Siege of the Spirit
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siegeofthespirit.bsky.social
Siege of the Spirit
@siegeofthespirit.bsky.social
170 followers 300 following 310 posts
Wrestling bipolar disorder through music and writing. And horses.
Visit www.siegeofthespirit.com
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Reposted by Siege of the Spirit
acturek.bsky.social
The satchel yawned like a path of damp and shadow. “It’s empty.”

“And if it were full, would you have any need for a pilgrimage?”

A breeze stirred the canopy among stray sunbeams. Of course, she was right. It was time to trust the gods.

#vssfantasy #writingprompt #fantasy #forest #ForestFriday
January 2, 2026 at 1:52 PM
siegeofthespirit.bsky.social
That would be me!
Thank God for horses!
#equestrian #horse #horsesky #funny #therapy
Picture of an equestrian standing on the ground trying to handle a rearing dark brown horse. Text over it reads “Equestrians walk a very thin line between bravery and insanity. A few of us use that line as a jump rope.
January 2, 2026 at 4:41 PM
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siegeofthespirit.bsky.social
As understanding dawns in its own time a new purpose begins, freshening hope when all seems lost.

From Siege of the Spirit

#fantasy #hope #mindful #WIPSnips #begin
White text over photo of an icy river reads And now she knew her life had changed in more ways than one, for it would be she who guided the Acolytes back when this awful day was over, and it would be she who would keep the Song of the Soul of the River in their hearts for the seasons to come. She did not know entirely how she understood these things, but she was BEGINning to see. Siege of the Spirit
January 1, 2026 at 1:13 PM
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arachnereid.bsky.social
Happy New Year, writing community! 💗
May we leave what we no longer need in 2025.

"Death cycled back again and again....
As much a part of life as birth.
the one experience every living thing ever has in common clears the way for new life and experience to emerge."

#WIPsnips #begin
Before that, seas of ice came and went like long winters. This one spot on Earth had been on the bottom of the ocean, the top of mountains, part of a sea of molten magma. Death cycled back again and again, an unavoidable force. As much a part of life as birth. Death was the one experience every living thing ever has in common. It clears the way for new life and experience to emerge. A catalyst for new beginnings.
January 1, 2026 at 3:03 PM
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rockwlrs.bsky.social
Here's a synonym to start the new year with.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky
Sometimes when I say something, people don't react the way I wanted them to because they'll all think that I said something different from what I actually meant. Most of the time it's something bad. It's so strange to me that everyone else misinterprets me the same way in those circumstances, but I know it's because I think a certain way, and they all think the same different way. I've learned to just explain what I intended to say and move on, because if I argue about it they will insist that I obviously meant to say what I know I didn't mean to say and there's no way I can change their minds. It's so scary to not be able to trust your own words. It feels like my mouth is a bomb that could go off on me at any time. I've gotten quieter to try to keep it from happening so often. Maybe it's one of the reasons I don't really want to talk to you. I don't know what I'd do with myself if I accidentally hurt you. I've had bad things happen in my life. The idea of those things happening again scares me. Would it be surprising if I told you that those times where I think something means one thing and everyone else thinks it means something else scare me more? But both fears are connected. I'm terrified that someday I'll say something that makes everyone hate me, and then they'll start, well, I don't want to guess, but I’ve seen a bit of how bad people can be, and I don't want to see any more.
January 1, 2026 at 5:23 PM
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elisebetz.bsky.social
#WIPSnips word for January 1st is "begin"
#WriteSky #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity

In Nin's village of Oakdore, they celebrate the solstice and equinoxes with a festival for all four, Autumn being Nin's favorite.
Silhouette of an oak tree against a green background. Text: A Sylvan Tale #WIPSnips "begin" That day, Nin hid in the back, restacking the sacks of barley. In less than a month she would begin brewing the ale for the Autumnal festival that honored Cráeb, God of the Forest, he who provided wood to boil the water, casks that stored the brewed ale, timber to build houses, and kindling to keep them warm during the cold Winter months. His acorns provided additional food when crops failed, and fruit and grass that ripened in the sacred forest fed the animals that provided game to hunt. The festival was one of the four major seasonal festivals the village observed and honored. The Spring festival was homage to Eostre, the Summer festival celebrated Áine, and Winter Yule with revering of Cailleach. The Autumnal festival was her favorite as the freshly harvested barley made the finest ale of the year, the food was the best of all the festivals featuring apples and hazelnuts roasted with caraway and honey, and acorn cakes, in addition to being held the day before her birthday, the first day after the full Autumnal moon.
January 1, 2026 at 4:41 PM
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acturek.bsky.social
Rushak’s end of the year vibe.
Haunting piece of music. Definitely going on my Brother’s Keeper playlist.

youtu.be/1N5fQpmPa88
In limine III: Leave
YouTube video by A Tergo Lupi - Topic
youtu.be
December 31, 2025 at 11:00 PM
Reposted by Siege of the Spirit
acturek.bsky.social
#fantasy #WritingCommunity #WriteSky #WipSnips #end

Rushak makes it back to his friends … barely. Things are happening too fast for him.

Black space after 1st sentence is redactions.

- Brother’s Keeper, first book of my fantasy WIP about two brothers bound by a misunderstood power
"Rush, I saw what you did. It was [redacted] He stumbled. His friends reached for him. Death, the ENDing and the beginning of everything, surrounded them all. Trees ringed the clearing, a circle of spears. Sticky spiderwebs swathed his neck, his head; he clawed at his face, carving deep scratches in his frenzy. The babbling rush, the crash of swords, the cries of pain and the rhythm of drums and Cerel, he thought, would die in homelonging like the others, far from everything he had known. He did not know when or why. The red bird, the dragon of his nightmares, passed before his eyes, blocking out the whirling sky. It darkened, became a shadow over darkness. There was nothing to reach for. He sat abruptly and pulled the quiver to himself. Brother's Keeper A.C. Turek
December 31, 2025 at 1:03 PM
siegeofthespirit.bsky.social
They have this chance to define themselves.

(I’ve shared this one before)

- From Siege of the Spirit

#fantasy #hypocrisy #WIPSnips #end
White text over picture of aurora reads: This trial raises the question of our orthodoxy, sprung from the days of Nam-Tar. We believe that in those days [God] used people to achieve certain ENDs. We believe that everyone's actions followed [God's] prescribed plan. Everyone's. Are we now going to take the accused alone to task on this terrible, pivotal event? Siege of the Spirit
December 31, 2025 at 1:16 PM
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levostregc.bsky.social
Remember: It ys okaye to be lonelye. It ys okaye to feel lost. It ys okaye to be sad. It ys okaye yf nobody ys arounde. It ys okaye to have no plannes or just small plannes. It ys okaye to have big plannes that seem exhausting. It ys okaye to be a mess. Take care of thyself. Thou art amazinge.
December 24, 2025 at 6:08 PM
siegeofthespirit.bsky.social
Crawling through the forest of life in adversity and beauty there is peace to be made. Take rest with the tree gods. Take rest with your heart. Take stock of your smallness. And breathing, climb over and on.
See more in alt.
#forest #nature #trees #solitude #vssfantasy #peace #bipolar #mentalhealth
Lying on the ground in the forest, you gasp for breath. A mossy fallen tree looms ahead, towers over you on its side. A black-fingered tree limb reaches across it, barring the way to a patch of dry creek bed and the distant sunlit aspens beyond the dark conifers that surround you.
December 31, 2025 at 4:34 AM
Reposted by Siege of the Spirit
acturek.bsky.social
#fantasy #WritingCommunity #WriteSky #WipSnips #sun

Drisal gets a moment of peace.

- Brother’s Keeper, first book of my fantasy WIP about two brothers bound by a misunderstood power
"Some of his hurts will never heal. But keep him quiet and what may be restored will be. I regret I know not about that which works in his spirit. Be careful of him. Now I must go; others are in need." The door flap scraped against its support pole as the healer wrestled it aside and strode past Drisal. His yellow robes rippled away through the white camp. "I will do as you say," Drisal said faintly to his back. He sighed deeply, regarding the pouch in his hand with its blessed contents. So quickly the pain had dulled, the resonance quieting in him like the cooling embers of a dead fire. At last his brother slept. Drisal could feel the warm SUN on his back, his own back. He turned and let it caress the skin of his face, his own skin; and as he basked in warmth like a benediction a little of the sleepless night's oppression lifted from his bones, though his spirit yet roiled with the anguish and turmoil that remained all his own. Brother's Keeper A.C. Turek
December 30, 2025 at 1:17 PM
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acturek.bsky.social
#fantasy #WritingCommunity #WriteSky #WIPSnips #thread using threadbare

Last night was really rough. Rushak is struggling.

- Brother’s Keeper, first book of my fantasy WIP about two brothers bound by a misunderstood power
"I am coming, my lord!" he cried, forcing alertness into his voice. Eerie silence followed. He listened, but it was the air of focused menace more than any sound that told him his father still lurked outside his door. He wrestled free of his nightshirt through a yawn. He glanced at his hand, which prickled and bleated for help, and refused himself the moment needed to massage the ache away. Instead he reached through the jaws of a topaz aura with shaking hands for yesterday's leggings, tossed carelessly on top of his pine chest. At least no blood had gotten on them or the THREADbare tunic. It was perfect for the job ahead. But in the midst of thrusting his arms into the sleeves he found he had not moved fast enough. Brother's Keeper A.C. Turek
December 28, 2025 at 1:39 PM
siegeofthespirit.bsky.social
Standing inside a redwood snag, looking up thick and broken tower walls at treetops so delicate in comparison that the branches look like spiderweb strands strung back and forth from here to there, having captured snd filled with atoms of moss. #tree #forest #sundaysnag #nature
Looking skyward from inside a fragment of hollow redwood snag. Walls of shadowy wood looming around you, with treetops and a bit of sky showing far overhead
December 28, 2025 at 2:15 PM
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acturek.bsky.social
Someone on here may have got me thinking about pianos …
Here’s a thing, a work in progress mind you, dropping now for the #prompt words that inspired it.
#vss365 #struggle
#emoetry #uncertain
Text on a photo of a brown mission-style upright piano A struggle now to play thoughts out on pristine bars of black and white Like clean pastels they sketched my feelings once, shaded cadence, textured melody. Glissandos clear as icicles I've smeared like curdling cream; notes cascading through the starlit night must pause now, pixelate and buffer. My uncertain fingers wander on to trip and sprain themselves on one step and another, and tumble down the shifting staircase of piano keys. Amanda Turek
December 27, 2025 at 3:08 AM
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markpaleo.bsky.social
A beat-up gray Tercel with a maroon driver’s side door coughs violently & crosses over the yellow lines to pull over to my side of the street.
“Get in.”
I decide to follow orders instead of trying to force a joke. I bite back a question about how long doctors have given the Tercel to live. #WIPSnips
December 27, 2025 at 5:44 PM
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acturek.bsky.social
If Rushak was transported to the real world, I think I found a new obsession for him. youtu.be/Z7n6o74X5Uw
ZEM Live On semi-electric Harp
YouTube video by ZEM CHANNEL
youtu.be
December 27, 2025 at 6:34 PM
siegeofthespirit.bsky.social
Ready for launch!
#Caturday
Calico cat Lily looks up toward the right. She’s about to jump up and hug my husband and lay with her head on his shoulder.
December 27, 2025 at 2:20 PM
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siegeofthespirit.bsky.social
“Why me?”

- From Siege of the Spirit

#fantasy #bipolar #anxiety #WIPSnips #type -> synonym = kind
"Why me?" That question is useless. It is too big, the kind of question a child would ask." He drew himself up, but inwardly he was sobbing. *Yes, that is right, that is what I want to know!* His voice shook. "It is ... a question of self-pity." She took his chin roughly in her hand. "Don't try to tell me you have never been guilty of that!" "I am mortal!" he cried, in agony. Siege of the Spirit White text on a darkened background of forest detritus and bones
December 26, 2025 at 12:54 PM
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acturek.bsky.social
#fantasy #WritingCommunity #WriteSky #WIPSnips #type

Lord Deran tries to convince the Rhursans their war needs to end. His word choice could have been better.

I do not apologize! 😆

- Brother’s Keeper, first book of my fantasy WIP about two brothers bound by a misunderstood power
"We believe the Kudrum, or some greater force uniting them, fabricated the quarrel upon which your war is based. They are now disabled, temporarily and incompletely. But you must take the reprieve you have been given, make peace with Chivel, and join forces against the common enemy while there is still time." Lord Kiven stepped from between bodies at the back of the tent. In his fist he held up a wicked-looking black arrow. "Fabricated the quarrel?' Is that what this war is? A quarrel?" He thrust the bolt at Lord Deran's face. "Then, what is this? Its point a shape none have seen, shot from a crossbow of a TYPE none have seen? Not difficult, this. A quarrel! This quarrel killed my brother. A Chivelian shot it. I was there." "A Chivelian, you say." Brother's Keeper A.C. Turek
December 26, 2025 at 1:05 PM
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kaylee-scott.bsky.social
Today’s #wipsnips word is “type”. Set aside the controversy over whether or not the quote is actually from Hemingway 😁 #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writersky #writesky #amwriting
I’ve sat down and started to write my story at least a thousand times.  It never seems to come out just right.  How do you take all of your deepest secrets, your hardest experiences, and put them down on paper for the world to read and truly understand?  There’s too much room for interpretation, for someone to put their own spin on things, to perhaps invalidate your feelings.  It’s too vulnerable.  Hemingway once said “There is nothing to writing.  All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”  And maybe that was it.  I had bled enough.  I was tired of bleeding.  It wasn’t long ago I thought I might actually be bleeding out.  So much hard work went into rebuilding, repairing, to finding myself again.  What if sitting here, reliving it all through these words on these pages reopened all of those wounds and, this time, I wasn’t able to be stitched back together again?  
December 26, 2025 at 12:24 PM
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mycelialwriter.bsky.social
Selania’s meeting with the Azantium general and their clashing belief constructs… #WIPSnips from KOSAL subbing “kind” for “type”
December 26, 2025 at 1:51 PM
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acturek.bsky.social
MERRY CHRISTMAS 🎄🤶🎄🤶🎄

GAME FACE GAME FACE GAME FACE

ROOOWWWRRR!
Close-up of Aspen’s white-and-black face overexposed by a flash. She has laser eyes!
December 25, 2025 at 4:45 PM
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siegeofthespirit.bsky.social
White

#vssfantasy #whistpr #wildwalkprompt #vss365 #emoetry #writingprompt #writingcommunity
White He gave her the rose. And he is watching now. Will she rave? Another midnight martyrdom to birth this moonchild. Another life given to continue the cycle; this one thing to matter will set aside all else and she will never hear her voice again. She will circle the purpose, her hands always ready and her circles will bleed into another's incantations. All circles are beneath the hegemony. Her hands twist in her lap all but crushing the stem of the white rose. Outside the gates of dream the Pattern writhes. It will break her heart. Hearts are born to sit in beauty. But this is not what the moonborn will survive from their nest of pink petals once the shower is through. Out of the sunrise rivers flow: Snakes from blossoms to blackened streets— Turmoil, torsion, chaos, and all will wait on them. Is this a thought of hers? The moonborn will make it right again. The Commensal wanted these white-clad soul children for her to watch and love and brace for hurt, her hands no longer for crafting her own for channeling, spells or thoughtful reflections. For what is a soul being lifted, for what? The coven? She will not remember thinking these things; or did she say them? This room is dark but for the lantern on the table. She does not even see he has gotten up, and when her hesitant eyes shift toward the empty armchair, she is surprised. A.C. Turek
December 25, 2025 at 8:08 PM
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gaydadappreciator.bsky.social
A little peeky peek from Spider in My Attic #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WIPSnips #WritingPrompts
A nonbinary twink crashes out about how they're perceived by a spider demon. Nephsis wasn’t a goddess. He wasn’t even close. But he inspired the same fear that the divine did in me. The first time I saw him, he his hands were filled with magic that glowed like death, he healed vezroth, which warred against everything I believed in that moment. His eyes—if you could call them that—were wide and black and bottomless, as if they could swallow you whole if you looked too long. And his smile... God. That smile. It was too wide, too sharp, too knowing. It wasn’t a smile meant to comfort or invite. It was a smile that said, I know every dark thought you’ve ever had, and they’re delicious.
December 25, 2025 at 8:00 PM