Her Wasteland

He wondered through the miasma of her wasteland, taking with him everything he could take. Not a rock unturned. Not a stone left untouched. Not a smile left behind. She was his to do with as he pleased.

As he walked he noticed a bird. This bird fluttered and flew high over his head as if it were dodging something but not quite able to do so smoothly or effortlessly.

He watched it until it came towards him. He reached out his hand in front of him, palm turned towards himself and slightly cupped. He remained perfectly still and relaxed.

The bird hovered however spastically just outside of his reach but at eye level and turned to face him. She seemed to look him directly in the eyes, then tilted her head to one side as if to consider this great big powerful man who stood so quietly waiting.

The bird seemed to make up its mind and came forward slowly, carefully until it softly landed upon his finger above the cupped portion of his palm. The bird settled quietly, looking at this man who stood so still.

After a moment the man ever so slowly moved his hand towards his face bringing the bird closer into his view. They looked each other in the eyes. There was a kindred spirit there.

The man slowly moved his hand to his shoulder, so the bird could step off his hand to his shoulder if it so desired. She did so without hesitation, clasping onto the material of his work roughened shirt.

He looked around the wasteland before him and knew he now had the only thing of value in the whole land. Quietly in a gentle voice he spoke, “Stay with me little one, I’ll take you from this wasteland and keep you safe.”

The bird twittered in a sweet sing-song voice, her acceptance, and settled down upon his shoulder.

The man slowly, and carefully planted each step, being sure not to jar the bird, began his journey towards the gateway which would take them both from this wasteland.

The bird sang softly to him, her voice soothing the tempest within him, keeping him company on a journey he had thought would forever be solitary.


© Kate Spyder


An Insanely Muddy Conversation

“It’s perfectly muddy.”
“What is?”
“The distance from here to there.”
“I see no mud.”
“But it is perfectly there.”
“Down at your toes.”
“There is no mud there.”
“But oh there is, if you just look from here to there.”
“I don’t see what you are saying.”
“Of course you don’t. After all, my voice isn’t muddy.”
“I see no mud. I see not what you are saying. There is no here to there, only my toes down there.”
“And there you have it. It’s perfectly muddy, if all you see are your toes down there.”

Broken: The Voice That Sings

Part 1, Broken: The Beginning of the End

She did not sleep for the stars were not meant for her to rest but to gaze upon their beauty from beginning to the end. She didn’t care that there was pain. It vibrated. It sang to her. It wept for her until she had no more tears.

There wasn’t a sound she could hear not with any clarity. The sounds were all muffled by the screams in her head.

The joyousness that was her soul banged its fists upon the walls that she had built to contain it. She wanted to remember the joy not lose it forever in the miasma of her chilling soul. Trapped it was but trapped so she could not reach it but only gaze upon it and remember it had once been there and a part of her.

What did she know but the sum of all her experiences? The sum was more than its parts and yet less than the whole that was she. She could look at each experience, divide each experience into each of its parts, and divide the parts into infinity. And still she could not find the source of the message behind the feelings being said.

She walked in her mind and cursed in her soul, the sadness swamped and compelled an end they pulled out of her reach. They didn’t want her, not now, at least they said. Why they would not reveal and left for her to go unsaid.

She ignored the pain that screamed in her brain. The hands that pulled and prodded her. The voices that would not leave her. She ignored them all as she watched from afar. She looked upon herself a shade of what she once was and saw a tear roll down unnoticed.

Their energies were boundless. If not for them she would be gone whether those who had rejected her would accept her or not. This wasn’t what was supposed to be. And yet it bled with her very essence the essence that had been her from before time began.

She now understood, her life was to be, both pain and love never ending.

If she proved strong enough to grow within the pain received, walking away with joy abounding and life worth loving, her world would be forever free to receive yet again, the challenge.

They fought hard to save her, at first it had been just the two. She had seen them coming down the mountain road. Had almost turned around before seeing the signs put in their path. But they saw and now they fought to save a soul they never met.

She watched as they fought, seeing connections grow, at first just a shimmering fine web as if strung by a tiny spider between the three. He tried to find her but she hid too well, until he found the overflowing well. He sipped the waters of her love. Now she could not hide. He saw through the walls, the barriers she threw up, she ran and ran to no avail. Each turn she made, each door she opened, each room she entered he was there. Whispering. Pleading. Expressing his love.

When she looked again, hard burning chains of iron connected her to them, no amount of pulling, yanking, cutting or torching would destroy the chains connecting. They were not cold chains of steel, nor confining painful things. They flowed and ebbed, stretched and weaved fed by the wells of love.

She thought she could not bear to feel love again, to feel anything again. She never thought love could penetrate the searing pain that was her soul. She had been wrong. As she watched, the love flowing down the lines of connection began a process she had never thought she would see again. She resisted it but she was too weak to fight it for long. The voice that was her soul told her to surrender, to welcome the healing. She heard but did not heed. She listened but did not surrender. She felt and screamed in agony.

His voice sang to her, and she resisted. Their hands warmed her and she resisted. They were two who flowed to her as one and she cried for them to leave her.

Their strength was stronger than hers. They stayed regardless of her pleas. Their whispers told her they would never leave her. Their love was strong enough to carry her until she was strong enough to heal and still they would remain. Their hands caressed her no matter how far she pulled away. Their voices touched her regardless of how deep she descended. The one always found her and pulled her back surrounding her in their love.

She looked at her wells, one overflowing, the other having been empty but now slowly, ever slowly beginning to fill. She wanted to dump it out, to refuse what she saw, to know these two had found her well and sought to fill it. She had given up, this was supposed to have been the end. Not another beginning.

She drew back again and watched, now there were more. They worked and worked to extract her. The twisted metal being twisted and cut more until nothing trapped the body that had been she.

As they lifted her free, she gazed upon her body, saw it broken and bleeding, almost lifeless. Only the still pumping blood seeping from her wounds gave indication of life where all else looked lifeless.

One of the two stood and watched, the other knelt at her head, his voice always singing to her soul, binding her to him and then to them both. The connection between the two fed the connection between the three reinforcing the connection to her when it would start to weaken. How was this possible when she resisted with all her being? Who were they? Why were they so persistent?

She flew with her body, the one traveling with her, the other taking the mountain road. She sensed them both, no matter how far distant, the one by her side keeping the connection strong between all three.

She could no longer resist the darkness. It called her as she watched others join the ones who had taken her from the mountain and brought her to the place to be repaired. They wheeled her in a room the pain insignificant to the voice that sang to her soul to rest so the doctors could do their work.

She welcomed the darkness, praying it would swallow her forever.

©2013 Kate Spyder

Broken: The Beginning of the End

It’s funny how she had always known her life would end this way. Trapped and alone. Well maybe not funny, but definitely interesting. How many times did she ignore her inner voice and the pictures that flew through her mind’s eye that she just cast off without thought or reason believing it to only be her vivid imagination? Well, here she was, the last moments of her life exactly as she had seen it every time she ever contemplated how her life might end.

She was actually glad her pain was almost over. She almost laughed at that thought because at the moment she didn’t really feel any physical pain. She could however sense how broken her body was. She knew her life would end soon. She had no doubts. She was blessedly relieved to know it too. She waited patiently for the physical pain to slam into her. Like in so many of the books she read, she girded her loins.

She almost, almost laughed at that thought. She couldn’t understand why it was taking so long for the pain to come. Maybe, she thought, just maybe it was because she was so close to death’s door, maybe she would never feel it. Maybe it would never come. Maybe she was so broken she would never feel a thing.

It was ironic, sitting here, waiting, waiting for death to take her and right before her eyes was one of the most beautiful scenes she had ever seen in her whole life. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and she almost cried thinking it might be the first and only time she would get to see it. Then she almost laughed at the absurdity of the whole thing, for life to wait until the last moment of her existence to finally show her something, a single thing that she wished she could see again, and again. So she just kept on looking at it, holding herself away from the impending blackness that was waiting to swallow her for as long as she could, for as long as she could keep her eyes open.

Everything was coated in fine crystals, each crystal a rainbow of colors as the sun kissed each particle. Each leaf, each naked tree branch, each rock, each blade of winter dried grass were shimmering with a rainbow aura glittering with a life of its own.

Across the valley a frozen waterfall glittered with brilliant white sparkles running down its length like its waters flowed in spring. She didn’t understand how it was possible that a rainbow arched over the cascading frozen water but it was there in all its glory just as it would on sunny warm days when the water was flowing freely.

In the distance an eagle circled scanning the waters of the partially frozen river that flowed from the waterfall through the middle of the valley. It flew along its length through the sharply edged sky, crisp and clear, not a cloud in sight looking for its prey, suddenly diving down towards the surging waters extending its talons, grasping and soaring back skyward turning to be lost in the folds of the cliffs surrounding the falling waters. It was a sight she would never tire of looking at.

She still felt no pain. She didn’t know how long she had been waiting. It almost seemed a lifetime but as she saw a drop of moisture dangling from the tip of the leaf in front of her, ever so slowly slide from the leaf and fall, she realized time wasn’t moving but at an infinitesimal rate. Or was it? The eagle she had seen but moments before had been soaring effortlessly in what had appeared to be normal time. She followed the drop of moisture with her eyes for what seemed like hours until it splattered onto the rock a mere inches below the leaf.

Time wasn’t standing still but it definitely wasn’t moving at the speed she had been existing in for most of her life. She felt like she was living another lifetime in just that single moment of when the moisture droplet began to fall until it splattered upon the rock. This was beauty. A beauty she had never beheld before in her lowly existence.

The blackness was calling her, drawing her towards it. It felt like a physical thing, like a rope tied around her, pulling her towards it. For a moment she considered resisting it but she knew it would not matter for she could no longer withhold herself from it, and it was time, time for her to go. There wasn’t anything left for her here anymore. She felt it pulling her, drawing her in. She kept looking straight ahead, at all the beauty before her. She wanted the last thing she saw to be that gorgeous view hoping it would be imprinted upon her as she traveled to whatever awaited her. She saw the blackness start to surround that beauty, narrowing her vision, she focused harder and harder on the center, all too aware of the surrounding darkness taking more and more of the sight she viewed until all that was left was a tiny point of light.

Then that tiny point of light started to become brighter and brighter until she thought she would have to close her eyes in order to withstand its intensity. Then it began to expand.

Suddenly something snapped. She hadn’t realized that in all her time of waiting she heard absolutely no sound, no sound at all. At least not until she heard a woman’s soft erotic voice. She knew the voice and yet she didn’t. The woman’s voice flowed through her, and everywhere it flowed it coated her with love and peace as if it were a physical thing that someone could just spread upon one’s body but this didn’t just spread across her body. It invaded every microcosmic spec of her corporeal form and non-corporeal existence. The woman spoke lifting her beyond earth’s plane of existence. She heard the words the woman breathed and before she was able to absorb their meaning she felt herself convulse, crying out ‘NO!’ and the pinpoint of light that had started to expand to engulf her and take her away had started to recede.

The pain she had awaited, slammed into her physical form, hit her with a blinding intensity that had her screaming for mercy. Screaming to let her die, to not leave her behind. She cried and called to the woman asking her what had she done to be refused? To not allow her to finally be at peace?

She felt the woman smile at her. She felt again the overwhelming peace and love flow all around her and through her. Then she heard the words flowing over her, ‘Nothing. You have done nothing wrong. It is not your time yet.’ And in that same moment of when the woman’s voice became silence, the searing pain engulfed her again, shattering every single microcosmic speck of the peace and love she had felt, shattering like glass as a rock was tossed through it.

The point of light that had begun to expand, now receded, slamming shut with a finality encasing her in a bleakness that she thought surely would kill her. Then the blackness returned and with it the excruciating pain found its home.

She was letting the blackness take her, take her down, and down, hoping it would take her down and away from the pain. Her pain was both physical and mental now and the two together were more than she could bear. More than she had ever had to bear at any other time in her whole life.

She allowed herself to sink further and further into the darkness but the pain did not recede. It throbbed in every part of her body, but screamed within her mind. She tried to hide in the blackest of corners but it throbbed and bit at her, demanding her attention. She refused to give it. She refused to allow anything to exist for her any more.

But something was nagging at her, something just kept nagging at her like one of those dogs you hear about that once they bite down, won’t let go until they kill whatever it is they have in their teeth. She tried. She tried to ignore it. Tried to sink deeper into the darkness but it just wouldn’t let her. Wouldn’t let her go.

Part 2, Broken: The Voice That Sings

©2013 Kate Spyder

Quill & Parchment

I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good

Little Fears

Tales of whimsy, humor and courgettes

Purple Tulip Art Studio

"Inspiration, is everywhere..."

Mickie's Mind

What is on Mickie's mind today? Crafting such as wire wrap jewelry, beading, polymer clay sculpting, art journaling, or more? Food as in recipes, restaurant reviews or cost cutting? Entertainment such as movies, books, music or games? What will we discuss today?

My Planner Life

free happy planner printables

The Frugal Crafter Blog

Groovy craft projects, crafty recipes and other artsy stuff.


Psychology to Motivate | Inspire | Uplift

Pretty Prints & Paper

Using the bullet journal and calligraphy to cultivate an intentional life

Our Better Health

Diet, Health, Fitness, Lifestyle & Wellness

Postcards From Panama

Life in the Tropics

The Calligraphy Pen

The Calligraphy Blog

paper, craft & scissors

paper doesn't care about a grainline (much)


I write when the choice is to die if I don't


Where reality meets emotions.

Logical Quotes

Logical and Inspirational quotes

An Undiscovered Muse

They exist. I can taste it.