About Sinister Tidings

Here you will find a collage of likes and dislikes from RTS’ Spyder Collins. The primary focus is to bring fun and indie flashes of art and not so mainstream artists. There is nothing fancy, revealing, political or otherwise world shaping. Just things, introductions, reminiscing and fun in the world of literature, art and music, to which I hope you enjoy and find some pleasure in.

Friday, May 31, 2013

Storystarter



My muse has been somewhat unpredictable of late. She comes by with ideas and sparks and then as I progress, she seems to lose interest and wanders about. This has been the course of her inspiration for three started but yet completed tales of horror and mayhem.

Her latest jest, Mother of Gothic Angels, pits a nasty little angel against her well-to-do angel of a sister. Mind you they are both angels but even angels can be naughty from time to time. After all, it is angels that carry out the dark deeds of God, should there ever be a need for such activities. 

“Laments of the Wicked ascend as the silence remains tethered until the Rapture.”

So, with a tickle of my fancy and a road to travel, I ventured. I hit a few stop signs along the way of course. The first few were easily conquered. Nothing more than a simple refresh, drink of jaunt about the web tending to RTS duties. Then back to the keyboard, my muse and the story.

Radiant leaned back against the marble pillar, she allowed her long and milky thigh to show as the slit in her gown fell over her. Desire smiled as she peered longingly at Radiant’s thigh. It wasn’t proper but at the moment in time, she really wasn’t concerned. After all, who was there to scold her, certainly not Mother.
The cries subsided if only for a moment. Radiant stood upright as if the silence surprised her. It shouldn’t, as it came every hour. That one moment in each hour, that someone wasn’t taking their own life. The sin of which is one that is not tolerable and bears an ugly fate but they lament for the Angels to soothe them. A soothing that would never come, this Radiant knew but she wondered if the damned were aware of this truth or not.
The cries, they returned and Radiant was no longer amused. The silence that brought a sparkle to her eye quickly went away as the moans flooded her ears once more. She leaned back against the marble pillar and allowed her thigh to partake in the warmth rising from a distant hell.”

Of course, I ventured deeper into the tale but not quite to the defining end of the short but hopefully (one-day) complete tale. I wonder often if others share similar moods from their muse and if there is any advice, please do share -

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