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The Power of Stories – From Rugged Coasts and Mist-Shrouded Isles
Mysterious Places That Live on in Our Souls
The power of stories. There are places we may never have visited, yet they’re rooted deeply in our souls. These are hidden worlds that stay with us in thought for a lifetime. To me, they are the lands of myth and legend. In these places, ancient stone circles stand as silent witnesses to past ages. Green hills seem to whisper tales older than memory itself. Filled with secrets, magic, and timeless wisdom, they call to me over and over. It’s as if they wait, longing to be rediscovered.
Where My Love for Legends Began
My fascination with these enchanted landscapes began in my childhood, during quiet teatimes with my grandmother. On cold afternoons, when the wind outside gusted through bare branches and the world was cloaked in pale winter grey, we would sit in our small kitchen. Grandmother would light a candle, and its flickering glow bathed the room in a warm, almost magical atmosphere. The candle cast living shadows on the walls, and it felt as though the stories were springing to life within my mind. The scent of black tea, which we drank each afternoon, filled the air. The tea was so dark and robust that a single sip coated the mouth with a gently bitter warmth.
A Legacy of Sweetness and Warmth
Grandmother adored her tea with lots of sugar – spoonful after spoonful until the tea took on a mild, sweet warmth. This sweetness, I felt, reflected her kind, gentle smile. Her grey eyes held the same soft glow, and as she took her first sip, she would look past the candle flame and smile at me, as if inviting me into the secrets of another world. In the quiet, almost solemn atmosphere, she began to speak, and in her calm voice, faraway places sprang to life – islands cloaked in thick mists, where the wind whispered ancient stories and time stretched into a mysterious distance.
The Power of Stories – Gateways to Another Reality
These afternoons, filled with the warm fragrance of tea and flickering candlelight, were far more than teatimes. They became gateways to another reality, to worlds filled with wisdom and magic, accessible only to those who truly listen.
The Warriors of the Cliffs – Guardians Between Storm and Destiny
Most striking were her tales of warriors standing on mighty, dizzying cliffs with the untameable sea at their feet. These warriors defied the storms, standing like ancient guardians at the boundary between land and water, their gaze fixed on the fateful depths of the ocean. Behind them stretched green, wind-swept hills as they welcomed the unknown, fearless in the face of destiny’s tests. They seemed hewn from the same unyielding rock as the cliffs themselves – steadfast, unbending, and ready to face any challenge.
The Immortal Queen and the Power of Horses
The story that moved me most deeply was that of a Celtic queen, beloved and revered by her people. The legends tell of a fearless warrior, a protector of the land, embodying the Celtic soul and deeply connected with the living beings of her homeland. Horses played a special role in her tale: in Celtic culture, they were companions of warriors, symbols of strength, speed, and untameable courage. The horses by her side represented her people’s indomitable spirit and her determination to challenge fate.
Horses as Sacred Companions in Battle
Grandmother would recount how this warrior queen rode into battle with her chariot, powerful horses at her side. The animals seemed fused with her being – not mere vehicles but creatures of depth and loyalty, fighting alongside her. In Celtic belief, horses were sacred and symbolised the eternal bond between humans and nature. When the warrior stood on her chariot, her eyes fierce and her copper hair flowing in the wind, she seemed the very embodiment of the warrior spirit, accompanied by the strength of these creatures who not only carried her into battle but embodied a will of their own.
The Raven as Messenger and Guardian of Fate
“The Celts believe that ravens are messengers from the Otherworld,” Grandmother would often whisper, casting the shadow of her tales over us both. Ravens stood for wisdom and a deep understanding of inevitability, and in their croaking cries, one could hear the whisper of fate. The dark birds were said to watch over the Celtic queen as well. It was told that ravens circled above her ranks as she rode into battle, as if they were emissaries of the gods, guardians of the Celtic heritage, and harbingers of what was to come.
Ravens – Companions Between Worlds
In Grandmother’s stories, the ravens did more than carry messages; they connected the warrior queen and her soldiers with the spirits of those who had fought before them. Their croaking song, it was said, aligned the queen’s soul with the ancient forces of the earth, providing her with strength and protection from the ancestors, a surety of her path, no matter how dark the times grew.
A Land Beyond the Mists, Where Time Stands Still
Yet it was not only tales of warriors and queens that captivated me. There were also stories of a legendary isle, hidden behind veils of mist, where time stood still, and no one aged. My grandmother described this place as a realm of beauty and endless peace, where the murmuring rivers and the songs of birds touched the soul, and those who reached this secret place lived free from worry, filled with wisdom and harmony with nature.
A Realm of Wisdom and Mystery
“Only the chosen ones enter this place,” she would say, a knowing sparkle in her eyes. “It reveals itself only to those who come with open hearts and a longing for the hidden.” This place, she explained, held the knowledge of ancient times and seemed like a hidden source of life itself – an island that opened only to those who could hear the call of the Otherworld.
The Queen Who Honoured Nature
This woman was not only a ruler but the heart and soul of her people. The stories tell that the winds would quiet as she walked among the ancient trees, and the trees would bow their branches as if recognising their queen. She was the embodiment of a force that flows through the land even centuries later, an inexhaustible will to shape destiny and protect her people’s freedom.
A Ritual That Accompanies My Writing
To this day, I feel my grandmother’s influence in each sentence I write. Often, I pause and make myself a cup of black tea. I add less sugar than she did, but the same warm fragrance fills the air. I sit with my tea in my comfortable, English-style chair, gazing at her photograph on my desk. In these moments, holding the familiar cup, it feels as if she’s smiling at me again. It’s as though we’re back together in her little kitchen. Her spirit stays with me, and each sip connects me to those cherished afternoons when stories came alive between us.
Why These Stories Are an Inexhaustible Treasure
These stories, the gift my grandmother gave me, are more than tales – they are a legacy I hold dear. They give me the strength to create stories of my own. Stories that touch the hearts of my readers and lead them to unknown places. These memories show me the true significance of storytelling. How it connects us and invites us to feel the hidden wonders of the world.
The Echo of Times Past – A Call Through the Centuries
When I write, it feels as though I am wandering through those mist-shrouded islands my grandmother described so vividly. I can almost hear the ocean’s roar against the cliffs, where the secrets of time are engraved in the rocks like ancient runes. In these moments, I sense how the voices of the past blend with the dreams of the present. It feels as though the old stories are softly whispering that the knowledge of the ancient world is never truly lost.
An Invisible Thread Through Time
In these moments, I feel the deep, unshakeable power of legends. A melody like an invisible thread that runs through time and touches our hearts if we listen closely enough. For me, the echo of these stories is more than a memory. It is a call that seeks an answer with every sentence I write. Those distant hills, those shadows of ancient forests, the stories of warriors and queens – all live on, as long as they are told.
A Living Legacy on My Desk
And when I write my final line in the evening and then look at the photo of my grandmother on my desk, her gentle smile reaching out to me. It feels as though I can sense her quiet reassurance that her tales live on now through my words. Her legacy accompanies me, a quiet stream shaping my own story and guiding my readers to these mysterious places. The stories she once whispered to me remain an inexhaustible treasure. A hidden light shining through my writing, reaching others on their own journeys.
“In loving memory of my beloved grandmother, who opened the world of stories to me and whose legacy lives on in every line I write.”