Her passion and imagination was so vast and so wild, it came curling from the top of her head ~M.J. FAHEL MCKIMZEY | I'm a brave ragamuffin princess raised in SC! Bookdragon, Blogger, Vlogger Scriptsmith, Artisan ,&; Bard for Christ.

Showing posts with label Visionary Storytime Fridays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Visionary Storytime Fridays. Show all posts

16 May, 2014

Visionary Storytime Fridays - The Shattered Wine Glass

 I informed you about this story on this past Wednesday's post. So, here I am, posting it! I hope you guys enjoy it! (:




Inspired by: Meredith Andrews’s “Worth it All” 

There was a wine glass, favored of the lord of the house. He had created it to shine golden in the sun, and twinkle sapphire in the starlight. At the end of the day, the lord of the house would take a sip of wine in this cup and sit himself down to play his highland. He, himself would wash and dry it by hand, and place it gently in its place, hanging on its own. He was extra careful for he knew its fragility, and knew how precious it was. 

But, one day when he came home for his glass. It was not in its usual place. No, someone had taken it from the shelf. He searched for it and saw it nowhere, having had created it in such a special way it hurt that his unique piece of art was gone. This wine glass, however was taken and stolen away. But, the thief-- a Minotaur, did not see how precious the glass was. For it became like any crystal wine glass for him, conforming to please the thief. He drank merrily with the glass, and other crystal glasses as well. He did not wash it the tenderly and carefully, shoved it into a cupboard. The glass began to crack, slowly and subtly, while the other glasses cracked along with it, as the minotaur became drunk with wine. As he became intoxicated once again in the stormy rain, he lost the precious glass. As the glass rolled down to a muddy path, leading up to the Lord’s house, the water half filled it and it sat there til the sun broke through the next morning. 

That morning, the Lord was taking a walk, and he saw the glass on the path, the shattered places so distinct. His heart broke at the sight of his glass, half full of muddy water. He reached down for the cup and expertly tapped a tender spot. The glass shattered and broke on the path. But a song raised to the Lord’s ears, a broken cry to be mended. He moved his fingers through the air, coloured lights, pink for purity, white for righteousness, sapphire for serenity, and violet for freedom fixed the glass and raised the water high, as he cleansed it, it became pure. He gently tapped the large glob of water transfiguring it to a scarlet liquid, which fell into the mended glass as he took a sip of the singing cup. 

Carrying it to the house, the Lord washed it and dried it, tenderly and gently. Then placing it in its place, he smiled in good pleasure over the glass, now flowing in a new way. Golden flames sapphire water, white, violet and pink lights filling the sky as a sunrise would do. As the lord turned around, and took his seat in the den, he picked up his whistle and played the tunes of the highlands.

24 January, 2014

Visionary Storytime Fridays - Introducing the Hope of Recovery


Light shines brighter at night. These years have proven it so. I am no longer defined by the night. What I did before has been cleansed at the cost of Christ. I am becoming the noble maiden that god longs me to be, but by no means have I been completed. I am restore to who I was to the core, and am slowly drawing nearer to the identity He made in me. However, even in knowing this all to be true, my past still comes to haunt me, and I fear the shadows shall take me again. I am afraid that I'll be so discouraged by the times that, once again, I shall lose recollection, and forget ho I am. I hated my life as it had been when it happened last time. I refuse to return to that lifestyle. But unease and unrest takes my heart, and in their hands they sow hopelessness, shame, a longing for death, and despair. Though such darkness come to snuff it, my candle remains a soft, warm, comforting glow to others, holding me firm in the hope of Christ. But, still, though my flesh threatens to end this suffering this instant, my spirit, my new heart, gently, yet firmly says no. I don't wish to persevere anymore, but I keep hearing kind words urging me on to continue the good fight, push on because it shan't always be like this. But still... Where is this said hope for us all? And then I answer my own question; Our Hope is all around us. He's in our air. He's in the land. He's above, below, beside, and before us. He guides us and is in our very hearts. Immanuel. Jehovah. Yaweh. The Great I AM. Jesus Christ. The WAY, THE TRUTH, & THE LIFE. Amen, it is so. 
As Persephone Smith finished up the script in her journal, in the dimly lit room. She signed her name in beautiful script. Finally sealing the journal with red wax. She raised her head, and faced the mirror, revealing her auburn ringlets cascading as a fountain over her bare shoulders. Deep in the eyes, she saw the sorrow and wildness of a blue-green ocean. Her complexion soft, her skin fair, but thin and light, barely seen scars marred her face, neck, and shoulders. The flowing and wispy material on her form transparently glowed in the candlelight. She smiled warmly and sighed in her heavy heart. The process of her healing was truly on its way, but she was still afraid. The healer's apprentice... The maiden bard... the crippled warrior in recovery. Hope was molding her into maturity, she was still not ready for her calling, wherever it took her. Whatever it was. It was time to wait for the Lord.

"Darkness has no substance of its own"

So the past few days, I have been incredibly productive.  With my mental health sorta going really down after some incredibly unfortunate ci...