Vila SpiderHawk's Page

My first memory is of the forest’s call. Oh, no, it wasn’t the wind in the trees or the splashing of rain against arthritic trunks. Those sounds were there, in their proper seasons, along with the singing of the birds by day and the chirping of the crickets at night. But there was something else curling through all that, wispy and fragile, that I sometimes could not catch, something as sweet as wistfulness that would whisper near my ear as I lay in my bed. Sometimes late at night I’d awaken with a start and stand on my bed near my slot of a window and watch the shimmering white halo dance like angel wings around the crowns of the trees, and I’d promise, “I’m coming. I’m coming soon.” Excerpt from Vila SpiderHawk's Forest Song: Finding Home p. 12 a href="http://www.spelldust.com/" target="_blank">

I dreamed Heidi and I were in a crystal forest. Sunlight washed through the glittering limbs casting rainbows at our feet as sparkly as jewels. Birds and insects chattered around us and, under their humming, like a chorus of souls, a wordless song of ethereal longing. Tiny white and purple petals fluttered around us, settling in our hair like fragrant dew. And, when we held out our hands to gather them, they turned to butterflies at rest in our palms, their wings opening and closing as if they were in prayer. Excerpt from Vila SpiderHawk's Forest Song: Finding Home p54 a href="http://www.spelldust.com/" target="_blank">

I am a voracious reader with eclectic tastes. Every now and then a writer comes along whose work gathers my attention so that I seek more and more of her work. Vila Spiderhawk [http://vilaspiderhawk.covenspace.com/] is one of those writers who captivates me. I read Hidden Passages: Tales To Honor The Crones non-stop and found myself looking for more from Vila! And now! Right now, there is m-o-r-e! I just got the book yesterday, and I am already halfway through Forest Song: Finding Home. This is Vila's second book, and it is an ambitious, courageous adventure into the psyche. It has passages that reach the heights in the lyric mastery that lets the spirit know that for those who are willing ~ there is always help and hope! Review by Many Feathers a href="http://www.spelldust.com/" target="_blank">

"You don't know? You can't feel it? This is the cloak of life. It's made of the generations, Donnata, of the cycles that they make. See how they interact?" She traced a coil of blue. "See how Grandmother dies and returns as daughter, how the babe grows to be Crone and dies? See how the cycle never ends but feeds on itself, swirling backward, swirling forward." Her finger followed the intricate pattern on my lap. - Excerpt from Hidden Passages: Tales to Honor the Crones P. 96

Vila SpiderHawk’s prose vibrates with poetic resonance as her stories dealing with change, loss and awareness gently, but firmly, guide the reader on different journeys from varied perspectives. Some of the stories may sing to your soul as they seem warmly familiar, perhaps similar to your own life path in the past (or in the future), yet told from a unique perspective. Other tales may be less comforting, but they are great tools for growth and awareness. For example, “Heraulta” may challenge the reader to face parts heretofore unaddressed of one’s own intense Be-ing while “Mima Po” comforts with the path to enlightenment shown that many switched on souls have perhaps experienced in similar ways. To say that this book is well-written is an understatement; Vila SpiderHawk will always have a reader in me. ^V^ G.L. Giles, Author of V3: The Vampire Vignettes ReVamped

Tichu considered what the women had said. The fire festered like a wound, melting the snow around its base to a sickly oozing slush. Sitting cross-legged, the women waited, still as ice, unwilling to disturb her reflection. At last Tichu drew her hand from Harugi’s, kissed the Crone on both her cheeks, and rose to speak. Her eyes flashed defiance. “When I die,” she poked her chest fiercely with her finger, “it will be in Grandmother Spider’s arms, not on the end of a spear.” Her voice, sharp as flint, chiseled between her clenched teeth. - Excerpt from Hidden Passages: Tales to Honor the Crones, P 179

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