There's a light

Helene raised her lantern as high as she could, feeling (rather foolishly) like a girl in a gothic novel.

The fog had swept up through the canyon on the back of the wind, and it took very little imagination to turn their campsite in the California hills into a windswept moor in Victorian England.

"Heathcliff?" she whispered, and was startled to hear an answering, "Cathy?"

© 2010 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel
Trellis Series rope tutorial by NED Beads Artisan Jewelry, Ionic Polyhedra beaded beads pattern by beAd Infinitum. Hand fabricated.

Times Squared

She thought about Sylvia Plath as she walked from the subway to her office. Not for the usual reasons; she wasn't a poetry groupie or the sort of person who identified with tortured souls.

No, her thoughts of Plath were purely practical.

As a teenager, she'd read The Bell Jar and remembered only one thing from it; the image of the heroine walking across New York City, late at night, counting the blocks across the grid of Manhattan to her destination. She counted them, too. And worked them into math problems.

She called then her Plath patterns.

© 2010 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel lIonic Polyhedra beaded bead designed by beAd Infinitum. Snake Chain designed by Good Quill Hunting Hand fabricated.

Skaði

She cupped her hands and gently blew over her palms; the children saw only the snow, falling from her fingers. She was tall, very tall, and slim as an icicle. Her skis flew down the mountain she loved; straight as the path of an arrow, and twice as fast.

She loved winter; she was never cold, never tired of snow and ice. Her mother had known her name in the womb; Skaði, Skaði, Skaði she whispered, sending chills down her mother's spine.

© 2010 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel Glass icicle by Glasswich. Beadwoven from seed beads; embellished with quartz chips, angora rovings and vintage glass.

Darkness into light

She rolled over and squinted at the clock. 3: 04. Wide awake, she'd hoped it was later than that. The light from the neighbor's yard made it look like dawn in her bedroom, even through her shades.

Groaning, she turned her face resolutely to the wall and tried to go back to sleep. It's not morning, she told herself; not even close. If I get up now, I'll be ready for bed at 7:00 tonight.

Click. The light turned itself off automatically. It was night again.

At least until the next raccoon wandered by.

© 2010 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel
Time Machine Beaded Bead Pattern by Gwen Fisher and Florence Turnour of beAd Infinitum.

Ice Queen

It was snowing outside but she knew she'd never feel the cold. She would be whisked from her penthouse apartment into a heated car so fast that she wouldn't even need a wrap.

She hadn't always been rich; deep in her consciousness was a visceral memory of cold and hunger; of nearly freezing to death on nights like these. She'd hungered for everything in those days; she'd dreamed of living warm and protected. She smiled, graciously acknowledging her host and benefactor.

It was a different kind of cold.

© 2010 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel. Swarovski crystals and seed beads. Pattern available in my Artfire and Etsy Shops.

Exposed

She dressed carefully, making sure that everything she wanted covered was hidden. Her makeup ritual was set in stone; she knew exactly what to use, and how to use it, in order to create her trademark flawlessly natural look.

Ditto for her clothes. The seemed to reveal all; but in the privacy of her dressing room, she was a very different creature. She was not above taping her anatomy into the contours her skin no longer assumed on their own; one did what one had to do at her age. Surgery could only go so far; there was a limit on how many times one could go under the knife without it becoming painfully obvious. She'd seen far too many horrible before-and-after photos of her contemporaries splashed across the pages of the tabloids to risk that.

They'd uncover her secrets someday; but she hoped she wouldn't live to see it.

© 2010 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel seed beads, bead-woven.

Darkness

"Never mix, never worry!" Melissa thought ruefully; if that old adage were true, she knew that right about now she should be very worried, indeed. She'd started with champagne; she always started with champagne. Champagne made her happy, and she liked being happy.

It was what came later that could be a problem.

To be honest, she wasn't really sure what came later. She remembered something sweet, cold, rimmed with sugar and garnished with mint; she suspected she'd had rather a lot of them, whatever they were. Actually she could use another one; or maybe it would be safer if she switched back to wine.

No matter. She was still standing, and, as long as she could stand, she could dance.

© 2010 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Seed beads, crystals, chain. Pattern available on ArtFire and Etsy.

Lotus

Ariana took a deep breath and handed over her credit card. It was too much; it would take her ages to pay it off, but she didn't care. She was willing to live on pinto beans for years in order to have it. She shuddered; she knew in her heart that she'd gladly have paid twice the amount asked.

But wasn't that what money was for? To buy the things that mattered?

Ariana signed the slip with a flourish and put her card back in her wallet. It would be a long time before she could take it out again. Although she had just spend more than she made in a month; Ariana did not take debt lightly. It would be paid off before she spent another cent.

That is the price of beauty.

© 2010 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel
Seed beads, crystals. Handmade, bead woven earrings. Pattern available in my Etsy Shop.

Crowning Glory

Anya brushed out her hair slowly and carefully; her dreams had not been kind to it last night. Not that she remembered them; she'd woken up as quietly and calmly as ever.

Only her hair gave witness to a restless night. She never remembered her dreams; she had no idea if they'd been bad or good. She only knew that they'd been active; she had the tangles to prove it.

Grasping the ends firmly, she wound her hair into a knot and secured it on top of her head. She never wore it down during the day; it got in her way and was hot on her back.

She always let it down at night.

© 2010 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel
Lampwork by Vanessa Hearn of Bead up a Storm, copper, seed beads, crystals and glass pearls. Bead woven.

Chain Lace

The past had a hold on her that she couldn't explain. All she had to do was see a piece of lace; touch an antique locket; pull on a yellowed pair of kidskin gloves and she was lost. Lost in a world of fantasy that felt more like memory; lost in a time where elegance and manners were everything.

Hannah lived in the 21st century, but not by choice. She had learned to sew as a small girl; her stitches were even and small and often mistaken for machine stitches. She stitched all of her own clothes, by hand, working quietly at night while the rest of the world slumbered.

Each stitch was a statement, a link to a living past.

© 2010 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel
Seed beads, crystals. Bead woven bracelet. A pattern for this design is available in my Etsy Shop.

Picante

Magdalena loved to dance. All it took was the hint of music and her feet started twitching; even sitting at her desk her feet beat out the rhythm of a hundred songs a day.

She found music in everything; her graceful hands swept through the air like songbirds as she spoke; her hips and shoulders keeping time as she walked.

"Magda, Magda," her mother lamented; "¡tan picante!, that one."

She was too hot; she was too spicy for her mother's comfort. There was nothing she could do about it; Magdalena was born to dance.

© 2010 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel
Bead-woven bracelet. Pattern available.

Slaying Dragons

Gwennyth hated her name. It was far too romantic and silly, and she was not the type of girl who wanted to be rescued from a fire-breathing dragon by a knight in shining armor. Why couldn't she have been named something sensible and no nonsense, like Jane or Anne?

Philip was browsing through on-line profiles when he saw her name. Oddly enough, he didn't find it romantic or silly, though he did shorten it to Gwen after meeting her. She called him Phil, right from the start. Neither of them could believe that no one had ever thought to call them that before.

And they lived happily ever after.

© 2010 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel
Seed beads, crystals, brass. Hand fabricated, bead-woven necklace.

Rodeo Queen

Jess loved barrel racing almost as much as she loved winning. Her adrenaline rose when she made the first mad dash into the arena, and stayed high until she crossed the finish line. She loved getting as close to the barrels as possible, and she knew just how fast and tight her horse could take every turn. They'd been together for awhile now, and she swore that he trusted her more than he trusted himself; he did whatever she asked of him, and never held back. They were a team. They won, more often than not; Jess had superb concentration and handling, and Bullroar had speed and heart.

They'd won today, and tonight Jess was celebrating. She played as hard as she worked, and tonight was no exception. Tall, lean, and muscled, she was a match for anyone at the club; unlike her horse, however, she liked her men wild and unpredictable.

Jess nearly always got what she wanted.

© 2010 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Seed beads, wooden components, boulder opal, tigers eye, onyx, crystals, czech beads, leather. Hand fabricated, bead woven. Winner, Best Design Execution, Use the Muse IV.

Wind Dancer

Annalisa couldn't help it if the boys preferred her; it wasn't like she meant to steal other girls' boyfriends. Quite the contrary. She did her best to discourage them; she didn't want them to fall in love with her. Yet somehow, they always did.

Oddly enough, even after their break-ups, the girls didn't blame Annalisa. She was such a sweet girl; it couldn't be her fault. To a girl, they all were glad that they'd found out how fickle and unreliable their former loves really were. They told one another that they didn't want to be going out with boys who were drawn to another girl, like a fly to honey.

It wasn't the honey's fault.

© 2010 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Seed beads. Bead weaving, hand fabricated.

Buttoned Up

Maribelle had a tendency to say what was on her mind; it got her into trouble more often than not. There were times when she thought she'd like to be one of those cool, calm, collected women; the sort who had a closet full of shoes and a dozen handbags; but she wasn't, and she probably never would be.

Her feet liked comfort, and she changed her handbag when the zipper couldn't be repaired anymore.

Her mouth was like that, too. She just couldn't keep it buttoned up. Luckily, the people who stuck around appreciated her anyway.

© 2010 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel Vintage buttons, shiny brass. Hand fabricated wirework and chain maille.

Plum Lacy

Lacy was appropriately named; she was, and always had been, a girly girl. It hadn't been easy, growing up in Seattle (home of grunge everything) but she had managed to live through high school, move away, and find the place where she'd always belonged.

She was a southern girl from the flip of her hair to the spectator pumps on her feet. The accent stumped her, but the look was hers. As long as she kept her mouth shut, she fancied that no one knew she hadn't lived here all her life. She actually got points for being quiet; shyness and listening were rewarded here.

And the parties! Lacy loved the parties; she finally had a closet full of pretty dresses, matching shoes and bags and plenty of places to wear them. Garden parties, afternoon teas, dinner parties, debutante parties; Lacy loved them all. She knew how to behave here.

How odd that she'd grown up in the wrong place.

© 2010 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Seed beads, Swarovski crystals, glass cabuchons, Shimmerstone cabuchon by Paradox Moxie. Bead woven lace.

Wrapturous

The dew was still wet on the grassy field, but here, under the trees, the carpet of pine needles was soft and dry. She had woken up before the sun and watched the light change from colorless dark to blue grey to soft pink; she continued to gaze in wonder as the endless greens of the leaves appeared and intensified.

Her world had gone from black to technicolor; every morning it was the same. She wrapped her arms around her own shoulders in an effort to warm herself; the weak morning sun did not have any heat in it yet. Smiling, she began to walk back home.

It was enough to have light.

© 2010 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Seed beads, crystals, freshwater pearls. Hand fabricated. Beaded beads based on a pattern by Bead Origami.