Jamieson Wolf
Number-one bestselling author
The Mirror Through the Trees – A Poem
When I glance in the mirror,
I see him.
He is a darker version of me,
one that is still unbeautiful
even though he’s made
from silver glass and light.
He is the twin that I used to know,
never far from me,
hiding inside of me.
He starts speaking to me
in a soft, salient hiss
filled with loathing and
a subtle kind of sadness.
I imagine his hiss is the
soft rustle of leaves,
sprouting from trees that
I have conjured behind the glass.
Soon, the mirror looks out at
a sea of green, trees as far
as the eye can see,
each branch holding a wish
of possibilities undiscovered.
A lone bird, yellow feathers
that are streaked with white,
flies out of the mirror towards me,
his song bright like the sunshine.
He flies merrily around me,
his merry tune mixing
with the rustle of the leaves.
When I turn back to the mirror,
I see the dark twin is gone.
So is my bedroom.
All there is to be seen
is a sea of green leaves,
bending this way and that
in a breeze that almost seems
to be talking to me.
The Winds of Change – A Poem
The winds of change
are a constant presence.
We do not know where
they will take us
or what they will bring.
The only thing we can do
is to embrace the wind
and learn from what
it shows us, what it teaches.
Though it seems like
we are leaving something behind,
we are actually taking
everything we learned with us.
So that when the next wind arrives,
when the winds embrace us again,
we will be ready.
12 Days of Christmas! Free ebooks!
It’s that time of year again! Christmas and Yule are fast approaching and it’s started to snow!
Every year, I give away a novella for the Holiday Season. In 2012 I gave away my novella 12. I had figured that it would be a one shot deal about a serial killer who took twelve victims during the 12 days of Christmas. Then I started thinking: what happened next? I left the novella open ended and wanted to find out what happened.
So in 2012, I gave away my novella 12 + 1, following Oliver as he came face to face with his daughter. I left that novella open ended as well, never planning to continue to a third novella. But here we are!
In December of 2013, I’ll be giving away my novella 12 + 2 and it’s the final novella in the trilogy about Oliver, the joy he brings to the Holiday Season and what happens to him this Christmas. You can now read the first two novellas for free in preparation for 12 + 2!
They’re my gift to you this Holiday Season. I hope you have all the joy you could want (without the blood) this Holiday Season!
How awesome is that?
Here are the blurbs to get you going:
12:
Oliver hates Christmas. He hates the fakery of it, the false joy that lifts everyone’s spirits. But only momentarily, only until the next box is opened, until the next piece of paper is torn away. But he is a true bringer of joy. In taking their lives, he is the giver of ultimate pleasure; and what better gift could there be for the Holidays than eternal bliss?
But this year is special. This year is 12.
Every year, for eleven years, Oliver has chosen twelve people, one person for each of the twelve days of Christmas. This year is 12. The final year. This year is personal. This is the year of the 12, payment for all of Oliver’s hard work. And he intends to collect. Eleven victims have already fallen-and Oliver has saved the best for last.
Merry Freaking Christmas. This year, there will be blood.
12 + 1:
Lenore hates Christmas.
It was the season where her lust for blood began, where father Oliver led her on a path of killing and taking life-except he called it giving joy for the Holidays.
She has achieved some renown as a performance artist. What the art going public don’t know is that all of her “canvasses” die. She takes them all, the blood hunger Oliver woke in her all those years ago far too strong to ignore.
Hoping to fool Oliver, she intercepts him in the street and leads him back to her apartment, hoping to once and for all give her father the ultimate Christmas gift and end his reign of terror forever.
Lenore plans to kill her father and take back her life this Christmas Eve. However, Christmas has a few gifts planned for her that Lenore doesn’t count on and red, after all, is a colour of the Holidays…
And what’s 12 + 2 about?
Well, you’ll just have to wait and see! Some gifts are worth waiting for after all…
Download and read 12 and 12 + 1 at www.jamiesonwolf.com
Enjoy!
The Broken Man – A Poem
He gave me a gift.
I was expecting a ring,
something to symbolize
the bond that was between us.
What I got instead was
a pack of tarot cards.
They had names I had
never seen before.
Instead of normal cards
like the Lovers or the Heirophant,
the Fool or the Tower,
there were cards like
the Lost Soul, the Forgotten One
and The Broken Man.
“That’s you.” He said.
He pointed to The Broken Man.
“That’s you as you are now.”
The card depicted a man
made of glass. His feet
and legs were shatters of glass,
littering the ground like
diamonds turned to dust.
His face was a mask of pain,
whether internal or external
I did not know.
I didn’t feel broken inside,
though I was approaching
that eventuality.
I didn’t want to be
The Broken Man. I felt like
The Gingerbread Man, my
breakable legs one step away
from being cookie crumbs.
I took the cards up to a cliff.
It overlooked the whole world
and I could see the land
stretching in front of me.
I could feel the world behind me.
I stood on a precipice,
my life before and
my life after. I only had to choose.
I raised my hand holding the cards
to the wind and let it take
the cards from my hand.
As they swirled away,
flying out of my hand,
I saw The Broken Man.
Instead of pain on his face,
he was smiling.
As the cards flew from my grasp,
I knew I had made
the right decision.
I was the Broken Man
no longer
De-Cowled – A Poem
During the night
I dream of myself.
I am wearing a cowl
that covers my face.
I am in a room
made entirely of stone.
There are candles that
flicker with light and shadow.
A woman approaches me
with her hands held out.
“I knew you would come to see me”
She says. Her eyes are a deep violet,
her smile warm. She radiates light.
“How did you know I would be here?”
I ask her. Though I have never been here
and do not know the woman,
I don’t feel any fear. Only a sense of calm.
“I always know when those seeking answers will arrive.”
She shrugs.
“It is the way.”
She sits and I do the same,
sitting across from her.
She takes my hands in hers
and I experience only a warmth
that drives away the chill
of the stone room.
“You wish to know if you are on the right path?”
“Yes.”
I whisper.
“How did you know?”
“You have an inquisitive spirit. It is written on your face.”
I say nothing, the truth of her words
ringing inside of me, as if my body
is agreeing to her words with
every fibre of its being.
“You are on the right path, but you must look where you are going.”
She squeezes my hands.
“To do that, you must see.”
She reaches up and pulls the cowl
down off my head.
The room we are in is transformed
from cold hard stone to a field of grass.
Trees and blue sky surround us.
I wonder if it was there all along.
“Do not be afraid of seeing, of taking hold of what you want.”
She begins to fade, her violet eyes
becoming a misty gray.
“You must remain true to yourself.”
Bright sun fills the grass covered room,
more brilliant than the sun.
My eyes open in the darkness
but a shadow of the bright light remains,
infusing everything I see.
Buy Little Yellow Magnet from Amazon and Kobo!
Jamieson Wolf has written a compelling story about navigating multiple sclerosis and cerebral palsy. His story will touch your heart, make you cry, then laugh, and inspire you. A touching memoir with a bit of magic…and tarot! ~ Theresa Reed, author of The Tarot Coloring Book
Jamieson Wolf 