Turquoise Dragon

His serpentine body coiled beneath the gentle water, it broke into wavelets over his body. Long had he lain there, sleeping, sleeping the deep sleep of the ancient. Grains of sand, barnacles, human feet and starfish caught on his scales adding to his ancient being. He didn’t mind. As long as all above him thought him a reef, he was content to sleep. Then there was her. He sensed her approach every day, his dreams were filled with the siren call of her innocence, her ancient bloodline. He had waited long for his rider to return to physical form, to become alive again. She didn’t know him, his dreams would sing when she did. When she saw him with her heart then, and only then, would he rise from his slumber and call his kind back to the air. For now, the waves continued to swish against his barnacled body and the steam from his nostrils rose to the sky as clouds.


Written in response to : ermiliablog.wordpress.com/category/picture-it-write/

Fire on Fingers

Ancient memories stirred within my heart. The world blurred and ran like colours in the rain. Deep within I felt the call of the universe, I felt it burn and coil through my being. Suddenly, without warning, the fire leapt to my fingertips as it scorched through my being called there by some ancient connection to a long lost world.

“Uriel, my fire”, the words whispered through my veins. “Uriel, it is time to remember.”

My cloak fell away as wings sprouted from my spine. Before me the world shrank away, beneath me the soil glowed as fire engulfed my being.

People shrank away from me, the heavens opened above connected with Earth through the pillar of fire I had become. With a mighty heave I lifted away from Earth and rejoined the light.

“Home,” sighed my being.

“Uriel,” whispered the light.

“Uriel,” shouted the masses.

“I am Uriel, Fire of God, and these are my memories. You are my chosen channel to write my words.” The words flow from angel to me.

As I type the fire floods through my veins and lights my keyboard. As it burns my resistance away I feel the power of Uriel merge with my own small being.

What am I? Who am I? What am I becoming??

11th December 2011
From Picture it & Write 11th December 2011.

Into the Bottles of Light


My contribution to “Picture it & Write”. For those who know “Aura-Soma” this little story may make sense. Come and play on “Picture it & Write” it is fun.

Written by Lee-Anne

The bottle sat on the table in front of me, sweet pink and gold. “Trust, bottle 76” the words went round and round in my head. There was an energy there, a shimmering, love and wisdom and small spots of something hiding in the shimmer. As I focused, closer and closer, the spots became shapes, four shapes, moving out of the line between the two levels of the bottle. Words whispered in my head, the world spun, the person opposite me disappeared and I fell into Trust.
There the gold was liquid desert, the sky pink above me. Walking towards me was my husband, my pet dog Rodriguez, my Mum and Sam, my best friend from high school. The shimmered out of the pink sky and stood by my side. Tears flowed, trust, they whispered. We are here, loving you, guiding you and bringing you safely home. The colours are the key.
Self love, self worth, let go of the guilt. Allow the love to fall around you. Feel how complete you become when the love falls around you. Be gentle with yourself. Give you time. The girl sitting opposite you needs to hear that her daughter is okay. The image on the screen was caused by a bug in the imaging system. Her baby will be born fine and healthy. She will sing, just as her mother does, and dance too. Trust.
Golden wisdom lights your path. Choose to walk knowing your every step is guided. Abundant wisdom surrounds you. Draw from the deep well of wisdom within the very centre of your being, draw from there, know the inner wisdom of you is enough. Trust.
They hugged me and I hugged them right back. Tears coursed down my face. Suddenly the warm, liquid sand was gone, the sky was overhead lighting in the long hall and the bottle sat in front of me. The young girl opposite was in tears, her head in her hands as she sobbed.
“Thank you,” she said, “just to know the baby will be okay is enough. To know she will dance and sing, is more than I could have hoped for.”
She stood to go, paid across her money and handed me a card, her business card. I sat, stunned, not knowing what had happened. Had she been transported into the bottle with me? Had I spoken out loud all that was being said? What had just happened? I didn’t ask, I just sat. Then I looked at the card, the girl was a famous singer and dancer, world famous.
All I could think was I should have got her autograph. The bottle glowed gently on the table, pink and gold, shimmering and benign. The queue in front of me grew, one by one the readings continued, bottle after bottle, falling into colour, falling out of colour, remembering nothing.