Daymares

There are times when one may have a line of thoughts that vanishes as fast as they came and then you wonder if you truly ever thought it. Those types of thoughts our lovely even though fleeting. Because either good or bad they will never haunt you. Imagine the worst moments in life, the harsh words said, all the sadness and anger bunched into a burst of mental anguish. Now imagine not being able to control the flow or even to stop it.

This is how it feels every day and every night, a string of nightmares while your still awake. The obsession of failure, betrayal, lies, abuse, invading every second of your life. It is simple for people to say just think only of the positive, to a person who has no control. It's like a detached voice in your head that taunts and ridicules relentlessly. You search for anything to numb it and want it desperately to go away.

 Just because I have these thoughts does not mean I believe they are logical. I am very grateful for my life and many have it much worst than I. I will always be grateful with the good and the bad.

 But feeling of fear is brought on by this experience, many of us are afraid of what we can't control. Fear of judgement and isolation is what comes when we seek help and speak out. Humans can be very cruel, no matter how hard you try to be good or what is supposedly normal you will never appease the doctors that believe you need more drugs, or the mates that whisper when you turn away.


© 2014 Crystalina A. Scales

The Man Who Wept (Illustrated by: J.E. Larson)

I wrote this story in 2010 and had searched a long time for an illustrator I loved. When I met J.E. Larson and his Haunted Nonsense I knew I finally found the one that had the style and whimsical character I've been looking for. We originally wanted to do The Heart of Thorns first but I was so in love with the tale of the weeping man and the talented fox. It was a fun project and a long process, I look forward to doing it again.


Original story here The Man Who Wept




*Please do no use any of these images and/or writings without permission of the author or illustrator

The Black Mare (rough Draft)

The iron gates were not there before and the great animal behind it gave me chills. A black mare with a beautiful black mane was pressed against the iron bars, I stepped close to stroke her nose, she flinched a little by my touch. With her hot breath on my face it made a stream of fog in the air. I smiled staring into her murky eyes, it felt too real to be a dream. I wanted to ride her away from this place, away from the pain, just ride the both of us free. Alas the sturdy iron gates were locked tight, with a sigh I sat along the edge of my bed watching the questionable illusion dissipate.

The next day I told my doctor, he gave me an audible groan and scribbled in his black book, "I think we need to up your medication." I fiddled with my hands shaking my head, "But I'm fine, I don't want more meds, why can't you understand." He shifted in his chair looking at me above his glasses "Little girls seeing horse heads coming out of the walls is not fine" looking down he scribbled more into his notes and ripped off a prescription for whatever insane stuff I must take. Standing up I took the prescription out of his hand and stared at him coldy  "Little girls seeing head doctors is not fine", I muttered under my breath. I turned about and out of the office, walking my way back home wondering if It could all have been a dream.

That night I sat up waiting for the mare to return, but all I heard was the drunken stupor of my keeper. His bellowing voice chanting the old sailors tales, I lied down and cried wishing I could runaway. I could have ridden away , rode until I was sore, anything but here. In the sad realisation I knew I would never see that mare again, she left along with my freedom.


© 2012 Crystalina A. Scales

It's a Natural Thing

To be a tree with woodly limbs, I'd reach for the stars and light your way
When daylight breaks, I'd be your shade on a Hot summers day,
All I ask is you water my roots so I can stay,

Your animals may play and climb to the highest branch,
And listen to the wind blowing through my leaves,
Will sing a song near the twilight moon,
to ease you back into your dreams~



© 2012 Crystalina A. Scales

Swimming Eels

Instead of counting sheep , she counts the swimming eels to fall asleep



© 2012 Crystalina A. Scales

The Journal Of Dr. Rine (Rough Draft Sneak Preview)

 7 Oktober 1899
Midnight

It’s midnight and once again my eyes contain a bright awareness about them. Prodigious bloodshed, human carnage. They wonder why I don’t sleep well……the endless taunting. I write this with a false boldness for my hands shake and my head sweats. Something has provoked them, that something is what?.......or is changing...Evolution? is it of the same ?  Perhaps a method of euthanasia- easy death, but for whom? 

8 Oktober 1899

21:00

I've awoken and feel different, like something has filled me, taking place of my soul or perhaps just my mind has gone mad with this lack of sleep. I must try to close my eyes and rest again. 

 9 Oktober 1899
4:00

They surrounded the room, so many of them, it was more then I ever imagined. Their aurora seemed needful if not unstable.  The vision ...or dream was blurred with blobs of darkness seated in a circle around me. My sheets are tangled in what fright I had through the night. 

9 Oktober 1899 

7:00

I just have ran a bath to cool down my fears, the water soaking into my skin stimulated an immense pain. I've manage to glance in the mirror and find my back bloody with claw marks... and other queer markings. Where did these come from ? Perhaps I've done them in my sleep...thou it seems an area impossible to reach. I suppose these nights have given me more than just dreams and the times asleep are like a deadly trance.

© 2010 Crystalina Scales

The Snow Queen

~His kisses warm the cold that seeps into my heart, Alas I fear I may have frozen his.~






© 2010 Crystalina Scales

The Willow Tree

When standing among its roots, gazing above to it high trunk. The branches spreading further to the top, makes one wonder if it will reach the heavens. Though this tree weeps before it's woodly limbs can touch the clouds. It's beauty of life and sadness will always remain a reminder of the Dear One buried below. Her soul is one with the Willow and as long as the tree lives she shall ever be immortal.


© 2011 Crystalina A. Scales

The Siren

 I walk amongst them dancing along the times and memories of halted growth, pretending or rather merely tolerating their presence. It never fails me to lose the patience and precisions of their ways with dealing. I become ill, faint, weakened by such efforts to maintain within the living and breathing of human society.

The creature I’ve become and the beast you know I truly am, can no longer be separated by these foolish wants and desires of normality.

and thoughts grow into fear of hate, fear of love, fear for the other.

I never am afraid of myself, by myself, although with another my terror has increased till I become quite ill, anxious, nervous, and the creeping instinct to swim never fails.

I ask myself to try and try and so I have but still remain so deep within soon many will be weary of the hardness some moments become. The slight word, action, thought, the slight hand of misfortune and  once again I am cold.

Thoughts of continuing perish in my head, with these afflictions I have buried within. I tell no one to what extent this hardness and ache has lasted. To what length this pain will cause to damn oneself for all eternity.

It is too great for one person, why must you do this all alone?

You say because it is also much too great for any other to endure.

They want to understand but slowly, certainly it eats them away to a hollow core and they become hard. Hard with the afflictions. With the afflictions of madness and memories. Then they too are lost and leave me once again.

And its starts over

And I tire, weary, beaten and…alone once again flee back to my deep sea.


© 2011 Crystalina A. Scales

The Dream

It was Halloween night and I decided to stay in, for there was not much going on around in this town. I was only watching the tele for a moment till I noticed a second sound, coming from somewhere near.

I opened the sliding glass till I could clearly hear, pass the pool to the near left fence, was a hole not there before.

I never really did talked to the neighbours much, nor have I seen them around. Peeking in I saw the remains of a party, but nothing seemed right.

I walked over, and knocked on their door


nothing......


I went through walking across broken glass, finding tiny red trails where maybe a body was dragged?

.....still quiet

There was a scream in the back in one of the rooms, I ran at a furious speed. It was a young girl with blonde hair and hazel eyes lying limp on her bed, with a ring in her hand which fell to the ground.
I picked it up and read the inscription " class of 99 Angela Ramone "

...and then I wake, in the tangle of sheets from these night terrors. I glanced at the clock... it was late...and I believe it was Halloween night. I must have slept through the whole day. I decided I might as well stay in for there was not much going around in this town. I was only watching the tele for a moment till I noticed a second sound, coming from somewhere..........somewhere near.

© 2011 Crystalina A. Scales

Tell Tale Heart - Narration by Crystalina Scales

A rough Narration for Edgar Allan Poe's Tell Tale Heart

I had to use a Voice changer so that the Character didn't sound like a female ;) or a boy going through puberty.                                    

Music is by : Midnight Syndicate - all rights reserved

Its a rough draft and still needs a lot of work but I had fun making it so far :) 

Earlytwilight - Beyond Town

(It is late near midnight, Eian has crept out despite his fathers warnings of dangers beyond town. The Road is cracked, old, there are vines growing from the forest through every crack in the road. A deep thick forest runs along on each side.)

A small boy with deep blue eyes walks along an old paved road. It is night and the stars twinkle brightly above the sleepy town, to be out alone at such an hour was a forbidden thing. For many dangers lie hidden within the darkness. The boy knew of stories and horrors that have befallen upon innocent wanderers, but still his curiosity was as strong as ever.

Eian came from a small household, one sister and his papa to keep company; his mum was lost to them very long ago. Papa always grew silent when searching interest was brought to light, but Eian would never push the subject.

He is most treasured by his little sister, Zoë ; she is only six but has an amazing talent for stories. Day and night she would draw and tell him of worlds she has seen in her dreams. Eian guesses this must come from mothers side for papa can't even muster up tales of the Old Ones.

The Old Ones are well known and have been around for ages, they keep the town safe with their books and scrolls. He always watched them pace along the paths that are now broken with age, watching them mumble under their breath. Probably thinking up wise stuff and new ways to keep them safe.

There was a quick pain which shot up his foot, he made a small cry and stopped walking. "Bugger, these darn pebbles always sneaking in ones shoes", lifting his leg he tipped his shoe off and heard two thuds lightly hit the ground. The roads out of town were old and overgrown with the forest vines that trailed across like tendril claws yearning to snatch up anyone daring to venture further.

Eian did not fear these roads no matter how dreary and dark they appeared and continued with a lighter pace, keeping an eye for any sneaky earth hopping on him for a ride. He hummed to himself setting his hands behind his back like a gentleman pacing in thought. He always watched the Old Ones do this and thought it was quite becoming and peaceful. Tilting his head to the stars he began to wonder if his mother was up there, glimmering brightly at him.



© 2011 Crystalina A. Scales

Transcendent Call

My hair and clothes stained with mud, my hands scabbed and chafed with blood.
Surpass the still lakes and among the misty fall, the long tower upon the hill glows a transcendent call.

The leaves a crisp tinge, strained underneath my treads, while my blood seeps with a curdled flow nearing me dead.

If a fox were to find me, the creature would surely sense the sickly taint of fear, abide the poison in my blood.

The pain grows strong and I fear I am stuck within these woods till dawn,
Till the sun has lashed the last midsummer winds,
Till the last wince of my glowing tower upon the hills.

But my little eyes grow weaker by the closing of the night,
And the bright transcending call is now nothing but a light,
A light that trances me like a fly, Oh ! I feel I fade by and by.

At last I hear a cawing crow,
The leaves are still and my limbs grow cold. 

But I smile and kiss to the last twinkle of stars,
for the crow will lift my soul and carry me away,
from the burning sight of this new day. 

© 2010 Crystalina Scales

Leviathan

 

Leviathan

The enlighten lenities
that tend my soul
The sweet levity
that feels my mind
The lewd cruelty
that holds me bind

This and all
I close my eyes
Hoping and wanting
to know in time

To know the leviathan
of all seas
to know the serpent
coiling in me

 © 2010 Crystalina Scales

Little Blue Bear

There was once a boy,
With a heart of gold and a soul of a lion.

Who grew up in poverty,
Sleeping in a shed,
Keeping his terrors and fears faraway.

One night his mum gave him a little blue bear,
Kissing him goodnight she grew in despair,
Knowing that one day her little boy,
Who would grow a man and leave to fight the wars that never end.

The blood that falls,
The cries that call,
Death to come,  
To broken hearts and broken homes.

A godless eye, a godless hour

All those sorrows grew old,
With wrinkles of worries and aches of waiting.

Little blue bear was no longer in beds,
But on a shelf with a blue torn head,
Eyes that know secrets,
Fur that feels troubles.

Little Blue bear,
Never to say,
of the little boy who grew a man,
and left on that dreary day. 


© 2010 Crystalina A. Scales


















 

The Conquest

I sat amongst fruit which poisoned from within smelt of a past longing for hope,
With one bite a spread of fire warms the belly,
And soon your desirous of finding a way amongst the woods that birth such fruit, is only a matter of time.

It is our nature to follow what may be our undoing, but it is also our beauty to conquer it.



© 2010 Crystalina A. Scales

The New Child

The New Child
By: Crystalina A. Scales 

There was once a child whose eyes were deep with affliction, she spoke in such grace and reserved manner no one minded her nature to avoid familiarities with others. Despite such hardness in her eyes the beauty of the world mystified the child. Her first word being “flower”, the colours and slight rays of light that would glisten off moist petals in the mornings. Her curiosity of the world had never ceased, becoming a lingering thirst for more, but there was a lot of sadness and horror she had seen as well in the beauty, too much to bear at times. Her soul became heavy at such a young age and breaking free of a common life that she saw so many fall into would be her striving hope to conquer.

She felt there was something inside her wanting to show everything and nothing at the same time. A potential for greatness with a tint of malicious nature, it’ a fine balance but it is with most things in this world.

Sitting on her fathers lap, curling her fingers along his worn out collar she gazed within his eyes and wondered what kind of beauty he saw in her. 

© 2010 Crystalina A. Scales 

If Noses Could Dream

If Noses Could Dream
By: Crystalina A. Scales

There once was a nose,
Who thought it quite clever,
It did not need a face,
It dreamt of a place (if noses could dream)
Of kingly gold shine and lace,
A box of some kind would be quite divine,
And no longer just part of a face.

It wrinkled and squirmed,
It sniffed and snorted and looked well funny being quite contorted
Then out came a whoosh of bogey and air,
But sadly the nose, it was still there...

And now what we think only a sneeze,
Is truly our nose eager to be an escapee,
For just a box with shiny gold and lace,
To keep it snug in hold in its new place.

© 2010 Crystalina A. Scales

The Man Who Wept

The Man Who Wept
By: Crystalina A. Scales

There once was a man who travelled through the woods and sat amongst a tree weeping through out the nights. Many creatures came by wondering why he does cry, only to take a mere glance and continue on their way. One night a fox danced by and stopped to hear the horrible sobs. Without a beat the fox spoke to the man.

"dear sir, why do you cry, is the night not appeasing with such lights to play along with the moon and stars". The man looked up in surprise, to hear such a pleasant voice. "Oh fox, you see, I try and try but the stars do not allow me to play amongst them".

The fox lifted her head with a loud bark "Is that all? well dear sir I will capture those stars and make them dance for you, for I am a fox you see and foxes are well known for such swiftness and cunning talents". With a swish of her tail she pounced to the highest trees and spoke to the stars with a lullaby sound bringing small fires down to the ground.

The man rose from his sorrow and watched such fires dance, faster and faster, hotter and hotter. They danced till the man was engulfed by it's flames. Still he smiled and laughed while his flesh burned to bones and his bones to ash. Until the stars grew weary and dimmed to nothing, leaving a smell of madness and blackened wood.

The fox watched in a curious splendour and was intrigued by what foolish wants humans have, to indulge in such dangerous pleasures that only lead to their own demise.


 © 2010 Crystalina A. Scales