Well, here we are! We have arrived at Tuesday and what an amazing day it’s been already. This week began on a big bang for us. Everything is suddenly on a turnaround and huge things are in the offing. Seriously huge things, and we can barely begin wrapping our minds around it. It’s just that awesome.
Another thing making this month so amazing is, of course, #NaNoWriMo2017!
Every time this month rolls around, I just get so excited. It means words are all around us and the magic is overflowing.
And to make that magic even more magical, we have a few things lined up for this month!
First of all, our super amazing #200WT themes are Charms & Amulets and All The NaNo WIP’s, meaning we wanna read the raw magic of your book in just 200 words! It’s so amazing, and the stories we’ve read so far has blown our minds!
And the second is the five one-on-one interviews we have going around this month, to talk about your NaNo book and what inspired it, how it’s going, and all that awesome stuff! One of the five interview places has been snagged, so if anyone else is interested in telling the world about your WIP, NOW is the time to DM us on @MusaeMosaic or email us at firstname.lastname@example.org and tell us why you’re interested in being one of the last four people on the interviews!
We would like to take this moment to thank @Rhapsody2312 for her amazing contributions this week to Musae Mosaic, and for opening a pretty amazing door for us here! And to all the new players of the #200WT game, welcome to our awesome community of writerly types! We can’t wait to read more of your amazing stories!
I’ve now taken up too much time from the awesome selection of stories today, so that’s it from me and now … Musae Mosaic is proud to present the Magical Moments #200WT Edition!
By Nicolette Stephens
The charm gave him away. Unique, it was his trademark symbol used by no other jeweller in the world.
He stamped it on all the pieces he made, on every ring, pendant and chain. Gold, silver, stainless steel, if someone bought a piece from him, guaranteed it carried his mark.
He’d made a name for himself in the world of jewellery design, his work prized by collectors internationally. He’d worked hard for his success, and the design of the charm had taken him years to perfect. Finally; happy with the endless looping effect of the single line design, he had crafted his maker’s mark.
It had been well-received, with his sales tripling in the first month of its release, particularly with orders from the rich, bored housewives fascinated by the portrait of a brooding artist impressed on their expensive jewels.
Captivated with the discovery that he wore a larger, gold charm of his mark on a chain around his neck their enchantment with him led to hotly illicit affairs that seldom ended well.
At first, the gold branding melted into the tender flesh of his victims had been incomprehensible, but as his skill increased; one woman at a time, so did the visibility of his charm.
Breath of Life
By Nicolette Stephens
She wove it from grass and small seeds dried into beads. An intricate web of interlacing leaves, interspersed with silky smooth spheres. It took time, and patience to ensure that the delicate grass did not shred, though many of the strips tore regardless of her tender care.
From one hopeful moon to another, she wove the grass and seeds into a deliberate dance that spoke of love and beauty. From one mourning dawn to another, she cried her tears into the bowl that rested in her lap, holding the dust of her beloved heart.
Strand by strand, bead by bead, tear by tear, she wove the figure from her love and hope, her loss and despair. In the end, when it was as fragile as her stillborn child, she took the amulet from around her neck and placed it over its heart.
Whispered words spoke of their lives together; mother and child, as she coated the figure with the mingled ashes and tears. Ancient magic seeped from the amulet; up through the seeds of life that lay at the throat, third eye and crown; down through the solar plexus, navel and root.
Connected to spirit, rooted to earth; the mother’s child took her first breath.
A Soul for a Charm (Part 1)
By Nicolette Stephens
The charm was to prevent him finding me. After he’d bought my soul, granting me my wish in return, I’d known it would only be a matter of time before he found me to cash in on the deal.
“This will hide you from his sight.” The old woman’s mumbling had been almost indecipherable. “Be sure never to remove it – he will know if you do.” Her sightless eyes had stared up at me as her gnarled fingers traced my fear-frozen face.
I’d stammered my thanks and beaten a hasty retreat. She’d given me the heebie-jeebies worse than he had.
Now, in spite of the charm, he stood in front of me, a scroll in his hands. The contract on my soul.
“I need a favour.” He held it out to me. I ignored it.
“How did you find me?”
“My mother is dead. The charm is gone.”
“The old woman. Fate. My mother.”
“Wait! She was Fate? And she’s dead? How?”
He rolled his eyes, as though running low on patience.
“She placed more than a charm on you. She cursed you with her burden. You get your soul back, but her duties are yours now.”
I should have known better than to trust a woman who could hide from the devil himself.
By Joanne Karina Gray
She was on the battlefield from her dreams. It seemed like the battle hadn’t yet started.
The woman had her hood up, black hair streaming down from the soft gray folds of her cloak. A pale man stood next to her, holding a silver bow notched with his arrow in hand.
Behind her, as silent as the night, stood her army draped in darkest black.
“Don’t do this…” a voice, riddled with suffering, whispered from the other side. Her enemies wore an assortment of clothes, no organisation in sight.
The whisper had come from a boy who looked at her with pain lining his face.
“I can do whatever I want,” the woman snapped.
“I loved you. I really did.” The boy said, his eyes betraying his fear.
The man beside her glared at the boy, “She didn’t love you, you fool.”
“I’m not a fool! I loved her and I know she cared for me!” The boy cried out in defiance. The man sneered in disgust as the boy stupidly turned his back on them.
The pale man’s arrow flew, he always kept it notched. It struck the boy clean in the back and he fell dead to the ground- the first body of thousands who would soon touch the ground, never to rise again.
And chaos reigned.
Author: Joanne Karina Gray
Number 6 Melrose Drive
By Nthato Morakabi
A slight gap wedged its way between the heavy beige drapes at the house of Number 6 Melrose Drive. Furrowed brow of deep lines, and squinting dark eyes peered briefly between the schism as whirring blades rumbled over our heads. I followed the white of the ‘copter until it faded into the blue sky. I turned to find the window of Number 6 Melrose Drive empty.
Jeffery’s boy kicked the ball over the wall at Number 6 Melrose Drive. Red sphere glistening in sunlit glory and fading within the abyss beyond the bricked wall. Silly boy, NY cap askew, ran to the front door and knocked. The quiet storm of grey and cavernous toothless mouth greeted child with youthful vigour. Flimsy robe cloaking skeletal bare frame as the child was waved in. Stupid boy.
A slight gap wedged its way between the heavy beige drapes at the house of Number 6 Melrose Drive. Raised eyebrow on smoothened skin peered briefly between the void. Wide, bright eyes glistening as whirring blades rumbled over our heads. I did not follow the ‘copter. I followed the toothy grin watching from behind drapes revealing plump frame between bulging robe. NY cap askew, a new trinket matching little Jacqueline’s amulet.
By Vic Hayden Gray
They said it was cursed.
All who had worn the amulet had perished and their souls were forever bound inside the glimmering red jewel as punishment for their crimes.
She didn’t believe it though, it was just a necklace.
A very beautiful necklace that she desperately wanted.
Despite all the warnings she donned the amulet and at a grand party she was the centre of all attention, all eyes were on her and she revelled in the attention.
But she had begun to feel strange.
Unexplainable hatred was seeping into her heart, jealousy at the other girls, and so much rage.
The feelings built and built until she snapped and with the power of all the trapped souls she slaughtered everyone at the party, not stopping until they were all dead.
Realizing what she had done she took her own life and she too became a soul in blood stained jewel.
Hundreds of years later the amulet found its way into a shopkeeper’s stall and lay there for a few more years before being purchased by a travelling woman.
She was as enchanted with the necklace as all the other women before her but she too had heard of its powers and so she did what the others could not.
She destroyed it and set the trapped souls free to be at rest and saved her own.
Author: Vic Hayden Gray
Immortality of the Soul
Chapter Two: Introspection
By Katrianna Ray
When the smoke cleared and the dust settled, the young midshipmen stood horrified at the events that had taken place. He himself was unshathed, but many did not get the blessed fate that he did. Silent and stoic he helped put the ship back together. He stood with his crewmates as the captain read the list of the dead, face drawn into a deepened frown. Raising his head from his shoes, he looked out at the sea.
Her hues of blues gave him no comfort.
Nothing that lived in those waters were kind, nor those who traversed them gentle. Men tried to play God with their wooden ships and bent nature by using fire ships and hot shots. Nature prove these falsified gods wrong time and time again, and yet they keep on trying. They conquer and enslave, calling themselves kings and ruling over a nature that was never meant to be ruled upon. Those false gods never suffer due to their action, but their pawns do in their stead, fighting on the deep and on the lands with banners painted red-
The splash of the bodies returning to the sea made William jump, blinking away the thoughts and bowing his head with the rest of the ship.
Author: Katrianna Ray
By Lara Meone Savine
He’d escaped to the quiet lure of the garden, the yarrow, valerian, and wormwood glowing under the moon … the absinthe spirits being sucked in to his willing veins.
For now he slept, but in sleep, he roamed, dancing in a marbled hall of the minds making.
His body seemed so powerful, so rapt, and free, tulips blossoming around him … verdantly sensual creatures danced, and kissed him, leaving lusty bite marks on his lips.
The bite marks tingled … and then the tingle became a burn and it spread fast, his jaw searing, the heat spreading, the throbbing torture reaching into his ears.
He fell to his knees, eyes boring into the white floor, and, mouth opening in a blood soaked scream, the burn began to push his teeth out, one by one hitting the floor with mute little clinks … he began to choke, blood gathering in his lungs …
Then long, needle-thin worms began oozing from the gaping holes in his gums and fell amidst the bloody teeth, writhing, and hundreds followed, thrashing out of his mouth, crawling in the blood around his body.
His gut heaved, threatening to expel, and he pulled handfuls of the worms from his gums, before he retched.
The worms began spewing out of the holes too fast and slithered back, toward his gullet … he choked as they thrashed around, eyes bulging … the burn finally reached his heart, slowing to a plod … thud, thud, thud.
All that remained was a dream he never woke from again.
By Christelle Bloem
Lina was about 12 years when the first signs of her gifts made their appearance. It was a horrible sight; one that she could never forget. She never felt release from the guilt that gripped her heart for the ailments she caused that day. There was nothing like that feeling: the feeling of despair when you caused someone so much pain.
She wasn’t sure what had happened. She was standing next to her mother cooking when she dropped the pan on the floor. She gave out a grunt of anger as she bent to pick it up. When she did, she heard the thud on the floor. She quickly turned around, still frustrated with the messed she caused when she had dropped the pan. That’s when she saw her mother lying on the floor after she had hit her head against the corner of the table.
“Mommy” she said with a shake in her voice. That’s when her mother opened her eyes, and a flood of relief flushed all over Lina. She immediately fell and wanted to embrace her mother, but her father instinctively pushed her away slightly. It was only a small shove, and he hardly noticed that he did it, but it was something Lina would never forget.
The first time her family rejected who she was becoming.
Author: Christelle Bloem