Colleen’s Weekly #Poetry Tuesday Challenge: EERIE & COSTUME


This week the prompt words are eerie and costume but there’s a catch, Colleen has asked us to use synonyms.

To join in Colleen’s challenge follow the link:

Here is a relevant passage from my novel The Curse of Time – Book 1 – Bloodstone to set the tone for the poetry.

I sensed a change in the dream when a strange creature appeared. His body and features fused together with rotten flesh, matted mud, skin, and protruding bones. The creature did not speak. His silent presence terrified me, and I shivered.
The beast stood motionless and pointed a bony finger at the ground. Fear clenched at my heart. A flood of messages bombarded my brain. Warning signals went off suggesting a multitude of horrible intentions that the creature may have in store for me.
A tremor shook my body, and my teeth chattered. My ears rang with the sound of the earth cracking below my feet. It meant that I had left it too late to run. My eyes fell downwards as the world tilted on its axis, and the realisation came to me that the only way out was via a slide which suddenly appeared at my feet.
With one glance, I could tell the slide had a definite beginning but no visible end. I placed a tentative step onto the slide. The minute I touched it I knew no time for fear. I swallowed hard and plunged into the darkness, sliding into oblivion. Every emotion I possessed had compressed into mere seconds – a momentary adrenalin rush. Sensations continued like the aftermath of the wildest rollercoaster ride. Fuelled by fear, it sent my senses reeling, the ultimate blood pounding, stomach churning thrill.
I slipped down the slide and landed onto a stone floor, yet it cushioned my landing, like a silky feather down quilt. No longer afraid of the shadows, I felt welcomed, at home. With wide-eyed astonishment, I took in the magnificent interior of the Crystal Cottage. Gems, in a myriad of welcoming shades, purple Amethyst, white Quartz, red Jade, blue Topaz, covered the walls. A riot of colours reflected in the facets of the crystals which welcomed me with their brightness. This magnificent display promised more, luminous lights twinkled and burst forth from each separate gem in a firework-like extravaganza. I gasped. My breath caught in my throat, and I glanced down at my hands. They were sparkling as if they had touched an enormous glitter ball. A crystalline light bounced off the walls of the cottage, finding a resting place on my face. The brilliant light caressed me.
My heart filled with wonder at this miraculous event and I wished the exquisiteness of the moment would last forever. I willed this spectacle to carry on, and on, but the glowing display tapered off. The colours became darker, and glimmers of the crystals’ bright lights darkened to a menacing black, then lightened to a grey, washed-out colour, before turning a muddy brown.
In horror, I could feel the skin on my face puckering like an orange peel stripped of all moisture. My body shivered, and I shook. I stirred in my sleep, suspended in the haze of the dream. I struggled to remain, not wanting to leave the beauty and comfort of the Crystal Cottage. So, I remained, floating in the abyss, fearful but longing to find out more.

© M J Mallon 2017. All Rights Reserved


The Creature

The Creature 

His ensemble reeks,

Of graves, and forgotten things,

An unearthly vibe,

Matted hair, and worms for flesh,

Beside such crystal splendour.


Oh how I love the creature! Love all my characters! Hope you enjoyed the passage and the tanka. If you’d like to read more or buy a copy of The Curse of Time – book 1 – Bloodstone here’s the link:



I am currently working hard on the paperback and hope that it will be ready for launch by the end of November/beginning of December.

Wish me luck!

Bye for now,




My social media links:

Authors/Bloggers Rainbow Support Club

Twitter: @Marjorie_Mallon  and @curseof_time





Fellow Administrators of our Authors Bloggers Rainbow Support Club #ABRSC on Facebook, myself, my good friends Colleen Chesebro and Debby Gies. Click on Colleen’s and Debby’s photos to be directed to their awesome blogs. These ladies rock!




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#Blog Battle – Week 21 – Writing Theme Eye

Well it’s time for another Blog Battle, if you haven’t come across Rachael Ritchey’s  Blog Battles here’s your chance to join in this fun community of writers.

This link will take you to her blog battle page:

The rules are:

Week 21 Theme will be Eye

Date to Post: Tuesday, August 4th 2015


  1. 1000 words max
  2. fictional tale (or true if you really want)
  3. PG (no more than PG-13) Content – let’s keep this family friendly!
  4. Your story must contain the word(s) from the theme and/or be centered around the theme in a way that shows it is clearly related
  5. Go for the entertainment value!
  6. Post your story by Tuesday 11:59 PM PST
  7. Use the hashtag #BlogBattle when tweeting your story, put a link back to your #BlogBattle Short Story in the comments section of this page, and/or include a link to this page in your own blog post (it creates a “ping-back” which will alert me and our friends to your #BlogBattle post)
  8. Have fun!

This is a new piece of writing, it is a continuation idea from my first manuscript which is open ended and could become a series of books. If I wrote a second novel I would like the male character to develop his wicked side so this is a short unedited snippet from an idea I have. I hope you like it! This is probably more a YA plus or New Adult type of idea rather than a children’s book!



The Eye of the Shadow

Bethany always came to the same spot to read her book, the quietest corner of the park near her University campus. Today she saw that this favourite spot had been invaded by  a strange person who she had never seen before. She considered moving elsewhere but Bethany couldn’t bring herself to move away.

The sunlight drifted over the young man, a warm caress lingered on his upper body, savouring him. He was stripped to the waist, his back lay like a half completed painting, a terrible deed still to be done. She imagined finishing his painting. Each exquisite brush stroke could become a wicked promise, or a sweet memory Bethany couldn’t begin to decide which of the two would be more likely.

At this moment Bethany spectacled eyes found no appeal in her chosen book, she did the unforgiveable, the unthinkable, this socially awkward book-worm pretended to read! She just couldn’t keep her eyes from the young man. It was too easy to stare at such a beautiful someone who lay face down in the grass. She felt a delicious sense of wickedness staring at his muscular but lean body. A flood of hesitant shadows drifted spreading their eerie pictures on the sunny grass.

He turned around. She didn’t have time to look away, his motion had been lightning quick, as if he hoped to catch her staring at him basking in the sun. He caught her guilt straight in the eye, and sent it back to her in an unexpected ricochet. He didn’t look down or away, no attempt was made by him to play such a game, his eyes bore into her soul, and rested there imprisoned in her cluttered thoughts. His gaze was so arresting that she was certain that she had forgotten how to breathe. She gasped. A second or two passed by but she could swear that he still held her soul in his dark green eyes, resting like a tiny glimmer of crystal light, a blink and she was sure that it would be gone.

She had no idea what his face looked like, all she could see were his eyes, his beautiful eyes, cruel and gentle, dark and bright.

He stood up in one quick fluid movement, his agility reminiscent of a sleek panther, and then he smiled. Bethany saw the smile. The eyes told her to. She wasn’t sure if his mouth was forming a nice smile but somehow it didn’t matter. She wanted to capture that smile and plant it in her memory for later.

“Hello,” he said, delivering each syllable like a warning.

Bethany swallowed. She tried to return his uncertain gift of a smile but the smile that she would give appeared to have been swallowed, along with her words. She coughed and said nothing. A dry sensation lodged in her throat.

He walked over and stood directly in front of her. Now his eyes implored her to see his jet black hair, shining like a panther’s, willing her to touch it.

She trembled, the forgotten book slipped from her grasp, she reached out and stroked his hair. There was an expression of fear trapped in her eyes, but a desperate need in her shaking hands.

He picked up her book and glanced at it, turning the pages absent-mindedly as if he was searching for an answer to a question that he had posed. After a short while he grew restless and began clawing at the pages of her book until he threw it away in irritation. His temper lashed out, a cruel, forgotten wind that subsided before it began.

Bethany couldn’t believe it. Now her precious book meant nothing to her, yet a moment ago it had been her heart. He sat next to her, this book mauler, this uninvited marauder who dared to touch a loose strand of her hair and place it behind her ear. She did nothing to stop him, instead she stared into his eyes and plunged into their delightful but horrifying depths.

She could feel a tumbling sensation, as if she was falling down a long corridor. The corridor was narrow, wide, long, short, straight, and bending. The next thing she knew the tumbling sensation slammed to a complete and endless halt. She stood up, but her legs didn’t remember how to. She meant to run away but he kissed her, his lips hard and soft, apologetic and unrelenting. Her knees betrayed her giving way, buckling under, an independent component of her body.

The corner of his mouth twitched, an almost imperceptible motion but his eyes gave her a sensuous message before she had even imagined the possibility. She swore that she could hear a tiny purring sound, a throaty tender note that slipped into the heady air. He claimed her from the summer breeze as if she was a precious prize and laid her on the warm grass planting tiny kisses on her. The flood of hesitant shadows stretched their eerie long limbs reaching further into the untamed wilderness of grass.

“Who are you?” she breathed whimpering.

“I’m the Shadow you’ve been hiding from,” he replied.

She looked up at the sky, the sun was still out yet shadows danced and played all around them. She felt a strange sensation invade her body, a coldness swept deep within her soul, plunging her into a strange but welcome melancholy.

“It’s alright,” he said, his voice sounding regretful, but certain, “You and I are bonded by our shadows. Don’t be afraid. There’s no need to fight, that moment is forever gone.”

The richness of his voice inflamed her cold body, this purring black demon’s tongue struck a chord in her pounding heart.

He kissed her one last time. A tender kiss. Then it was complete.

Now he smiled, and frowned. “Welcome.”


© Marjorie Mallon 2015 – aka, Kyrosmagica. All Rights Reserved.

I hope you enjoyed my entry for #Blog Battle. Do leave a comment I’d love to hear your opinion on my latest piece of writing for the #Blog Battle.


Marje @ Kyrosmagica xx


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