Prose

Home

Watercolour            Collection I

Watercolour            Collection II

Drawings            Collection

(C)          Penny 2004

Poetry            Collection I

She held the  cup as if the very stem would burn her boney fingers.

Poetry            Collection II

Her chalice was old and battered but she would use no other, it had seen her at her happiest and had been with her when she felt her heart would break into a thousand shards of glass,

Prose

About            Me

She knew in her heart that this would be the day. Her preparations had been long and arduous and the timing ,on this Samhain Eve, was the most appropriate one that she knew.

Links

So many, that she had loved, had left our earth this year, that she felt, that tonight , of all nights, she may see them again.

View            Guestbook

All Summer long she had picked her berries well, had crushed the brilliant red ones, from her Yew tree, and added it to the already waiting dark and deadly  Belladonna ones that were simmering out their lethal juices.

Sign            Guestbook

She added  honey, from a silver ladle, to sweeten the bitter taste of death and stirred the mixture gently and deliberately.

Chanting the names of those who had gone before, and calling on her gods and goddesses,  to give her the courage that she needed, she imagined seeing her two best friends, her mother and her beloved cat that very night.

She lifted  the cup to her lips slowly yet determinedly, and then she stopped, it could not have been the breeze, the night was as calm and still as a summer?s  night yet the gentle breathe upon her face, let her know she was not alone. And then a whisper, so hushed and gentle, three words were all that were  uttered and all she needed to hear.

"The  final betrayal"

The nectar of death became a libation, a gift to the earth and a promise of hope  to come.