Monthly Archives: April 2008

The Painting in the Maple Frame

I am the awareness behind the

Lovely painting in the maple frame.

I look out at the insanity

You call “living” from my perfectly

Blended world waiting for you to look

At me – really look, so you may see.

Yet, you all clatter along lost in

Your grave depravity failing to

Notice that I offer a glimpse of

Beauty within your growing madness.

I’m a prospect of something better

In my oil and linseed landscape –

A reflection of what once flourished

Before your torrid rape; before the

Inanimate and neon took shape

Over the living and breathing truth;

Before lunatic void grew agape

Swallowing up sleep-walking seekers.

Yet, you think me nothing but canvas

Trapped in maple (if you ever think

Of me at all) blind to fact you have

Yourselves confined in an asylum

Where walls are constructed of progress

Refined with windows and doors sealed shut

From the inside out, caulked with image,

Pretension and misguided desire.

© 2008

Quote from Book Two; Amber Shadows and the Crystal Locket

Chapter One

(Illustration)

Alluring Danger

M

onday morning every cauldron alarm clock in the Shadows’ household flashed twelve o’clock. The storm brewing since midnight whipped branches viciously against rooftops and power lines, sending several garbage cans rolling around yards and down the streets.

Several feet away, on the border of Magian countryside and Downtown Magia, a rooted pinecone fir tree snapped in half and fell against the main power lines. Instantaneously power outage darkened every window and street lamp, as if a Dark Magic spell covered the Magians with a mysterious, velvety black cloak.

As the town slept, a svelte silhouette cloaked in blackish-red, dragon hide lurked just outside the youngest Shadows’ bedroom window. Fingernails of various dragon designs carved into the paint-chipped siding, leaving deep gashes in its weathered wood. As the silhouette moved closer to gaze in through a narrow slit in the curtain panels, the wind sifted through her long, black locks. She stood motionless, watching Amber toss and turn as she called out incoherent names in her sleep.

The woman’s lips curled in hatred as her fingers twiddled in a spherical motion, magically forcing the towel in the opening of Amber’s window to fall inward. Just as the woman was on the verge of vaporizing into a thin, serpent-shaped coil of vapors, the wind viciously shifted. She tilted her head backward to peruse the sky. The heavens stirred furiously, blanketing the entire neighborhood with threatening cloud formations. Thunder boomed magnificently throughout the inky-black sky as rain plopped here and there, and then suddenly, a crack of lighting struck the ground just inches away from where the woman stood, as if to warn her.

Startled by her near death experience the woman transformed into a black and red snake, with a spiked dragon tail and glittering birthmark on its head. Lightning struck again nearly setting her tail on fire as she slithered back into the Wood at full speed, down into a bubbling hole leading to what those living in the Bewitched Forest would call, the Dark Magic Realm.

Rain continuously poured in sheets as lightning struck the earth near Amber’s room three times, waking her from what felt like a heart pounding nightmare. Above the Shadows house lightning cracked as it formed an angel outline, etching it into the clouds. With eyes open wide, yet not totally aware of her surroundings, Amber covered her head and slid underneath her bed, her breathing erratic. She’d never truly been afraid of lightning before, but it was so close above her part of the house she feared it was going to strike the roof and set the house on fire.

Moments later all was silent and the rain stopped instantaneously. Amber peered out from under her bed and noticed a brilliant light beaming through the crack in the curtains. Curiosity overwhelmed her fears as she slowly crawled out from under her bed and stepped toward the window. Staring up into the seven heavens, her fears were replaced by peacefulness and her breathing suddenly shifted into normal, slow breaths. Amber couldn’t help but think that the angel resembled Jocelyn’s face (her late, great-great grandmother).

It must be a warning, thought Amber. Something just happened . . . something Jocelyn wanted me to know about . . . . She looked out into the backyard and saw nothing except wet grass and swaying woods. Plops of rain began hitting her window pane again. Amber glanced upward hoping the angel would remain long enough for her to commune with her inner intuition, but the angel vanished before her eyes, leaving stormy billows in its place.

If something hasn’t already happened it’s about to, thought Amber. She sat down befuddled by the angel and its meaning; then suddenly remembered how she’d witnessed something horrifying in her dreams . . . something that may be linked to the etched angel in the clouds.

Grasping at the covers, Amber struggled to see through the blackness engulfing her surroundings as she shivered from the unexplainable, cold draft invading the room. Being a bit preoccupied with the sign from heaven, she hadn’t thought to check and see if the towel was tucked in the hole of the window, and shivered for several moments before snapping out of her thoughts.

Amber leaned over and twisted the light switch to her lamp twice but it would not turn on. She then gazed down and noticed the alarm clock flashing 12:00. Another power failure, she thought. Sighing, she pulled out a box of matches. As she struck the match, Amber noticed rain spattering on her bedside table and on the edge of the pillar candle. She pulled the candle towards the edge closest to her and got to her feet. Rubbing her arms for warmth, she headed toward the window to see if the towel was not properly tucked in the hole.

That’s strange, thought Amber, where is the towel? She picked up the candle and looked on the floor to see if it had fallen out from the force of the wind. Nearly missing sight of it, Amber noticed something red sticking out from behind her bedside table. She pulled it out after some difficulty only to find it was an envelope with gold ribbon. Amber was about to open the envelope when the room temperature suddenly dropped. Although anxious to read its contents, she couldn’t handle the cold a moment longer. She set the candle down and searched for the towel.

Amber managed to reach further behind her bedside table after a bit of difficulty and grabbed hold of what she thought was the towel, but when she looked at it, it was nothing more than a small square of singed material. Someone was here . . . trying to get in, thought Amber, someone using Dark Magic by the looks of it. After all this time, someone had finally attempted to cause her and possibly her family harm. She pulled out an old pair of sweats and was about to stuff them into the window, when a creaking noise from the hallway drew her attention to the bedroom door left slightly ajar.

Amber swallowed hard. Perhaps it was her imagination working overtime, but the longer she stared at the door, the more her imagination tricked her into believing someone was slowly pushing their way into the room.

She blew out the candle and slipped back in bed, pulling the covers up over her head. Grasping her crystal locket, she prayed that whoever it was would change their mind and go away. Lying still, she inhaled and exhaled long breaths, lip synching, “It’s only my imagination . . . it’s only my imagination . . . the house is just settling . . . yeah . . . yeah that’s it . . . that has to be it . . . it’s just settling . . .

After several moments had passed and it had become quite clear that no one had entered the room, Amber sat up and pulled the covers from her head. She wiped her forehead with her nightdress sleeve as she sat staring at the door thinking, I must have been hallucinating . . . the door hasn’t budged.

In fact, as Amber looked around she couldn’t help noticing that everything was as still as can be. The only sounds breaking the silence of the room was the expansion and retraction of the heating pipes, the rain pattering against the window, and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway just a few feet away from her bedroom door.

Amber re-lit the candle and glanced around. The room appeared ominous, what with the antique dresser, rickety desk, and chair sitting idle in the flickering candlelight. The spindles at the foot of her bed cast silhouettes on the wall, stretching from halfway up the closet doors to the ceiling in an eerie fashion.

“My imagination should get an award for being overactive,” she muttered. As Amber sat staring into the surrounding darkness, it suddenly struck her why she was getting so freaked out. She remembered in vivid detail what woke her in the first place.

Amber got to her feet and lifted her top mattress. Hidden away with the Legends, Spells, and Enchantment Book was the Emerald Wand of Chrysalis. With a few White Magic words she removed the shield protecting it and tip toed about the house, placing seven protection charms on every window and the front and back doors. There, that out to hold whoever it was out for a while, she thought. Amber was about to tuck into bed when she remembered the red envelope.

She began ripping at the corners of the envelope, hoping to find a message from her late, great-great grandmother Jocelyn, but after several attempts of actually ripping it open and it resealing itself, she gave up. “Must be a protective spell . . .” Amber muttered in befuddlement.

As tired as she was, her curiosity propelled her into thumbing through the Legends, Spells and Enchantment Book twice, but none of spells she tried worked and neither did any of the spells she recited while using the Emerald Wand of Chrysalis.

“Must be some type of Dark Magic unknown to the book,” Amber said under her breath, thoroughly frustrated. She tucked the red envelope inside the book for safe keeping until she could figure out how to open it. Then she tucked the book back under her top mattress and placed the Emerald wand inside her pillow case, her grip firmly on its handle. She needed to salvage what few hours of sleep she had left. Soon, her family would be busying the hallway in their daily morning rush to ready themselves for a new day at school or work, without any knowledge of what happened during the night.

Less than an hour later, Amber was still awake and staring out the window from where she lay. She could not block out the flashes of a deformed, half-dead figure, and several serpent guards with scaly blackish-green skin and feelers on top their heads chasing her in her nightmare, nor could she forget about the angel etched in the clouds and how much she reminded her of Jocelyn. And it certainly did not help to know the attempt of someone breaking into the house justified her reasons of worrying all summer. Now that something finally happened, Amber found herself more concerned about what she was going to do about it, and who, pray tell was it?

It was at that precise moment something long lying at the foot of the bed in the shadows moved. Startled out of her thoughts, Amber huddled up in the upper corner of her bed; fearing it was a snake. Slowly she opened her eyes and outstretched her arm to pick up the candle and relight it. There at the foot of her bed in tousled blankets lay an undisturbed feline; stretched out, purring and pawing at the air, his wizards’ crest birthmark glistening in the darkness. Taking a deep breath, she lowered the candle and placed it back on the bedside table relieved to find she was over reacting. “It was only Zappy stirring about . . . .”

Having had enough of a sleepless night, Amber slipped into her robe and tucked the Emerald wand in her pocket. With the wand at her side, she figured she would be perfectly safe to catch a breath of fresh air while she wrote in her diary. She gathered her writing tools and steadied the candle in a firm grip as she softly tip-toed through the house, out the back door, and gently closed the screen door behind her. Settling on the back porch swing, she noticed the rain was now softer and steady. Amber released the invisibility charm and thumbed through her diary, counting the number of entries she had written. The entry she was about to pen would make the seventh entry to date.

*****

You simply must buy the first book to find out what happened! I refuse to spoil it for those who are still reading the first book or who have yet to purchase it. Until then, I’m sorry to say, this is only a teaser excerpt from Book Two in the Amber Shadows series.

Have a bewitching read.

*****

Wendy Willett

Chicago Tribunes' Printers Row Festival

USA Illinois SCBWI Chapter has contracted to host a space at the 2008 Printer’s Row Book Festival on Saturday, June 7th and Sunday, June 8th. Wendy Willett, author and illustrator will be there for (2) one hour spots to meet, greet, sell, and sign her five-star rated book Amber Shadows and the Missing Wands, the first book in the series. Appearance times are 2-3pm and again at 4-5pm.

As the largest literary festival in the Midwest, and one of the largest book celebrations in the country, the Printer’s Row Book Festival attracts more than 90,000 people, over 200 authors and 150 booksellers and exhibitors. Located between Congress, State and Clark streets in Chicago, the festival takes place just outside (as well as inside) the beautiful Harold Washington Library. A list of past speakers include: Dan Brown, Neil Gaiman, Jack Prelutsky, Elizabeth Berg, Julie Andrews, Nikki Giovanni, John Updike, E.L. Doctorow, Dave Eggers, Augusten Burroughs, Carol Higgins Clark, Jim Aylesworth… as well as many Illinois SCBWI authors.

The thirty-two SCBWI-Illinois authors who sign up for this event will sit at the SCBWI-IL booth, under a tent (shade is important!) and have specified times each to promote and sell their books.

So come on out on June 8th, enjoy the days’ activities, buy a copy of Amber Shadows and the Missing Wands, meet author/illustrator Wendy Willett and get your book signed!

Attic Stairwell

Shrouded in paranormal mist

Are strange, mysterious vortices –

Portals to branch universes

Where rapt interdimensional

Denizens raise chills on napes of

Dreamers’ pale, unsuspecting necks;

Where breathless awareness bristles

In silent, prayerful pleas offered

Of devoured skepticism;

Where moonless, dark shadows obscure

Peripherally-detected,

Indistinct, yet certain movement;

Where eerie, indiscernible

Conversations of by-gone times

Float away on waves of chilled air;

Where dog’s nervous growls fall upon

Invisible energy of

Ghostly, sinister intention:

To feed on visceral fears of

Those awakened in blinding black

By sounds of descending footsteps.

© 2008

A Poem's Freedom

No poem immured within

Author’s intentions can thrive.

Release inclined resistance;

Yield to individual

Interpretation; cut loose

Tightly-bound preconceptions

To liberate and expand

Scope beyond expectation.

Embrace all transformation

Born of vastly diverse views

To bring a composition

To life within its own world

Where it can morph according

To whims found in ambiance

Of one perceiver’s exhale

And yet another’s inhale.

In its freedom, a poem

Truly discovers itself.

Infinite perspectives and

Unrestrained exploration

Create ever-dynamic,

Joyful poetic-being.

© 2008

E'er and Evermore …

Resolving to avoid every
Fine-spun nuance of human
Pretense; I spoke with the winds
Today and asked if the miracle I
Had discovered IN YOU – such torrid
Brush strokes dividing the light and the
Dreary – might remain the hot ember
Now burning brightly IN ME

Extending its
Warmth and light as
Aliment and inspiration;
Wisdom encouraged me to
Avoid the vast discolorations of
Thoughtless indiscretion and
Hinted that I embrace you
Without CRUSHING

The delicate flower
Guarding your heart from
Marauders and the crisp
Edges of chasms and the
Tainted breath of firedrakes
And the twisted hands of wanton
Potters desirous of enslaving
The assailable parts of
You while devouring
Your essence as
Pit-roasted
Meat …

Save the rage of
Moment’s fierceness;
I pleaded earnestly for
The chance to know YOU
Without stumbling through
YOUR white sands and leaving
Marks that might remain
As scars …

And from the distance,
Sifting past the grayness’s
And ochre’s of evenfall, I felt
Waves of subdued reverberations
Washing over me – sage echoes
Whispering e’er and evermore …

Richard Lloyd Cederberg

I Was Reborn

As I lie below the cross lighted bright

As I was thinking what a beautiful night

I felt a touch of the Lord upon my soul

And from my body my spirit did flow

My spirit rose to the right and 15 feet into the air

I felt the Lord’s touch and knew the Holy Spirit was there

For ten minutes my soul floated in pleasurable bliss

You do not need to believe this, I will not insist!

But as I hovered in the air near the Cross of the Lord

I wondered why it was I who deserved such a reward

I could see, smell, feel the breeze and hear every sound

I could see my mortal body lying below on the ground

I could see the grass below swaying in the breeze

I could hear the leaves rattling in the trees

I could see and hear the cars whiz by on nearby I-95

With my body and soul divided I was still much alive!

Then I heard a car start up a ways down the block

My essence started falling toward my body like a rock

As the driver drove toward me shifting the cars gears

The falling sensation I felt brought on some real fears!

I shouldn’t have worried because the Holy Spirit was there

He caught my spirit and placed it in my body with care

As I sat up the driver saw me, waved and honked his horn

With my body and soul back together I Was Reborn!


This is a synopsis of an experience I had under a 15 foot high lighted hard plastic cross in a Church yard in Boynton Beach, FL in August of 1984.