Archive | fiction RSS feed for this section

My 31 Days of Hallowe’en~Music Video

2 Oct

My 31 Days of Hallowe’en

1_small (2)

My 31 Days of Hallowe’en

Thank you, kindly.

~Julia DarkRose

Advertisements

Samhain Evensong

30 Sep

Samhain Evensong

FBProfilePicDarkHoney4

I wrote this prose about an hour ago. This was inspired by the creation of my new Hallowe’en video for 2017, that will be released for public viewing, midnight tomorrow!

Until then, here is a peek at my new Hallowe’en Season prose, inspired by my current Artistic Alchemists creation.

Thank you for taking a moment to read my thoughts translated into a painting made out of words.

Side note: Many readers have mentioned that because I usually write my prose in a mixture of olde english and modern english, that they have trouble following along. I do not see it that way, at all. There are also just as many readers that do not have any problem deciphering my prose. I did, however, tone the mixture of olde and modern down a bit. Since the publication of my book-Blood’s Truth-I have a rather large number of new readers. So, for their sake, I toned it down. I do believe, however, that the story of Autumn that is told through this prose, is easy enough for most to unravel and, hopefully, find dark delight within.

Respectfully and quite Appreciative,
~Julia DarkRose Caples

tumblr_n0mzjbbHcA1qgycmjo1_500

Samhain Evensong
© Julia DarkRose 2017

O spirit of illuminated night,
Spectre of blinding sun,
Web of the Darklight,
Sea of Wisdom’s reflection,
Mirror of madness,
Bringer of visions,
Shall we rejoice with thee in this season of change…
in this harvest of death?
Or shall we fly from thee into the comforting arms of Springtide?

The mind must split.
The marrow must chasm.
The blood must curdle.
The heart must cease.
The flesh must rot.

Elixir’s fade and potions fail.
The sweet, thick red wine, changed to foul, thin water.
The river of bright blood is dried upon the skin.

Art thou redemption?
Art thou damnation?
Shall we adore thee?
Should we abhor thee?

Beneath the skin of confusion,
Behold the bones of that which is true:

Human sheath lacking blood,
Bone lacking husk,
Spirit lacking bone.
Arise and be fed.
Arise to bone and flesh and blood.
This Samhain night,
Renewed by the dark gospel’s food.
Nevermore to thirst for mine,
Nor on my living limbs to dine.

Silver Serpent,
Silver Spider,
A mirror for our altered face…
We live again,
And we are so very fair!
The moon has risen and swayed the crimson tide.
In her dazzling Darklight,
The dead live again!
All are bewitching in her glimmer.

Bound within the alabaster web, be free;
Dancing in formless flame…
Now, live!

Maddened where madness is joy,
Hold fast to this frail thread,
Until the last of moonlight’s veil has been shed.

O moon, faeries glory, ghosts, and ghouls,
Art thou a beateous beast?
And are we not better for midnight’s beauty still?
Better her dance of bedazzled death,
Her passionate throes,
Than stillness in the grave.

Dance, dance, dance, in patterns of her fantastical, vibrating, change,
These decaying rags made whole,
Risen in her fevered, flaming, Cimmerian shade.
All our senses wear her infinite bright shadow,
Our cloak, forevermore…

Beneath the skin of confusion,
Behold the bones of that which is true:

We awaken fully, into a frenzy of bestial desires.
Once creatures, trapped by the burning sphere of daylight,
We gnawed at our house of flesh.
Ravaged by Night’s Mistress,
Old as the black nothing that does not end…

All that was dead is not dead.

The spirit is an inferno.
The spirit is eternal.
The spirit is one spirit-The spirit of all spirits.
And that One holds the Fire of the Cosmos.

Breathe now,
And so shall the Cosmos breathe,
And of its own breath shall the Cosmos be made anew.

Beneath the skin of confusion,
Behold the bones of that which is true:

Merry New Year!
The Darkness is upon us!
Rejoice!
Blessed is this, our Evensong…
Happy Samhian!

~Julia DarkRose

RavenMoon-1

Sylvan BÜRÖK!

16 Sep

Please welcome the first character from Gothic FaerieTales to come to life…

The Guardian of Twisted Hollow: Sylvan BÜRÖK!

 

Burok-1

What the Heck is Going On?

7 Sep

What the Heck is Going On?

First up, my finished, yet continuously updated, website:

www.rosewytchmedia.com

Rose Wytch Media Logo Final-Edit

Next, is my current project, the second edition of my book, Blood’s Truth, published last year, titled: A Kaleidoscope of Butterflies

Kaleidoscope of Butterflies Book Cover II

Also on my list of current projects:

The DarkRose Journal-ReVamped: The Southern Gothic Issue 7

 

26fdf169f420d6dfb47be2aafd34d5c6

And now the final piece of my daily Artistic Alchemy~Gothic FaerieTales

Introducing, for the first time, anywhere, and in their truest incarnation…the Fae of Twisted Hollow!

Twisted Hollow

Stay tuned for more…oh my, so much more.

Thank you kindly.

~Julia DarkRose Caples

As I Walked Out One Evening-2017

27 Jul

As I Walked Out One Evening

As I walked out one evening,
I looked over his shoulder                                     Julia DarkRose FB 4
for vines and olive trees,
for marble, well-governed cities
and ships upon wine-dark seas;

But there on the shining metal
his hands had put instead
an artificial wilderness
and a sky like lead.
The stars are dead.
The animals will not look.

He, my deluded lover,
asked me to lay my sleepy head
upon his faithless arm.
Instead, I plunged my hands into the red water,
I plunged them in up to my elbow;
Stare, Oh how I stared into the basin
and I wondered why the world had chosen to miss
the shining darkness before them.

The glacier knocked in my cupboard,
the desert sighed in my bed,
and the crack in my tea cup opened.

So, I walked out onto the brightly lit lane,
it led to the land of the dead.

As I walked out one evening,
I went through the werewolf’s painful change.
Turning my head away
on the sweaty bolster, I tried to remember
the mood of my womanhood,
but lying in my sweat and blood, at last, as always,
letting it happen, the fierce fur,
soft to my face.

I now hear with sharper ears,
and live and love with the darkness
of my imagined fallen grace.
With my bestial understanding,
I open my wolfen eyes and truly see.…

The soul shrinks
from all that it is about to and should remember,
from the punctual rape of every blessed day, and cries,
“Oh, let there be nothing on earth
but what I choose to see,
nothing but rosy glasses to cover my eyes,
and gloves to cover my hands in the rising steam,
and guilty, blurred dances done in the sight of heaven.”

They never find the way out of their prison
and into the precious,
saving graces of the Darklight.
Pale souls they are, consumed by fear
of the living world they haunt.
Yet, they have not learned what habits lead them
to hunt what they do not want;
Nor have they learned who does not need them;
They are no one here,
until they are truly the someone they need to be.

Oh, what makes them so ugly, to me,
is self-inflicted ignorance.
Incurable ignorance.
I don’t want to harm them,
I think this very thought,
right up to the moment I slit their throats
with the truth.

I am touched with the moon’s red silver,
I am my own wolf sun,
made of human moonlight.

~Julia DarkRose
©2015/2017

Stalker

23 Jul

http://wp.me/s2LIGR-stalker

Stalker Image 1

Spectre

23 Jul

http://wp.me/p2LIGR-rW

261aa03135b0bbe1386cc7c3a5011731

%d bloggers like this: