Tag Archives: M

‘Memory’ #AtoZChallenge

Why does a building in ruin speak so directly to me? What allure does a dank, musty corridor hold that a newer structure lacks? Beyond being one who embraces her wanderlust, I’m also drawn to the decay and sense of abandonment such places effuse. What stories have they to tell, what past once thrived within the now crumbling walls? What of the soul that may still canvas the lonely walkways? How do I turn my back on the call, look away when something begs to be seen? How am I to fight the desire to lay my eyes on what has long since gone unnoticed, unwanted, unwelcome? Perhaps I’m not meant to turn and walk away. Perhaps I’m one of the few who must see, must feel, must know what such a place wishes to whisper. Am I to consider myself a chronicler of all things forgotten, one who sits in judgment of those who haven’t a care? Or am I to realize that what has been abandoned, pushed to the side, lost and discarded recognizes me as a similar breed and is reaching out so that somewhere, somehow, something will retain a memory of me?

© Copyright 2014 Nina D’Arcangela. All Rights Reserved.

Welcome to my April AtoZ Blog Challenge post! I hope you enjoyed my ramble, and come back for more! Don’t forget to visit the other bloggers participating by clicking on the badge to the right, or simply using this link. :}


“Mother, how could you? You punish this recalcitrant child of ore, stealing my strength and leaving in your wake a tantrum of destruction. This hurts me; it leaves me a damaged mass straining to survive. Is this your intent? Am I to twist and writhe until all that once was is now a pitted mass of malcontent? Mother, how could you?”

“My son, stolen from me and wrought by the hand of man, yet strewn about my body with little care – be blessed. For I have bathed you in my milk, taken from you all constraint, and given you back time’s natural glory.”

“But, Mother, they look upon me with disgust and intent – intent to destroy. I am no longer wanted. I wish to be wanted, Mother.”

“My child, Fe, you are wanted. Relish in it, be thankful for my shed tears, my nourishing wash, and embrace the beauty of hues that lie within your visage. There are those who value greater your discordant rust than the shiny ingots you were smelted to be.”

© Copyright 2013 Nina D’Arcangela. All Rights Reserved.

I’m doing the 2013 Blogging from A to Z Challenge! Pop back everyday but Sunday through the month of April for a new letter prompt to spawn my deranged ramblings! ;}

The Morning After

(the continuation of Fjord)

The jarl descends to the water’s edge to await the triumphant return of his sons as he does each morning. This morning, as he approaches the icy depths, he spies their craft, though not in the manner in which he hopes.

Standing at the shoreline amidst the wreckage, he waits. It is not long before the wife of each man who boarded the vessel is standing beside him. Among the splintered wooden remains of the ship, treasures of gold and jewels manage to glisten in the cool morning mist.

He tells them not to mourn; those who set sail would have been victorious in battle for the vessel to have been laden with such riches. Viking women do not wail for their men who have been lost to the sea. When a youth reaches forward to pick up a trinket, the jarl’s booming voice echoes back from the walls of the narrow passageway.


Turning to his people, he instructs that no one is to touch the plunder. The fjord will take what it will with the lapping tide; the rest remains as tribute to be called upon as the gods see fit.

That night, the jarl prays that his sons died well, and now sit in the halls among the warriors who have gone before them. They were good strong men, of this he is certain. What fate may have brought their ruined craft to this shore, he does not know; he knows only that the light of the following day will bring him the answer he seeks.

Upon waking, the jarl makes his way to the fjord’s rocky shore once again. What he finds sickens his heart. The wood of the wreckage has been claimed by the water, in its place, the flesh and bones of all but one man have been spit upon the shore and left to rot. His spirit rejoices that he is unable to  find his eldest son, and crumbles when he sees the other among the mangled and broken corpses. He did not die a good death, this younger son.

A Sea-Eagle soars overhead, screeching out a final anguished cry before its soul joins the ranks of those who departed this world with courage and honor.

© Copyright 2013 Nina D’Arcangela. All Rights Reserved.

I’m doing the 2013 Blogging from A to Z Challenge! Pop back everyday but Sunday through the month of April for a new letter prompt to spawn my deranged ramblings! ;}

%d bloggers like this: