Dark Shadows Fan Fiction
Aug. 31st, 2009 10:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
river_kateChapter One: Journey To Collinwood
August 7, 1967
Here I will record part of my story, which is the truth as I experience it in the moment. I will also embellish the truth at times, shine light into some of the darkness and also hide selected areas in the shadows, from myself and from you. Anyone reading this will not really know what is true and what is not. I have just written the above lines to break the ice, make myself at home and to dip one toe in here and begin.
I am aware of connections to my extended family. Many of the living ones are not aware of me. I am also aware of my ancestors and many of them are able to tune into the vibration of me. I feel their stories in my DNA and I work with those energies for the purpose of my own journey through this life like the artist and creator that I am.
There are other people that surround me and I have only superficial connections to them. If they notice me at all, they see an eccentric artist who also dabbles in and restores antiquities. Some have suspected me of being a witch but I do not consider myself to be one. While I do commune with nature and love the beasts, plants and spirits, I am too undisciplined to structure my involvement. Also, I don’t care to compromise myself with involvement in groups and all that they entail.
I have some gypsy blood and do not feel comfortable planting myself in one place and staying there long after it’s fresh and vital to do so. When I find myself not bothering to look at my natural surroundings, I believe it is time to move on. That is what many of the Native American tribes did in the part of the country that I live in. Being mobile and moving with the seasons feels natural to me.
Lately however, I’m feeling called to a part of the country that I have never even visited in this lifetime. It is the home of my ancestors when they first arrived in America and settled on the coast of Maine. Many of the family still reside there although they don’t know of my existence. There are many of us that have been flung to the winds by the occasional careless Collins.
I have no desire to attempt to meet the present family members. I just feel that I must go to the area where the spirit of the ocean seems so different than the ocean I have known in the west.
August 7, 1967
Here I will record part of my story, which is the truth as I experience it in the moment. I will also embellish the truth at times, shine light into some of the darkness and also hide selected areas in the shadows, from myself and from you. Anyone reading this will not really know what is true and what is not. I have just written the above lines to break the ice, make myself at home and to dip one toe in here and begin.
I am aware of connections to my extended family. Many of the living ones are not aware of me. I am also aware of my ancestors and many of them are able to tune into the vibration of me. I feel their stories in my DNA and I work with those energies for the purpose of my own journey through this life like the artist and creator that I am.
There are other people that surround me and I have only superficial connections to them. If they notice me at all, they see an eccentric artist who also dabbles in and restores antiquities. Some have suspected me of being a witch but I do not consider myself to be one. While I do commune with nature and love the beasts, plants and spirits, I am too undisciplined to structure my involvement. Also, I don’t care to compromise myself with involvement in groups and all that they entail.
I have some gypsy blood and do not feel comfortable planting myself in one place and staying there long after it’s fresh and vital to do so. When I find myself not bothering to look at my natural surroundings, I believe it is time to move on. That is what many of the Native American tribes did in the part of the country that I live in. Being mobile and moving with the seasons feels natural to me.
Lately however, I’m feeling called to a part of the country that I have never even visited in this lifetime. It is the home of my ancestors when they first arrived in America and settled on the coast of Maine. Many of the family still reside there although they don’t know of my existence. There are many of us that have been flung to the winds by the occasional careless Collins.
I have no desire to attempt to meet the present family members. I just feel that I must go to the area where the spirit of the ocean seems so different than the ocean I have known in the west.
