The Duchess's Desk

Through the shadows of darkness, I have searched, Listening to the silence of the night for any trace of you.  Deep down, I have always known the painful truth. I am not worthy of you, and I never will be. I continue to wait patiently, though you never come. Yet, this knowledge carves a hollow ache within me.  The longing burns brighter with every passing moment, while despair grips my heart in a relentless embrace.  My soul wrestles with hope and resignation, a bittersweet agony that consumes me.

Random musings here... I'm feeling tired.  The kind of tired where you just don't want to leave the comfort of your bed, let alone conquer the day and deal with all the exhausting "adulting" stuff—that just isn’t fun anymore. The kind of tired where you dread leaving the house, and once you're out, your mind spirals into endless chaos... like having 100 tabs open at once, all competing for attention. The kind of tired where, deep down, you want to grab your purse and take on the world like the  women in Hallmark movies—but knowing my luck, I'd get lost, fall off a cliff, end up with amnesia, and eventually get eaten by a bear. But even tired, I will keep moving forward. Because I'm a Steinmetz, and we don’t stop. I've got my family and friends, and really, that’s all I need.

Hidden within the enchanting Lost Gardens of Heligan in Cornwall lies the Mud Maid, a breathtaking sculpture that embodies the beauty and mystery of nature. This unique creation captures the essence of a sleeping maiden, her serene form blending seamlessly within the earth that surrounds her.  What makes the Mud Maid truly remarkable is her dynamic, ever-changing appearance. Crafted from a mixture of soil, clay, and plants, she is adorned with seasonal growth that transforms her throughout the year. In spring and summer, she comes alive with vibrant green grass, ivy, and moss, giving her a lush and ethereal look. As autumn approaches, her foliage turns golden and russet, mirroring the changing leaves of the surrounding gardens. During winter, her form becomes bare and subdued, evoking a sense of quiet dormancy. The Mud Maid is more than a sculpture; she is a living testament to the relationship between art and nature. Created by artists Sue and Pete Hill, she has become an iconic f...

Part I: Arrival Blackwood Manor stood at the edge of the small, fog-drenched town of Ravenswood, a towering edifice of Gothic architecture that seemed to cast a shadow over the surrounding landscape. For years, it had been abandoned, its dark windows staring out like the eyes of a forgotten ghost. The townsfolk whispered about it, speaking of strange occurrences and spectral sightings. Few dared to venture near, and those who did never stayed long. Dr. Eleanor Hawthorne was not one to be swayed by local superstition. An esteemed historian and author, she was fascinated by the manor's rich history and the legends that surrounded it. Her latest book project required an in-depth study of Blackwood Manor, and she intended to spend several weeks living there to gather firsthand accounts and uncover the truth behind the tales. As Eleanor drove her dusty blue sedan up the long, winding driveway, she couldn't help but feel a shiver of excitement. The manor loomed ahead, its spires pier...

Vlad changed me so that he wouldn’t be alone either—so that I could walk through the centuries with him. Immortal. Eternal. Bound by blood and oath. He said it was love. Said he’d never want to lose me to time, to death. I believed him. Foolish, I know now. Because eternity with someone is not the same as being loved by them through eternity. He made me his bride in the shadows, his companion through wars and empires, through endless sunrises I could no longer feel. But it was never enough. Not when she came back. His beloved. His true wife, he called her. Reincarnated again and again—always born anew while I remained the same. He would find her in every lifetime, like clockwork, his obsession drawing him across continents to search for her soul in another face. And he always left me. Always. He’d tell me it was temporary, just until she died again. “A mortal life is but a blink,” he’d say, touching my cheek, eyes full of sorrow I didn't want. “Wait for me, my love.” So I did. I al...

The sun shone brightly overhead as Michael McLeod sat at a table outside a small café in the heart of New York. In front of him lay an art pad, the face of a woman he had seen in his dreams every night staring back at him. He sipped his coffee, ate the bagel beside his paper, and stared intently into her eyes, just as he did every night in his dreams. Her long brown hair framed her heart-shaped face, and her bright blue eyes were the most beautiful he had ever seen. His dreams varied: one moment they were making love, the next they were surrounded by fire, with her left standing alone in the middle of a cold, dark room. That was how the dreams always ended, and they drove him insane. No matter how hard he tried to change the way they ended, it always ended the same—separated by fire. Michael looked up when the waitress brought him a fresh cup of coffee. “Oh, she’s beautiful. Do you know her?” she asked. He smiled and took a sip, speaking with his thick Scottish accent, “Only in my drea...

The sun was dipping low in the sky, painting the lush garden in hues of amber and gold. Isabelle sat on the edge of the stone fountain, her flowing sundress catching the soft breeze. Her bare feet rested on the cool stones, her toenails painted a delicate shade of pink that gleamed like tiny petals in the fading light. Across the garden, Luca watched her. He always noticed the little things about her—the way she laughed with her whole body, the way her hair caught the sunlight, and yes, the way her feet seemed to dance lightly on the earth, as if the world existed just to cradle them. “Are you going to keep staring, or are you going to join me?” Isabelle teased, her lips curling into a playful smile. Luca approached, his steps slow and deliberate. The scent of jasmine filled the air, mingling with the faint sweetness of her perfume. He crouched before her, his hands resting on the cool edge of the fountain. “You’ve been walking barefoot again,” he said, nodding toward her feet. “I like...

This short story is based on a zombie dream I had. Hey there, my name is Lola Dirkenwood. Have you ever heard of the television show The Walking Dead ? Yeah, well, me too. It's a shame I never watched it or any other zombie movies. Personally, I’m heading to the nearest store and grabbing all those damn zombie movies, watching them one after another. Why? Well, had I known I would be stuck in a college filled with zombies, I would have been taking notes on surviving a freakin’ zombie apocalypse! Let me start from the beginning... I used to go to college at a private school somewhere in Vermont called Crestwood Academy, now renamed Zombiewood. The college was basically for prodigies, or so they claimed. For some crazy reason, my folks and the people running the place thought I was a prodigy because I can play a song without reading sheet music and have even come up with a few classical pieces of my own. Whatever... anyway, there was one building that was off-limits to students unles...

One dark, cold night, I saw a shadow move across the moon. Nervously, I hurried across the yard, racing toward the closed front door. The wind howled through the trees, and a chill swept through the air, sending a shiver down my spine. My fingers trembled as I fumbled with the keys in my pocket, eager to get inside, away from whatever eerie presence lingered in the darkness. Before I could unlock the door, I heard a movement behind me. A hand was placed on my shoulder, sending a jolt of terror through my body. I spun around and screamed, but my voice faltered as I came face to face with a man. He was tall, dark, and handsome, an unsettling yet captivating presence. His clothing was all black, from the long leather jacket that hugged his broad shoulders to the black silk shirt that shimmered in the pale moonlight. His black leather pants and boots completed the striking look. His hair, long and flowing past his muscular shoulders, seemed to absorb the night around him, almost as if he w...

Discussions about the compatibility of Christianity and magic often evoke strong reactions, with some asserting that the two are inherently incompatible.  Statements like "Christians stole holidays from Pagans" or "You can't be about Jesus and be a witch" reflect the tension between traditional religious practices and modern interpretations of spirituality. However, history tells a more nuanced story. Contrary to popular belief and the opinions of many Christian leaders, magic has coexisted with Christianity for centuries. In fact, many Christians throughout history have embraced magical practices, integrating them into their faith.  Scholars of religious studies emphasize that defining what constitutes "proper" Christianity shouldn't be left solely to church authorities.  Instead, the lived experiences and beliefs of ordinary Christians—often referred to as "popular religion"—provide valuable insight into the ways Christianity and magic ...

Part 1: The Ex-Cat Lady The sky is a deep, dark blue as storm clouds move into the small town where I currently reside. A storm is expected, or so says the local weatherman on the 6 pm news, though he's been wrong before. I'm sitting on the front porch swing, eating an apple and watching people scramble around their front yards, trying to bring in their yard decorations before the strong winds arrive with the storm. I live in a strange neighborhood in a house I inherited from my grandparents. Granted, I've lived here my whole life since they raised me from childhood, but to others, this neighborhood is considered normal. To me, however, life here feels incredibly odd. You see, I'm Miss Antisocial when it comes to some of the nosy neighbors, especially the ones on my street. My Grams used to tell me to lighten up and enjoy the unusualness of the neighborhood... though "unusualness" is just another word for weird, in my humble opinion. I live with my three furry...