Hello Friends,
On January 25th, 2024, upon the full Wolf Moon, my debut and genre-bending novel Moonwaiting will be available in paperback and ebook on Amazon.com.
This indie publication is inspired by my past students, my creator blog readers, and several divine friends.
You can preview the Prologue below to see if this book might match your vibe.
Ebooks are less than a buck!
The print version goes for $7, plus shipping. I sure hope you enjoy it.
Many Blessings, Isa Glade Day
Book Club Discussion Questions Here
Summary
When one is threatened, is it better to fight, to flee, or to simply seduce?
In ancient times, young women were recognized as vessels of immense power. Tensions grew with increasing patriarchal dominance and its feminine reply. Twin sisters, both Celtic witches of the 4th century Scottish Highlands, attempt to answer this threat with diverging paths.
Moonwaiting bends toward the feminine mystique, with cunning and war cries, despite the confusion of a political coup.
Dolina and Murdina provide an alternate mythology of the Goddess Morrighan, with internal monologues, sexual fluidity, and universal rites of passage. Action-packed and poetic, this magical realism invites a bit of everything for mature readers.
Praise for Moonwaiting…
“Isa Glade Day takes us on a magical merry-go-round of characters in this foray into the passions of the 4th Century Scots.” –Dr. Robin Carey, Author of North Bank: Claiming a Place on the Rogue
“Moonwaiting is poetic, mystical, magical, adventurous, and liberatory.” -Audrey Gunn, Craniosacral Therapist and Expressive Arts Counselor
“Moonwaiting is simultaneously fresh and deep in its telling, a beautiful exploration of feminine and mystical archetypes. Isa Glade Day weaves a spellbinding tale.” – Ora North, author of Mood Magick
“A fantasy novel of long ago so richly imagined and rendered you can almost believe it’s the story of your ancestors–the epic and heroic women from whom we should all believe ourselves descended” – Jill Rusignuolo, Teacher of English and Mindfulness Studies
Preview the Prologue here!
Spiders and Spies
The story went that the old hag Islay was a keeper of darkness. It was told that the crone threw a blanket of black upon the earth, causing each night to fall upon them. There were whisperings of the bats that flew from her womb and spiders that crawled from her lips as she slept. She was not just a witch. She was all things shadow. She was death itself, and while the twin girls loved the cover of shadows and mystery, they were borne to reveal its secrets. They were driven to seek that which they did not know.
There was a time when the twins Dolina and Murdina were inseparable, well before they began to moon bleed. They seemed to speak their own language, often speaking only out of boredom or reaction, not really needing to say the things they already knew. They were identical, small, wiry and dark-haired. One had to look hard to determine their differences. If their mother Orla were to study them side by side, she could see Murdina’s nose was just a bit straighter; whereas, Donlina’s broadened in the middle. This was a fantastic thing for two mischievous girls whose bloodline gained them favors, protecting them from harsh consequences.
Which is why they agreed to spy on the crooked woman in her slumber, certain of the ghostly visions that would emerge.
“What will Islay do if we wake her?” Murdina asked with a wily grin, too excited to admit her fear.
“Just leave that to me, Murdina. It is nothing a few tears won’t fix,” Dolina pouted with a wink.
When they could hear their giant father Greig’s deep and rumbling snore, they sneaked carefully from their bed and out into the warm night. Murdina brought her knife latched to her hip.
“Why the knife?” Dolina asked, miffed at the dramatics, but Dolina knew Murdina’s serious caution was half the fun! She also understood that, deep down, Murdina was terrified of the banshee. The fat stylized bone blade was a baby’s blanket for Murdina. Murdina instinctively touched the antler handle with her fingertips and shrugged at Dolina with her signature cold stare.
They came upon the banshee’s broch, its heavy door a looming weight. Straight away, they noticed the door stood ajar, and the girls looked at each other in confusion. Was she still awake? Was someone already within the tomb-like lair of the withered hag? They stood completely silent for a long while awaiting any telling sounds and slowly gained confidence that all was still. Then Dolina softly pushed upon the massive door, and it swung wide without issue.
It was the raven that startled them, half-squawking once. They froze in their tracks and altogether stopped breathing. The raven seemed content to just watch, tipping his head and blinking his shuttered lids. The girls relaxed their shoulders a bit, breathing once again.
Islay mumbled in her sleep, and her voice was far away, sated by her dreamscape. Each twin took a side of the bed that jutted out into the room. The lumpy witch lay flat on her back. Even in her warm sleep, she appeared dead. Her jaw hung open and a hollow breath emitted from her wrinkled mouth.
Murdina kept glancing at Dolina, for they really had no plan except to enter the hovel and witness the great fog of Islay’s power. There was a moonlit blue upon her haggard skin and her eyelids were almost translucent. The lids were slightly open to opulent stones, her rolled back eyes. It was unnerving to see her death stare, and they both winced when her mouth made slurs and mumbles, entirely incoherent but resonating with even further mystery. Then she smacked her lips together twice, her black tongue slipping out under her upper lip, then settling back to the gaping hole originally viewed. Islay’s white, coarse hair sprayed out upon her woolen pillow; her nose was ruddy, her chin sprayed with thick white whiskers, and her cheeks covered in dark spots.
They saw her left hand’s fingers lift a bit from the bed. The middle finger began to tap slowly but rhythmically as if the crone was in song. The tapping of Islay’s fingers became the twins’ entire focus. The gnarled tentacles with thick and yellow pointed nails tap tapping upon the bed with increasing speed. There were flash moments of raising all four fingers at once, the sidelong thumb naturally following, a dance partner being led. This simplicity seemed to pull on the girls’ minds and seduce them into the sing-song musical dream Islay had created. The girls each felt the lulling sway of the hand as it coaxed them deeper into the dream of ocean waves, the song of sirens, the soft lure of mist, the room filled with frankincense, and the lifted hand, a life all its own. All of this melted into floating timelessness.
Murdina felt herself sink heavily and forget why they had been there at all. Dolina leaned her forearms onto the thick furs that covered the clan’s witch. It was not long before the girls had drooped down onto their knees and lay their heads upon the banshee’s bed, until they slept just as soundly as their subject of investigation.
When the sun caused a faint purple glow in the early hours, it was Dolina who shook Murdina to awaken. They were horrified to see that Islay was nowhere in sight! They scrambled to the door, peering outward with wide eyes and speeding hearts. The old woman was gone. There was nothing but footprints in the dewy grass and the gentle light of day illuminating their faces. They still had time to get back into their bed before Greig and Orla rose, but it was the raven’s loud singular caw that catapulted them from the lair of the banshee.