courtesy of Gwen M Myer

Ascendant Dragon Self

My dragon self is ascendant now; 'tis obvious in the way I move. I express my heart with the body language of the dragons. The languid, sinuous ducking of my head and neck when I am surprised or touched. Startled my wings/hands open, readying for a flight away. Irritation is seen in the restless flicking of my wings. In my true belly laugh is the joyous abandon of a dragon's brassy call. Wound me and my wings cross protectively over my heart, for the vanes heal faster than the deeper injury of spirit.

The dragon in my nature is seen in how I taste of life. The deep- drawn scenting of a breeze, seeking the tales told there. Food is a bouguet to be experienced; the flavours, colours and textures are wallowed in. I bask in the sun, baking the chill of highest atmospheres from my bones. Water is a delight as it slides over me and creates a different bouyancy than flight.

I remember flight, the sensation of the air and wind on the underside of wings. The sun is burning on the top of me as the belly is frozen from the height. Ahhhhh... to dive, swoop, and soar above it all... I ache for the loss of this freedom. Come, fly with me and we will find places forgotten in the dust of history...
Gwen Myer.


Introducing Gwen M Myer

Gwen Myer is self-taught in a broad range of studies. Her long-term interests are the sciences, art, metaphysics, and alternative medicines. Her first love was and still is the printed word, her earliest pleasant memories being of books and learning. While finances prevented her from completing an 'organized' education she continues to learn and expand her horizons on her own.

Gwen shares her writing time between science fiction, fantasy, romance novels, and the occasional foray into poetry. She prefers to alter her style to fit the tenor of a story, rather than adapt the story to suit her style. This perspective keeps her skills and style fresh and vital (she believes).

Gwen's numerous and varied other interests include gardening, history studies, cooking, food preservation, motorcycle travel, drag racing, and camping. She loves people and animals and has been accused of being able to spoil an earthworm. She finds she needs to read at least two books at once and be involved in projects on a half-dozen levels for her to feel she is challenging herself intellectually.

Publishers, agents, and anyone interested in meeting a full-time crazy lady may contact Gwen at

An Extract from the work of
Gwen M. Myer

Grimly the four refused to admit defeat, only wills of deep-dug Tyquit keeping them fighting. As the westering sun touched the horizon the last of their enemies fell. Weapons thudded to the ground as the men sagged with their muscles quivering in exhaustion. From seeming nowhere more Berserkers poured o'er the hill. Four pairs of despairing eyes turned to Phohaith who slumped to the ground, his magic fires dwindled to flickering embers. With swords dragging in the mud Torreon and Janeth struggled to rise; still on their knees Pyrth and Kared tightened their bowstrings yet again. Pyrth's bowstring shredded to useless fibres as he watched the knot dissolve. A Berserker with spittle silvering his face charged across the sand towards a defenseless Pyrth. Glond-weapon raised high, the Berserker loosed a cry of victory.

"Pyrth!" Echo's cry tore through the air. Her mind filled with images of what might have been. The images dissolved in a whirlwind of sparks as her eyes darkened to the colour of embers. Time slowed to the speed of one drop of blood, sliding down Echo's forehead from beneath her Liht-Stone. Pyrth's frail bow rose to deflect the heavy steel of Glond-weapon. Everyone froze as a blinding red-gold light filled the air. "Echo! Nay!" Pyrth's cry was heartbroken. Tears filled his eyes as Berserkers burst into flames. Kared groaned aloud as fireballs slithered across the landscape, forming a juggernaut of flame burning across the desert. Gathering speed, it scorched an unerring path towards Dhedra's Tower. In the silence following the firestorm Pyrth staggered to his feet and wobbled to Echo. "Please, nay..." His unfinished, hopeless prayer fell from lips that trembled as he lifted Echo from the sand.

The Work of Gwen Myer

Masque of the Red Death - Halloween News Report
Winner of Soul Food Writing Competition October 2004