Boston Strong: A Personal Reflection

It’s been almost a week.

For those of you that haven’t been following the news or anything of the like, Monday will mark one week since the Boston Marathon was heinously attacked. I live in Massachusetts and have a large amount of family (both biological and other) that either lives, or works in Boston. For a moment; time froze. There is nothing that will ever ease the news of our states home city being savagely attacked.  I waited with baited breath for phone calls, social media updates, and any sign that those I loved were ok. Thankfully, no one that I knew was injured. So many others were however, somewhere around 200 families (biological and other) felt the shock of domestic terror.

I was angry. So angry I saw red. I wanted the ones responsible dead.

Then I sat back and waited for more news. I saw one of them was no more than 19, the same age as my little sister. I wondered what happened, and for a moment, felt something I wasn’t familiar with. It was an emotion I certainly wasn’t ready for.

Remorse.

Remorse for wishing someone who is just starting out on his life; dead. Remorse for his family.

I became angry with myself when that happened. He acted without any remorse. Why did he deserve mine?

I couldn’t answer that. Not readily. But come Friday, sitting watching again as the state came to a stand still for a third time, he was caught. Lying on a boat, alone, and bleeding badly. He would live to answer for his crimes.

I breathed deep as he was caught and rushed to a hospital. For the first time in a week, I realized that it was going to be ok again.

For now.  This reality of bombs and terrorists is a day to day reality for so many across the world. Syria, Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, and so many others. Realizing just how unsafe I felt for a week as news continued to pour in about my beloved Umass Dartmouth and the victims from the marathon, brought more than one tear to my eyes. I cried. And I sobbed. Not only for the events of Monday  but for all those that felt that there is no other way to change our world than through acts of considerable violence.

And then it hit me. Love. Compassion. Kindness of strangers. These are things that spring up in the darkest of situations. Random people reaching out, helping their fellow man; running into the war zone to break down barricades, tearing off their clothes to make tourniquets and save strangers limbs.  I cried because not only because did Boston see the worst of two individuals, but it saw the best of hundreds of them.

There is still much to be done within the city to recover and to ensure that hospital bills are covered. I may not be a Bostonian by birth but I am Boston Strong. I am an American and most of all I will persevere, and help those continue on with their lives.

If you feel compelled to help, below are two links to ensure that the victims and their families will be able to look forward to a bright tomorrow.

Red Cross:
http://www.redcross.org/ma/boston

One Fund:
http://onefundboston.org/

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.

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. 

From the Audience: A Look at Marie

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

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

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

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

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

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...

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...

A Knight's Decision

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sins of the Court

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sensuality in Writing and Some Other Notes

A quick overview of the lecture on monday, 8/8.

Writing exercise:

Write one example of each that fits

Lead character:
Drive:
Physically Defining Feature:
Personality Quirk:
Combo of 3 and 4; first thought that pops into your head:

Write a few sentences with attention to detail and a sensual (not necessarily sexual) experience for your reader in mind.

Enjoy!
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.

Camp NaNo's Official Kick-off !!!!

After a long awaited and highly anticipated unveiling of the summer edition, Camp NaNoWriMo is here!!

Camp NaNo Official Site

Howdy, camper!

June 17, 2011

I hope you’ve had a chance to unload your pack, slip off your boots, and dip your toes in the lake of inspiration we’re overlooking here at Camp NaNoWriMo.

If not, there’s plenty of time to explore before we get down to writing our novels. The first camp session—and your novel—will begin at 12:00:01 AM on July 1. (And if you need a little more time, or you have multiple plots in mind, don't worry. We'll be open in August for a second novel-writing session with even more site features!)

That’s right. Two opportunities for high-velocity noveling... in a tent!

A few reminders as you enter the camp site:

1. Read the Help section (in the upper right hand corner of the site). It is full of tips on how the site works and information about where everything is.

2. This is Camp beta, and new sites always come with a little bugginess (and we’re not talking about mosquitoes here...). Just head over to the Tech Help and Bug Reports forum over on NaNoWriMo.org (Camp doesn't have its own forums) where there’s a designated Camp thread. See what others have already posted there, or chime in if you have an unreported bug.

3. Follow our new @CampNaNoWriMo Twitter feed for updates and more!

4. Have fun! And don’t forget to use plenty of sun screen while you’re tromping around camp.

Giddyup!

Lindsey

So You hear that? That's the sound of the campfires starting up and the stories being told. Starting July 1st, I'll be on the trail, and I hope you'll join me on this very exciting summer edition. If you don't want to join in july, why not august? So that's right. Three months this year, you can write your novels! Come join in the fun!

~Jessi

Inkwell Recap and A Call for Webinar Suggestions

Tonight at Inkwell was the usual critique circle with a discussion that happens once every couple of months. It's come to that time again, where I ask, what people want to learn about in reference to writing. Sadly, I have to report that it wasn't as fruitful as I'd have liked, but there were some solid ideas tossed around. Below is the list that was collected.

Creative writing exercises
Dialog vs. action
NaNo Preparation
Monsters and their creative applications as heroes
How to put the fake science into Science Fiction
How to make fantasy worlds more realistic
Genre night (genres in a hat and pick!)
Purgatory and writing exercises
Second person writing
Descriptions and Details: when to use them and when not to
Cliche avoidance
Character Creation Part 2
World Creation (Guest Speaker ?? potentially Kit)
Poetry (Guest Speaker ??)
Defining Your Muse
6 word stories...
Writers Tool Kit (game)
Music Nights
First Sentences: Writing exercise and talk about the importance of
Updated 6/20
Timing and Events
Transitions
Romance Night: How to add romance and smut into your writing
Magical Applications in Modern Fantasy

This is the preliminary list that will be weeded through. However, I'm opening this up to you, my loyal readers. What would you like to see in the webinars? Do you find them helpful or a nuisance?

Oh! Also, Camp NaNo is around the corner and as part of the experience I'll be tossing up vignettes (thus increasing my word count on the project) of characters in my Nightmare Realm/Dreamscape project that a decent number of people are interested in. You'll first be introduced to the leads starting on Wednesday, so keep your eyes peeled! (Disclaimer: Anything I write prior to the start of Camp NaNo has no bearing on my word count but will help me flesh out the world I recently tore apart and am rebuilding)

Cheers,
Jessi

The Matter of Baldness and Illegal Magicks...

The sun beat down of Alleige's capital, Kenishka. The temperatures had risen well into the upper 90's prompting most to either cover themselves completely or start the stripping process. While none of this was terribly remarkable, there was a commotion going on in the marketplace, surrounding one man, pushing his way through the crowd, in some haste. He looked most unremarkable. A dark brown robe, pulled tightly around him, a hand obscuring his face as he held his hood in place. He stopped in front of a plain brown, worn door, somewhere in the middle of the street. A couple of seconds worth of examining left him with the distinct impression he was here. Wherever here was. He grasped the door knob and jumped backwards, into the street.

“Watch out!” He screamed as he fell, knocking over a woman with a fruit basket. The orange fruit flew up into the air and several landed on the man as he got up, tossing a few coins onto the ground at the woman. He grabbed his hood, throwing it back up around his head. The door opened slightly and the man rushed inside.

Stepping into the shop was something like stepping into another world. Du-dads and thing-a-ma-bobs hung from every conceivable point of the ceiling. Small jars with unrecognizable herbs and dried animal parts lined the walls. The shop itself smelled of sandalwood and citrus, leaving an inviting fragrance hanging in the air, despite the appearance. The man looked around, poking what appeared to be a vial with rat eyes in it. The via swung back and forth gently as an older gentleman with piercing blue eyes came out from behind a tapestry.

“What can I do for you today, sir?” The smile the blue eyed man wore was more of mockery than a genuine interest in the customer. His eyes scanned the man and shook his head.

“Yes I as looking for something to help with... well... my hair.” The customer pulled his hood down to reveal his hairline.

“What hair?” The wizard couldn't help but let the mocking smile widen as he examined the man. His hairline had retreated to the back of his head, leaving a shiny, sunburned scalp.

“Yes.” The customer frowned and looked about the shop. “There in would be the issue. Can you help me?”

“Of course. The question is, whether or not you can afford it.”

“Money isn't an issue.”

“It never is, is it? You have no idea how many high powered officials come through here looking for cures, when three days before I was under threat of being shut down for unlawful magical practices. Isn't that right, Magistrate DiZara?” It was hard for the wizard to take the little man with the baldness issue seriously, and now his blood was boiling, after realizing who the man was.

“I've revoked the paperwork, what more do you want me to do Malakai?” Magistrate DiZara frowned. He always did find it ironic when he went seeking out these back alley wizards to fix his personal issues. His job was to keep the Order, well in order, bringing the illegally operating wizards to the courts to answer for their missteps.

“Don't make up false accusations to shut down a business started with the Order's approval.” He snarled, blue sparks emanating from the wizards hands. The Magistrate, backed up two steps, nearing the door, breath quickened. Malakai laughed heartily, satisfied in seeing the little mans fear.

“That will do.” He grinned and steeped behind a bench, holding out his now sparkless hand to the Magistrate. “I'll need a sample of your hair.”

“Right...” DiZara gulped and stepped cautiously towards the wizard. Malakai pulled a straight razor from the bench and in one quick flourish cut a piece from the side of DiZara's head. He took the hairs and placed them in the bottom of a glass beaker, going about the shop, pulling ingredients off the walls and from closets that DiZara hadn't even noticed before. Doors from nowhere, leading to an empty whole seemingly erected from the fabric of space and time itself, appeared and disappeared at the casters' will. An armful of vials and jars later, he began measuring and gestured for DiZara to wander off for now. The magistrate frowned and nodded, scrunching up his already wrinkled and stress-ridden face. His hair was the only thing he wanted. That was it. It wasn't too much to ask as it? He sat down on a chair made from animal skins, of unknown origin.

“You know, I don't understand you people and your vanity.” The wizard scoffed from behind the work bench.

“You wouldn't. You're beautiful. Leave it to us that -have- to worry about our looks to do so, please.” DiZara scoffed.

“You don't think that there are other things you should be concerned about?”

“Don't think that just because I'm vain...”

“Well you are here in the middle of the work day, Magistrate.” The magistrate sat silent as the accusation hung in the air. Malakai continued. “Besides ignorance, vanity is one of the biggest downfalls of society, don't you agree? Ah, but you suffer from both. Why would you be able to see that?” His rambling had become nothing more than rumblings in the background for DiZara. He dozed, letting a small snore escape before snapping himself back awake. Malakai frowned and added the final couple of ingredients to the potion.

“Here.” Malakai thrust the bottle into the Magistrate's sleepy hands. “100 gold.”

“Fine...” DiZara pulled out a small coin purse and handed it to Malakai. He weighed it and nodded, opening it up to see the glittering pieces.

“What do I do with it?”

“Drink it. If you want to sustain it's effects, you'll have to come back every moon cycle to get another dosage. Otherwise people may start to wonder. Also the effects are gradual. You won't have a full head of hair tomorrow. Mostly to avoid suspicion. You wouldn't want people thinking that you were using body modifying spells and potions, now then would you?” Malakai's eyes narrowed at DiZara, the blue slits practically damning the little man for his actions. DiZara frowned and nodded, fingering the bottle's lip nervously. He tilted it back against his lips, and pour the liquid down his throat, pulling the bottle back in disgust. It tasted awful, but then again he wasn't looking for some refreshing beverage from the wizards shop. He scratched his head frowning.

“Good day Magistrate.” The wizard said, opening the door back out onto the busy market. The magistrate pulled his hood back up and disappeared into the crowd.