Her people came from the place where the mist rests on the turf and the ladder to and from the heavens can unfurl. It was where they all still lived.
It breathes, mist does. The fog kisses the lungs in moisture like that from which all of them had come: the womb, the sea, the ocean sky.
Alana still dreamed of days before her mind awoke to awareness. Cocooned inside her mother, growing to the beat of steady drums and gurgling songs.
“Wombs are portable heaven,” her grandmother said, the peat spade matching her words thump to thunk. “All is created. All is attended to. All is removed that no longer belongs. it is magic personified.”
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About Sue Vincent
Sue Vincent is a Yorkshire-born writer and one of the Directors of The Silent Eye
, a modern Mystery School. She writes alone and with Stuart France,
exploring ancient myths, the mysterious landscape of Albion and the inner journey of the soul. Find out more at France and Vincent
. She is owned by a small dog who also blogs.
Follow her at scvincent.com
and on Twitter @SCVincent
. Find her books on Goodreads
and follow her on Amazon
worldwide to find out about new releases and offers. Email: email@example.com.
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