Cindy Vallar Author, Columnist, & Editor

The silent stillness beckons the writer. Silvery moonlight illuminates ink and paper. Shadows flitter across the mind’s eye as the feather quill scratches hurriedly lest inspiration vanish like magic. Eerie creaks raise goose flesh and shivers, but the welcoming arms of raven-blue darkness cradle and nourish body and soul. Neither endings nor beginnings, but contradictions.  Images inspire horror and suspense or mystery and romance.

Spidery tendrils of weeping willows waft in the breeze. An unseen owl hoots and a lone wolf howls. Two cloaked figures glide through brewing mist. Iron hinges of a long-forgotten crypt screech like the keening wail for lost souls. Flickering candlelight beckons from within. Dust entombs the marble-topped altar. Cobwebs cleave to tarnished sconces. The heady fragrance of red roses dispels the suffocating mustiness. Ossiferous fingers caress words etched on paired tombstones.

Raina beloved of Thorn

Thorn beloved of Raina

Two shimmering wraiths meld into one as if one enfolds the other within an ethereal embrace.

The first ray of dawn scatters contradictions like a puff of wind disperses whispery white dandelion seeds. The brittle remnants of the writer’s conjuring shatter into crystals of black ice. The brilliant light is momentary, for midnight dreaming lurks, a chimera of fantasy and illusion.

The Traveller (In the style of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales) © 1974 Cindy Aker The traveller clad in a suit and tie Carries a camera with an electric eye. Wearing sunglasses to hide the glare, He roams the world without a care. He walks the streets of Paris and Rome, Visiting cities and hillsides, but never his home. His stride and his manner more befitting a king As he spreads the word, doing his thing. Telling and showing his brotherly love His symbol of peace, a snow-white dove. Yet he finds that he is always alone Never able to make friends of his own. He travels forever all over the world. Without a companion to help spread the word.

Sunset © 1976 Cindy Aker Standing on the soft golden sand Is a solitary figure Gazing toward the setting sun on the horizon. The solitary figure wades in the water Hearing only the quiet rippling of the outgoing tide And the call of the sea gulls heading home. A gentle, yet cooling breeze blows As the solitary figure faces the sea And slowly walks toward the setting sun.

Feelings of Loneliness © 1977 Cindy Aker A ship sailing on the high seas, An athlete trying to set a world record, A pilot taking his first solo flight, A writer sitting at his typewriter, A teacher facing her first class, An astronaut circling the Earth, A person without a friend, A couple on a blind date, A graduate about to face the world, All know the feeling of loneliness.

In the early hours of the morning, as dawn visits the sea, I walk along the beach letting my mind wander in reflection. The ocean is subject to changes in moods, just as people are. One day it can be active and dynamic; the next it is quiet and peaceful. The color and light reflected in the water reveals the beauty of nature. Here I can be alone with my thoughts or share them with God. It's also a place I can go to escape the hectic pace of life. I dream of romantic adventures upon the high sea. The ocean at dawn is a place I can spend quiet hours with someone special, enjoying the peace and beauty of God's world in silence.