Tag Archives: lilac

Loyalty, Vampires and Passion

I adore vampires, I am not sure if I’ve ever made that clear on here before (grins knowingly) and I’ve been thinking about them a lot today. I’ve been thinking about my favourite vampires, Judas Iscariot from Dracula 2000, John Carpenters VAMPIRES, Interview with the vampire and Daughter of Darkness to name but a few.
I love the culture surrounding vampires and everything Gothic, from the strange music options, to the fashion, the architecture and the darkness of it all, to the sheer sinfulness of loving it.
I love the strangest things and the strangest things inspire me to write and paint.
The strange haunting sounds of the music from Nox Arcana in their album Transylvania = visitors in the night, to their album shadow of the raven = the black cat wails and cries of a demon cat and the semi-Gregorian chants throughout all their albums.
I love the tribal belly dance scene, the gothic belly dancers from tribal fusion, I collect the DVDs regularly, I am a particular fan of Rachel Brice – to me, all of this just oozes vampire.
As a former belly dancer myself (not professionally) I am saddened that I didn’t learn about the tribal fusion style dancers until 2yrs after I gave up the dances, if I had known beforehand I think I would have sought them out and have become professional. I adore the dances and I would love someday to have a daughter who has the same interests in it as I do.
Unlike a lot of traditionalists, I don’t see belly dance as a thing solely for women, there is a form of belly dance for men! In fact it was traditional for both sexes to belly dance right up until the Persian Empire was created, then it was almost eradicated entirely for a practise for men and became a very sexualised dance solely for women by the Persian conquerors. The dance is debated to have originally come from the eastern side of Greece, near Salonica.
There is a dancer known as Prince Andrew which practises the masculine form, by belly dancing with a sword balanced on his naked waist and hips and balanced on his head. I find it very sexy, a very sensual dance. He looks almost like a character from Sinbad and the eye of the tiger; though his style is considered to be indo belly dance, a kind of traditional Indian style.
Here are a couple of videos with Prince Andrew dancing.
https://www.bing.com/videos/search?

q=male+belly+dancer+prince&&view=detail&mid=3920BBFA2116361685563920BBFA211636168556&rvsmid=D607C79DEB3A3D2D04ACD607C79DEB3A3D2D04AC&fsscr=0&FORM=VDFSRV
https://www.bing.com/videos/search?

q=male+belly+dancer+prince&&view=detail&mid=D607C79DEB3A3D2D04ACD607C79DEB3A3D2D04AC&rvsmid=D607C79DEB3A3D2D04ACD607C79DEB3A3D2D04AC&fsscr=0&FORM=VDFSRV

Masculine belly dance is starting to become popularised once again, there are more and more male dancers taking to the scene which I find rather exciting.
Another form of dance I like and think is very Gothic, is fire dancing.
I think vampires are very passionate beings, they put their heart and their soul into everything they do, they surround themselves with beautiful things, things they love, because eternity is a long time if you are around things you dislike or things that do not give you pleasure.
I think because they have eternity on their hands, they go out of their way to surround themselves with things that make them happy, collections from the past and even collecting newly sired people to be around them, of the nature that they like and connect with or that feel familiar to them. This is what I think happened to Lestat in Anne Rice’s vampire chronicles. I think Lestat was very nostalgic and may have seen something in Louis that attracted him to sire him, because he reminded him of someone he knew in his mortal life. Whether or not the relationship was compatible it didn’t matter to Lestat, he wanted familiarity and companionship and for a while he got it from Louis.
I feel very sad for Lestat, he seemed very alone. I think he and I would have got along very well together if he were real. I certainly would never leave his side; I am loyal to a fault with anyone I think is akin to me – not so loyal to those who are not akin to me however; being akin means more to me than being simply blood related, it is how our very essences match each other, how we connect, do we click? If not, then the relationship will be very short lived.
I consider myself to be a very passionate person. I am passionate about everything that I do and I seldom do anything that I am not passionate about. If I find it boring, I won’t do it, I will delegate – which is what I do even for my online games. I delegate the boring parts of the game to Paul, feeding my pets for example or setting them up for adoption for me. Some people call it being lazy; I call it, living my life to the fullest, and why not? Mortal lives are short anyway, there is no vampire going to sire me in this world. More is the pity.
That’s why I envelop myself with vampire mythology, vampire movies, haunting music, music boxes, pictures of wolves, bats and gothic castles around the house, thick wine coloured velvet curtains in the living room, old roses in the front garden with lilac and irises. Royal purple walls in the bedroom with a black carpet and red bedding. But not everything about my house is wonderfully gothic; unfortunately, there are a lot of places I need to decorate in order to eradicate the cold ice white walls my mother painted in most of the rooms downstairs. The brown sofa is a far cry from what I think is perfect, but it will do for the time being.
I have owl ornaments everywhere, a box filled with raven feathers, a raven feather silver necklace I wear on very special occasions. I miss the tiger’s eye ring my ex stole from me and the wolf fleece blanket with the midnight blue sky and full moon another ex-took from me. Yes I know, they are just things, but they were mine and I loved them. Especially the ring, that was special – my dad seldom could afford to give me anything with the money my mum would allow him, so anything he gave me was more precious than life’s blood, he gave me that ring, my ex stole it and that hurts.
It wasn’t all that particular ex stole, he stole an heirloom, the ring was an heirloom, he also stole my savings and unbeknownst to my mother at the time I had savings of £12,000 and when he dumped me I had less than £500 left.
It is this ex that made me dominant. After he hurt me and abused me in more ways than one, I became bitter against men in general for about six years, the boyfriends I had before Paul, were all submissive in the BDSM scene. Paul however wasn’t, but he wasn’t prepared to take me as a submissive, he reckoned he saw the true nature of me that was hidden because of abuse. I must admit that I had a lot of my gumption beaten out of me over the years before I met Paul. Since living with Paul the tolerance for other people negative behaviours towards me are at a minimum, boy have I got feisty since meeting Paul and he thinks this is a good thing.
I have a very low tolerance for anyone destroying my peace, destroying what I have accomplished since disowning my mother three years ago, I have a very short fuse for anything that upsets me. Learn what I like, learn my boundaries and we can be very good friends, solid in fact.
I have no qualms telling people that I demand a lot, I demand attention and the best, I demand love, I demand to be considered precious and above all, I demand loyalty not only for me, but my chosen family.
I consider my family as a pack, a clan, a tribe – very similar to how people view vampires, they have their little nest of individuals that stick together, I consider myself and the members of my house to be like this… a solid loyal unit.
I crave a large pack, whether fashioned together with a few like-minded friends or having children and teaching them loyalty and supportiveness of each other.
This is one the most unforgiving things I cannot stand about my mother. The bridges she burned when the family needed her the most, she’s a quitter. I’ve never been a quitter, but thanks to the bridges she burned not a lot of family wants to talk with me anymore, except for my father’s side of the family. They associate me as her little goon, because I was never allowed to leave her side right up until I was 27yrs old, I went everywhere with her, even missing school for home education to be with her, because she demanded it. As far as many relatives and friends were concerned I and my mother seemed close, too close, unnaturally close, so many believed we held the same values. In fact we’re total opposites.
My heart breaks day in and day out because of the family isolation I’ve endured because of her. When granddad was alive, I would be in regular contact of so many relatives, I was socialising at the weekends with the grandchildren of his cousins! Now that’s extensive family for you, what’s more is I was lucky enough as a child to have this happen on both sides of the family. My father’s side of the family are in regular contact with my grandmother’s siblings grandchildren! But again, because my mother isolates herself, she has therefore isolated me and my father from both sides of the family over the years.
I went from having approximately 15 to 20 visitors a week at the house, all different, all relatives, and having up to 18 people visit on Christmas Eve or Christmas Evening, to getting a visitor once a fortnight, the same one or two people and then only 6 for Christmas dinner, then down to just 5 for Christmas dinner and a visit from my brother and his girlfriend once a month.
I have a void that has not been filled since.
This is why I am in the scene, not the Gothic scene, but the BDSM scene. This is why I am so open-minded about open-relationships, I crave a large family and if I can’t make one through having children, then I intend to grow a large network and I think it is very unfair for anyone to try and deny me that.
I love vampires as they are eternally loyal and passionate.

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Tale of a magic daffodil

Fragaria, a little red haired fairy likes to live in gardens, particularly rose gardens, particularly in spring.   She especially loves attending the spring ball even though she never had a date to go with; she’s always with the shrinking violet fays, the shy retiring fays.

One day, just at the beginning of winter this all changed, or so she thought.  A fine young fairy swain zoomed into her life from the snow, or so it seemed.

“Greetings fair maiden” said the white haired gent, taking off his ice capped hat and bowing courteously to her.

She instantly shied away behind a sleeping lilac bush and hoped she would sink into the soil beneath, but she couldn’t, for the ground was frozen solid, so she had to grin and bare this strange newcomer to the garden.

“Hope I didn’t alarm you, there” said the brazen character.

All Fragaria could do was giggle and skip across the garden behind an ash tree.

“Ah, I see, you’d like a game of chase?” asked the stranger.

He quickly ran after her, this frightened Fragaria and she ran across the garden and hid behind flower pots, sleeping rose bushes, garden gnomes and various other objects in order to keep away from this strange, but handsome stalker, but he still wouldn’t quit.  Poor Fragaria tried hard to do away with his advances, she quickly hopped over a large rock but tumbled the wrong way and fell into the half frozen pond and went down with an almighty splash into the icy depths.

The young swain leapt in after her and pulled her out after cutting away some of the algae that tied itself around her legs. 

He wrapped her up in his rabbit skin coat and carried her off to a little clearing in the ivy where he lit up a small fire for her to warm herself up and dry.

The whole time she never spoke to him, both of them were looking at each other apologetically, Fragaria with shy sideways glances and slowly sipping hot cups of rosehip tea.

“What kind of fay are you”?  He eventually asked.

“I was thinking the same of you, but since you asked first, I’m part rose and strawberry fay, strawberry on my father’s side, I’m Fragaria Fraise”.  She proudly announced.

“I’m Hail, I’m a winter fairy” He said, as though she should have known that.

From then onwards their meets were regular and Fragaria became ever more attached to this gentleman, her heart grew light and fluffy with the love that started to grow.

She started planning in her head the ball gown she’ll make for the spring ball, she planned it all completely and she began to quiver with excitement, until the day the snow started to melt.

“I have some bad news for you Fragaria”. Hail reluctantly said.

“In the next few days I’ll have to leave this place and I am not sure when I’ll return, I hope you understand?” said Hail, with all sincerity.

Fragaria immediately felt shattered into a million pieces, she found someone to go to the spring ball with, yet now he has to leave and the spring ball is only a month away she thought.

“I’ll come and fetch you late this afternoon; the sun will be in the perfect spot to start melting those long icicles I told you about and I don’t want you to miss a thing”.  He said, and he skipped away merrily, unknowing of what he had done to poor Fragaria.

Fragaria ran home to her mother in tears. 

“What’s the matter with you dear child?” said Fragaria’s mother. 

“Hail said he is leaving me, now I won’t have anyone to go to the ball with” she wailed.

“Hail? You never mentioned Hai… oh no!” stopped her mother suddenly, she knew what a name like Hail meant; she was a fairy of the world, she knew winter fairies came and went like rain, well, during the winter that is and sometimes late spring snow showers bring them back and hail storms in random times of the year, generally a winter fairy was bad news to the likes of other fairy’s in fact all seasonal fairies were:

“I can’t bare the pain mother; I can’t bare it I tell you”, whimpered Fragaria.

“There, there, I know what we can do if you want this pain to stop and if you’re sure he won’t come back to you” said Fragaria’s mother.

“What? What is it?  I’ll do anything to stop this hurt”. Fragaria begged.

“Luckily I noticed one in full bloom this morning, where the snow melted a few days ago because it gets a lot of sunlight there by the lawn, well anyway there I found it, a DAFFODIL, all you have to do is go and crawl right in and it will sense your pain and it will set things to rights!” said Fragaria’s mother in excitement.

Fragaria looked up at her mother and without a word dashed tearfully through the garden to where her mother had directed her and climbed up into the daffodil and cried herself to sleep.

Fragaria had the most peculiar dream; she dreamt the flower sprayed perfume at her and told her that to put all her woes behind her and that friendship is immortal.

When she woke up, she felt no more pain, but had sunny memories of Hail and her sharing fun in the snow like happy children.

She went home and had a lovely supper, of nettle soup, followed by spiced beetroot salad, when suddenly there was a knock on the door of their little tree house, Fragaria’s mother opened the door to find a crestfallen Hail standing there.

“Are you Hail?” asked Fragaria’s mother. 

“Yes Mrs Fraise, do you know where she is?  I was due to meet with her late this afternoon to look at some icicles melting in the sundown and I noticed a fox going under the garden shed and I got worried for her because she didn’t turn up”.  He said dolefully.

“Don’t worry about a thing, Fragaria is here with us, eating a lovely beetroot salad, but I thought you should know, she’s been to the daffodil about you.” said Mrs Fraise, warningly.

“Oh no, she thought… oh dear no, then I’ll go there myself presently” he said dejectedly. 

Mrs Fraise just stood and nodded.

“That is the best you can do, she’ll never leave the gardens, you know that, it’s in our blood, it’s in all our blood to stay with who we belong, and it’s only fair”.  She said.

Hail agreed and went to the daffodil, where he too had memories of friendship and child games in the snow with Fragaria, and every winter there on in, they met up and played in the snow together, never ever falling in love with each other again… but that was for the best, for they both knew they loved their birth right too much to lose and each found love in their own way eventually.

© Tina Cousins 2013

This story was influenced by the poem I wrote earlier called “The magic daffodil”, it is also semi-influenced by a novel I read last month called “The Snow Child” By Eowyn Ivey.

This idea happened completely at random.  I wrote a poem, the poem sounded like a story and I sat back all day thinking, wow, this needs to become a short story and there it is, right up there, winking at you, my story.

I feel the story was slap dashed, I don’t think it’s well written.  I hoped for it to come across like an old fairy tale, but I am unsure if my voice/style is any good.  But anyway, critics are most welcomed to comment.

I am here to hone my skills, not flaunt them… well, partly so.

 

 

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