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

New Beginnings and Old Behaviors

There are moments in my life that I wish I hadn't gone through in order to get to where I am. There are things that I’ve done, that I’m not proud of. Then again… Some of those things are things that most people wouldn't think twice about.

I’m not sorry for the people I’ve killed.

I know that’s a bit of a powerful statement, but when you’re an emissary of the gods, its part of the job.

Izri took a moment and smiled, looking down at her journal. It wasn't much but it was a start. She had begun writing at the direction of a few of the priestess’ at the temple. She’d woken here and been brought to the oracle at the temple. The woman that had been appointed to the temple was the only one to know how her exaltation, as it were, had occurred.

~*~

“You require a new name, child.”  The older woman spoke in a tone that didn't leave much room for negotiation. Tired, perhaps a bit wise, but still as compassionate as an individual could muster. Izri nodded and looked around her. Everything was white and gold with silver accents.

“Where am I, if you don’t mind…”

“Not at all, child. You are in the Temple of Iomedae. She has saved you, it appears.” The oracle stood, walking to Izri. She took her hands and traced the symbols on her hands. Izri pulled her hands back and shook her head.

“I don’t remember much about it honestly. I was facing death. Again. And then I was speaking in some… strange language… and now… I’m here.”

“Celestial by the accounts from the Andorian priests.”

“Oh gods… They’re going to be after me…”

“No. The kings guards will be.” A slight smirk emerged on the oracle’s face as she watched Izri.

“I’m glad you've maintained my sense of normal by allowing for accurate sarcasm in the conversation.” Izri rolled her eyes at the statement. She paused looking back at the oracle. “I didn't kill her.”

“I know.”

Izri paused in the walk about the room in front of a statue of Iomedae. The goddess looked cruel. It wasn't her features, perhaps just the stone she had been carved from. Izri smirked at that thought and began to think of the miracle it was that she had been saved, even if it had doomed her in the Kingdom of her birth. Andor would never welcome her home. She starred quietly at the statue, wondering about the ‘why’ of it all.

“Your thoughts cloud your vision, child. You've yet to come to a name.” As the oracle spoke, Izri thought she saw the lips of the statue move into a slight knowing smile. Izri smirked and shook her head.

“No… I have one. I don’t think I have a choice in the matter either…” She turned towards the other oracle and held her hands open, palms facing out. “My name is Mirari.”

“Miracle? Very appropriate child…” The oracle smiled and looked past Mirari to the statue.

~*~

 I have yet to set out on any journeys in the name of my Goddess, however… soon. The priestesses and priests are almost convinced that my ‘ maniacal’ past is behind me. Weird how when you represent a goddess of justice and all things white and right in the world, they frown on stumbling back into the temple right before devotionals drunk and in the arms of … someone not temple approved.

Mirari smirked and put the quill down. She bound the book quietly and tucked the quill into her up-do  She was growing tired of the temple life. Her bones itched to get out and back into the world. Or maybe that was just the clothes.

She stepped outside, the white and gold skirt flowing in the breeze. In the long side slit of the skirt, a knife sat on the oracles thigh, steel glinting in the sun. One of her religious instructors stood, waiting.

“You’re late.”

“No. I’m simply working on a different schedule than you are.”

“Given that it’s my schedule that I follow and set yours by, I’d continue with the prior statement.”

“Rigidity and I don’t get along, unless…” Mirari smirked and glanced downward to the priests groin.

“Don’t be lewd.” The priest flushed and shook his head, opening the scroll.

“Aww but it’s so much fun to watch you squirm.”  Mirari stuck her tongue out and looked around at the gardens. It was beautiful here. Mundane and beautiful. She imagined a lot of people having religious experiences here.

“Why do you enjoy making people uncomfortable?” The sword knight was frustrated with her antics.

“Because how will you know your limits if no one pushes them? You've chosen religion as your life. It’s a safe, comfortable existence. Nothing has ever been learned from safety. In order to grow, you must be uncomfortable and even hurt once in a while. Religion is supposed to be a journey. And so is life. Take it too seriously and it’ll kill you before you have any fun.” Mirari lounged on the bench, watching the priests face grow sterner. “Besides, I can’t tell if you’re more pissed off with yourself or me at this point. It’s pretty funny.” 

“You’re contemptible. An awful example of all that Iomedae holds dear. Why she chose you is beyond me. I’ve killed people for lesser offenses.”

“And I thought you didn't like me!” Mirari smirked and the sword knight rolled his eyes, beginning to read from the devotional. Her head bowed. The readings did give her a sense of peace and they reminded her that her efforts against the governments she wandered through were not in vain. There was a higher purpose to be served. Besides… a corrupt government, or god should be fearful of it’s followers and people. 

On the Road Again: A Zombie Tale

It was that moment in the afternoon where the sun wasn't quite beginning its descent but the sky had begun to change colors in preparation. For two patrons at the Silver Whistle it didn't matter. The pair sat at the mahogany bar watching the news with half-hearted interest. They both looked tired and the bartender didn't seem to care that the bar wasn't open for another two hours. He stepped forward and poured amber liquor into the glasses and refilled the remaining of the glass with a dark carbonated beverage. The woman pushed some money forward and the bartender just shook his head pushing it back.

"Thanks sweetie. I can use this."

"We all can." the bartender took the girls smile as payment and the gentleman sitting next to her smirked.

"You always do what you want, huh?" His deep brown eyes danced as he began to read his compatriots’. The woman smirked and shook her head.

"Nah... Not always." She ran a hand over her smoothed down ponytail and pulled the elastic out, letting loose her lengthy brown hair. She ruffled her hair quickly and seemed to try to ease the tension in her body. "Be a dear?" She held her hair to the side and turned so her back was towards her friend. He chuckled, took a swig of his poison and began to rub her shoulders. The bartender chuckled quietly to himself noting the sense of comfort the two had with each other. Her face relaxed momentarily. She let out a deep breath and began to understand why all these years that he had loved getting massages.

"How are things at home?" The gentleman asked quietly as he worked on her shoulders.

"What home?" She frowned and all the frustration returned to her face. She reached over to the bar and grabbed her drink, tilting her head back to down it.

"Shit..."

"Dead. Came home to find Mom, Dad, and Evey turned." Her voice was stilted. She twisted the ring on her left ring finger and looked back to her glass. Too bad it was empty. "Haven’t told Sven yet that I had to ..." Her voice broke and the gentleman’s arms went from her shoulders to her waist, pulling her close. She let out a deep sigh and sniffled, her arms resting over his.

"I'm sorry Julia..." He hugged her tight, as if she was the last real thing left in this existence. "He'll understand."

"I hope so." Julia stiffened as the TV seemed to get louder.

"The mob we've been tracking is moving towards the Taunton area, most notably near the Green. Please remain indoors. I repeat remain indoors, and allow the army to deal with the infestation." Julia started laughing a slow, unsettling guttural laugh. The gentleman with her shook his head and tapped her shoulder as he stood.

"C'mon. I've got weapons stored in your van."

"Who knew all those hours of left for dead would come in handy, Derrick " The girl smirked and stood. She pointed to the bartender. "You need a shotgun?"

"Nah I've got my own gun." He smirked and pulled out a sniper rifle, making preparations to mount it on the window. Julia nodded, clearly impressed with his choice of weapon. She pulled out her cell phone and shot off a message to her uncle, while they made their way to the car. A group of people with boards and nails began to filter into the bar.

"We're going back in there?" Derrick asked and looked over to Julia as he tossed her a loaded double barreled shot gun. Julia raised an eyebrow and looked over her sunglasses. "Right."

"On the road again..." Julia sung quietly to herself as the air grew eerily quiet. Just off in the distance you could hear the shuffling of a mob. "Just can't wait to get on the road again..." She looked down the sight to check and see where they were. Nowhere close, yet.

"Time for another drink?" Derrick smirked and she nodded. A least in all of this... she hadn't lost her sense of humor.

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.

Letter #1

Dear You,

Sometimes, I wonder where we’re going to be in 10 years. I’ve seen how months can change a relationship. It takes so little to shatter a preciously built world. I hope that this will not be another case of that for either of us. I don’t think that is the case, but… you can’t say never to anything, I’ve found.

It’s kind of funny that I sit and think about the 10 year future, given that for all the wondering… I can’t see anything more than use snuggled up talking quietly at the end of a long day. We’re still there, giggling at the other’s awful jokes and telling the other that it’s really not funny, trying to hide the smile still.  Hands intertwined, watching the Christmas trees’ lights change colors slowly, the room lighting up in a myriad of hues.

The scene is one I hope for. I hope that in so much time, I will still love you the same ways, but in so many new ones too.

With all my love,

Me

Pepper Spray and Protests

There comes a time that when the government becomes too big for its proverbial britches. When this happens, it is the citizens duty to rise up and remind the government who they work for. Peaceful protests and outrage, channeled appropriately are some of the tools in the arsenal against tyranny potentially overtaking our system of government.

I have been a part of protests in Boston and Washington D.C. I have made use of my constitutional rights in fighting against laws that would impede on my rights and the rights of others on issues that affect many on a grand scale. I have sat in protest, joining arms with others, been told to move, had red water thrown at me and marched until I couldn’t feel my feet anymore. I’ve spoken with priests on both sides of issues I marched for, and gotten perspective that I couldn’t without these acts of social outrage.

For those of you that know me personally, you know about the following. I am from a conservative family, led by a powerful woman whom has now passed from our lives. My grandfather, uncle, and now my cousin have proudly served in the United States military. Not one of the members of my family is quiet. We all have strong opinions and no one can change that. I am the newest generation of this proud family, to take to the issues, and do what I can to make life better for myself and those around me. 

That being said, I write this in complete outrage of situations occurring in California. At the University of California at Davis, a campus police office sprayed a line of students with pepper spray, while they sat, arms linked in protest. What they are protesting, and why they were there is irrelevant to me. They align with the recent Occupy movements that have been taking place, so tuition and the general disarray of our economy.

There is something distinctly disturbing about the chemical attack on the students. These officers are there to protect and serve. Protect and serve the citizens that employ them. They, like the government, step out of line from time to time, and must be put back into line. I respect the officers and those that exemplify the best that the system has to offer. I however cannot imagine, being in front of a line of protesters that sat peacefully and spraying them down.

I can not adequately express the poor taste left in my mouth by this situation. I can however say that this will not be the last time we hear about this situation, or situations like it. Riots are breaking out all over the world. The world has declared war on it’s governments, sometimes with very little catalyst. Today, I ask you to take a hard look at what’s important to you. Our fathers, grandfathers, and complete strangers fought to give us these freedoms and protect them. What are you doing to preserve your rights? 

NaNoWriMo Day 16: Into the belly of the beast...

Hey guys! Tis Jessi again... a touch more beleaguered from the NaNo experience. See the video below to find out more about where I'm at in my journey...

NaNoWriMo Day 5

Hey guys! A quick update and a look into my life and NaNoWriMo!!


Sorry I've been absent but hopefully this will be the start of more regular postings again. <3


Love and Letters,
Jessi

A Time for...

I opened a button on the top of my starched white button down. Sitting on the steps of the funeral home, I starred silently past the floods of people wafting in and out. I had no idea who they were but it didn't matter. They didn't know me, either. I pulled a long, thin, black cigarette from a pack in my purse and lit it, inhaling deeply. The sugary sweet puffs of smoke passed over my lips and seemed a welcome, minor relief in the sea of death and condolences that was washing over my reality. I cracked my neck and finished the cigarette, putting it out and waiting until it was cool enough to pocket. Non-smoking areas tend to frown on cigarette butts on the lawn. I stood there for a moment, starring at the door.

I could go back in. I guess that's what I should do. Go in and tell her 'I'm sorry' for the 700^th time of the night. Hug her, tell her everything is going to be ok. It won't. It never is, though it never was either.

I could turn around and walk to the car. What would I do? Drive. Drive all the way back to work, back to an empty house, or back to somewhere I haven't discovered yet, but will feel familiar. I could go to the ocean. But then again... nah. Too cold.

I could stand here. Not doing anything but greeting people with sad smiles and empty welcomes. I wouldn't have to go back in until they began to close out for the night...

I sigh instead of any of the alternatives. I'm so tired. I pull another cigarette out, lighting it. The habit hasn't been easy on my lungs but damned if it didn't give me a minute or two to breathe during situations like this. I smile, uneasy at a couple people leaving the funeral home. One older woman stops and stares. I stare right back. Neither of us are sure what to say, but we both know that somehow it wouldn't be enough anyway.

“Were you close to her?”

“No. I'm here for her mother.”

“Ah... Thank you.”

“It's not enough, but we all do what we can.” I say softly. My words trailing off as I stare at the ground. I can't hold her gaze any longer. Her eyes speak to the sadness of loss too easily. I took a deep breath and a drag of the cigarette, hoping the ensuing silence would send her on her way. I look back up and she's smiling softly,. Her own eyes cast downward. She's fragile. That much you can tell. Brown hair with silver streaks, beginning to creep through. The black she's clad in seems to engulf her, much like the rest of us.

“You're young. I hope you never have to do this.” She says, her voice is soft but knowing. I nod, taking another drag from the cigarette. I walk forward, unannounced and hug her, arms wrapping around her shoulders. I don't know her, but she needs a hug. That much you can tell. Her shoulders shake breifly and she hugs me back, albeit a bit weakly. I smile and take a deep breath as I step back, hoping it id something. She smiles, albeit a bit weakly. Her husband takes her hand, smiles politely to me and she crumbles into a puddle of tears. I frown. This would be the pattern if I remain out here...

Time to go back inside...  

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 Pt. 2

“Oh hush...” Her finger came to my lips and she continued. “Shhhhhh... little boys shouldn't scream like that... shhhhhhh.” I stopped. My throat was raw with searing pain. “Now isn't that better?” Her hand moved from my mouth to caress my cheek. I forced myself from her hand and stood, finally able to break away from what was holding me. She stood. The woman was in fact a woman and stood about five foot ten. She was taller than I am, but thinner. Her bone structure was fierce, and somehow reminded me of a lioness. A man stood next to her, though I hadn't seen him before now. He had similar features, and I could only guess was related to her in some way. I looked behind them, peeling my eyes off of my captors momentarily. The windows...

“Ah, I see you notice where we are. Good.” My face paled as she spoke. I stood in the center of the room I had been fighting to escape the consequences of for months. I feel to my knees, half in disbelief, the rest because, suddenly my body couldn't handle it's own weight. My arms fell to my sides and my head lolled back. I felt myself start sobbing. I couldn't stop the flow of tears. The eyes had seen too much and needed to wash themselves of it all.

“Stop crying, little boy...” Her voice started up again after a moment of watching me sob. I turned my head and the woman came into focus. The man stepped forward, stopping in front of me. He looked down a sort of sad smile on his face. I looked into his eyes, looking for some sort of hope. Instead of receiving that sort of grace, I got slapped. I closed my eyes and bit my bottom lip, taking a sharp inward breath. There was a soft 'hrmph' from behind him. I reopened my eyes to see his peering down into mine. They were gold. It was an odd color... but beautiful none the less. My face was grabbed and I saw instead of gold eyes, a pair of steely blue eyes met mine. They were hers. She pulled me to standing, seeming to carry the weight of my entire body by my chin. I whimpered. The pain was great, but I could only imagine-

“He thinks too much... Micheal, grab him and tie him to the post.” Gabriella shook her hand out, the punch having cramped it up. She cracked her neck and looked behind her. Adam was being tied to a post but Brian was stuck in the mirror across from him. Reflective surface, visible psychosis. Alter ego, demon, whatever you wanted to call it. Gabriella never called them demons. They were another side of the beast that fights for control. Brian sat quietly one eye brow arched, watching Micheal and Gabriella with growing interest.

“You're not going to do this are you?” Gabriella answered simply by pointing a gun at Adam's head and blinked at the reflection of madness. “Ah. I see.” His voice was chilly and somewhat calculating.

“My interest is not with you. I need to shut you up however. This poor little boy you're fighting over doesn't need the torment.” Her voice almost purred, as she dragged the gun's barrel down the unconscious man's neck. Brian frowned and then turned from them for a moment. Micheal frowned, glancing between his sister and the mirror. Gabriella's face remained fixed on the mirror.

“Fine. You have another year.” Brian's gaze fell over his shoulder not looking directly at either of them. “After that I will be back. He'll need to forget all of today.”

“A concussion will do the trick.” Gabriella frowned and raised a brow checking the mirror. “If you show any signs of deceit...”

“You wouldn't know they were coming” His words were quick and spiteful. A small smile formed at the corners of Gabby's mouth and she nodded, cocking the pistol and firing three shots into the mirror. Micheal blinked and began to untie Adam.

“We've got some work ahead of us...”

“Good morning, sunshine...” I woke to a bright light streaming through the hospital windows. A familiar face looked at me, though, I couldn't place her. I smiled at the nickname, and winced as the pain in my body rushed back to me all at once. “I'll call the nurse.”

I forced a half heart-ed smile and I closed my eyes again. The pain was incredible. The confusion was worse... Was there someone else in the room? I opened my eyes again, but it was much too bright to tell. Ah well. Maybe another friend...

No Inkwell? Writing Exercise!

Hello all!

It's true! There is no Inkwell meeting today, however, that doesn't mean you're off the hook. I decided to give one of my favorite exercises to you all today, and see what happens. Enjoy and please, feel free to post your results below in the comments section.

It's moments of quiet that lead to thoughtful confusion and honest breakthroughs. More often than not, your characters have experienced this sort of phenomena (on the page or off).

So this week's writing exercise is to take a character from your WiP (that's Work in Progress), and sit them down somewhere they're most comfortable. Coffee shop, meadow, train depot, or athletic field; whatever the case may be, make it quiet and comfortable. Maybe a little too quiet. Write everything they begin to think about. Make note of any movements or gesticulations they make while in this sort of thought pattern. Does this moment lead to confusion or clarity? Why?

Write at least 500 words on their thought process and inner monologue. Scenery, etc. will be an added bonus but not part of your word count. Capture your characters thoughts, and see what comes out.

Happy writing!
~Jessi

A Moment Away from the Fiction: Dating a Geek

Dating.

It's a four letter word in my book, quite frankly. The whole notion of trying to get to know someone well enough to judge them on their eventual ability to make you happy in the long run, is absurd. Especially, if it's complicated by the fact that you are a geek or nerd (ME) or are dating a geek or nerd. If you or someone you love, is one of these, listen up.

**DISCLAIMER: This is a fun, not to be taken terribly seriously article, that if you pull some dating advice from, hooray! If not, take a deep breath before you get offended.**

Jessi's Guide to Dating a Geek (and Loving Every Minute of It)

What type of Geek are you dating?

Identify your geek type. Believe it or not, that helps a lot, with what your personal limits are and what their limits might be.

1. Gaming Geeks
Their favorite game will, in fact, take up too much of their time some days. Practices are important. But please, be tolerant. These geeks have survived quite well, up until they met you. So understand that while they're blowing off Locust skulls, they're not doing it to 'piss you off' or even better 'replace you'. Take a deep breath. You have a hobby too, right? So why not engage in it while they're playing? No hobby? How about personal time to go to the gym or take a walk and get some air? Thumbs get sore and your geek will come out of it. Generally looking to either have sex with you or explain how incredibly awesome he/she is for game highlight a-z. Or be consoled because they got beaten so badly. Either way it leads to more time with you.

Really, the geek in question will thank you for being so understanding. And who knows... maybe post war zone 'relations' will be the best thing you've experienced yet. Never can tell...

2.Knowledge Nerds

Oh my goodness, Ned! You're so sexy when you
go on about the Game of Thrones series...

I'm' using this particular category to cover a few types of Nerd sub-genres. We all know a cooking geek, booze geek, environmental nerd, gardening geek, or book nerd. These tend to fall into one overarching category. If you don't agree, so be it. I welcome your reaction in the comments below.

Ok. The short answer is that these particular breed, love learning and love to prove their knowledge; i.e. arguing. This is something that should be known by you. If not arguing, then there may be a tendency to ramble on and on about the matière du jour (topic of the day). Honestly these are some of the most benign forms of geekery, until you take it to a massively extreme level. This can be said for any and all of these stereotypes. If you enjoy listening to professors speak on their specialty, seek out these people. They're a walking dictionary, and quite alluring to the right kind of person. Just as with the Gaming Geeks, be understanding. They will appreciate it, -if- it's genuine.

They're a pool of untapped research that is amazingly ready to share. Just listen. You may learn something, not only about the topi, but about them.

Are YOU Interested in What They Are?

Yes? You're in the clear. Enjoy your relationship. Assuming it isn't a Horde vs. Alliance throw down every argument, have at it. I've been in many a relationship, where arguing about the right weapon on CoD or GoW (right sorry... Call of Duty, Gears of War) for the particular map in question. It's fun, if a little agitating sometimes.

No? Get out. Get out now. It's not a friendly suggestion, either. They will not change who they are. That's the thing about us geeks. We are who we are. And we're proud of it, most of the time. Seriously, if someone asked me to choose between a relationship with a highly successful underwear model, or my GoW sessions with my friends, that have helped cement our already amazing friendship? Sorry underwear dude. I'm sure the sex was great, but uh, friends were here first. Sorry. I'm sure you'll have beautiful babies with someone else one day.

As Aforementioned... Be Understanding!

No really. This will go a long way in any relationship, but especially with someone who has been socially ostracized for most of his/her existence. Seriously. Coming from this standpoint, it's amazing what we'll put up with, if you genuinely get us, want us, can't get enough of us. We're great people. Not something to be sneered at. We invented the terrifying 'over the glasses' look.

Understanding can bring you farther in many aspects of your life, if it's not beyond your own personal limits. So please, keep your limits in mind when thinking about dating a geek of any sort (and yes this includes you SPORTS geeks).

Talk to Them

Are you feeling alienated because of a week of excessive geekery on their part? There is a solution. Talk with them. They're generally intelligent individuals that will want to know how you feel and how they can help. This is true with any relationship. So please, remember that. Communication is key.

Enjoy Them for Who They Are

Smile when they get a new Magic card. Laugh when they demonstrate a silly dance from one of the new Horde races. Love them. Trust me when I say that we rock. And we need that love as much, if not more so than everyone else you've ever met.

<3 and Good Dating,
Jessi
Level 36 GoW on xbl

~*~*~*~  ~*~*~*~  ~*~*~*~  ~*~*~*~  ~*~*~*~  ~*~*~*~  ~*~*~*~  ~*~*~*~  ~*~*~*~  
This, I have decided, will most likely be a bit of an ongoing series into the minds of geeks and all of the pitfalls of this particular geek. I am happily beginning a relationship with a fellow geek, and am incredibly lucky for that. But that being said, I'm always willing to share the insights as I gain them, even if they're at my own detriment. Stay Tuned.

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

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.

A Slave's Tale

I often wonder how things could be different. Not in the 'Well what if I took the road less traveled' sort of way. I more mean that I wonder what would have happened if Earth hadn't been demolished in 2042. Ok not entirely demolished. Damn close though. My personal fate was sealed long before I was even a glint in my fathers eye. I was born a slave on a planet far from the old world. It's not so bad really. Except in the winter. Skimpy outfits and the harsh winds don't mix well. I'm one of the luckier ones. I don't belong to the royalty. I shudder at the thought honestly. They treat their slaves, like, well, animals. My family is more lenient than that. I've been permitted the chance to learn to read and write. I'm incredibly grateful. Writing is such a release. It also offers me the chance to entertain the wife and husband. They like my stories. They said no Alterian has half the imagination I do. It makes me smile. I'm usually given the freedom to go for a unsupervised walk if my performance or writings are particularly good. Now with the two suns high in the summer, it's a treat to go out on a muggy night.

“Sali?” A soft voice peeks around the corner of my doorway. It's their youngest daughter, Terchia. She's probably the most captive of all of the audiences I could ever ask for.

“Terchia, you should be asleep...” I smile and get up, walking over to pick her up. Her four arms extend up at me, though she's not smiling back. “What's wrong sweetheart?”

“There's noise upstairs.” She said and clung to me, shaking. My eyes fluttered in bewilderment. I heard nothing. I stroked her hair and shifted her onto my hip, assuring her nothing was wrong. Her hands went to cover her ears and I looked around trying to figure out exactly what was happening. Nothing was going on. The house was silent. A guard stood by the door, leading outside.

“Excuse me...” I said keeping my head low as I approached. No response. Not wholly unusual. I looked to Terchia and then finally up to the guard. His eyes were rolled back in his head, blood pouring out his ears. I gasped and covered the girls eyes, taking a step back.

“Please...” Terchia was crying. I nodded and held her head close to my chest, taking a couple steps backwards and running back towards my room. I closed the door behind me and placed the girl down on my bed. The noise didn't seem to bother her as much down here. I knelt down in front of the girl searching her eyes for something, anything that could tell me what was going on. All I could see was fear however. Fear of what? This noise; whatever it was. Her hands moved from her ears after a moment and she looked around the room, seeming to calm down. “It stopped...” She relaxed a bit and pushed herself forward into my lap, off of the bed. Whatever it was, I didn't trust leaving her alone for the night.

“Why don't we have a sleepover tonight?” It wasn't the first time she had stayed with me, but quite honestly, if the guards were any indication of life elsewhere in the palace, I wanted nothing of the outside world for poor little Terchia.

“Ohh! Can we? Will Mommy be upset?”

“Nope, I asked her earlier if it would be ok.” I lied but I knew it would make her feel better and actually let her sleep. I just hoped her parents would be alive so they could be angry in the morning.

“Wow... you're smart. You think ahead a lot.” She grinned and hopped back into my bed, diving under the covers. “Can you tell me a story?” I couldn't help but smile at the request. It was a sign she was relaxed and I couldn't ask for anything more in the moment.

“Of course. Do you want me to tell you about where I'm from?”

“Yeah! Tell me about Earth!”

“Ok... Once upon a time...”

[to be continued]

Another Piece of My Camp Project : In the Invasion

Outside the office building and the buildings of all the domed harbor city, the world had turned a murky gray green color. Ships hovered over the domes and the regal looking aliens took stock of the city. So many ships clouded the skies over the world that no one could see the stars as they approached at night. Aurona awoke to the unsettling sounds of concrete crumbling. She managed to stand though wobbly in her efforts. Her legs seemed to be collapsing beneath her... She looked around. Craig, the man with the red framed glasses was coming to, as she felt the building shift.

"Shit... Craig!" She lurched forward to grab him and reached for his hand. "Come on... We have to get out of here." Craig's head lolled to the side and came back around, focusing on Aurona.
"Aurona..." He said questioningly, his eyes forcing their own focus back. His glasses were missing, somewhere. He frowned and reached up for where Aurona's hand should have been. Aurona grabbed him and pulled him up, looking out the window. Not an option. She turned towards the stair well and pulled the still recovering man after her.

"Let's go!" She yelled, her own heart beginning to ran as they ran through the smoke filled building. Her body took over in adrenaline rush and took the stairs. Just a little more. Just a little more... she convinced herself and booked it out of the building, still dragging the six foot tall man behind her. She ran to the parking lot across the street and collapsed in the open area, taking a moment to catch her breath. Craig collapsed, throwing up about four feet away. His stomach was still not with him. She frowned, trying to hold her own bile back. "Stop it..." She groaned and managed to at last up looking at the building. The building she'd come to call a second home was now crumbling in front of her. The building was burning , chunks of it falling away at a time. Her hands went to her forehead as she forced herself to try to figure everything out. The sad truth was that none of it made any sense. She figured it never would either. She smiled, not knowing what else to do. She pulled her ell phone from her pocket and dialed her apartment. Craig was starting to come to, to the fullest extent of the word. His head was reeling and the nausea was beginning to clear up. His head started to settle, and the pain,... oh god the pain. He sat up and looked around, seeing Aurona sitting there, rapid fire typing numbers into her phone.

"Dammit."

"Aurona..."

"DAMMIT!" Aurona threw the phone and pulled herself up, going after it defeated at the childish outburst. "We have to get to my apartment."

"Don't you think there are more important things to get to... Oh... Eijin." He sighed and followed the raging little woman down the street. It was near two miles to her apartment but she wasn't showing any signs of stopping or even slowing down. Craig frowned and followed her. What the hell else was he going to do? He pulled out his own cell phone and started to dial to his own apartment, and then stopped realizing that the only one at his apartment was his cat. Time to call Mom... now if only he could see the numbers...

Aurona's brow furrowed and she squinted, forcing the oncoming tears away. She had to make sure Eijin was OK. Just make sure she was OK. Just be able to hold her. She took a deep breath and continued, looking behind her briefly to see if Craig was following or not. It really didn't matter to her, honestly. He was however, talking to someone on the phone. His own eyes looked flooded with tears. She turned away and started to run, she wouldn't be able to get there fast enough otherwise. She coughed after a minute or two and had to stop. All those years of smoking seemed to catch up with her all at once.

"Why the fuck did I ever think it was cool?" she growled and coughed heavily.

"Come on." Craig had caught up and was offering her his hand. Aurona frowned and shook her head, standing straight up again, forcing herself forward. The worst part about any of it, assuming you leave out that the world was just attacked; was that Craig was the one stuck with her at the end of the city. Out of all the people in the damned office building. Her voice was on the verge of breaking so she remained silent, in an effort to appear unphased.

The truth was that the girl was scared. Hell who wouldn't be? The woman had just seen her office building taken out like a pile of scrap paper. She frowned, standing and pointing towards her apartment.

"Let's just get there. I need to know Eiji is OK." Her statement trailed off as she remembered the fight from earlier. The ever persistent issue seemed so far away at his point. She frowned and walked forward. Craig nodded, a little put off by the kind gesture being so deftly dodged.

The building looked untouched, like a few around it. Just the signs of battle around the neighborhood, papers tossing in the wind, eerily like every bad scifi/horror movie ever produced. Aurona shuddered and looked up at their second floor apartment, the lights in their bedroom still on. She breathed a small sigh of relief and walked up to the entrance, pushing the front door open. The same gas smell that had filled the office, filled the hallway.

"Shit." She broke into a run up the stairs and looked on the open apartment door with dread. The baseball bat was missing from it's spot next to the refrigerator. Rushing into the apartment, she found nothing. Eiji was gone.

"What the fuck?!" Aurona pulled out her phone and dialed the woman’s cell one more time. The tin-y and unwelcoming voice of the automated operator picked up again. She pocketed the phone again and looked up to see Craig in her doorway, holding a baseball bat. She started and then realized it was the one that was next to the fridge this morning. "Where did you get that?" She said shocked at her own voice sounding so hoarse.

"It was on the balcony..."

Preview of My Camp NaNo Project : Aurona and Eiji

“Good morning, sweetie.” A soft voice purred from the doorway. Aurona yawned and pulled the sheets over her head. "Come on. Time to go to work, doll." A pair of cool, soft hands slid under the blanket to her sides.

"What the shit are you doing?!" Aurona shot up, screaming frowning at the girl that sat on their bed. The girl had blue hair and blue eyes and looked as innocent as one could, while having plotted this the whole time. Aurona rubbed her eyes and frowned, letting her arms drop into her lap. The girls own brown hair hung by her shoulders, a piece of it sticking up into the air, courtesy of a cowlick. The blue haired girl smirked and shook her head.

"Auri, you have to go to work."

"Ugh. Why do you keep saying that? Oh wait, because I pay the rent." She stood and shook her head, pulling her hair back into a quick pony tail, grabbing a towel and heading to the bathroom. The blue haired girl looked down on the bed and sighed, letting her shoulders slide , drawing a small heart into the covers. She stood and walked to the doorway. The silence that hung in the air for the minutes between spoke volumes that the two didn't ever acknowledge.

It wasn't that Aurona didn't love Eijin. She did. The girl was wonderful and above all else, could keep pace with her, in more than one arena. The sad truth was that Eijin wasn't pulling her weight and hadn't been for months. It was wearing on 'Aurona's' last nerve. She looked out the window in the bathroom, seeing a rainbow, and letting a small smile and a breath of release pass her lips. The shower calmed her more than she knew that she needed. Eijin sat in the kitchen, letting a cup of coffee go cold, as she too starred out the window. Aurona sighed and pulled out the chair across from her.

"Look, Eijin..."

"No, you look Aurona. I've been looking. There aren't very many carrier positions left out there and honestly I'm not good at much else." She sighed and for a moment her normally happy blue eyes reflected the sad truth that surrounded them.

"You don't have to worry about it. I'll just... deal." Aurona said and sighed looking out the window, hoping one of those distant clouds would hold the answer the two women sought after. The sadness seemed to take over as Aurona stood, kissed Eijin's forehead and walked to the bedroom to get ready for the day.

Skeletons in the Closet

There are phrases that cause me to roll my eyes, and others that give me pause. The phrase 'skeletons in the closet' will never have the same, innocent connotations again. I sit writing this from the diner down the street of my new home. Why you ask? Just sit tight. I'm more than willing to tell you.

I signed the last of my paperwork sitting in the dining room of my new-old Victorian. The home was 75 years old, and looked like nothing had been changed in it since. The wallpaper had aged, light rose color with floral patterns adorned the room. There was a certain charm to the old place, though the wallpaper and the rugs would need to be torn out, I thought silently assessing the room while the lawyer looked over the paperwork.

"Ok. Looks like it's all set. I don't understand why the hell you wanted this place." James furrowed his brow and tapped the paperwork back into a nice neat little pile. I just laughed and stood, looking out the window in the backyard.

"The views are amazing. Besides, who wouldn't want this place?" I mused and tried to open the window. It was stuck due to humidity and I rubbed the back of my head, making a mental note to change out the windows. I heard a soft chuckle from the table, watching my failed attempt.

"Someone with a bad shoulder." James mused and tucked the papers into his briefcase.

"And I'm the egotistical one? You don't have to make this all about you..." I joked and rubbed my shoulder, looking over to my lawyer, watching him laugh a little while he straightened his tie.

"I'm sure you'll love it here, you crazy bastard." James managed and looked towards the front door. He'd been creeped out by the place since I brought him here months ago. I kept telling him about my vision and my plans for the writing nooks, and the wine cellar and all of it. He didn't see it. Any of it. I turned away from my window and gestured him towards the door.

"I will. Tonight's the first night here. The reno crews come in tomorrow first thing in the morning." I smiled and opened the front door, taking in the fresh air of spring that washed through. James nodded and looked at his watch.

"Indeed. Want to grab a drink tomorrow? The wife wants me home early tonight, but she's out with her sister tomorrow."

"Yeah sounds good." I shook his hand and the lawyer left for the night. I went back inside, ordered a pizza and went to bed for the night.

The next morning came with no indication that things were about to take a gruesome turn. The crew arrived and I laid out the plans on the table, the guys placing their equipment down on the covered hardwood floors. The inspectors were going through making sure all the closets and what not were empty so they could begin. I'd be handing over my keys and not seeing the place again for a month while they worked.

"What the fuck?!" I heard resound from the basement. The crew chief frowned and led me downstairs to see what the commotion was about.

"Is this some sort of joke?!" The older Hispanic man looked at me like I'd killed his only dog. He stood back, still keeping his gaze on me and the chief and I stepped forward. I gasped. Inside of a concealed closet sat the skeleton of someone, but definitely a person. I reached for the cell phone in my pocket and dialed 9-1-1.

So here I sit. Writing this all down, partially for my own memory and the other part for James, when he shows up to guide me through my legal council against the sellers. I was sure this wouldn't be the end of this story.

A Time for Silence

Why is that through all the social networking, all we can think about is relationships?
Sometime, just sometime, I'd love to see someone proclaim
“I broke up and I'm OK with being single!”
But wait, that too is about relationships
My social chatter is mostly noise confused and garbled
trying to push past the inanity of life
while failing miserably in my humble attempts
I 'like' peoples statuses and leave snarky remarks
I see people that I know will never, ever be good together
go through the ups and downs
and they expect me to go along for the ride.
This coaster only has room for two,
And
I'm not you so please step inside with your significant other
There are times when I cry for you
There are times when I laugh at your mistakes
I say “I've told you it'd never work”
and you threaten to strangle me every time
The truth is
I'm tired of seeing you all hurt
I'm tired of picking up pieces
the pieces with which you'll make the same mistakes
again
and again
and again.
I'm tired of being right
I'm tired of being wrong with my personal life
I'm just... tired
I want to be happy.
I want you to be happy to.
But for once, can't we just be happy
by ourselves?
No.
Because then we'd have no need for facespace and all the rest
We need others.
And we need to be wrong.
But I'm sorry I'm not 'like'-ing that new relationship status.
Call me callous, call me cruel
but when I pick up the pieces again
I'll try really hard not to say
“I told you so”