Really Slow Motion: OF MIST AND MAGIC

Cover design by Ryo Ishido, inspired by IMAGINE contest winners, Samantha Ku & Daniel Wójcik!

Album Available Now!



Inspired by Phill Lober’s, The Eternal Rest Of A Ronin

A reimagining of Peter Pan

Album blurb by Samantha Redstreake Geary

You Will Be This Legend, I whisper in his ear,
You are Untouchable, I breathe in his doubt, his fear,
You are The Promise of greatness, for the Spirits on Earth.
You will Illuminate the darkness and discover your worth.

The most Legendary of Heroes, fearless and wild,
You are born of myth and mystery, my daring Starchild.
Life After Life, I have waited for you,
At long last, Aeorien, your time has come due.

In this world Of Mist And Magic, your journey shall begin.
You will wander,
You will break,
But, you will not give in!

You must find courage when others turn and cower.
You will shatter the lies beneath their Magic Tower.
You will harness the skies, journey beyond their sand.
You must storm the Skyscrapers of Neverland.

In this Collapsing Universe, under Purple Skies,
You will stumble,
You will fall,
But, you will rise!

I Will Burn Your Ships, but not your story,
You will blaze a path in Flames Of Glory!
I will push you beyond the Celestial Gate.
You cannot escape me child,

I am your Fate..


Book cover design by Daniel Pennystone

Enter the world Of Mist And Magic, where fairy tales are reimagined under the influence of Epic Music Vn & Really Slow Motion‘s enchanting music! Send us your own twist on a classic fairy tale, inspired by composer, Phill Lober‘s ‘The Eternal Rest of a Ronin‘ (featuring gifted violinist, Kelly Ryu), and YOU could join us in the upcoming Of Mist And Magic anthology!

▶ Submit a reimagined version of any classic tale, in any genre (must be YA friendly), under 500 words, in the comments section below! One entry per person. Open internationally.

▶ Deadline is December 15th.

▶ Winners will be determined by a panel of Elevate Epic Writing students, composer Phill Lober, and director of RSM, Agus González-Lancharro.

▶ Winners will be announced on December 19th. Our favorite writers will receive digital copies of the album, Of Mist And Magic, and copies of the album cover art *signed by RSM director, Agus González-Lancharro). The overall favorite will win a spot in the Of Mist And Magic companion anthology, launching in December!

Of Mist And Magic Track List
01 – Aeorien_Fran Soto
02 – Flames Of Glory_Ivan Torrent
03 – Magic Tower_Mateo Pascual
04 – The Promise_Daniel Beijbom
05 – You Will Be This Legend_Vivien Chebbah
06 – Collapsing Universe_Cesc Vilà
07 – Legendary Heroes_Mateo Pascual
08 – The Eternal Rest of a Ronin_Phill Lober
09 – Untouchable_Michael Maas/Christoph Allerstorfer
10 – Celestial Gate_Blake Robinson
11 – Purple Skies_Ivan Torrent
12 – Life After Life_Phill Lober
13 – Starchild_Ivan Torrent
14 – Skyscraper_Phill Lober
15 – Illuminate_Danny Olson
*Following tracks can only be purchased when album is purchased in full:
16 – I Will Burn Your Ships (Bonus Track)_Martyn Corbet
17 – Spirits on Earth (Bonus Track)_Valentin Boomes
18 – To Neverland (Bonus Track)_Cesc Vilà

Clockwater_Phill LoberPhill Lober

Want to hear more from composer, Phill Lober?

Check out his latest album, Clockwater, available on Amazon & iTunes!


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7 thoughts on “Really Slow Motion: OF MIST AND MAGIC

  1. In the Land of Giants (A retelling of Jack and the Beanstalk)
    Once there was a poor boy whose mother had just died. However hard things became, she had been his rock and a loving haven in a seemingly uncaring world. Now, standing over her grave, he wept. Unbeknownst to him, as his silver tears entered the earth, they turned into seeds. Overcome with grief, the boy sat down with his knees pulled up and buried his head in his arms. As he sat there, beautiful thick green vines began to grow from his mother’s grave, up and around him, twisting together as they rose above his head. Finally, feeling the brush of a leafy vine against his shoulder, he looked up to discover a towering green ladder reaching into the clouds.
    Astounded despite his grief, he could not resist setting hand and foot on the vine. He began to climb from the scene of his greatest sorrow to heights he had never known before. The land where he had often gone hungry and been spurned by the townsfolk now spread below him like an enormous patchwork blanket, making the hurts he had experienced there seem merely like crumbs to be brushed away. Upward he climbed, as the setting sun turned the clouds around him to glowing pink and gold. At last, as the sun’s glow faded below the curved rim of the earth, he found himself in the midst of the night sky flecked by star-diamonds.
    Suddenly, a deep rolling voice like thunder, echoed around him, nearly causing him to lose his grip on the miraculous vine-ladder. “Boy!” the voice thundered, sending shuddering vibrations from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. “Boy,” the voice repeated, “where have you come from? How did you get here?” “Sir,” he answered timidly, “my tears for my dead mother burrowed into the earth and became the seeds of this vine you see me on.” For now he could see the voice came from a giant man clothed in a glittering cloak of deepest blue, with a beard like a grey cloud. “Ah,” said the giant, “you are the one then. Come,” said the giant, “Climb up on my shoulders. You are expected.”
    Though fear gripped his heart, the boy did as he was bade. The giant strode away with the boy seated on his shoulder. Ahead of them loomed an enormous castle of clouds, lit from within by pearly white light. As they approached, the misty gates of the castle opened and they entered into the luminous light of the moon enthroned before them. “Welcome,” said the moon. “Welcome,” murmured her giant servants. The giant who brought him knelt, and the boy climbed down and bowed before the moon.
    As he rose, a gentle voice behind him said again “Welcome.” Whisper kisses of rose petals brushed his head and cheek. Turning, he found his mother, the fragrant blessings falling from her hand. “Welcome home my son!”

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Pingback: Of Mist And Magic | WriterlySam

  3. {A Twist of Goldilocks & the 3 Bears}

    Once animals spoke.

    The world, too, had voice.

    Now, the forests are dying as are the rivers, so she chooses silence. Yet, she spoke to the bear who walked among legends until he himself became one:

    The bear, Hibbs, looked up into the night. Though the Norse called the world Miðgarðr, Hibbs called her ….


    The forest of his birth was warm. In the Black Forest, cold winds tickled his ears. Hibbs enjoyed it. He didn’t enjoy being in strange territory.

    “Why did you bring me here?”

    No answer. Hibbs knew GrandMother thought him slow of thought. It hurt.

    He heard sobbing. Hibbs smiled. A healer, he would mend this anguish.

    Hibbs spied a woman sitting. Her long hair was gold. Stepping closer, he saw her face was wrinkled as a prune.

    He asked, “Goldilocks, what ails you?”

    “Urðr,” she snapped.

    Hibbs smiled. “Are you lost like me?”

    “I’m hungry,” said Urðr.

    Hibbs gestured to the bushes. “There’re berries here.”

    Urðr smiled. “I eat only flesh.”

    “I see no weapon. How do you catch prey?”

    “I use snares.”

    “I see none.”

    “It’s right in front of you,” snorted Urðr.

    “I’ll be careful where I step.”

    “Too late. Take me to my sisters’ home. You’ll have to carry me.”

    “I don’t like orders.”

    Urðr murmured, “You would abandon me?”

    Hibbs swept her up in his mighty arms. He noticed her eyes were the fiery blue of lightning.

    He saw how sharp her teeth were …and how close to his throat.

    “Do you fish?”

    Urðr frowned. “No.”

    “Have you ever seen trout fly over streams? I catch them in mid-air. I’m very fast.”

    Hibbs smiled with his own sharp teeth. They were much longer than the old woman’s. Urðr pulled back. She no longer smiled.

    Following Urðr’s directions, Hibbs walked into a clearing where there was a rune-covered well in front of a cottage.

    Urðr smiled, “Urðarbrunnr.”

    Hibbs recognized the well’s name, but it was the towering Ash tree that shook him. He stretched his head back and still could not see the top of it. Hibbs frowned when he saw four stags eating buds from the trunk.

    “You said you were hungry.”

    Urðr frowned, “Dáin, Dvalin, Duneyr and Durathrór are the charges of my sisters, Verðandi and Skuld.”

    Hibbs was getting a headache from all the strange names. “I’ll bring you to your sisters and leave.”

    Urðr said. “We shall have you for dinner.”

    Hibbs studied her. He had been hunted by the Lakota. How many travelers had been these sisters’ dinner? He knew why GrandMother had brought him here.

    ‘Do you?’ mocked her icy voice.

    Another wrong guess. But now to tweak this crone’s nose.

    The bear moved quickly to the Ash tree, dumping her. “I’m thirsty.”

    “No!” screamed Urðr.

    He lumbered to the rune-covered well. With a dip of his paw, he scooped out the rainbow water. His mouth exploded as if struck by lightning. Strange images flooded his mind.

    GrandMother’s laughter bubbled. “Slow of thought no longer, beloved GrandSon.”

    The door to the cottage burst open.

    A blonde maiden rushed him, scissors upraised. A small girl with a skull face followed. She yelled.

    “Verðandi, no! Not his present!”

    Verðandi snapped. “Then, Skuld, end his future!”

    Hibbs chuckled, “Two more Goldilocks! Why are you angry? You were thinking to eat me. All I did was drink from your well of wisdom.”

    Skuld held up a vibrating thread. She brought up her scissors. “Dolt, we Three rule the destiny of gods and men.”

    Verðandi laughed, “Fear us.”

    The bear sighed, “I fear the One whom you have insulted.”

    Hibbs frowned, “You may end the lives of men and gods, but you are powerless against the Great Mystery.”

    Skuld laughed. “Never have I seen the thread of the One of whom you speak. But yours I see!”

    Skuld snipped. The blades promptly bent. Skuld dropped the shears now smoking.

    Verðandi hushed, “This cannot be!”

    Hibbs walked sadly away. “So say all when the world proves larger than the grasp of their minds.”

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  4. The Return
    (The Steadfast Tin Soldier)
    500 words
    a/n * equal thoughts and memory =D

    *One last battle. One last fight,* he thought as peered at the expansive estate lit in the darkness. She was there waiting. Waiting for him.

    That was his hope.

    *I will return to you. Wait for me.*

    Those were the last words he spoke to her before the betrayal. Before her father sent him to die. Those words held him steadfast. His promise kept him alive for the interstellar year he had been gone.

    His thugs took him to Tra’Rugett Prime and sold him to the slavers there. The labor camps on this inhospitable water world was liquid instead of fiery hell. Stinking marshes and fens and seas of swampy sludge were only an irritant. The plant life in them were as carnivorous and bloodthirsty as as any of the animal variety.

    Five horrendous months lapsed before he escaped on a dilapidated ship with three others. Then his time on the Shadow Reaver began.

    He shook away the horror of those memories. He sidled along the perimeter of the warding beacons. The guard was lax unlike when he was their leader. A hole existed in their defenses and he would use it to his advantage. Using the ruthlessness learned aboard the pirate ship, he attacked.

    *”You need to be more ruthless to earn your freedom, soldier,” the burly pirate said as he slashed the laser whip across the already welted back. “The Captain will give you only so much leeway before he strikes at you.”*

    *They circled each other. “Yancey, I will not kill.”*

    *Yancey jumped back and blocked the whip attack before flicking his in a swift barrage. “I said nothing about killing. I said ruthless. You can be ruthless and not kill. Don’t you understand the difference?”*

    “I do now, Yancey,” he murmured as he dropped the unconscious guard before swinging his whip to silence the other guard before he set off the alarm.

    The house was quiet as he swept down the hall. Nothing had changed. Every nook and cranny was the same. He turned a corner and a long hallway ended in double doors. Faint hints of gaiety and music sounded as he drew closer.

    Calmness flooded him. *It is almost over. One last confrontation.*

    A foot to the doors had them crashing open.

    The party gathered, dressed in costumes from the ancient homeland, all turned and stared. Gasps and murmurs sounded as he stepped into room, his eyes searching for those he sought.

    He knew what they saw. The scar from a laser whip lash ran down his left cheek. A cybernetic right leg courtesy of a poisoned dagger wounding him in a raid with the Shadow Reaver crew.


    An unamused grin danced on his lips. “Yes. Me. You thought you killed me, Delacroix. You thought wrong. I survived.”


    The anguished voice pulled his gaze away from the man to the daughter.

    “Hello, Rina. I kept my promise.”

    She ran to him, squeezing him tight. “So did I. I would have waited forever.”


  5. Shirayukihime – I’ll let you work out what the fairy tale is :-)

    The steady drip – drip – drip of snow falling from the overhead branches drenched the ronin’s shoulders. He hunched his cloak closer and peered through the pale mist that shrouded the white-rimmed trees. Was that…?

    It was. A dark cottage squatted in a small clearing like a huge slaughter boar. The absence of smoke implied that it was uninhabited. Perhaps the place might offer him shelter.

    As he trudged closer, dragging his weary boots through the ankle-deep snow, he could make out a vague shape in front of the cottage. Closer, he saw that it was a large box laid on a very low table. The building itself looked odd, with tiny windows and an extremely small door. The ronin would have to bend double to enter. He paused by the strange box. It was fully six feet long and covered with snow.

    He raised a gauntleted hand and swept away some of the snow. Gasping a curse, he took a step back in shock, his hand instinctively reaching into his cloak for the hilt of his katana. Ice sprayed from his boots as he struggled to retain his balance. His breath fogged the frozen air.

    Looking about, he saw no movement, no life. The forest was as still as death. He moved back to the box and swiftly swept all of the snow away. The top was made of glass, though this was not what had caused him to spring back. His alarm had been caused by the contents of the box, now fully revealed.
    She was exquisitely beautiful, skin as white as the snow he had just swept away, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony. Her eyes were closed, her shapely body unmoving beneath her simple shift. The glass coffin, for such it must be, had likely been placed outside to keep it cold.

    The girl was clearly dead, and yet her features stirred such feelings within the ronin’s chest that he felt an irresistible desire to stroke the line of her jaw, the curve of her neck. He searched for the fastening on the lid.

    A dark ball of fury bulleted into him, knocking him sprawling in the snow. A student of battojutsu, the ronin was back on his feet in an instant, his sword slicing through the air exactly where his opponent would be standing. It cut only the air, however, passing over the head of his attacker. His assailant was hooded and, incredibly, stood no more than three feet tall. He carried no weapon.

    “You are not welcome, intruder,” growled the dwarf.

    “Leave this place,” came another voice from behind. The ronin whipped round to see another dwarf, poised to attack him from the other side. More dwarves, similarly hooded, stepped out of the trees until he was circled by seven samurai, all dwarves.

    “Why should not we kill you, intruder?” the first dwarf said. The ronin considered. He would tell the truth, as always.

    “Because I love her.”


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