All posts by Bekkie Sanchez

About Bekkie Sanchez

I'm a capricious poet that thirsts to write. I was brought into this world wanting to describe it and poetry chose me. I live to create, read and ride my bicycle. Music keeps me grounded. If you like my work it makes it all worthwhile.

The Fallen One

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Introduction: Beware of beautiful gifts that look too good to be true.

She knelt before me on the old faded carpet
with large wings on her back as dark as pitch
loose feathers danced in the light breeze
as the thin white curtains gently billowed around her.

Her features remained hidden in the shadows
her long silver hair tumbling down
my eyes roamed over her perfect body wondering,
what secrets does she keep?

Her beauty was unsurpassed by anything on earth
I saw the sweet face of an angel as she lifted her head
finally, our eyes met and time stood still
while all the horrors of the universe were revealed to me.

Not an angel at all, but one of the fallen
with one look she stopped my heart cold
passing on the fear and agony no mere mortal can contain…
I heard myself scream as I descended into the dark.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2013

Sometimes a story of mine will be written in free verse form.

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Death Becomes You

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Introduction: When traveling the dark roads of life beware of strangers.

As I rode down the moonlit path in The Black Forest I was glad for the extra light because this was one of the darkest forests I could remember navigating in a fortnight.

“Black Forest indeed,” I mumbled to myself thinking it quite an appropriate name for it was black as pitch and dense. The moon was bright in an otherwise empty sky as I paused in a clearing.

I jumped off my horse appreciating the feel of my feet on solid ground after a long day of riding. My horse had picked up a stone earlier in the day and although I caught it soon enough I did not want to risk it going lame as I still had a long road to travel.

Satisfied, I put my knife away finishing my inspection of my horse’s hoof it wasn’t as bad as I thought as I stood up and leaned on its warm flank for a moment.

I was bone tired, didn’t like this forest and now had to camp here. I had expected to make camp earlier outside of Belltower but the area was full of riffraff so I decided to ride on. Just as I was making good time my horse stumbled. Some days it didn’t pay to get out of my bedroll and this was one of them.

A half of an hour went by I got a fire going and noticed clouds starting to form in the sky. A slight breeze picked up and my horse got wind of something. Frowning, I thought I saw a dark shape moving through the clearing nearby.

It was very large, larger than a man perhaps a black bear. The moon ducked behind the clouds and everything outside the campfire was like black ink.

My horse cried out in fear and broke its lead crashing through the underbrush just as lightning flashed and hit a nearby tree. Sparks flew everywhere as the trunk split wide open and caught on fire.

As I took this in I was spun around lightly but forcefully by a hooded figure riding on a horse. The feel of being so near to the apparition was not unlike electricity.

I was frozen in my tracks while, “Run, run you must run,” screamed in my brain.

My mouth was dry as I croaked out a muffled screech. I dropped to my knees my eyes wild with fear as the figure made one last pass. The hooded rider crossed by the burning tree and I caught a good look at it.

The steed was skin and bones yet it was galloping by with a figure of death riding it. A dark mist was gathering along the ground and it was freezing cold!

Just then our eyes met and I was staring death in the face where there was none! A toothless grin was somehow smiling back at me as the eye sockets stared sightlessly through me.

He held one white rose in a fist underneath the sleeve of the black robe. I was drawn back to the eyes, the missing eyes, those eyeless holes, boring through me…

The mist was everywhere now swirling upward as I watched the dark figure recede and everything turn to darkness.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2013

The Mudjikiwis

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Intoduction: Sometimes you can find courage in unexpected ways and places.

It was Summer and the Indian brave was to become a man this season but he was afraid of war. They were at war with the Chumash and it wasn’t likely to end soon which weighed heavily on his mind as he worked on his preparations.

Today would be the big hunt and tonight the ceremonial feast where they would become men. He would become a man, be expected to fight with the others and take a wife. Every brave has done this since the people’s beginning and he was excited about leaving his childhood behind.

Strong and tall he was a well-known figure in the tribe. He was used to fighting as he had been taught well by his father but his warrior skills were not being questioned. It was his courage.

He hid this fact from the others with much bravado but eventually, they were bound to find out. He pushed these doubts aside, noted the sun and rose to his feet it was time for the hunt. He gathered his things from the lodge and went outside.

He walked over to the other young braves as they were mounting their stomping ponies crying out with excitement, “Hee hee ha ha hee!”

They too would soon be men and were very impatient about starting the hunt. They called out to him. Not to be left out he ran over, mounted his pony from behind and they galloped off towards the tribe’s hunting grounds.

His mind on the hunt he started to relax. Nothing like a good hunt to take his mind off of war and fighting. They all split up into pairs for better coverage and safety in numbers. Just in case they ran into any Chumash raiding parties they’d be ready. He was hoping that wouldn’t happen.

After a time they came out into a clearing near a stream and decided to water the ponies. He longed to tell his friend that he was afraid to fight in the war, it was not their way so he remained stolid.

His friend was bringing his pony back out of the stream as he mounted his and spied a small group of deer feeding upwind of them. Spurring his pony on he closed the distance between them quickly. They could still not smell him and if he was lucky he would bring home some nice deer meat.

When he was close enough he expertly fit an arrow into his bow. He picked out a young white-tailed buck and he shot it. At the last second, it veered sharply into a stand of thick trees but he had nicked it so he followed the blood trail into the woods.

He realized that his friend had dropped behind him and not caught up. Surely he was following him because his people had full knowledge of this land. It was in their blood and it was their home. He felt reassured his friend would catch up waiting quietly.

It was dark under the canopy of trees and after his eyes adjusted he could pick out the deer lying in the brush several feet away. It was very still and shafts of sunlight played through the branches. He was puzzled because it had not been a kill shot yet the deer looked dead.

He crept closer to examine the deer and found the brush around it disturbed like there was a struggle. The deer was torn apart on one side and just as he was taking this in a large wolf limped out from the underbrush.

“Brother please do not be afraid for I am injured and need this food.” The brave heard these words as plain as day and knew he was speaking to a spirit animal.

The wolf was indeed injured, it looked like his leg was hurt. He was deeply honored answering, “Brother wolf you may have this deer for you were the one who killed it.”

“Thank you for your kindness young brave. I will not die from this injury but without food, I surely would have sickened and died.”

The wolf moved closer, “For helping me I will give you my father’s tooth. It will help you to be brave and have much courage in battle.” The young Indian took the tooth and thanked the wolf for this gift.

He mounted his pony and left the wolf to his meal wondering about his friend when he saw a rabbit out of the corner of his eye. Swiftly he drew an arrow and shot. It screamed once and lay dead. He urged his pony towards it and saw an eagle on the ground nearby.

“I have a nest of young ones and we need this food,” she cried.

Another spirit animal, what were the chances? The brave was deeply honored for at this time in his life these were good omens.

“Sister eagle you may have the rabbit for I will hunt another. Feed your young and live long in this valley.”

The eagle eyed the young Indian carefully and replied, “Thank you for your kindness, here’s a feather from my wing. It will help you be fast and fly through your battles.”

He found himself coming out of his trance and realized he was watching the eagle fly off with his rabbit.

Just then his friend rode up on his pony and said, “I was looking all over for you and here you are goofing off in the woods. We will be the only ones not bringing meat back for the ceremony!”

His friend was a chubby boy who ate too much in his opinion but he was right.

They finished the hunt bringing down a large wild boar which was the best meat of the hunt and was enjoyed by all. They became men that night and the brave was full of his thoughts of the woods.

The next day the tooth glistened in the sun as he turned it around in his fingers. The feather was soft yet bristly and large. Examining his treasures and thinking of the spirit animals already gave him strength and he felt something change inside. What was this feeling, could it be courage?

As soon as the word popped into his mind he felt it fully. The animal spirits of the wolf and eagle moved freely within him. Yes, he was not afraid! He was the Mudjikiwis, a Cree Indian and would slay his enemies gladly with his brothers to protect the tribe.

He took a wife that season and built his own lodge. The Chumash attacked and he fought bravely with his brothers and saved the whole of the tribe with his fierceness and quickness in battle. The people sing songs of these battles to this day around our fires for he was the true Mudjikiwis.

(Mudjikiwis means eldest son in Cree.)

© Rebecca Sanchez 2013

I wrote this story after seeing the image I used. Not sure if the Indian in the artwork is a man or women but no matter, this is fiction based on a few facts I looked up on Google.

The Window

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Introduction: One man’s homecoming is another man’s feast.

The narrow road curved up and around the mountain disappearing into the fog. The cabin of the coach was rocking to and fro in the murky darkness making the inhabitant a little sick and reluctant about traveling at this late hour.

The count leaned out of the window to see the road was just a worn path and he was looking over the very edge of that path. Loosened rocks tumbled down the sheer cliffs but the horses seemed sure-footed and steady. He breathed a prayer that they would make it.

They rounded the last corner finally reaching the top where the castle stood shrouded in mist, large dark and foreboding with no moon. He had grown up playing in this castle all those years ago. Now it was empty with all of his family dead and he was traveling back to make it his own.

He had forgotten how big the place was. Looking up he was surprised to see a light in an upper tower window. Yes, it looked like the light of a candle. Wasn’t that the room…

His thoughts were lost as the carriage jerked to a stop by the front gates.

“I thought this place was empty,” he said as he was helped out of the coach by the caretaker.

“Yes sir, the place is empty, stocked and restored like you requested. Just the two of us here. Why do you ask?”

Stopping in front of the gates the caretaker took the key from his hand, “Allow me, sir.” unlocking and opening the small door set in the castle gates. Handing the keys back he waited, “After you, sir.”

“No need to be so formal man, it’s just you and I. After all, your father worked and lived here his whole life as you have. It’s as much your home as it is mine.”

The count walked into the entranceway of his old home and looked around. The castle had been updated and some electricity was installed but otherwise, it was left like it had been for centuries. Was it his imagination or did the family photographs seem to be frowning down at him?

“It all looks so familiar but it’s been a long time,” he remarked as he walked out into the living quarters. There was a fire in the huge stone fireplace and nearby a group of velvet chairs faced it with a table made out of some huge piece of natural wood and glass. It looked new. He sat down and immediately felt just how tired he was. Drained was more like it.

“Can I show you to your room? Not all the rooms are ready but I put you in the main suite which was done first,” the caretaker smiled for the first time and was missing some teeth.

The count stifled a yawn,“Please do! I’m very tired from the trip it was demanding and I need some rest. Let me sleep in late tomorrow.”

“Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?”

“I think not. Good night then.” The room looked very inviting for its size and the bed looked heavenly.

“If you need anything ring.” And with that, he left.

The count poured some water into the basin and washed up. His mind drifted back to the light in the window. That had been…her room. What could it mean? She had drowned and he had seen her dead body. But who would be in that room when the castle was empty?

There was no way the count was going to sleep until he visited her room for himself. He was going to see what was causing the strange light in the tower window and pulled on a heavy bathrobe lighting a candle chandelier.

Stepping into the hallway he was surprised at how well he remembered the way. Her room was in the tower and he cursed his bare feet on the cold stones as he flew up the steps.

He stood before the door sweating, waiting for what? Sheepishly, he turned the doorknob it was unlocked. The heavy door squeaked on its hinges as it swung open. He stepped into the room holding the candle high. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest! It was dark and he wished electric had been installed in this part of the castle.

On a table by the window, he saw an unlit candle and large crystal ball. He was sure this was window he’d seen the light in. When his candle was near the crystal ball the whole room lit up with beautiful shapes all over the walls.

It was mesmerizing to watch, the lights made him so happy! They were so beautiful! He forgot all about why he was here as he lit the candle next to the crystal ball. A bright light came to life spinning around the room, too bright to be the light he saw earlier, not that he cared at the moment.

All of sudden it got cold, colder than the winter chill, he could see his breath and felt a hand on his shoulder.

He spun around and was dumbfounded when he found himself looking at…her. Her eyes shone and her skin was like velvet and she was just as beautiful as before! She pulled him to her in an embrace as he breathed in her scent that he remembered so well.

The candle stayed lit as the shadows from the crystal ball grew, extinguishing all of the beautiful lights. He felt his head clearing as he gazed at his beloved sister his vision blurring a little. Her body felt different and that was not perfume he was smelling!

She smiled at him, one blue eye popping out of the socket and laying on her cheek, her body swelling and bloating. She looked like a body that had been in the water for a very long time but she was not dead and very strong.

The count was like a deer trapped in headlights as she held him fast, opening her mouth to reveal tiny sharp teeth. She was drooling and it fell to the floor melting the carpet.

Not a word was exchanged between them for the homecoming but you could hear the tearing flesh and screams echo throughout the castle as he died a slow death.

The caretaker kneeled outside the door watching through the keyhole a large grin on his face. When it got quiet he stood up and walked into the room.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2014