Passion or Pass On: Guilt

There have been a lot of changes in my life of late. One of the many is that my fiance has found something he is truly passionate about. I am thrilled. He has a focus that I haven't seen in him in a while. His eyes light up when he talks about the podcast he wants to embark on.

But then there is something else. 

Behind the unbridled joy intermingled with fear is something else. I didn't recognize it at first, but then it hit me like a lead weight to the face. Behind the complex brown eyes I have come to love, was guilt.

That feeling that shouldn't be there. Not even a little. 

I almost yelled at him for it in the middle of a grocery store when I recognized it. His shoulders sagged and he seemed almost broken admitting that he hadn't had his full focus on work, or really anything else since the idea had overtaken him. I told him it was fine and I went on to tell him it was normal, throwing in a joke or two about how the only thing he should feel guilty about was not helping plan the wedding (he is, for the record, just in his own way). 

That guilt however, has stuck with me. Looking back it's a guilt that I have also experienced. For me it comes November 1st and leaves somewhere around December 5th. NaNoWriMo has been a passion of mine for years. But it requires a level of dedication that often rivals anything else I have ever experienced in my life. 

I have apologized to countless people for doing precisely what I love to do. I felt guilty for leaving them behind to follow my passion for the written word. More over I felt guilty for being what many would perceive as selfish. I've never been a selfish person, but during those days I become obsessive and yes, selfish. My story lines become my life. i can feel the words itching to come out. My fingers tap furiously on the keyboard and pile letter after letter creating heaps of words and potential upon an otherwise blank screen. 

That guilt has also been one of the reasons why I stopped writing for a while. 

Yes schedules became crazy, my work shifts flipped, and I received a promotion. I got engaged and my family became a focus while we all lost the patriarch of my fathers side of the family. Health is always a concern, and beyond that there are always excuses. 

Guilt is now in the pile of excuses for me. I can not let that nagging feeling be the reason for putting my dreams to the side. It took seeing it in someone I love to hit that realization for myself. 

So just as I encouraged him to follow his dreams, I'm taking mine back up. Here we go. 

Namaste, 

Jessi

Dwarven Greetings

Sylvie growled, half thinking half wishing that screaming, punching a cardboard box full of packing peanuts and walking away would make her feel better. The truth being that it might but there were way too many cameras watching her. She leaned against the cold gray steel of the backroom shelves and stared out the open bay door. The snow fell softly as the calm, frozen whispers of winter graced the threshold. A shiver ran up her thin frame, prompting her to pull her sweatshirt tighter around herself.  She frowned and thought about all the different ways she could get someone fired as she approached the open door.

“Fucking people don’t even know how to close doors.” She shivered again and reached for the rope to pull down the gate. “This isn't a barn!” She tugged but the rope wouldn't give. “What the…”

“Listen, I told you we took a wrong turn at the last portal.” A light skinned woman walked forward from the open door and pointed on a map to her companion. The man frowned, though it was hard to tell through the mound of facial hair present. He took the map from her, gruffly and looked back out the bay door. Sylvie stood there, jaw hanging open, not entirely sure what to make of what was going on in front of her.

“Are you a dwarf?” She heard the words leave her mouth and then quickly regretted them. The man whirled his frame around. All… five feet of him. His long black hair fell down over his shoulders to his waist, with a beard to match. His bright green eyes glared at her and a slight snarl emerged from his lips as her breathed a reply.

“What else would I be, you daft lass?” His voice was deep and guttural, and more menacing than Slyvie had heard from anyone. The woman stepped between them and looked Sylvie over before smiling softly.

“You’ll have to excuse our companion...”

“She doesn't have to do anything but stand there like a hooked fish with her mouth hanging open, apparently!” The dwarf snapped and looked at the map. “No we’re here. This lass is the one. Let’s just get her and be off. Sylvia Cressfall, you’re now with us.” The dwarf’s snarl didn’t let up, and Sylvie’s eyes widened as he put away the map. He gestured to the woman standing between them and she winced.

“Miss Cressfall. Your hand.” The elven looking woman extended her hand. Sylvie, awestruck; put out hers and was met with the slenderest fingers she’d ever seen. As her eyes closed and consciousness flitted from her body, she focused on the dwarf, hoping for an answer. “Now lift her gently, Baldrik…”

“Gently? If she doesn't get a concussion, will that…”

“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on…” Slyvie’s voice faded as her world went black.

Purgatorio-io-io

The door clicked open to a grey room, awash in the less than pleasant feelings of uncertainty and doubt. The winds were fierce but still unable to move anything around them. Stagnation took hold of everything that entered here and held firmly to them without a care as to why they were there. Seraphina took a deep breath and walked forward into the fog. People wandered to and fro not really making any sort of effort to get anywhere. Others remained in one spot watching an invisible television with all the memories of their life playing before them, twisted by time and the unreliable memory of those long gone from the material. Sera looked down at the file in her hand.

“Illiah Skylark” she said softly pulling the first paper aside to reveal a photo of the girl 20 minutes prior to her untimely death. She was pretty in a kind, gentle, unassuming manner. Hopefully this one would be easy to find. Looking up from her paperwork, the cherub frowned.  Most of the souls before her were fading into the background of the realm. Not everyone that was here was necessarily bad or good. Sera pushed a curl aside and looked about once more before taking a step forward. She walked quickly and quietly through the crowds of people, hunters instincts taking over. It was coming back to her more quickly than she had expected. To tell the truth, it had been 50 years since she had done this. She expected that all that time to make a difference in her abilities but, this… this was good. Maybe she wouldn’t return to the material yet. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. She stopped and looked towards the horizon. A woman, shorter than most, was walking towards her. She glanced down at the picture in the dossier and nodded.

“Illiah?”

“Yes?”

“Hi. My name is Seraphina.”

“Are you hear to bring me to heaven?”

Seraphina shifted uncomfortably. “No… I’m from the soul reassignment bureau. We’re bringing you back to life.” She smiled, hoping that’s all she would want to know right now.

“How long has it been since I died?”

“According to your file, 40 years. “ Sera said sifting through the papers in the file. “Why don’t we head back to the bureau and we’ll begin the process of acclimation to the material and you’ll get to know the persons life you’re stepping into.”

“I’m not being born?” Illiah frowned and sat down on the materializing chair. She looked up towards the newcomer with doubt and fear. She had wanted to go back. The material was a world she could remember fondly. The fear was deep seated from her death. The man that had killed her remained in the forefront of her mind. The material is where he was. 40 years though. Maybe he was dead? She had watched the trial as a ghost, wandering around the court room but he went free. There wasn’t enough evidence to hold him…

It was a cold stereotypical day in the northwest: rainy, cloudy, dark and dismal. The court would assemble in a little over an hour. Illiah paced up and down the streets of in front of Hope Point Court House waiting. ‘I’m dead, I’m dead, they can’t see me. I should get closer. Maybe they’ll have pulled up…’

Illiah ran towards the courthouse just as the frenzy of media coverage got there and began flashing their cameras  at the lawyers and the defendant. She pushed through the crowd easily enough(simply phased through) and saw her husband for the first time in nearly a week. He looked different. She remembered him as caring and, right up to the point where he strangled her. Her hand went to her throat, trying to protect herself from the feeling of suffocation again. The man who had loved her, now looked towards the doors of the court house, failing to hide his satisfaction with the situation. It had been nearly 2 months of trials and deliberations, upon whether or not he was guilty of the strangling death of his beloved wife. He had cried on several occasions in front of the jurors claiming to miss her terribly. Each time he tried, Illiah screamed to no avail. For a brief moment her ghostly wails were strong enough that it sent a chill through the courtroom, causing all assembled to question; for a moment, his sincerity that day. Illiah was sure she was wasting away watching these proceedings. Every day she left the courthouse sure that the next day they would bring in more people to testify against him, yet everyday she was let down by the prosecution’s lack of evidence. It wore away last nerves and today… today she was sure he would be sent to jail or set free.

“All rise” The judge, jury and parties were seated and the jury was sent into deliberations. A little over an hour later, the jurors re-emerged looking solemn. Illiah waited with baited breath for their decision. 

“We the jury find Richard Skylark, innocent on the charges of murder in the first degree.”

            Richard looked at his lawyers and smile, patting one on the back on the way out. He walked past his wife’s ghost, and out the doors into his new found freedom. Illiah would never forget the look on his face. Never.

            Sera looked at Illiah who seemed to be in a trance like state, similar to all the other souls surrounding them at the moment. ‘What is it like group remembrance time or something?’ she thought gathering the strength to try to pull Illiah out of it. Her face had contorted into an angry snarl, and her entire body had tensed up in the chair. Sera was actually scared of pulling her from whatever memory it was that was causing her to be this upset.

            “Umm….. Illiah?” No response. “Illiah…Illiah!” She raised her voice to a sterner tone, taking the girls hand in hers and squeezing.

            “What?” Illiah blinked a few times and shuddered remembering where she was again. It was always hard coming back from the dream like state of remembrance.  She looked about frantically, half expecting to see her husband standing in front of her.


             "I'll kill him."

From the Audience: A Look at Marie

“I invite you to a world where there is no such thing as time. A place where the lines seem to blur together, no one really noticing boundaries. I invite you to take a seat and to watch the show.  The hangman and the puncture artist will welcome you with open arms and instruments, looking for a willing stretch of skin and perhaps an unloved neck.  Oh no, dear Clementine; this side show is anything but what you were expecting. No child.”  His voice was soft as he nudged her to the door of the arboretum. The woman was terrified. That was clear but then again, so was her enthusiasm. Her wide eyes, fighting for emotional control of them. The ringmaster saw it and simply, ushered her in. The ring sat waiting for the show, a crowd sitting quietly whispering to themselves. He sat dear Clementine down in the only open seat, taking her coat and placing it over the back of the chair. The ticket collector came to her, but the Ringmaster waived him off. 

“She is my guest.” His cool hand lay on her barely covered shoulder and his stare was just as cold. The ticket collector gave the girl and odd smile and then continued. Clementine looked back at the Ringmaster as he walked to the back of the theater.

‘What have I gotten myself into?’ Her gaze turned from fear to rapt excitement as the lights dimmed. Her focus was brought to the center ring. A small woman with a thin bone structure sat limply, piercings fresh through the skin near her joints. She looked… dead. Clementine gasped, seeing a bald gentleman walk up from behind her to the roar of the crowd.  He flourished and bowed, drinking in the moment. His hand extended to the girls, picking her hand up. Her eyes blinked. ‘She’s alive!’ Clementine inhaled sharply and her hand flew up to cover her mouth.  The woman was stunning. Simply beautiful… but she couldn’t be alive… No one in their right mind would put themselves…

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to the show! I see you have already been greeted by our lovely Marie. Please, do give her a round of applause!” The audience erupted and the Ringmaster gestured towards the girl now suspended midair, giggling and hanging limply. A bald man stood behind her almost in the shadows, saluting the crowd, a grin across his own makeup covered face.  He tugged a rope and Marie’s head popped up looking over the crowd, eyes connecting with Clementines…

“Yes we have a new guest for the evening, thank you for noticing my dear.” The Ringmaster didn’t even look up but gestured to the girl in the audience. Marie let a smile slide across her lips as her master, tugged another rope and a series of smaller strings. Her hand raised and she waved gently, her fingers dancing up and down with the string, accordingly. Clementines stomach turned and she help a kerchief over her mouth. She felt faint but could not look away…The Ringmasters eyes glinted as he watched her reaction, starring at the girl. ‘What have I gotten myself into’ she thought quietly as the show began to seem to revolve around her…

The Moment When...

There comes a moment when you stop, stare into someone eyes, and you can see yourself reflected perfectly back at you. Not the you that you imagine, but the you that the other person sees.

All of their fears, all of their joy, what they see within you, that comforting and perfect moment when you finally realize, it's not infatuation. It's purely, simply; love.

Whether it's love from someone you've taken into your life, through an odd series of events; or someone you've known forever, the feeling (familial or romantic) is profound. It's a moment that no one can ever take away from you.

It's scary sometimes, to know who loves you. But.. in those moments of uncertainty and fear, knowing, simply knowing that someone is out there who cares for you more deeply than any describable logical sense... you find strength. Within that moment. Within yourself.

No one is ever better off without you. YOU have made an impact. YOU are special and amazing.

Please. For no other reason than finally admitting the truth to yourself or someone else, tell someone you love them. Today, everyday, any day. Have the courage to be that moment for someone. Look into their eyes, and show them how much you care for them.

I recently had this moment with my partner. He and I starred into each others eyes and for a moment, I saw what it was that he saw. Within those deep mahogany brown pools, I saw love reflected back at me. Nothing complicated. Love, admiration and something I couldn't quite describe. Until we broke the stare and kissed. I knew what it was. It was something I've never seen married so cleanly together with love. I'll never forget that moment. It was a moment that I will carry with me and cherish for as long as I live.

Thank you, my love.

I sincerely hope you all have either gotten to experience this moment. If not, you will. I truly want to thank you all for allowing me to share my work and myself with all of you. This is in no means a good bye. Simply a moment of appreciation mixed in with a recent revelation in my own life.

Namaste,

Jessi

Astor's Grace - Old WiP

               There was something about the look in her eyes. It was the sort of look that inspired confidence in her followers, her army. She was the sort of woman that men fought wars for. While she was painfully aware of her effect on men and women like, it wasn’t for her ravishing looks, as she didn’t possess those. She was fairly plain in her appearance. Long brown, straight hair; brown, never ending eyes; and a slightly crooked smile. She stood with a complex mix of feigned grace and awkward self consciousness, as she addressed her men. Somehow, when she spoke, she transformed. Her beauty shone through, like the way that the sun reaches the smallest of plants in the early hours of the morning. Her intellect was rapier sharp and just as quick, throwing in a crass joke or two to elicit a laugh from the lower ranks, and connect her to ‘the common man’; while eloquently tying in beautifully predetermined metaphors and imagery to inspire the utmost confidence from her ranks. Her name was Elena, and she was our queen. The one we would march for, the one we would die for, and the woman that I called my wife.

                She stepped back from the podium, sounds of applause still ringing in our ears. Elena walked off the stage with the power and grace of a well spoken official, but behind the thick red curtains of the stage, she let the sort of façade melt away. She reached out and hugged me tight, looking deep into my eyes for approval.

                “How did I do?” I had to chuckle as it was evident that the speech was a rousing success, yet she still asked. Honestly, I was the last person she needed approval from. She had a legion of young men willing to die for her. Me? I was an advisor to the tactics committee, and very rarely saw any action on the front lines.  I smiled and stroked her cheek.

                “You did good, kiddo.” I said, half sincere, half jokingly. She stuck her tongue out at me and laughed.

                “One of these days, you’ll stop calling me that.” She said, pushing herself against me. I smiled, a small private smile and pulled her closer. A cough sounded from behind me, and Elena looked past me rolling her eyes.

                “I’ve got to be the only ruler in all of fucking Astor that has to stop public displays of affection with my husband.” She grumbled and pushed away from me. I turned. It was Cynthia, her etiquette coach and the face of public relations for the kingdom. She was a sterner looking woman, with thinly rimmed glasses, and her hair pulled out of her face. Cynthia looked down at the stack of papers and walked forward, being joined by one of the military advisors on the way. I saluted the gentleman, recognizing him to be one of the generals of Elena’s airship fleet. General Dante Valk, leader of the 1^st airborne squadron, the finest pilots in all of Astor. Elena smiled and reached out her hand to the general who bowed and kissed her hand.

                “All allegiance to her majesty, may her grace protect.” Elena despised the greeting but it had a certain degree of formality to it that her station demanded. The general righted himself and Cynthia smiled.

                “Your Grace…”

                “Elena.” Elena said curtly looking at Cynthia a little harshly. The formalities seemed to be an unnecessary addition to her position and most unwelcome. I hid a small smile as I stood there beside her.

                “Your Grace, the legion facing Eltheener’s western border have begun the march towards their capital. Your general has informed me that an aerial assault, weakening their biodome would be the next step. It would weaken their citizens and allow for easier passage for our troops.” The general stood silently and I shook my head.

                “As much as an assault on the city’s dome directly, would aid greatly, it would also weaken our chances at any sort of eventual diplomatic negotiations.” A voice came from the shadows and a gentleman with long black hair came forward. His name was Liam and he was one of Elena’s diplomatic council members. Elena smiled seeing him joining the small circle. The pair had been close, since the two grew up together in the palace, the children of noble blood. The General frowned and waved his hand dismissively at Liam.

                “Diplomacy with the Eltheenians? Highly doubtful. Their leader is more hot headed than our own and half as wise. Do you really think he’ll have anything to do with us after we’ve barged through his countryside, and razed two of his cities to the ground?” The laughter in the General Valk’s voice was clear though he still tried, in vain, to hide it. Elena frowned and Cynthia’s face paled. Clearly she hadn’t intended for him to do any of the talking, though Liam was an unaccounted for variable in her original plan. Liam smirked and shook his head.

                “You seem to think that diplomacy has only one face, General Valk. For your uneducated, war like hind brain, I’ll speak in small words.” A small, but powerfully poignant smile passed over his features infecting Liam’s eyes. “Interrogation can come across as diplomacy as long as you don’t break too many bones. Keep insulting Elena, our queen, and I may show you that darker side, personally.” The way Liam looked at Valk made him and myself, uncomfortable. The sheer brilliance of Liam’s blue eyes and venomous personality seemed to culminate in his stare. He had always been protective of Elena, taking on his current position to remain close to her. I once theorized that the two were lovers, while I was away, though the thought seemed to fade as quickly as it sprung up. In all of Astor, he was the only man that made me feel uneasy; uneasy about my position in his eyes and uneasy about leaving my wife alone with him.  Elena held back a small chuckle, and covered her mouth, coughing slightly.

                “Ok. Enough. We should head back to the palace before anymore discussion takes place. Besides, I’m sure your families would like to see you tonight. I’ve had you all away for weeks, trying the bring morale higher.” Elena smiled and the group silently agreed, walking off to the airship. I waited for a moment before following knowing there would be reporters with their vid droids crawling all over the exit area. For all that it was public knowledge that I was her husband, it was considered to be a sign of weakness to have me so close to her at all times. While none of her trusted companions believed this to be such a thing, the general public seemed to have adopted that unsavory opinion. It hurt me to a degree to have to be apart from her on a personal level, but on an official level it made sense. She needed a strong positive image during the war.

Brian

I have seen the edges of madness and escaped with my life.

I wrote this sentence over and over, trying to reassure myself of it's truth. Sitting in a diner surrounded by those untouched by anything paranormal seemed almost... freaky. I couldn't shake those eyes. I starred ahead for what seemed like hours, before the waitress came over to refill my empty coffee mug. I shook my head and smiled, thanking her silently.

I have seen the edges of madness and escaped with my life.

Those creatures. They had no rhyme or reason to be there. Why Pennsylvania? Why that building? Why... me? As I closed my eyes, those four stained glass windows appeared in the blackness of my eyelids. Two with a chain and bell... two with a mirror. The vivid blue seemingly trying to create the illusion of clear sky... Those images with the red, red handles and banisters... I shuddered and looked down at my napkin. I had begun to draw them while I hadn't noticed.

“Breathe deep, Brian...” I found myself saying softly. Stop it! That's the name 'they' gave you. Your name is Adam...

“Are you ok, hun?” The waitress, touched my shoulder and caused me to force myself back into reality. I nodded, got up and handed her a twenty. The bill probably only came to five dollars but I needed to get out of there quickly and that was all I had on me. She said something I couldn't make out as I was leaving, probably to another table. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered now was myself. I am normal. I was touched. Madness surrounded me. I survived. I am... Normal.

Dreams became my salvation and personal hell. It had been weeks since that bloody day. I returned home to a mundane existence. I worked in a small shop that had allowed the vacation in the first place. I was starting to hate them for granting me that vacation. I shouldn't blame them for any of it, but somewhere within me, I did. For any other writer a trip that left them scarred would have been amazing material. For me, it was quite the opposite. I hadn't been able to write anything but nonsensical ramblings, and worse they always started with that bastard sentence I couldn't rid myself of.

I have seen the edges of madness and escaped with my life.

'Brian' had become a constant in my life. I would see him walking around the shop while I sat behind the counter. He would run a hand over a female customers face. He would rearrange nonexistent items, furiously. It was always my fault they were out of order. He wouldn't hesitate in telling me later, when we were home. Today was no different. I dreaded going home to the silence. He was awful... Perhaps I had escaped with my life, but certainly not my sanity. Or maybe I was sane. I couldn’t tell anymore. I once had a firm grip on reality. Things seemed to be... fuzzier lately. I sat quietly in my armchair starring at a TV that hadn't been turned on in a month. His face showed up within it.

“Hello Adam.”

“Brian.”

“What did you do wrong today, Adam?”

“Nothing.”

The conversation always began like this. I stood to get away, but he followed me. He crawled out of the TV and walked along the walls to the stove. His hand came down hard on the back of my neck and the world went black.

I awoke on the kitchen floor, blurry vision showing me that underneath the stove needed to be cleaned. I rolled from my side to my back, closing my eyes again. They snapped open within a second and I looked frantically around me, unable to move from my position on the floor. I wasn't in my kitchen. I knew exactly where I was... and my heartbeat raced. They were here.

“Good morning. Brian told us you'd been misbehaving...” Her voice was sing-songy. I screamed. It was a scream no one would hear... Would it be my last?

To be continued...

To Write From the World of Dreams

“Dreams are a succession of images, sounds or emotions that pass through the mind during sleep. The content and purpose of dreams are not fully understood, though they have been a topic of speculation and interest throughout recorded history”~Wikipedia

The idea of writing from your dreams is not a new one. In fact there are several books on the topic, prescribed through many creative writing courses all over the world in modern curriculum. With that being said, I'd like to take this Monday's blog post to discuss just that.

The Imagination Unbound

One of the lovely things about dreams and the lucid state, is that in parts, things flow together. They cause one to almost feel as though there is nothing more natural than a potted petunia floating through the dangerous purple sky. It doesn't matter that it simply doesn't make sense, but allows the mind to meander in and out of the lovely absurdism that is created when our minds relax. The simplistic Dali-esque version of our brains actually speaks volumes as to who we are as a person. No. Stop right there. I'm not telling you that Freud was right and that you have an inherent crush on your mother/father and there's nothing you can do about it. I'm more getting at the fact that, the things you dream about are relevant to your life. These images can often be helpful reminders to the things that populate the waking world as well as our dreams.

Let your imagination that populates your dreams, flood into your writing, whether it be a journal (dream journal, for example) or your works of fiction. Especially your works of fiction. Imagination is your greatest tool. Use it!

Dream a Little...Awful Dream

Like dreams, sometimes there are bad stories. Bad dreams leave us rocked with an uneasy, fearful, and sometimes dumbfounded. These however can be launching points for some great stories. Why not take that moment in your dream where everything went wrong and use it as a pivotal moment in your next short? Or take the moment where things came to a sudden head and then you were left sitting on the side of the street, eating ice cream as a moment of peace within your storyline?

All of the oddities and awful things that happen in dreams can be used. Bad stories, give us things we can use, even if we have to trash the world around it. Why not use our awful, very bad, no-good dreams in a similar fashion?

Tell Your Inner Critic to 'Put a Sock In It'

Another of the great aspects about dreams and the dreaming, is that very rarely can you stop the dream. You can't just grab the reins and suddenly you're in control. Sometimes you can, but not often.

The lesson here is that sometimes, you just need to get that voice of doubt and your inner critic out of the way. These are the voices that keep you from achieving the impossible within the confines of your story. Take the story and just write. In the spirit of many writing competitions, like NaNoWriMo; just write. Ignore that inner voice. Seriously. What does that guy know anyway? You want a wombat themed race of semi-sentient individuals to overthrow the piranha pirates of Bangladesh? Do it. Flying naked mole rats. Why not? A lazy ferret to motivate your main? Ok well for some of us, that's a little closer to truth than fiction.

So write. Write all you can. Use your dreams and your imagination to guide you. Step back from the rules set forth by grammar and good taste, and begin! Those rules will be there when you're done. You can always go back through after and begin the refining process (psst it's called editing for a reason). Don't take all of your wackiness out of it. Be your crazy, dream possessed self and write what ever comes your way.

~Writing Task for the Week~
Are you an avid dreamer? Do you only dream once in a blue moon? Either way, keep a notepad next to your bed, and anything you find intriguing about your dreams, jot it down as soon as you wake up. Story seeds come from interesting places, and your dreams will often be the source for more than a few, whether you realize it or not.

Cheers,
Jessi

A Knight's Decision

"She's gone for the night, you'll have to return later, Knight." An eyeless Watcher stood outside of Illia's chamber. I shook my head and turned, taking my leave. I had no words for that idiot, and anything I could say would be recorded for an eternity. I knew his kind. A footstep behind me. I turned my head slightly, stopping in my walk. "She is not yours, do so remember that, good knight." I could hear those putrid lips part into a grin over his teeth, without so much as looking. I shook my head and continued walking. He was only right in that she couldn't ever be declared mine.

The walk back to the guardhouse was always longest after not seeing her. I would inspect the guards, check weaponry for the evening, and call role, making sure everyone was accounted for. Those that weren't, were rounded up or let go. There was a zero tolerance policy for those trusted with guarding the Family, and the grounds. I turned the corner to a rowdy scene. I tilted my head to the side, seeing a few women scattered about the barracks, and upon quick glance, none of them were authorized to be there. Beer, everywhere. Clothing, sparse.

"Dammit." I grabbed the horn on the wall and blew. It's blare got their attention that was for sure. The women were up and out the door in under a minute, and the men, standing at attention, merely seconds after that. Some clothed, others, only partially. "Well, men, I'm glad you enjoyed your evening." I snarled. I couldn't stand the resentment in my voice. The men stood silent. I starred into each of their eyes for the moment and turned away, moving on.

"Your watches are assigned on the door. I trust there will be less women and booze at each of them. Harris and Milton, you're staying here for the night. Drunkards. Fall out." The two soldier remained, their attentive stares, now falling away in the realization that they'd been found out despite their efforts to appear sober. I frowned as the other men went off, grabbing trousers or shirts as they went. I frowned, directing the men to two seat against the wall. I paced in front of them for what seemed like an eternity.

"The outhouses need scrubbing and the horse stalls need to be cleaned out. I suggest you make yourselves useful. I gestured to the door and it flew open. I blinked, seeing two members of the Court standing in my barracks. Their white and gold robes, hidden poorly under the brown cloaks.

"Gentlemen." I turned my attention to the soldiers, practically throwing them out in favor of these two. The saluted and stumbled out, my hand going to my temples. "What an I do for you, gentlemen?"

"That should be discussed elsewhere and with the ones who sent us for you." The voice was soft but resonated with power, not quite of this world. He extended his hand back out the door to the carriage.

The carriage was black and could only lead me to believe it was going to arrive at the Mancers high court building. I looked at the two that now stood behind me.

"I see I don't get much of a choice in this actual decision. " My tone went from helpful to mocking by the end of the sentence. The two sort of chuckled though I'm not entirely sure what that noise was. I stepped forward to the carriage and sat in the vehicle. The lining was rich. Red velvet, gold trim, and the of course, black curtains. They were drawn for me, and a candle lit within the interior. I sat silently, waiting. If it was the Mancers looking for help from the order, it wasn't going to happen. Since their betrayal so long ago, aiding the Dreamscape split from the Nightmare Realm, the Order wouldn't trust them. Further more, I wouldn't trust them. I have my own issues with the Council.

The ride didn't take long, unfortunately. I would have hoped that I would be able to collect my thoughts a bit while on my way to a certain end. Those that didn't help the Mancers were either eliminated or were driven into madness. I sighed as the door opened and the brown cloaks had been removed. I instead was greeted by the open arms of a woman, whom I didn't recognize. Her dragon, however, did recognize me. It snapped and snarled, threatening a firey end at the word of it's mistress.

"Ah Knight Leoguart. I've been waiting for your handsome face." Her smile swirled upward and the sudden appearance of it, the dragon backed down but only slightly. I approached and bowed, taking her freely offered hand, kissing it gently. She giggled. A woman of her... advanced years shouldn't be giggling. I glanced upwards before standing back to my full height. She was an older woman. Blue-gray eyes that spoke to her wisdom, and bright white hair. Her face showed the marks laughter and tears had left streaked across her face. She was ... tiny. She stood maybe five foot five and weighed less than she should. Her eyes softened when I didn't say anything and she nodded, waving a finger in the air.

"So you want to know who I am. Well, over tea. Come now. It is breakfast time." Her invitation was a bit odd to say the least. It was in fact time for breakfast, though I wasn't sure where the hell the time had gone. A soft melody seemed to float through the air, and I found myself casting a protection spell over my being. She laughed hearing the soft incantation. "Oh darling, that will 'hardly' be necessary, but have it your way." She glanced back over her shoulder, her long white braid swaying back and forth as she walked. The dragon that had been at her side, now head butted the back of my knees.

"I'm going, already. No need to be rude, little one." The dragon hissed and headbutted me again, forcing me to lurch forward. I caught myself easily and moved forward, entering into the not so humble home. The interior felt relaxing and lived in but still immaculately clean. She walked across the hard wood floor, gesturing to a seat by the fireplace, a high backed leather chair sat waiting apparently for my arrival. I stood next to it, waiting for her to return. The house was lovely. Earth tones, greys, and brick adorned the abode. The fireplace was roaring , casting a flickering light to fill the room with it's warmth. Before I had the thought to say anything, she had returned with a tray. Two mugs for tea, a teapot, and some sort of pastry. It was the most hospitality I had seen in a very very long time. She placed the tray down delicately, though She plopped into the seat with a force I generally see from men twice her size. I smirked and sat down in the appointed chair gazing into the fire.

Sins of the Court

"Order!" The Duke shouted as the Princess stood outside of the doors of her courtroom. I stood next to her for the time being, but would separate and go take my seat among the Knights and the Monsters of the Order. I nodded to her as the door opened, sword clattering at my side as I made my way to my seat. The Court was having nothing to do with any of the pomp or circumstance surrounding the arrival of the royal family member today. It seemed the Mancers had other issues on their minds. They remained civil within the Court but only because their powers were rendered useless within it's confines. The Knights and Monster alike were rendered useless, any actions taken led to harsh punishment for anyone involved, not only at the hands of the Mistress but also within the Court.

'Odd. She's here. Perhaps our Princess isn't as naive as I had assumed...' I mused while taking a seat, only to rise again, as the Court finally came to order for the day. The Mancers were silenced and the Order backed down, letting the nobility take charge. I frowned. My amusement had disappeared with the fighting. I turned my attention to my charge who unlike the rest of the crowd, seemed to be at ease, taking a slight direction from the adviser to her left, a woman that looked to be part cat. The woman was in fact, part cat, deriving her appearance on something that made the little princess at ease when she was a child. She nodded silently as the Princess, now fully grown, raised her hand and grabbed the long stemmed scepter , slamming the butt into the ground, sending a shock wave of light green energy through the room.

"The Court is now in session. The Princess will address the Court." The Duke stood back and bowed to the woman, positioning guards at the exits without so much as a word. The simple gesture sent the court into an uproar once again, the Mancers threatening to leave. One stood and pointed to the Princess, black feathers erupting from his back in a cloud of pointless bravado.

"You are not our Queen. We shall not listen to the likes of a child, with minimal pull. Go back to your nursery and re-emerge when you have found a cure for your father." The Mancer cried. Ah perhaps this wouldn't be as boring as I'd thought. I turned to the Princess who stood, slowly, watching the movements of the upstart Mancer. Before she could speak, a Knight flew to her side. Knight Leongaurt from the Order of the Rose. The Order had been sworn to protect the women of the Family since the first human came to rule the Nightmare Realm. He was young and the only thing that matched his bravado was his lust for the Princess. He was strong and certainly would attain the rank of Captain with relative ease, but his relationship with the Princess was always called before the Order. This wouldn't help his case. I ran a hand over my bald head and smirked.

"You have no right to speak to your future Queen that way, Mancer. Stand down, and no harm will come to you, or do you so enjoy your time with the mistress, you'd be willing to spend some time with her..." His threats weren't idle, as the Knights could commit anyone to the care of the Mistress. The woman stood walking forward towards the throne, bowing her large black brimmed hat to the Princess. She shuddered and nodded, the woman turning to face the Mancers. In an instant the imposing black figure was in the stands behind the Mancer. Her finger slipped gently around his throat, caressing as though she would take him as a lover. The Mancers gasped as their member turned ghost white, as if the life was being sucked from him.

"Enough. I will not rule through terror... yet." Princess Illia whispered to the cat hybrid. The woman nodded and gave a harsh look to Leonguart. He nodded.

"Don't toy with your prey so much Mistress... Why don't you come join us back on the floor..." Leonguart smirked and the woman pulled away, the Mancer collapsed into the arms of his peers. The Mistress blew him a kiss and disappeared before reappearing near the Princess. She bowed and stepped back into the shadows behind the throne. The Mistress was the real power behind the court, or rather the Family's power. She was an ageless beauty with a fearsome power. She could draw on people's worst fears, exploit them, and then torture you. All she needed was to touch your skin, and she knew. Her eyes glowed a quiet blue, as I made contact with them. She smirked and winked at me. She and I were... complicated.

The Princess stood and looked over the room taking in the sounds of madness that poured from everyone's mouths. The collective chatter was something that she never could make sense of, nor did she care to at this particular point. The scepter raise above her head and slammed into the ground again, causing the crowd to silence. She frowned and shook her head, looking at the Mancers first.

"My father is dying." The room went deathly quiet.

"Stupid move, little girl" I growled and felt one of the knights squeeze my shoulder. I ignored him and stood, walking to the platform. I was blocked twice, but by new people that knew not who -I- was. I simply pushed passed and stood behind the throne with the Mistress, frowning my disapproval. Her gaze however, was unchanging. She looked down for a moment, before her gaze returned to the crowd.

"Despite the multiple leads that are flowing through the kingdom, my story will be the only to remain unchanged. My father is trapped within Reality, unable to traverse the gap between worlds any longer. His soul is too feeble to be able to live a dual life. His flame is diminished. I am left in his place, and while I cannot promise the years of peace or transgression free environment that my father allowed for, I can state that I will do my best to follow his will and allow for the continuance of his leadership. I am not him, and with that being said, I will ask for the permission of the Court and the High Council to continue my work here." She took a breath, her eyes sparking, light gold flecks catching the waves of lights that flooded into the room from the early morning sun. For the first time since she ascended the throne, she was starting to sound like a leader. The poor little naïve girl was beginning to get her footholds. To me, this was the most dangerous time of all. This was the time that many would try to win her over, the newly rooted power often corrupted faster than any single being could allow for. She continued. "My plans for this world are great and far-reaching, with implications that will be discussed. Over time, I hope that you all will understand what I am doing. For now however, consider this." Her voice grew cold and menacing as she said the next statement. "I will kill any that stand in my way." Ah there she goes... Her voice, to those who weren't paying attention was certainly sincere. To those of use that knew her however, she was frightened. She was yet, unable to hide much from anyone within her inner circle. Kill them she would, and if she was anything like her father, in her rage, she would kill entire bloodlines. She was like her father in many aspects, her rage, however had yet to be shown. I chuckled to myself as a gloved hand touched mine. I shook my head and kept my gaze forward. The hand retracted and i heard a slight sigh. She would wait. I had to attend to the eventual fallout from this little outburst on our Princess's part. And the fallout didn't take long. The roar through the crowd was a mix of laughter and disbelief. Those that laughed would be the first against the wall, when her rage was tested. Her head lolled from side to side, lazily, letting a smile pass aross her lips. I stepped beside the throne and placed a hand on her shoulder. Her head snapped back behind her, relaxing after seeing it was only me. She nodded and looked back out towards the Court.

"The laughter is cute." She whispered to me and turned to the Guards of the Order. Leonguart frowned, though it was clear his anger was directed at someone other than the Princess. I smirked, stepping back from the throne. Mistress opened the door behind the curtain and I nodded before passing through. She would no longer need my assistance, there was no need to be there. I pulled a pocket watch from my jacket and clicked the lid open. I had an over the shoulder view of the court. Should she require assistance, Mistress remained close. She was most likely the only one I could trust anymore. The Court was uickly growing into a countless number of powerless factions. Powerless because they alone, had no ability to enact what they wanted, and no one would ever get tem to budge on their 'platforms'. I walked quietly down the hallway, flipping a coin as I went. The habit had been picked up from a gambler I haunted when I was a Monster. Ah, his dreams had always been so delightful. I smirked as I went, only stopping when I spied a cracked door. There were two voices on the other side. Well now, I wouldn't have been doing my job if I didn't stop and just listen in... for the Family of course.

"I don't trust him." This voice was male. Deep and utterly sad. Most likely one of the Priests. Those were perhaps the Monsters I feared the most. Theirs was the job to clean up after the deaths. It is said when a Dreamer dies in their sleep, their soul is stuck forever in the Murky Sea between the Nightmare Realm and the Dreamscape. I knew this to be true, but that is a story for another day, yes? These Monsters took over after the Dreamer had passed on, to judge the soul in question. If you're asking if they act as gods, you're clearly mistaken. However they do judge whether the soul will be able to serve in the world.

"A monster is never to be trusted. Even after entering the fold as a Watcher." This voice was female. This voice had my interest. It was soft, sweet almost, if there wasn't such a venomous seed behind it. I wondered who I had enraged this time, and what my crimes were. For surely they were reproachable...

From the Eyes of a Watcher

Her scream was the most beautiful sound in the Nightmare Realm. It signaled her return. The delicately boned girl on the bed, shot up, clutching her chest as she let out a scream that was rivaled by only murder victims. She was at her most magnificent then. Illia screamed as her consciousness flooded into her body here, from the realm known to her as Reality. To us, it was a foreign place, full of the harshness that humanity is capable of... a land of so much potential to live out these nightmares we inflict on the mortals. I smile a vicious, toothy smile, settling down in the arm chair and pouring her a cup of tea.

“Good evening Princess.” I said softly and her eyes darted across the room to where I sat. The emerald orbs focused on me and her shaky hand moved from her chest to her head, wiping the cold sweat from her brow.

“That doesn't get any easier...” She said softly, her voice trembling as she ran her hands over her face, realizing where she was. I simply sat in the corner, watching. The frailty of the human mind never ceased to amaze me. It took the trauma of the transition with such terrifying elegance, yet every time, the young girl remained terrified of the portals. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, grabbing her silk dressing gown and tying it loosely around her waist. Her face was alabaster white, framed with long chocolate brown curls, leaving the girl a slave to her beauty. She looked so much like her father some mornings.

“Here. Have some tea and relax. We have some time before the meetings begin for the day.” I pushed a tea cup across the small table to her. She nodded and picked up the cup, taking a deep breath, inhaling the sweet fumes of the tea. Her requirements were simple, unlike her fathers. He however, now resided solely in that foreign land beyond the veil. She frowned, catching my eyes drifting over towards the window.

“What troubles you, Watcher?” her voice was soft and sweet, like that of a concerned child. It was something she would have to shed in the coming months. Her place was very nearly as secure as her fathers was, albeit the dissent within the upper class and the nobility was a bit disconcerting. I forced a smile and turned back to her shaking my head.

“I can no longer see the King.” Her eyes cast downward as she nodded. The sadness in her demeanor was incredibly alluring, and it took everything in my power not to try to feed off of the moment. I used to be a Monster, the King's personal guard. Now however, I seem to have been demoted. Now I watch. I watch the links between the worlds for the Family. I watch the Princess. I snarled slightly thinking about the switch. Enough however about me. My place has been defined. This is a story about my lovely little charge. She sits watching my movements. I don't need eyes to see that body language. Her fear and unsure nature only betrayed her near me. She was strong and the face of the empire that she needed to be. The poor, poor little princess. She's been raised to take this position and yet somehow she's managed to foul it up. Her only job was to take the court and maintain the peace until the time of war was upon us. Here she sat, naïve to the real purpose of her presence. Poor little girl. Poor delusional little girl.

Her hand moved from her tea mug to my hand. I recoiled in shock and stood, going to the window. Her hand was cold, like one would expect from someone first entering the realm. It wasn't the temperature that shocked me however, it was the gesture itself. Her mother's compassion would do her no good here.

A knock on the door signaled the start of the day, thankfully. I walked to the door, opening a crack and nodding to the guard. The roach seemed to nod back and closed the door.

"Explain to me why again, the Roaches must guard my door?" A shudder went through her voice. I let a grin slide across my mouth and a small chuckle escaped. It turned into a laugh that sounded far more maniacal than I had intended. I coughed and chuckled again.

"Because they're the best stealth agents we have in the palace. You wouldn't even notice them if it weren't for the knock on the door." My smile didn't reassure her, as she stood and made her way across the room. The closet stood before her as she contemplated what to wear for the day. For some reason, this was the decision that took the longest in the day. She frowned, picking up a black veiled hat and placed it on the side of her head, pinning it into place, carefully. The rest of the ensemble would follow. A pair of black military style boots, some sort of skirt, and a jacket to hide all of the various weaponry she carried around with her. Even in her own palace, she claimed not to feel safe. To be fair, would you feel safe, knowing that half of the nobility was out to kill you? See?

"I'm ready." She nodded looking in the mirror judging as to whether or not everything was hidden properly. She picked up one last sword that lay by her bed. It was largely ceremonial, but the gesture was still appreciated. Handing me the hilt, she unsheathed the sword and ran her finger delicately over the blade, her blood trickling down the blade. I grinned. So it should continue.

To My Ladies...

This is to you, my lady friends...

To you, late night booty call receivers,
remember that they're not so friendly
when there's less alcohol in their system
they're princes of the silver tongued seduction
but they'll still not want to cuddle in the morning
worse, see you without your make up on

To you, the lonely, sister figure
you have a million friends
and Facebook stats to prove it
you will find someone that is worthy,
but perhaps not within your group
perhaps a change of venue...

To you, the master of last call pickups
lay off the man hunt for the night
the term coyote ugly comes up too often
in your vocabulary.
The search for a body to fill that empty bed space
never seems to end with all your dignity

To you, the girl that's just right,
sometimes it's OK to be wrong
sometimes that's even advisable
just take a night off,
drink with the above girl and watch her work
she's a pro at being the bad-ass

To you, the tough chic
put 'em up sister
toss 'em back and watch the boys crumble
your guns outmatch theirs
and you rock
so why is your bed so lonely?

To the quiet, the meek, the oft uninvited
your overlooked charm has sat on the shelf for long enough
this is your time
being a nerd/geek is hot
rock your glasses and get those people to kneel and moan your name
admit it, you like it

To me and you and all of them
you got this.
I'm hip so let's ride.
Time to show them what you've got.
Time to show them who you are
It's about time to show yourself some love

instead of any of them

Written in the Stars

We sit quietly on the edge of the porch watching the stars twinkle in the distance. I look over and you're smiling, softly, to yourself, what's going through your head I don't know. It doesn't matter for once. I let my fingers slide to your hand and squeeze gently, just reminding you I'm there. The stars the sparkle down at us, showing us the future in their cryptic flashes of light. I just want to know what it's like to be out there.

I let out a long breath and smile, feeling the warmth in my heart growing, encompassing my chest. I feel an arm drape over my shoulders and pull me close. My head rolls to the side, looking at you, letting your deep blue eyes search through me. I don't know what they find, your gaze is still a mystery to me. I feel like it's one of those things that won't ever change, regardless of how long I know you. You lean forward closer and capture my lips in a soft kiss, causing a smile to; once again, erupt on my face. I return the kiss and pull back just far enough to rest my head on your shoulder. I want to tell you how amazing it is, that someone could make me smile again, like that. My smile betrays me, as I don't even notice it happening again. We haven't spoken in a few minutes, but so much has been said in that silence.

The clouds pass and I pull myself closer, snuggling into your shoulder, wrapping my arms around you. I don't want this moment to end. It's amazing to find someone you have so much in common with. The universe is funny that way. From a chance meeting, you can find someone that simply makes you smile every time you're with them. So far so good. I'm still smiling, and in my mind this moment will remain as perfect as I've seen it.

It's these little moments of serenity that get me through. I know we parted on a bad note, but... I just want you to know that I love you, Eijin. I'm joining up with an experimental program. Hopefully it will help bring you home. If not, then I'll die trying to get to you.

From your love,
Aurona

P.S. If you're reading this, then I have you back. If not... I'm still searching. Soon. Soon you'll read this. I promised myself that.