To have prescience of my future, I must know my past and the struggles of my ancestors. – Hyperion Sturm
The hall of mirrors and pigmented memories on canvas bordered in elaborate gold leafed frames spun lazily in an erratic path like the flight of bees. Alexandra heard the buzzing vibrato of diaphanous insect wings in her mind as she struggled to maintain her erect posture and attentive smile. She wove her arm inside the crook of the Viscount’s elbow and held him tight to steady herself. Read more
Alexandra wandered along the path with me. Sometimes she liked to lead and other times she liked to follow along silent and sullen, her thoughts an anthology of mysteries, a muzzle of worn black leather and rusty wrought iron rings. I held her reigns for a time and she was okay with that. What kept her by my side was her desire to be taken unexpectedly with passion, hard and fast. She confessed once that the pain of being filled with me was the trigger that fired her guns. I fell in love with her and her triggers. Read more
“We all carry, inside us, people who came before us.” ― Liam Callanan, The Cloud Atlas
Alexandra studied Cezar in muted admiration. His hair and beard were immaculately trimmed and lay in obedient waves on his tanned face and noble head. He wore a formal black uniform fashioned to fit his physique. The jacket covered a starched white shirt and shiny black bowtie. His proud chest was a garden of colorful medals, ribbons, sashes, golden colored cords, and adorned epaulets. The handsome Viscount and the dual wolves on the coat of arms electrified Alexandra. The wolves, she thought. Our connection is the wolves but what do they mean? She had only questions and no answers. Read more
“A true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” ― Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love
Two boys with rosy cheeks and cherub faces tugged at limbs in the bushes bordering a broad pasture. The ground was once a parade field a few centuries ago. The crenulated towers of Castle Răzvan looked over them in the distance like a stone sentinel. Short stubby fingers worked feverishly to break loose the imagined wooden sword ardent in the mind of one budding warrior. The other produced a knife with age stained blade, and deer antler handle worn smooth from service to father, son, and now the grandson. Read more
“You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope…I have loved none but you.”
― Jane Austen, Persuasion
I wanted to share the major milestone I’ve reached with the story, The Agony of Ecstasy, My epic tale of love and vengeance that transcends time. The story loosely follows the belief of the Greek philosopher, Plato who presented the concept that we are a half soul in search of our other half.
Soulmates that are reborn and brought together in each phase of their soul journey are elevated in their oneness to some divine perfection. This is a thought I’ve entertained for most of my life. The soul is taught through the mind and body’s experiences, which are most painful at times. In the deepest love, we find the greatest pain, an agony of ecstasy.
Alexandra Drăgana and The Viscount Cezar Răzvan must determine if they are soulmates from the Society of Wolves of ancient times or eternal enemies born of conflict. Cezar and Alexandra discover the truth with the help of a go-between, the handmaiden Dari. Their story unfolds from the past to present and on to the future simultaneously through memories and events in their lives.
I have worked in my limited time to develop a two-book series that could potentially go to three volumes depending on the success of the stories. I’ll do my best for you, and you can feel free to tell me how I’m doing.
The plots and outlines are done and I continue to work on the infrastructure of the books to ensure I have some guideposts to keep me on track. I do allow a lot of creative influence to shape the details of the story as I go. Your input often guides me as well. Feel free to give me your blasphemous curses or your nurturing hugs. I get a thrill out of both. We wee dragons love the attention of any kind.
Please hang in there as I shake off the detritus of my samsara and tell you a story I’ve listened to from whispers of the wind in the mountains and trees, moments of solitude as changing tides rushed to the lips of a waiting shore, and vivid dreams as I slept on continents shaped by ancient histories and the conflicts of empires long gone. It is my desire to take you there.
Image source: Pinterest.