The Aurora Effect

“The truth is, there are many with your abilities. You are not special. You are not unique. As a matter of fact I can call up a map to point out each of your faction and wipe them out just as easily as I drink a cup of your atrocious tea.” My smile felt venomous as I spoke. It would do. No one from the Dragon Blooded factions needed to know that soon I would be aiding in their rebuilding. Especially as it stood. I was chained, ankles and wrists to a giant X in the town square in Yane. My tattoos showed in the square betraying my allegiance.

“If it were indeed so easy Miss, I believe you would have already. As for my tea, I believe you would have done well to drink it and not throw it in my face. Your kind is rare… We could have used you.” His sword graced my neck with a presence that –almost- felt threatening. I’d seen this all unfold. This wasn't my biggest concern presently.

I turned my head and looked to the east, eyes flashing as I did. The Dragon Blooded general looked with me and saw exactly what I did. A dragon king. They were primordial in every sense of the word. Or so he believed. The reality was much worse for him.

“Who is this?” The Dragon King boomed taking over the air space with a heavily accented tone. It stole all the air from the area and left the general speechless and paler. He dropped to his knees and bowed his head as he grasped for the strength of character to answer one of the sacred ones.

“A Sidereal, master.”

“Release”

His command was coarse but to the point. I blinked and let my vision come back to the present as the dragon blooded scrambled to his feet and let the chains loose, leaving me to fall. And fall I did, about three feet to the sandstone square. The dragon king smirked and walked over, letting a soft whisper over his lips.

“If I’m discovered, you will be the first to die, young one.”

I smirked and forced myself up. My muscles had started to deteriorate over the days stuck there, wobbly was the best I could manage. My wit however, remained as sharp as ever.

“You should fear me Young General. Your elders come to my rescue. They are more powerful –“ I was slapped, sending me for a brief ride through the air.

“And you should have respect for those you will serve.” The Dragon King frowned and gestured towards the horizon. I stood, wavering in my steps, attempting to wipe the blood from my mouth. The General laughed heartily as he watched his master walk away.  A savage roar filled the horizon as the dragon and I disappeared into the sunset.

“Was that really necessary, you beast?” I growled, my own investigation now back at the fore front of my consciousness. The Dragon King’s façade melted into that of a wily man, heavily tattooed in the tradition of the Lunars. His smirk play across his features as he remained silent.

“Brin… you are a treacherous ally. Luckily I haven’t figured out how to kill you… Just yet.” 

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

NaNo Dare 1 : Character in a Tavern

I dare you to start your creative juices flowing now. Take one character from your upcoming NaNo and put them in a bar full of Centaurs and other mythical creatures. 500 words minimum...

Somewhere in the fragile lines between sanity and insanity dwell, lies the bounds of reality. Erik knew this area well, as most mad scientists do. He sat quietly watching a train pass by on a long dead track. It ground to a stop, brakes clearly un-oiled as the squeals filled the evening air. Erik winced and stuck his pinky in his ear, wiggling it in an attempt to clear the noise from his mind. The doors opened and he stepped on board, trench coat encompassing the doorway. He tipped his fedora to the conductor, a smaller than average man, with long pointed ears. The tiny man smiled and gestured to the row of open seats. The train took off and a few minutes later, it was full of creatures of every description… all inbound to one destination.

The tavern was quaint. It was a medium sized brick building. It was an unassuming looking building during the day but at night, well… to be fair the sight of a minotaur crashing through the front windows sort of denoted the place as a bit… odd. Erik walked forward, smirking as an elf and a clearly inebriated dwarf left the bar pointing and laughing at the minotaur who was being helped to his feet. The creature seemed stuck between a howl and a chuckle and couldn’t decide. Erik passed through the front door to the bar, where a pretty, pale girl with black hair stood. Her face was perfect, symmetrically. He’d noted this several times, mostly while drunk. Her name was … Sylvia? He couldn’t remember. He did remember however, exactly where he sat every night he came. He moseyed over to the bar stool and took off his coat extending it to nothing, letting it be whisked away to the coat room. Ned was the ghost in charge of coats. He was the only one who could handle corporeal matters.

“What will you have tonight, Erik?”

‘Slyvia… Sally… she must have a name…’ Erik smiled through the confusion and shrugged. “Something to warm me. The chill in the air is quite heavy tonight.” The woman smiled and nodded.

“I think that’s just Ned screwing with you, but…” She poured an amber liquid into a glass and set it in front of him. “Here you go.”

“Scotch…” Erik’s smile grew and he picked up the glass, saluting her quietly. The woman smirked and leaned forward, whispering something into his ear. “Well of course I knew your name was Samantha… What do you take me for, my darling? How could I forget such an impossibly lovely woman’s name?”

“I take you for human, Erik. To ere is human after all.” She smirked, her eyes flashing red for a moment. She held his gaze for a moment before walking away to another patron, nodding and getting him a drink. Erik frowned and looked into his glass.

“ ‘I take you for human…’ “ He mocked softly and took a swig. The cool liquor brought the expected warmth to his esophagus, and began to migrate outward. He turned his attention away from the bar and … Samantha, looking around the room to what most would consider a freak show. To him… This was home.

From the Desk of A Mad Scientist

Greetings and Salutations,

While I am aware of the formalities expected towards this prestigious council, I will be keeping this in plain common for those within the council walls that may in fact be more brawn than anything else. Your demands on the scientific community have been oppressive at best, of late.

This is being brought to your attention, not because of the new chairperson overseeing the development of weaponry and the like, due to the fact that, suddenly, three of my minions have turned up dead. Now, I would like to blame the forces of good, and chalk it up to an unfortunate casualty of the business but the evidence otherwise is a bit too overwhelming to point fingers elsewhere. Ms. Raven’s instruments of death have been well categorized by myself and my colleagues, noting the specifics of the poisons she uses in an effort to make them look natural within most the human species. These same poisons were found within one of my minion’s circulatory system. I’ve done some preliminary investigating on my own, suspicions being followed before revenge was approved by the council. In a in-person follow-up, I’ll present all of the findings.

For now, however, I’d like to place my name in for the replacement of the talented Crimson Raven, our current chairperson. Below is a copy of my resume, including all the of the contraptions and gadgets that I’ve supplied over my 15 year stint with the council, including some freelance work. The highlights however, include my current project, a dragon automaton, with fire ‘breath’ that can shoot , on a full fuel tank, up to 100 feet of flame, and can perform tasks up to the cognitive level of that of a young child, through some dynamic programming and a little ingenuity. This stunning piece of work is one of a kind and currently going through our patent office. The client, who generously provided the materials and funds; chooses to remain nameless has provided thorough documentation on his/her alignment.

Oh, this all seems suspicious, you say? Too many things starting to point the bony finger my way? Adorable, that your childish minds cannot comprehend someone who takes the initiative to submit a report, perform an autopsy, and recommend oneself for the soon to be vacant position. Though you would be right to investigate, those that are veterans to the Council will vouch for my abilities in that given arena. I don’t kill. My creations do. Poisons are for people who want to watch the slow decline of a victim. I prefer a hands off approach. Something more… inventive. Less old-lady-killer-esque.

I look forward to your quick reply. I’ll have my lasers aimed towards the sky. Do be so kind to try to sneak up this time. The minions need the target practice.

Gracious Send Off,

Erik A. Mathhers

Mad Scientist Extraordinaire
Tinkerer, Inventor, et al. 

Between Genius and... Genius! A response to Goggles and Lace's Writing Prompt

“You're kidding right?” I growled into the communicator and shook my head, wavinga hand at one of the gremlins about my lab. He was holding some sort of paperwork, but quite frankly, I didn't care. This investor bullshit is not for me. “Fine. We'll have a prototype up and running within the next couple of weeks. I'll need more... Yes. Send a shipment ASAP. And not ASAP as in 'as soon as you please'. The traditional version of the acronym will do just fine.” I hung up before more demands could be made of me. I appreciate rich idiots like one enjoys ditzy blond play things. As long as they're sitting looking pretty and not speaking, it's 'all good in the hood'. I sighed and ran a hand through my ever increasingly longer hair. I should get a hair cut...

“Master!” I sighed. These little genetic manipulated mutations might have been a mistake...

“What?!” I snapped, squeezing the bridge of my nose. I was told once it fights oncoming headaches. Whoever said that was a fucking liar. The gremlin coughed and stood as straight as it could in front of me, thrusting paperwork at my free hand. I took it, bringing the yellowing papers up to my face for a closer look. It was plans... Plans I hadn't drawn up. I adjusted my goggles and peered closer at the papers.

“I made a few adjustments... With Mistress Annie's help...” His voice was raspy and sounded like that of an overworked child. High pitched and seeking approval while having this annoying undertone of whine that shot through me like nails on a... well you get my point.

“Ahh.. Annie was here today was she?” That girl was becoming too smart for her own good. I always advocated killing the girl. But no! Now she was attached to me.

I grumbled as I walked over to the wall of switches and levers. I left the decoy wall there for funsies. Felt like every mad scientist lab should have one, and what the hell, the gremlins love it. A mirror hung at eye level off of a piece of rawhide. I checked it thoughtfully, needing a moment to inspect myself before heading upstairs. Adopted child or not, she tended to be upset when I came upstairs looking like I haven't slept in 3 days... or had it been 4? Who knew at this point. The sun doesn't reach down here anyway. My eyes looked sunken in and closer to black then my dark brown eyes ever should. Pale. Sickly, she'd say. Healthy, I'd argue as always. No chance of skin cancer in the dark. Should tie my hair back. I stretched out my hand and a gremlin deposited a brush with a piece of string on the end. Perfect.

“Thank you Cedric.”

“Eyown, master.” I looked down and it was in fact. Cedric was taller. Less heavy around the middle. Also less likely to snap at a moments notice. I nodded.

“Apologies Eyown. Cedric was just right here.”

“ 'E got hungry. Went out to yard to catch dinner.” I chuckled as I tied my hair back.

“Very well. You should eat too. Go run along. I'll be back after I take care of Annie.” He nodded and galloped off towards the gate. That's two.. where was... Ah. I looked in the mirror more carefully at the pipes that led to the generator. Hanging upside down was the tallest of the bizarre little creatures, sound asleep. I nodded and stepped to the side, pulling the one functional lever on the wall, revealing my lift. It was a solid piece of steel with only two levers. One to go up, and one to go down. And it only went between my lab and the false fireplace in my bedroom. I took the lift, looking around the lab once more for good measure. Two of them outside and one snoring. And nothing out of place. Good enough to stop for dinner.

I opened the door to my chamber to see Annie, tapping her foot impatiently.

“Father.” Her voice was as flat as her stare. Over the glasses, and stern. I sighed and brought a smile to my lips.

“Yes, dear. How was school today?” I walked over and hugged her gently, though there was no physical response from her.

“I didn't go.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I already know everything they can teach me. I showed Mrs. Boudain how to correct her nuclear fission equations. She's kinda dumb.” I had to chuckle. Mrs. Boudain had invented half those equations, and the other half she stole from her late husband. She never could get those ironed out quite right. It was at that point she had turned to villanry, deciding that if her late husband, Mr. Theodias Boudain was dumb enough to get himself killed saving the world, she'd better be on the side that lived longer. Villanry it was. “Why do I have to go?” Her voice cut through my thoughts and I stopped looking down at the 12 year old.

“Because I said so.” The fall back answer for every lame parent there ever was. I was quickly becoming one of those.

“Seriously? How about a real reason?” She blew her bangs out of her freckled face as the took to the marble banister, sliding down expertly. I walked quietly down he stairs starring at her while I thought.

“Because. You could be the smartest little child there ever was, the strongest little girl, or the most evil, however, you can still learn a thing or two about humanity within those walls.” I raised a brow, pulling a small pair of spectacles out of my pocket, and replacing my goggles with them. She rolled her eyes and sighed heavily, letting her shoulders fall in an overly dramatic fashion.

“Humans suck” She said slouching further as she crossed her arms.

“That may be true Miss Annie, but that's not up for debate. You're going to school tomorrow, even if I have to have Cedric bring you.” She wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out. “Then it's settled.” The door gong sounded, a series of smaller bells going off through the hallway. “Go set the table, I need to answer this.” I had been expecting someone. Annie frowned and nodded, slumping off towards the dining room. I turned, footsteps echoing down the ornate hallway. I should invest in carpeting... though I feel I come to that conclusion every time I walk the halls. I pulled a lever by the door and stood, watching it swing open slowly. A woman stood before me, leaning against the doorway, holding her side. A slight smirk graced her features as she stepped through the door way, dropping her pack. She was a tall girl, blond hair and striking blue eyes, but that wasn't why she was interesting to me. She opened her pack, wordlessly handing me a couple of brass keys on a chain. From that very same pack came a brass box.

“Good.” I smiled and took the box under my arm, turning to head back to the dining room. “Clean up upstairs. Dinner will be ready in five minutes.” I heard a soft whimper. I turned, eyes set ina glare over my glasses. She stood up as straight as she could and nodded. I turned and continued my trek.

“Was that Anya?? What'd she bring you?? Is it that? What's in the box?” The child's eyes and ears missed nothing, a wonderful and also wholly loath-able attribute. She pried at my arm in an attempt to release the box from it. I shook my head and slapped her hands lightly.

“I thought you outgrew this stage years ago.” I muttered and placed the box down on the table, sitting in front of it. It wasn't ticking, so the mechanism was deactivated. A plus. The keys in my hand fit into two locks on the box perfectly. The lid popped open with a soft hiss. Annie jumped behind me and looked over my shoulder as I pulled the piston from within it. Small, much smaller than the box itself, but none the less the part I needed. There was some miscellaneous crud in there as well, including a few specialty bolts for the dragon automaton I was tinkering with in my spare time.

Anya reappeared, now dressed more formally, bandages wrapped tightly around her waist and ribs. She smiled softly at Annie, who ran to her and hugged her, a bit too tightly. Anya gasped and Annie froze. “I'm sooooo sorry Anya!” She signed quickly as well as said it, backing off, a bit surprised. Anya nodded and patted her on the head signing “It'll be alright little one.” She bowed her head to me and sat down.

One of the help appeared around the corner and brought a tray with three meals piping hot on them. He was the only one that could cook around here. Might as well make use of it.

“Let's eat.” I smiled to the girls. For that one moment, life seemed normal. Projects underway, deadlines to fulfill, a girl set straight again, and one recovering from a successful mission. Sometimes it's good to be evil.  

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.

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.

Inkwell Recap for 8/01/2011 : A Guest Speaker

Good Monday All!

Hello and welcome to the first Inkwell Recap in a .. month or so. That's partially my fault, with being completely and utterly creatively exhausted with my attempts at the first attempt at Camp NaNo eating up all that my muse could offer, and it wasn't enough. That is to say, my first months' attempt failed completely and utterly. That however is neither here nor there. This is about what went down at Inkwell tonight.

Zack, one of our younger members, and easily one of the more talented, offered his views on the writing process and his helpful tips, along with the writing exercise I'll provide you with at the bottom of this entry. His advice was insightful and above all gave all the writers permission to suck. Look, this isn't new advice, but to someone, somewhere it's actually fairly radical. The ability to let yourself suck in order to get your first draft out is something that not a lot of writers allow, or even let themselves do. Below is the video to the Vlog Brothers entry by Maureen Johnson, a well known author in the YA Genre.



In addition to this bit of insight, he offered a writing challenge that has been deemed one of the hardest to do given the subject matter and the delicacy with which it has to be handled. With that being said, I leave you with the classic T.S. Eliot/John Gardner writing prompt.

This exercise is quite possibly the most difficult, demanding and important exercise a writer can ever do. The poet and critic, T. S. Eliot, coined the phrase “objective correlative” to designate what he believed was the most important element in writing: Rendering the description of an object so that the emotional state of the character from whose point of view we receive the description is revealed WITHOUT ever telling the reader what that emotional state is or what has motivated it.

The late John Gardner, recognized in his lifetime as the leading creative writing teacher in the United States, developed the following exercise for students:

A middle-age man is waiting at a bus stop. He has just learned that his son has died violently. Describe the setting from the man’s point of view WITHOUT telling your reader what has happened. How will the street look to this man? What are the sounds? Odors? Colors? That this man will notice? What will his clothes feel like? Write a 250 word description

Respond with your flash fiction in the comments section if you feel so compelled. This was my response.

I sat, cell phone dropping from my hands in perceived slow motion. I had no strength. Nothing left within me to propel me forward; to get me to care about what was going on. The air was silent and the music that played a continuous theme to my life seemed to come crashing to a halt, jumbled up behind the last sentence I had heard. A screech filled the deadened air and I looked up, seeing a bus pull towards the curb. I glanced to my side at the man sitting with me on the bench. He was saying something. What I couldn’t tell, but from the lip movement, he seemed to be asking if I was ok. I shook my head; in a sort of gesture I could hear him. His ragged gloves hand, gripped my shoulder and I looked to where the cell phone had fallen. I went to go pick it up and someone handed it to me, their cool blue eyes meeting my own. All at once, the noises of the day to day world came rushing back. The cars, the voices of the people around me, and my wife’s voice on the other end of the cell phone, seeing if I was still there. It had started off like any other day, and now the world seemed to have settled into cooler shades of black and grey. The concrete seemed darker, and the bus that pulled up in front of the stop wasn’t its normal vibrant blue. The sour smells of the city, seemed more pungent. The sky had clouded over, shadowing all that surrounded, as if to echo my mood. The whoosh of the doors to the bus opened with a gust of air, blowing what was left of my hair backwards.

“All aboard, last stop approaching” The shock of the moment seemed to wear off and in that moment I simply cried. Collapsed onto the bench and cried. This street would be forever changed.

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]

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.

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..."