fantastic and unusual stocking stuffers. I will be listing more in the next few days.

Let me show you some of the wands that are for sale and those that have sold... 

Never Go To Bed Mad

Always tell those you love that you love them, don’t assume they know it. And, if they do, it is wonderful to hear!

I just listed this miniature dollhouse scale chest at Enchanticals on Etsy.

“A Little Tale”…

His old man was a loser.

He never became anything worthwhile…just an auto mechanic working for somebody else. He didn’t even own his own garage. All he did was spend his days working on rich peoples’ cars and then spend his free time researching his ancestry and going to these secret meetings.

As a father, the kid couldn’t complain. He always had time for him and tried so hard to be his friend. It was the kid who rebuffed him out of shame and disgust. He wanted a father who was rich, successful, and knew all the right people.

Instead, his old man just knew poor people that he sought out, worked to help, and fed on Holidays. I mean, can you believe that? He sought out poor people. Geeze, what kinda loser is that?  Man, how lame can a guy get? That’s why they lived in a dump in a trailer park with other losers…people who were poor or just getting by.

He wanted a huge house, hot car, nice clothes, and really neat stuff. No, his old man had no aspirations to be anything else than what he was and had no desire for possessions of any kind. Shoot, their dishes must be 100 years old; all cracked and yellow.

The old guy never shared with him what those meetings he attended were all about and why he went to them and the kid never asked. He figured the loser just got together with other losers and played poker. His old man must really suck at it too, because, he never brought home any winnings. Another failure…

The kid never knew his mother. She died when he was one. He often thought that was a good thing so she didn’t see what a loser her husband became, she would not have to live in this dump, always on the verge of being broke because he gave money to those poor losers, and with no chance of escape.  But, when he looked at pictures of his old man and his mother, when they got married or before, the old guy looked so happy and so did she. They looked so much in love. How could she love such a loser?

He decided at the tender age of ten that when he turned 17 years old, he was going to escape this hell hole and run away. He was going to change his name and make a new life for himself… a really good life from here and far from his loser old man.

Sadly, he knew and understood very little or nothing about his father and his life. If he had listened to what his father tried to share with him on several occasions; he might have a completely different opinion of him and not judge him on his superficial assumptions. But, he refused to listen and rebuffed the man who loved him more than life itself…with his whole heart and being.

It hurt his father deeply, right to his very core, when he saw the disgust in his son’s eyes or when his son screamed at him that he was a loser and deadbeat. It felt as if a knife was plunged deeply in his heat when his son, his beloved son, told him he hated him.

Every night, he prayed that before his time on this earth ended, his son would have a change of heart and they would become pals. Then, he could pass on to him all the important things about their heritage that his son should know…needed to know. He could then share the important secrets and mysteries he held tightly within himself with the hope that that his son would pick up his sword, so to speak, and continue the family legacy.

He was so lonely and ached so much for his son’s approval, love, affection, and acceptance.  But, he feared his son would be lost to him forever. He could feel it in his heart. As much as he loved his son, he could not break his vows or the code of the organization to which he belonged just to win his son’s love. Plus, his son was too young yet to be told any of those secrets. He took a vow and he would not break it. He knew when he took the vow the costs that vow might cost him one day. But, he gave his word to stay silent and he did.

It was an unfair choice he had to make… break his vows and tell his son or hold to his word.  He knew the consequences of breaking his vows and he knew this life’s path would be hard, painful, and challenging. He had to choose against his son. A Sacred vow cannot be broken.

As planned, when the kid turned 17 years old, when the old loser was out at one of his secret “meetings”, the son left their dump of a house and his loser old man and set out to become successful. But, like a coward, he left at night. When he left, he didn’t even look back; he kept his eyes forward and kept walking with his dreams, hopes, and aspirations, but no plan in place on how to achieve them…not even a high school degree.

The years went by and the boy became a man. After leaving home, life, he found, in the real world with nobody there to care about you, was hard, cold, lonely, and hungry. In truth, he was terrified. But, his pride prevented him from returning to the dump and loser. Without even a high school degree, the only jobs he could get were lowly manual labor ones, dishwashing ones, sweeping floors, or the like.

One night, very late, as he was sweeping the floor of a closed tavern in one of a series of lowly jobs he had held since leaving, he thought, “Man, this is lower than my old man’s job. At least he has a skill.” So, he drifted from job to job, slept where he could, and moved from town to town with no particular destination in mind. But, each new town was no different than the one before him…lowly jobs, no place to life,, not enough to eat, almost no money, loneliness, and shoes with no soles. So, he made a decision to join the Army. There he could get his high school degree and learn skills and become a general or something way high up. But, he would have food, shelter, clothes, and a bed.

After 10 years passed in the Army, he became a real man both in body and in mind. He looked back on how he treated his father and waves of pain and guilt overcame him. He was wrong, so so wrong. He had to make it right.

So, on his next leave, he headed back to his childhood home to see his father and apologize. He had written to him many times, but when the letters came back, he figured his father was still angry with him for leaving. “Who could blame him?” he thought. “What a jerk I was and how cruel and tough I was on my old man. I hope he lets me inside and accepts my apology.”

Sadly, the father would never see his son or know that he had tried to communicate with him over the years.  He never knew his son wanted his forgiveness, which he would have given without a thought. When his son left that night, he came home to a dark house and he knew, just knew his son had run away and he would never see or speak with him again. His heart sank.

At first, he tried to lie himself it was only temporary and when his son got a taste of life alone and being unprepared, he would return. But, as the years passed, he knew he was gone forever.

This broke his heart and spirit. He lost the joy or desire to live. He lost interest in everything. Day by day he cared less and less about life and any part of it. He didn’t eat, sleep or even go to the meetings. Friends tried to help him, but he rebuffed them. He didn’t want to live without his son… even a son who was ashamed of him. So, one day, his mind decided he could no longer go on and his body got the message. He was diagnosed with a deadly cancer. He had six months, at the most, to live. Rather than wait for the end, lingering and in pain, one beautiful Spring Tuesday morning when the sun was shining and the birds were singing, he took his shotgun, put it in his mouth, and blew his brain out all over the lonely trailer.

When his son arrived at the trailer park, he started walking toward his father’s trailer. A guard in the owner’s trailer stopped him and asked who he was and what his business was. He told the guard who he was and who he was going to see.  “So, you’re the son who left, hmm?” stated the guard. “Well, then go on through. I thinks ya know the way. But, you be surprised at how things change over tha years.” He gave the guard a look of both confusion and lack of understanding. The guard just smiled, turned, and went back into his boss’ trailer. But, before he closed the door, he said, “Whens ya is finished, stop by here. I gots something fer ya.”

He was numb. He just stood there staring at what was once his boyhood home. It was rusted, half standing, and a rusted broken down shell covered in weeds, vines, trash, and branches. He could see rodents running among the rubble. He started to weep. The pain of loss was so bad that he doubled over and fell to his knees sobbing. “What did I do?”  Then he vomited.  He was sick…heart sick. He would never get the chance to see his father and beg his forgiveness. He knew his father was dead. If he were alive, he would never have moved out of the trailer. He would have waited for him forever. Plus, his father always kept the trailer clean, maintained, and tidy. Flowers used to grow all around the outside. His old man was dead.

While on his knees and crying, he seemed to feel his father’s hand on his right shoulder. He looked up, but no one was there. But, he could feel him standing right next to him. He could hear, in his head, his old man telling him it was okay, he forgave him, and loved him still with all his heart.  Weeping, he said out loud, “Dad, I am so so sorry. I was a stupid jerk of a kid. I always loved you. Forgive me.”

The feeling of a hand on his shoulder was no longer there, but he felt some peace, as he had had the chance to ask and receive forgiveness, as well as tell his father he loved him… something thing he never said to him when he was alive. He got up, wiped his nose with his handkerchief, and headed to the guard’s trailer.

The guard, seeing the swollen red eyes, dripping nose and sad face of the soldier, said noting. He just went inside and got what the father wanted his son boy to have. He handed him a thick large brown manila envelope with his name, in his father’s script, written on the front of it. He took it and walked away; head hung low and tears still pouring down his face.

He opened the envelope while sitting on an old bench in the town’s central woods. He read its contents and was filled with so many emotions, he thought he would burst. But, the thing that hit him like a train barreling down on him was what his father told him of his heritage.

His father was no loser...far from it. His father was a member of the ancient Order of the Knights Templar. He had taken a vow to care for the poor and to help those in need. He was mechanic so he would have time to uphold his vows. He was here in this life to help others, not to gain wealth and prosperity or to have expensive earthly possessions. He was here to do what his chosen life path had been… and he did. He was a hero.  He helped so many and even sacrificed his relationship with the son he loved more than anything to keep his vows and try to make a difference in the lives of people who had nothing.

The letter also mentioned a chest which was waiting for him and where it was located. The letter said once he opened it everything would become clear.  So, he rose from the bench and went in search of this chest that held the secrets and mysteries his father spoke of in the letter.

~ Marsha J. West, Author

(This  “A Little Tale” by Marsha J. West may not be copied, reproduced, republished, edited, downloaded, displayed, modified, transmitted, licensed, transferred, sold, distributed or uploaded in any way without my written permission. My work does not belong to the public domain.)

All Hallows Eve is Just About Here…

Ready for All Hallows Eve, hmmm?

Oh, I don’t mean the candy for the kiddies or the costumes for you or your parties with their spooky decorations. Oh, no!

 I mean are you READY for the demons, vampires, unholies, ghoulies, and spirits that will be stalking the streets in search of innocent victims to overtake and inhabit their bodies, thus, forcing them out of their own bodies and causing them to descend to hell to take their places and endure their sentences? The innocents’ only hope is to wait in hell for the year, suffering, until the wheel again starts to turn and a portal is opened on All Hallows Eve. Them, they have a chance to escape the hot smelly putrid bowels of hell to this side and find another innocent victim to overtake and inhabit their bodies…forcing them to replace them in hell. The chances of finding their old bodies are unlikely so, sadly, they have to make victims of other innocents.

“Halloween” is fun…but for who?

To get you really jazzed up for the spooks and spirits you will be seeing, hearing, feeling, and maybe exchanging places with, I thought these scary, eerie, and spooky photos of a few of my creations would help you get in the mood. Enjoy!

Be sure to have plenty of Holy Water, garlic, a blessed sword, a blessed dagger (any faith can bless them), and your guard up as Twilight turns to night and the dead cross that portal to our side.

Enjoy and BOO, my Friends!

Marsha

Now, I shall leave you with a "A Little Tale"...

When you are immortal, time no longer concerns you. Days roll into weeks, weeks into years, and years into decades. If you have seen one sunrise or sunset, you have seen thousands… and they all look about the same.

And, after moving every 50 years or so to a new location, changing your identity, and pretending to set down roots, gets old pretty fast. Not to mention having to be mindful to “age” yourself appropriately as the years go by so you still don’t look 25 years old and people don’t get suspicious.

Yes, I was just 25 years old when I became immortal. You see, I discovered the Philosopher’s Stone. You may think I was pretty young to have discovered it at age 25, but to me, it was no big deal. I had an IQ then of 180 and, I am sure, it is higher now. And, yes, it is true, not only do you become immortal, but you becomes filthy dirty rich because you can turn any metal into pure solid gold. So, along with youth forever, I have uncountable riches.

At first it was really a thrill and so exciting. To be young, very very rich, and immortal are everyone’s dreams come true. Well, careful what you dream for, you may just get it and you will find it is not what you dreamt it would be.
I went everywhere, to every country and place 100+ times and bought everything from mansions to cars to watches to women to horses to art. I tried every dangerous sport without fear because I knew I would never die.

But, after a while, it all becomes b-o-r-i-n-g. One big snooze. One house, no matter how lavish, looked the same as another; a car is just a car; and travel, well, what was there to see that I had not seen 200 times before?

Life became a drag and the future stretched ahead of me endless with no joy, no expectations, no hopes, and no dreams.

I even tried philanthropic work. But, honestly, the poor, sick, weak, homeless, and needy stayed constant. The faces changed, but the sheer number of them remained constant. Another drag. It was as if Universal Law has to keep the number of people who are poor, sick, and needy or the like constant. It cannot decrease no matter what you do to try to make an impact. It is a losing battle. Even with all my money, I could not make a dent in that human tragedy, plus… I was so tired of seeing their eyes filled with pain, hopelessness, loss, hunger, death…

Then, one day, quite by chance, and luck, while I was driving, drinking, and texting in my Porsche, I accidently hit and killed a man. Thankfully, it was on a lonely road in the middle of nowhere and without witnesses. At first, I was horrified and upset.

When I got of the car and looked at the body, my heart was racing. Then, when I saw the man, just an ordinary man, I realized I was looking straight in the face of death. Death… An end…The end. A period to the sentence of life.

The man’s life was over and he moved on somewhere. No more daily grind for him; no more car pooling, no more walking the dog, living with the wife or going to work. It all ended by MY hand!

All of a sudden a strange, yet familiar and forgotten, feeling came over me. Joy. I felt joy! How long had it been? I had no idea. I felt powerful and alive again. I knew I found my purpose for all those endless dull and boring years since my discovery. I was the chosen one who was to stop life for others. I could free so many people from the hell of their daily samo-samo existence.

My purpose was to set them free. I was like an Angel… the Angel of Freedom. I was given immortality and made to suffer the boringness of life all those years so I could understand and, thus, be able to discover my true purpose. It all was so clear now. I was chosen to be the one who sets others free by killing them and sending them on. I am the period of their lives.

I began to make a list of the all the ways to kill people. The list was endless and, being a genius, very creative. I would never be bored again. I felt reborn. I found my destiny. And, not only would I be setting these people free, but I would also be helping their families. They would have a chance to start a new life, inherit insurance money, stay single, remarry… the possibilities for them were endless too. It was all so clear now.

But, what to do with the bodies? Well, before I discovered the Philosopher’s Stone, I had wanted to be a surgeon. I decided I would perform autopsies on each person I set free. Then, I would save their parts in labeled jars and send them to the families with a note. This way they would know their person was dead and they could then move out of their dull lives and start fresh too. They would have the proof of the death needed to inherit life insurances, remarry or whatever.

I remember that day as if were yesterday. After my epiphany, I had taken a deep breath and sucked in the night’s fresh air until my lungs were full for the first time in years, let the moonlight shine on me, and felt such a sense of joy that continues to this day. I actually felt rapture, the same rapture I still feel today, when I started my new life and began fulfilling my destiny…

~ Marsha J. West, Author

(This  story may not be copied, reproduced, republished, edited, downloaded, displayed, modified, transmitted, licensed, transferred, sold, distributed or uploaded in any way without my written permission. My work does not belong to the public domain.)

Enchanticals Has A New Look!

Enchanticals has a new banner and Avatar. I really thrilled with them because I feel they represent the essence of Enchanticals.

I am also proud of myself. I made them both myself. In fact, I made 85 different banners and I chose this one.  I feel, it represents the enchantment, magic, whimsy, creativity, imagination, and the Enchanted Woods housed within Enchanticals.

When I made the previous banner, my computer knowledge was weak. I should never have doodled in computer class. Ha! That first banner took me two months to create with an Etesian staffer holding my hand all the way. It was pretty, but simple, and did not capture the enchanted magic of my Enchanticals.

Here’s a look at the banner and Avatar. The best way to see them is to stop by the shop. I am still listing new creations and relisting expired ones, but it is getting back to normal.

Be Enchanted Always, Marsha

New Look!!

Enchanticals has a new look!

The banner and Avatar are both new.

I am really delighted and enchanted with them… I feel they represent the spirit of Enchanticals much better.

Do come see.

I am still busy listing and relisting expired items, as well as making cosmetic changes on Enchanticals at Etsy and at all my online place. (This should be a lifelong endeavor.) I really do hate to see my “Heart of Snow” avatar leave. She has been with me for so long. But, starting fresh is a good thing.

Are you ready for Halloween or All Hallo’s Eve? That giant cosmic wheel which separates our world from the afterlife must be slowly turning so that it is in the correction position to create the portal for spirits to enter our world for one night.

I often wondered why, if the portal opens from one world to the next, why we can’t enter it and visit our loved ones on the other side. Perhaps the ones that do come come for malice, mischief, evil, retribution, and other undesirable intentions. The good spirits have no reason to want to come back. They are at peace.

That must be why the night is froth with negative energy, evil, living dead, vampires, spooks galore, and scary things.

****Important for those of you who have nonhuman BLACK or black with white kitty/cat babies…. Starting now, do not let them outside at all. Many disappear…never to be found. Sadly, the ones that are found have had horrible things done to them. So please keep your kitties/cat inside. Same goes, really, for all kitties/cats, as well as black dogs. Rescue groups do not adopt out any black animals during the entire month of October.

Just a reminder… Halloween or All Hallows Eve creations are year round at Enchanticals, not just one day. You see, the Enchanted Woods is truly an enchanted and magical place. It is home to magic. What goes on in the Enchanted Woods is quite different than what happens here in our human world. The Enchanted Woods is part of our world but is also, well, the ‘universal” world where magic and science are one, enchantment and magic reside, and the origination point of legends, lore, myths, and sacred geometry.  So, ghoulies, spooks, vampires, and the undead reside here along with unicorns, fairies, wizards, witches, gnomes,  the Unseelie Court, elementals, and the elements. It is home to all things, believed by humans or not.

Be Enchanted Always, Marsha

Vampires on This Dark and Spooky Night...

Since Halloween is coming up pretty fast, I thought a good spooky subject like vampires would be just the ticket. Here at my house tonight, it is very dark outside and I feel in the mood for a spooky story or two.

I have always, and I mean always, been terrified of vampires. As a child, I used to fall asleep with both my hands over my throat and kept a bottle of Holy Water on my nightstand. Ha!

Now, vampires are so in, you have to like them! But, never let your guard down. When they need to feed, they don’t care who they feed on...

So… how about a couple of tales, hmm?

“A Little Tale”…

Many people think making the choice to become a vampire is an easy one. But, many times, no choice is involved at all. If one’s blood is sucked by a vampire, not until total death, as we know it, but rather to the very edge of complete death, well, then, that person is caught between dead and undead and becomes a vampire.

The life of a vampire must be a difficult one for those who did not chose such a life. Imagine being forced to forsake the daylight and the warmth of the afternoon sun? Imagine having to spend eternity in the darkness of the night always on the hunt for human prey to satisfy your constant craving for human or any blood? Imagine sleeping in your own coffin?

Fear must be a constant companion for these vampires. They must worry whether they will be able to find fresh blood to stop that pulsating and throbbing in their heads and the twisting of hunger and longing in their stomachs. And… will you find fresh blood before daylight? Imagine being tied, so to speak, to your coffin? What if there is a fire or some other situation that destroys your refuge or separates you from it? And, if you have not chosen to be a vampire, but made so against your will, imagine your horror at the life you are now destined to lead?

Plus, you are alone. You no longer have the family you had when truly alive. And, you are no longer a part of your circle of friends. They are all lost to you forever. You are completely and utterly alone in the darkness of the night having to spend eternity with the undead; killing humans, something you yourself once were and still consider yourself to be; and then sleeping in a box of wood made for the dead.

Then, there are those vampires who make the conscious choice to become a vampire. Not only do they enjoy the hunt, but they desire immortality at all costs. To them, the night is beautiful, quiet, and the moon, in each of its phases during the Wheel of the Year, is enticing and mesmerizing. It awakens the primal urges inside of them that were asleep for so many years and they can, with no consequences, give into all those urges. The night sky, with or without stars, black and empty or filled with clouds is like a canvas and they are a part of that beautiful dark base painting.

For these, they anticipate the hunt and find pleasure in choosing their prey from which they slowly suck and savor its life’s blood. For the slower a vampire feeds, the sweeter and warmer the blood and the more satiated he feels. And when his prey is emptied and falls limp from his deadly embrace, he is filled with life, energy, indescribable joy, and a feeling of great power. He can, after all, decide who lives and who dies and he can take a life or save one. He must feel like a god. Yes, a god of evil and darkness, but a god nonetheless.

This particular vampire enjoys entertaining his victims before he sucks their blood. For those he does not kill but rather makes into vampires, he is a gracious host and serves them plasma and fingers cut from past victims, which he keeps frozen so they retain their freshness. The new vampire, confused and hungry, joins him in drinking the fresh blood from the vampire’s earlier kill and nibbles on the fingers as his thought race and he tries to suppress the mounting panic.

Life is funny. Some people get to chose their destinies and enjoy and savor its consequences while others have one forced upon them and they must make the best of a life they never even considered. It gives one pause as to why that is. Some live with the hand they are dealt and others deal.

~ Marsha J. West, Author of this original “A Little Tale”
This is my original story/tale and my property, as are my creations, and the photos of them. It is not to be copied, stolen, plagiarized, reprinted or used in any medium.

(This is for sale at my shop, Enchanticals, at Etsy.)

Another “A Little Tale”…

When Count Valdek first saw the family castle he inherited located in the thick woods of northern Romania, he was appalled and disappointed to see its rundown and dilapidated condition. Plus, there was no plumbing or heat and the place felt damp and raw and spelled dank.

He couldn’t understand why his late great uncle had let the family place deteriorated to this state. The old man certainly had plenty of money. He knew this for a fact because, along with the castle, he inherited that too. It was going to take years to remodel, update, and restore it to its once luxurious and elegant condition.

Good thing that Count Valdek was a vampire. For him time no longer mattered. If it took a year or ten year to restore, it was all the same to him. He was eternal and ageless.

However, his immediate need was to hire someone to renovate and restore two or three rooms, plus the fireplaces, so he could live comfortably while all the major renovation were being done. He also had to find a place deep within the cellar for his coffin. He would have to restore and secure that area himself to protect his identity and, of course, his coffin… for without it, he would surely die.
~ Marsha J. West, Author

This is my original story/tale and my property, as are my creations, and the photos of them. It is not to be copied, stolen, plagiarized, reprinted or used in any medium.

BOO!  Make certain you have Holy Water on your nightstand.

Be Enchanted Always, Marsha

We are all masters of our lives, happiness, and destiny. Sadly, so many people start out their lives with unhappy conditions, but they turn them around and make wonderful, joyful, loving, and prosperous lives for themselves.

Well, just look how The Unknown Wizard changed his life and …Well, please read my original story, “A Little Tale”, which follows.  I wrote it to accompany the miniature dollhouse scale (1:12thscale) Unknown Wizard cabinet. This enchanted Unknown Wizard cabinet is for sale at my Etsy shop. (www.Enchanticals.etsy.com)

That glorious seaweed inside the cabinet is a small piece of the seaweed that a friend gave me. It comes in sheets, which I found rather odd. I always thought seaweed came in strands, But, it was that glorious seaweed that triggered the creation of this cabinet.

“A little Tale”…

As far back as he could remember he was always alone. He had no one to talk to or to be with him. He had no friends or pets, and worst of all, his parents despised and ignored him as if he didn’t exist.

He was not stupid, far from it. In truth, he possessed an enormous amount of wizardly powers…at least 10xs more than both his parents combined. So, he knew he did not look like everyone else; that he was deformed and, well, rather ugly. But, his parents?

When his parents thought he was out of hearing range, when he was not, he would hear them talking about him and saying such horrible things: “How could we have created that monstrosity?” “I think we should send him somewhere far away to some home or something.” So, in the interim, until they sent him away, they simply ignored him completely and pretended he did not exist.

He did not understand. In spite of his vast knowledge and maturity for one so young, he was baffled why his parents and everyone else judged him, on his appearance, rather than on his good heart, gentle nature, cool sense of humor, love of fun, and his intelligence and ideas. He had so much to share and to give. But, instead his deformed physical body was all they all saw. He was more than just a body, but no one understood that.

He did not ask to be born this way. Heck, if he could change himself and be handsome, he would in a second. He did, in fact, try many times to cast spells to change his body, but they all failed. It was his destiny…his fate. The die was cast by One greater than us all and he had to accept what he was given. Inside he hurt deeply and was so lonely that at times, he cried in agony.

He knew he had to get way and fast before his parents put him away in some far away home. So, he took what he needed, left no note for he knew they would not read it, and using his wizardly powers thought of the place he dreamed of  living every night before he fell asleep… the place he wanted to live…near the sea and far from people, wizards, and the like.  Within seconds he was transported and he found himself standing on a pristine beach with his feet in the cool salty water. This made him laugh….something he had no memory of ever doing before. He was filled with delight.

He was facing the beautiful blue ocean and behind him were huge rocks or, to be precise, boulders with caves. He went to examine them and found one that opened to many large rooms. It was light and airy; he knew he was home.

During the day he stayed inside and did what it is that wizards with great knowledge do. But, as the sun began to set, he went outside. This was his time.  He let the cold salty water kiss his feet, felt the setting sun’s remaining warmth on his face, and breathed in the sea. He was no longer alone. He was part of creation… of the greater whole. He was part of the cosmos, as we all are, but tend to forget it. All in creation are one and connected.

Years went by and he grew from the young man he was when he first arrived to a man now in his early 50’s. He had his routine which followed nightly. He would walk the beach with his feet in the water…in all kinds of weather… night rain, fog, wind or storm. He walked and walked and watched the sun set. Once set, he would gaze at the stars and enjoyed the degree of light or darkness the Goddess sent his way as she changed the moon phases.

One night, when the Goddess was in her glory and the moon was full, while walking, he felt something was amiss and he heard something. Someone was in pain, great pain. He could feel and hear it; then he heard the screaming, crying, and yelping. Rushing to the source of the sound, he found a little sopping wet, but still fluffy, puppy with his little leg caught between two nasty sharp boulders. The more he struggled, the worst the damage.

Speaking gently to the little dog, he bent down and rubbed his wet head and ears. Using his powers, he freed the little dog within seconds and then gathered him up in his cloak to warm him to avoid shock. Again, calling upon his abilities, he whisked them both home to his cave and he began to work quickly on the little fellow. He saw he had damaged his bone so he set it. But, sadly, he would be left with a slight limp for the rest of his life.

He dried him, fed him, and held him until he fell asleep. As he was holding the puppy’s little warm body close to his, he realized this was the first time he had ever touched anyone, let alone held them and felt their energy and warmth. He thought he would burst. He could feel the puppy’s little heat rapidly beating due to his fever. They were heart to heart. He knew the puppy, even in his sleep, could feel his. They were connected; one heart to another.

The puppy got well and during the weeks of his healing, the two bonded. They were pals and inseparable. The puppy joined him every night for their long walks and even taught the wizard how to toss him a ball or stick.  He loved the wizard with his entire being and soul and the wizard felt the same way.

The wizard thought…after all those nights before he went to bed for all those years when he sent prayers up to the Heavens, they were finally answered.  He was no longer alone. He was loved for himself, his heart, and his soul. To his little beloved, his deformed ugly body did not exist. He was beautiful in his eyes.”

~Marsha J. West, Author*

(This is my original “A Little Tale” and my personal creative property. It is not to be stolen, copied, printed or used in any medium without prior approval.)

Be Enchanted Always, Marsha