ravensweald

The Wormwood Mason
15Feb26 | 20.51 CST
© 2026
michael raven
c: 260215.2051
AI-generated image with refinements by Michael Raven using Gemini agent
Erza trudged up the muddy two-wheel track leading to the Vane cabin, making sure to cover his bound notebook under his slicker to keep it dry. The rough path was greasy with the steady drizzle of rain that had arrived at Wormwood the same day as he had. He had despaired of driving the last quarter-mile to the cabin immediately upon seeing the conditions from the two-lane, shoulder-less county road that passed by the homestead. When choosing his rental car, he had emphasized economy over practicality. He regretted, not the first time on this expedition, that he had not rented something with four-wheel drive for a trek into the heart of Appalachia.
(more…)
tagged:
appalachian gothic, experimental, horror, prompted fiction, prompts, writing challenge
filed under:
prose, writing
32 comments on The Wormwood Mason
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The Wormwood Mason
casting runes — 14feb26
14Feb26 | 18.30 CST
© 2026
michael raven
c: 260214.1830
raido
```
who is ridden
when horse & rider flow?
eventide at black sands
waves upon the shore
```
A poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.
Today’s rune is raido, which has been translated as “ride” and the implied “journey”. This may be spatial and literal in practice (a physical journey), or it may be more figurative (an inner/shamanic journey, i.e., útiseta). The rune is associated with cyclic motion and the movement of the sun. Some consider the journey represented by raido to be that of returning.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
tagged:
poetry, raido, rewilding, rune
filed under:
poetry
3 comments on casting runes — 14feb26
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casting runes — 14feb26
Where’s the prose?
14Feb26 | 14.22 CST
© 2026
michael raven
c: 260214.1422
Okay, I’ll admit. I’m still working on the prompt from 12 February, and it might not be done until tomorrow. And, I’ll probably break my target limit for length on this one. You can’t win them all.
Unlike most of the prompts that I’ve worked on that feel like they fit nicely into the <2000 word limit, this one feels like it needs to breathe and be allowed more space to be told. I don’t think I’ll exceed 3000 words, but it may get to that if I need to. Three hours of brainstorming and researching elements of the story and two hours into writing, I am 1600 words into it. I think this feels beefier than the other tales because it fits into my wheelhouse a little better. Appalachian Gothic vibes very close to the pulp horror that I’ve always found to be a big influence in my writing (when not swooning over Kafka or Salinger). This story has more elements of the atmospheric to it, which take up more space.
I’m still plugging away and hope to have something posted by tomorrow (at the latest), earlier if possible.
But now, I need coffee and to start making dinner soon.
tagged:
change of plans, prompted fiction, update, writing about writing
filed under:
writing
8 comments on Where’s the prose?
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Where’s the prose?

c: 260214.1114

they write your name on a cup
then the cup is crushed, discarded
in another gesture to a refuse kind of day

hiding behind closed doors with
all feathers turned to vane, whispering
wishes breathlessly to the dim

they will not know these ever for
love lies bleeding in the snow
rapiers quivering, too late for regrets

tagged:

betwixt and between, poetry, the dreaming

filed under:

poetry

6 comments

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hidden

poppet on barbed wire

13Feb26 | 18.50 CST

michael raven

c: 260213.1850

come to me on wraith of wind
come ancient through the wood
poppet strung on barbed wire
catch rag on bone, you should...

sing song the barley wine
kiss her a'fore the ruddy dawn
poppet strung on barbed wire
carve her stitched mouth drawn

tagged:

betwixt and between, poetry

filed under:

poetry

8 comments

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poppet on barbed wire

casting runes — 13feb26
13Feb26 | 10.03 CST
© 2026
michael raven
c: 260213.1003
tiwaz
```
standing as stone
my blood waters earth while
ink-stained fingers smudge
the performative lies smeared
crimson across the page
```
A poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.
Today’s rune is tiwaz, which is named after the Norse god Týr, and the second weekday (Tuesday) is named for the god. According to Norse myth, Týr offers his right hand to the wolf Fenrir, who bites it off when he realizes the gods have used the offering to distract the wolf while they bind him. The rune is typically considered symbolic of honor, loyalty and justice, as well as of sacrifice. It may be representative of discipline and faith. Some interpretations have associated the rune with the North Star.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
tagged:
poetry, rewilding, rune, tiwaz
filed under:
poetry
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casting runes — 13feb26
ripsaw
13Feb26 | 08.04 CST
© 2026
michael raven
c: 260213.0804
```
poplar crowing at height
a city's dirty snow
stretched out below me
leaning into tumble
for but to pray to fly—
a ripsaw shredding harsh
songs against the grain
```
tagged:
betwixt and between, poetry, rewilding
filed under:
poetry
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ripsaw
hollows
12Feb26 | 19.19 CST
© 2026
michael raven
c: 260212.1919
I am gnawing at black ice, waiting to become real while taking in all obsidian and injecting it in my veins. I would offer you a taste, but I can already see your shard eyes speak and say, “Oh, I had planned to offer you mine.” I would not want your generosity to go to waste. So I gnaw.
Sure sure, I’ll be paid in token for my taking — coin coming in kisses melting on the wind. Scant warmth, that. But enough heat for a haint, when we black ice gnaw the typic nights, I expect.
My twin blind eyes haze over when I look to the east. Hollows, I say to none… There is no Avalon.
tagged:
betwixt and between, melancholia
filed under:
prose
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hollows
Tom’s Studio Wren
12Feb26 | 14.19 CST
© 2026
michael raven
c: 260212.1419
I think I may have found a new obsession: sustainable pens.
photo: Tom’s Studio, https://tomsstudio.com
Along with my conscious decision to stretch out my prose muscles in the coming months, I wanted to start developing an analogue note-taking/journaling habit (as it turns out, those muscles used for writing have atrophied as well, surprise surprise). In the early days of trying to move away from the keyboard to do some writing, I’ve discovered that my hands have lost all of their muscle tone when it comes to holding a stylus for any length of time.
(more…)
tagged:
analogue writing, sustainable writing tools, Tom’s Studio, unplugging, Wren
filed under:
writing
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Tom’s Studio Wren
casting runes — 12feb26
12Feb26 | 09.46 CST
© 2026
michael raven
c: 260212.0946
raido
```
gentle rocking, creaking wain
twilight tints storm eyes
returning to lost highways
alone but for dense, winter fog
```
A poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.
Today’s rune is raido, which has been translated as “ride” and the implied “journey”. This may be spatial and literal in practice (a physical journey), or it may be more figurative (an inner/shamanic journey, i.e., útiseta). The rune is associated with cyclic motion and the movement of the sun. Some consider the journey represented by raido to be that of returning.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
tagged:
poetry, raido, rewilding, rune
filed under:
poetry
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casting runes — 12feb26