Farrier's Fate

The heavy scent of sulfur filled his nose when he walked into the barn. An icy chill slid down his spine as he raised his lantern. A figure stood in the center of the barn. The farrier moved toward it. “You sent for me, sir?”

The figure in black let out a breath from the stump of his neck. Once there was a head there surely. Now only gore and bone, the creature gave off an odor of decay mixed with rose petals. He raised his arm and extended a long finger toward a stall.

The farrier nodded with a half bow before moving to it. He never knew how to address the coachman. The thing must have some kind of supernatural sight to guide The Black Coach on its nightly collection of spirits.

The beast in the stall raised its head as the farrier stepped into its domain. Its muscles flexed under the onyx skin as a hoof stomped and scraped the wood floor.

He reached out a hand and stroked the nightmare's neck. It turned a blood red eye to meet his. The farrier looked away before it could see into his soul. Those eyes could make a man relive his deepest pain.

He set down the bag of tools and pulled on the thick heatproof gloves. They were cumbersome at times but better to deal with the discomfort and aggravation of the gloves than to have his hands burnt with the heat the beasts gave off.

Perhaps it was the heat of their bodies that caused the metal to twist and warp on their hooves.  Their manes and tails looked like hellfire dancing as they ferried the coach. Fables have said they were fallen souls such as him. Others guess they were created from hellfire in the great pit. Or perhaps it was better not to know. His soul knew too much of this place already.

He lifted the hoof between his thighs to examine the warped metal shoe. As he worked to reshoe the demon horse his mind recalled the night the coach came for him. Not to take him to the next life, that would have been a blessing.

He stood over the corpses, his hands dripped in blood and gore. The last victim had taken their final breath and he stood over the body, to watch the eyes fade as the soul left the body. It was then he heard the thunder of hoof beats.

He turned and ran down the alleyway, turned corner after corner until the sound faded. When his lungs started to burn he stopped and leaned against a trash bin to catch his breath. He was sure he’d escaped his fate. Until he felt the darkness around him move.

The farrier looked down the alley and there sitting at the end, waiting for him. The Black Coach, the nightmares stomped and shifted impatient to get on with their task.

The Coachman walked headless over the cobbled ground toward the farrier. What happened next was too much for his mind to bare remembering.

The Coachman’s cold fingers sunk into his body and tore out his coward’s spine.

 The dark creature now used it for his whip. The farrier was cursed to serve The Black Coach until his soul paid for his evil deeds.

He finished with the last tack and dropped the hoof with hands that trembled. He gathered his tools quickly to go back into his abyss until the next time he was needed. This would be his fate for a long time to come.

Jewelry and books from the heart

Cly's Oceans Apart Clay Creations Necklace 

Fairy Tales and Jewelry is an Esty shop filled with enchanting necklaces, earrings, and more. The beautiful jewels are handcrafted by 82 year old Chuck Young.

Mr. Young has always been a creative. He works with wood designing and building everything from cabinets to delicate scrollwork. He found another love in crafting one of a kind jewelry creations for JLB Creatives Fairy Tales and Jewelry shop.

Mr. Young’s creativity rubbed off on his daughters, Janet Beasley and Dar Bagby both authors and creatives in their own rights. Janet is author of the best selling enchanted fantasy Hidden Earth series and CEO of JLB Creatives Publishing.

Dar, has a musical talent with a degree in music: vocal performance, she is an accomplished operatic soprano. Now she’s closed the curtains and turned her muse to writing. She is also the head of JLB Creatives Publishing’s editing department.

I have to say this is a family full of talent and great heart. They’re wonderful folk who make you feel like you’ve known them half your life just after meeting them.

Mr. Young’s jewelry is special for another reason. His darling wife Marilyn is also has medical needs. The

Cly's Pink Shadows of Desire Clay Creations Earrings 

proceeds of these handcrafted treasures help to meet those needs. The jewelry is an expression of Mr. Young’s creative talent as well as his heart for his lovely wife of 63 years.

I personally have two of Mr. Young’s pieces and love them to bits. They fit my personality perfectly and get tons of compliments whenever I wear them.

The designs are fun and there’s something to go with any outfit for any occasion. Not to mention links to the epic enchanted fantasy Hidden Earth series. So what are you waiting for go shopping already!

You can find Janet's books and other great reads at JLB Creatives.com

Canvas: Blogging A to Z Letter C

The brush gently moved over the worn canvas bringing back the vibrancy of the colors. The long hours of 

restoration extending the life of the vision before him. In a way she had been captured too. Ethan sat back and stretched, he’d been sitting for hours at the easel. The beautiful woman rendered before him was a familiar face.

One he had thought he’d forgotten. “How cruel can our memories be? To block something for so long, and then let it all rush back in a moment.”

Lightly his fingers traced over the long hair of the woman in the painting. She was so passionate. He could still feel the press of her lips on his as he closed his eyes. Those sweet kisses soon turned to curses.

He was to blame, of that there was no doubt. She thought he had eyes only for her and really he’d had eyes for Selena, her sister, and a few other ladies of the square.

For being so giving with others she had him cursed. Something he laughed at until the next sunrise.

A glance at the clock made him sigh. He covered the canvas to protect it during the day. He could feel the dawn coming, Ethan wondered if this is what vampires felt as the sun began to break the edge of the sky. 

He walked out onto the balcony and watched the sky begin to turn from darkness into brilliant light. The world waking. A familiar tingle began as the first rays touched land. Slowly he began to fade. The brighter the sun became the less of him there was to see.

When the last of night had been sent on its way Ethan had gone back to his canvas. His physical body was taken not to be returned until sunset. During the day he hung above the mantel. A modern looking man in a Renaissance decorated room. The brass plate on the frame says Ethan Osborne 1437.

To live forever, days trapped in a canvas world. Night brings freedom to walk the earth. That is his curse for breaking the heart of a witch.  

Gladiator's Pen Reviews: Keldane the Cursed by Jeffery Hollar

Keldane the Cursed authored by Jeffery Hollar, is a fun quirky tale of a boy who is the son of the greatest wizard in the land, but… isn’t so great with magic himself. The book is a bit youthful for me I’m not a YA reader really but I enjoyed a few laugh-out-loud moments at Keldane’s expense as he gets into mess after mess with his companion, a vampire bat named Barnabus.

My son who is 15 also gave Keldane a gander. He said he enjoyed the read and would read more Keldane adventures.

The Gladiators give Keldane the Cursed four shields. 

Book Blurb

Did you ever wish you had the ability to use magic and cast spells to do anything you wanted to? Well, so does Keldane. Unfortunately, just being the son of the most powerful magic user the world has ever known doesn’t come with any guarantees. It’s not without very good cause he’s known to his classmates as Keldane the Cursed.

Excerpt

 The boy rose from the stool he’d been sitting on and bowed his back as he stretched. His spine cracked loudly with the relief of stiffness the stretch provided. He thought, for not the first time ever or even the first time today, ‘My father is going to kill me!’

His gaze returned to the pages of the enormous book on the workbench before him. The runes all seemed to flow together in a jumbled mess. With a sigh of frustration, he

slammed shut the cover of the grimoire. A plume of dust billowed from the ancient book causing him to sneeze violently and repeatedly.

“It’s no use guys. I can’t find what I need in this stupid book! I’ve been through it over and over and it’s just not here!”

He spoke to the two animals sitting on the table in front of him. The large greenish frog, Desmond, looked at him with a mournful gaze and croaked softly. The ginger cat, Lydia, looked at Keldane with a malevolent gaze, her tail swishing angrily from side to side.

“You guys KNOW transmogrification isn’t my best subject. I’d change you back in a second if I could only remember the bloody spell.”

The frog croaked more loudly and the cat hissed menacingly as if to say nothing was Keldane’s “best subject”. Although he was the son of THE most powerful wizard in history, Keldane was, unfortunately, so inept even his wizarding instructors openly referred to him as Keldane the Cursed.

*While it’s unlikely your father would actually kill you, I doubt he’ll be pleased with this latest in a long series of disappointments.*

The boy glanced up to the rafters at the immense vampire bat hanging there.

“Barnabas, you HAVE to help me!” the boy moaned, “You’ve served our family for over 20 years. There has to have been a problem like this happen before.”

*No, I don’t think any of your siblings quite managed an embarrassment of this caliber. Although I’m not especially hungry, I suppose it’d be easiest to just suck them dry and you can toss the remnants into the rubbish bin. No one need be the wiser.*

Neither the frog nor the cat was privy to the exchange between the boy and his bat, but they WERE both a bit on edge. Thusly, neither was as surprised as one might expect when the bat swooped down to feed.

Before Keldane could intervene, his friends took matters into their own hands, so to speak. Barnabas learned firsthand why they called them “catlike reflexes” as Lydia ignominiously slapped him out of the air. Desmond jumped on to the chest of the dazed bat and held him down while Lydia, daintily, tore his head from his leathery shoulders.

Both animals settled back on to the bench with expressions simply daring Keldane to protest.

“Yes indeed. My father IS going to kill me.” The boy mused as he plopped back down on the stool.

Where to find Keldane the Cursed and Jeffrey Hollar

Jeff’s Blog: The Latinum Valult

Amazon

B&N

Kobo