Pepper Spray and Protests

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

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

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

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

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

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

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 Word War!

So I was going to try to stream myself writing and responding to comments, however, Shockwave flash kept dying on me. X_x So, instead I decided to film my writing, during a word war, and this is what came out. It's sort of a glimpse into my creative process and the writing that one engages in while frantically getting your word count as high as possible in the allotted time frame. It's certainly an experience if you've never done a word war through the Dr. Wicked site. I tend to go with the settings at 15 minutes, no word count, Kamikaze Mode in the consequences (eep!), and the Evil Grace period. It seems to work fairly well and it's what gets me through most of my daily word counts.



Enjoy! <3

Jessi

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.

To My Ladies...

This is to you, my lady friends...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

instead of any of them

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..."

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

Just a Quick Thank You and a Poem

I just wanted to say a quick thank you to my readers. You guys have made it a record setting month for blog traffic (even beating out the November with all my NaNo related posts!). I can't say 'Thank you' enough! I truly appreciate your readership and look forward to more feedback. Surprises are in store for June, so just hold on and stay tuned!

There will be a writing challenge up for the week in lieu of an Inkwell recap, given tomorrow is Memorial Day, and we're not meeting. With that in mind, below is a poem on the holiday. Take a second and read it over if you have the time.

Until later,
Jessi

For Our Troops
© 2007 Brooke O'Neill Emery

MEMORIAL DAY, 2007

FOR OUR TROOPS (both past and present, but particularly in Iraq and Afghanistan at present)

Though I don't know your name
And I have never seen your face
I shed tears for you.

Though my memories don't contain a time
We shared together
I miss you.

Though we are not related
You are in my thoughts.

When I'm eating, or taking a shower, or doing housework,
I think of you, knowing how much you wish you could be at home,
Your stomach full, doing mundane chores such as cleaning your house,
Clean from a fresh shower.

Though you are at terrible risk, and perhaps may not survive,
You are NEVER ALONE, and will always be alive
If only in our spirits, hopes and memories, our dreams for your future.

There are MILLIONS of people praying for you tonight
And throughout the day.

Praying for your safely and return as a whole person
In mind, body and spirit.

We are crying because we know. We know you are scared, and lonely.
And that you'd give anything to see your family, to hug you mother, father.
Your child, sister, brother, aunt, uncle.

To be showered with love and comfort,
Instead of sand and shrapnel.

We long for you too, with an ache so desperate as to make us insane.
To touch your face, see your smile; share your laughter and your tears.

We love you so much soldiers, you cannot know. You cannot fathom the swelling of pride in our chest as we think of you.
Of your courage and your sacrifice, the hope that you can come home soon.

And those that have returned, we have not forgotten you; you are in our prayers,
That you may recover from your experience and be healed.

No matter what anyone says, not matter the reason you are there,
You are a UNITED STATES SOLDIER, and you make us PROUD!!
Every day for that beautiful flag, for our great fortune to be Americans.

There are no politics, no scandals, no mistakes, NOTHING, which can diminish the sentiment we have for you.
And even as democracy permits free speech, as it should, which some may use to make judgments or cast aspersions,
Remember always, we know you'd rather be on the couch debating it with us than spending your days trying just to stay alive.

Let no "freedom of speech' EVER make you doubt the American people's faith in and love for you.
We are PROUD!

I've never met you, but I want you to know that I love you.
I'm praying for you.
I honor you.
I'm waiting for your return.

On this Memorial Day, 2007, and every day,
Please know that you are being though of.
WE MISS YOU.
GOD BLESS YOU and keep you until the day we can celebrate face to face.

Camp NaNoWriMo and Some Other NaNo Info

I know, I know. Thursday isn't on the normal update schedule. But this bears the extra post for the week.

The Offices of Letters and Light has decided to run a summer program for NaNoWrimo! It's called Camp NaNo and for those of you that are usually swamped with finals and the like during November, this is perfect for. Also perfect for those that aim for two novels a year! Well really, it's perfect for anyone with a mild writing obsession. And it's more excuse for me to send out emails encouraging you all to keep on writing!

Camp NaNoWriMo from the Desk of the OLL

Greetings, Wrimos!

If you're holding hot coffee, I'd recommend you put it down. If you're standing, please sit.

I have potentially explosive news: we're launching Camp NaNoWriMo this summer! As in, mere months from this very moment!

Some of you may be wondering, "What is this camp you speak of? Will there be mosquitoes?"

This camp-themed version of National Novel Writing Month enables participants to write a novel in a month other than November. You bring the words and we'll meet you there with the encouragement, tracking tools, and a tent!

For everyone who has ever wanted to do NaNo multiple times a year—or for those who simply can't make a November novel work—welcome to Camp NaNoWriMo! The plot bunnies will frolic, the sun will warm your half-baked plot, and yes... there will probably be mosquitoes.

To pay for all these building materials, we're holding a summer fundraising drive starting May 25. More awesome goodies at more levels than ever before! (Two words: bumper sticker. For the first time in NaNo history!)

Stay tuned for more camp news and details about the upcoming fundraiser. In the meantime, I've still got some canoes to hollow out.

The fundraiser is a pretty big here. Once again even if you participate in Camp, YOU DO NOT have to donate. I know how poor we all are and I won't tell you that you have to, ever. If you feel the need to do so, have at it. That being said, as soon as I know more about Camp NaNo I'll be posting it here, and organizing little writing exercises and games to run through the program so keep a heads up on that. What kind of ML would I be without helping orchestrate the madness?

Offers still valid from NaNo 2010

Did you win NaNoWriMo? Congrats! you have some offers that are still valid if you did, so go on over to NaNo Winners and check it out. You have until June 30th to collect your CreateSpace proof copy of your NaNo masterpiece. Also available is a 50% off deal on Scrivner, which helps with planning, note keeping, and generally awesome organizational software. It's not only for Mac users anymore! There is an open beta test for Windows, so check it out, before you dive in and buy it. You will have to be logged in with your winning ID to collect the codes, so keep that in mind when licking the link.

First Writing Challenge

Camp NaNo hasn't started yet, but this be your first official 'task' for the summer writing season. C'mon! Play along. If you have a blog, post your link to your entry in the comments section and I'll happily link you, advertising on my social media for every entry. So without further ado...

This particular writing exercise is from Writing Excuses, a great blog I follow on a weekly basis. They have great prompts and podcasts to keep the creative juices flowing.

Writing Prompt: Start with a highly magical, pseudo-medieval fantasy setting. Now… how do you deal with baldness?

Enjoy, and keep checking back for NaNoWriMo news as the details are revealed!

Namaste,
Jessi

When Magick returned to the world... Edited ( a lesson to the power of editing)

“No really, I mean who would do that?” The girl sneered and shook her head watching the others reaction instead of the road She was young, and still believed that the world owed her. Her bright blond hair was pulled back into a pony tail, curls cascading down.

“Obviously John. He's such a dick.” The other girl shook her head and sighed. The girls were driving in a small white vehicle down the back roads of Central Massachusetts on a foggy evening from a day full of shopping and gossip.

“Hold on.” The driver turned the radio down and raised an eyebrow looking out the windshield. There was a loud rumble from their right and suddenly, a huge creature crashed from the woods, blocking the path.

“Shit!” She swerved from the massive beast that now lay in the road.. She stopped her car and got out, hands shaking from the adrenaline in her system.

“Don't go out there!” Her friend warned, though she wouldn't heed the advice, herself getting out of the car, gripping the car door. The driver walked over to the creature's grand head and she looked back towards the car after a moment.

“It's a dragon...”

Two weeks later, Samantha Marks, a mythology expert was brought down to Washington DC to a press conference. She and several other experts were gathered to see what brought these creatures here over the course of the week. Sam sneered at most of the theories, but then again... they were dealing with Dragons. She put in her headphones and ran a hand through her dirty blonde hair, looking out over the room. Reporters were beginning to gather, talking amongst themselves in the Smithsonian. Samantha smiled holding her tablet, looking through all the assorted news stories they had been provided with. She frowned at most of the sensationalist bullshit. The dragon sighting, children reporting actual monsters in their closets, and then there was the more disturbing of developments.

Today the conference was adressing something a bit too close to home for her liking. Mutations. They had ranged from pointed ears, to overgrown I-teeth, to scales sprouting on skin, and most disturbing of all, the discovery of wings. Wings, bursting from the backs of humans! Sam had documented such a case in one of her roommates. They had always joked around she was an angel... but this... this was a bit much. Gabby was in ICU recovering from the incident, not that the hospitals could do anything but pump her full of fluids and pain medication. She was due out later today, after opting out of the removal surgery for her new appendages. Sam just shook her head. She didn't know what to make any of it.

“Experts, please...” A stage hand, motioned to the panel and opened a side door. Without Sam realizing it the room had filled, and they were all looking hungry for answers. She turned and walked towards the open doors, the last to filter through.

“Ok. So the press have been given some questions, however, trying to control the hysterics and lies on something like this is damn near impossible.” The gentleman addressing the group was well dressed and Sam figured he was the main speaker appointed to them for the press conference. He took a breath and continued “So please stick to answering the questions with as few details as possible, since it is a developing story.” Sam sighed, watching the speaker. He was handsome but in a completely nerdy kinda way. Think glasses, curly black hair, and a goatee. The kind of guy you'd expect to see wandering the hallways of the Smithsonian. He gestured to the doors and the stage hand from earlier opened them. The world went silent for a moment before the vaccum was filled with shutter clicks and flashbulbs as the experts filtered onto stage. A wolf like crowd sat before them, needing anything to sate the public for even a moment. Sam gulped and looked to the others at the table, the main speaker standing to address them.

“Thank you for joining us today. In front of us are some very strange series of events, even the rapid mutation of several humans.” Slowly the room full of shutters quieted. “We will address all of your concerns that we can, please understand though that as this is something none of us have ever seen before, we're working with very little information. This conference is to go over the recent changes of one woman captured on film.” As he finished he pressed play on his remote. A screen behind them started playing the footage Sam had caught of Gabby. Sam simply starred forward, having seen it in person. The four minutes of it that they did show was enough to make a few reporters leave, throwing up. Sam just watched them sympathetically. The clip finished and Sam watched as many simply sat silent, too shocked to say anything.

“We'll now take your questions.”

An hour later, Sam emerged from the Smithsonian, completely pale faced. The press conference had been a joke. She shook her head and looked up, hearing helicopters over head.

“FIND SHELTER, IMMEDIATELY. THERE HAS BEEN A DRAGON SIGHTING. REPEAT: FIND SHELTER, IMMEDIATELY. THERE HAS BEEN A DRAGON SIGHTING.” The message cycled through the air and the crowd went into a panic, all heading for the nearest buildings. Sam sighed and booked it to the subway entrance. People packed in and Sam pulled the doors to the station shut behind her. The streets were empty in moments and eerily silent. She stood watching the skies, gripping the push handle on the door. She hadn't seen one of these majestic creatures yet, except for the videos. There was a loud flapping noise and a long black body with massive wings blocked the light of the sun. Sam burst out from the subway and her eyes widened.

“Oh my god...” She breathed. A black dragon was perched on top of a sky scraper, surveying the land. It looked so majestic. A shriek emitted from the beast. Sam could feel the intensity in it's roar even on the ground. A plane came whizzing up and fired a missile barrage, all missing the beast. It roared and it's chest expanded. A bright ball of blue flame emanated from it's mouth, engulfing the plane. Her eyes widened and she felt someone pulling on her arm. She looked over and an officer was pulling her towards the subway again. She went but not before locking eyes with the beast.

“Hello Samantha...” The voice resonated in her head as she was pulling through the doors of the subway.

Failure and its Inherent Sexuality

The idea of failure is something that has lingered for too long on many of our minds. Whether it's failure at a story or failure in a relationship, or whatever; we've all experienced it. And it an be completely and utterly heart breaking. Then there are some who are better than the rest of us that an find happiness in their misery. They come out of the shit pile looking fresh and clean; generally with a book deal chronicling their experience with that failure. While I'm certainly not the first to think this it's something that's been on my mind almost as often as the idea of failure.

I'm 25. I work as a middle manager at a retail chain. I have a degree from the Umass school system in Writing Rhetoric and Communication. How do I not have a job I can look at and say, "You know what Jess? You've done well."

I'm 25. I -had- a fiance. It was the sort of thing I could have easily continued on with and continued the pattern set down by so many before me, my parents included. They were happy for years. I remember that. But they've always resented each other. I remember that too. I can't set myself up for a life full of resentment. He'll be a good man for the right woman, I know it. I was not that woman however.

I'm 25. I live at home with my parents because my job doesn't pay me enough to pay back my student loans and to move on with my life.

I'm 25. And fairly lost. The GPS doesn't seem to be helping.

On the flip side...

I'm 25 and I know my self worth. I know for a fact I'm worth more than what is being given to me. And it isn't because of the self esteem parenting that so many people were raised on. The belief that we're all special snowflakes that can "save the world". I don't think I am. But gods be damned if I'm going to let that stop me from trying to one day be a wife, mother, and successful author.

I'm 25. I have a great family. Not only biologically but I'm incredibly lucky in the fact that I can't count on one hand all of my close friends. There are many I trust and keep around me as closely as I can.

I'm 25. I run a writing group that feeds and maintains the creative spirit in the community. Sadly my partner in this is in FL, but we continue on, not in spite of her absence but because when she comes home, she'll have another home to return to. The creative spirit is something that should never falter even within the confines of a modern world. One word: magic.

I'm 25 and I'm lost. But damn if I'm not having fun finding my way.

Remember: Even if your life isn't going as it's planned out in your head, remember that you have made a difference in your world. Even if it's a microcosm you did it. The road you're paving is there for a reason, so why is it?

Failure is a very sexy notion in the modern vernacular and while I could go on for a long time on the subject, I'm going to instead link you to a good blog post on it. I was surfing the internet at 4 in the morning, and found this Why is Failure so Sexy? by Tim Stevens. He's a minister somewhere and while some of his posts are a little heavy handed, I thought this one was very well written. Check it out.

Namaste,
Jessi

Next time on A BA in BS: The importance of editing as demonstrated by reworking a recent blog post.

Frontiers of the Mind Pt. 3 : A Surpise Encounter

It had been days since the ship had taken me aboard to bring me to my mission point. I stood quietly in the galley looking out over the vastness of the black, star speckled abyss. The scotch in my glass was some sort of fake, though the barkeep insisted it was the genuine product. I shook my head and looked over my shoulder. The room seemed to fade to black for a moment. I held my head in my hand and reopened my eyes, scotch now spilled on the floor about 20 ft behind me. I groaned, resetting my jaw, as I came to the realization someone had just punched me. I growled and turned to look at who had done it. A drunk upstart in a uniform betraying him to the Alliance. My vision flooded with red as I stepped forward and my fist connected to the kids stomach, doubling him over. A guard jogged forward as I stood still, forcing the monster in me to recoil back to the depths of my brain.

Gustav's office was starting to become a cornerstone of my visit aboard his ship. I sat there with the plucky bastard that started the whole damned thing. He was giving his side of the story and I sat rolling my eyes. I barely had a bruise on me from the punch he delivered. The kid was blaming it on everything from the drinks to me looking like a professor at the academy he hated, all of it. Gustav looked like he was going to sock the kid for lying from the get go.

“Don't attack visiting officers. I thought that was a clear enough order. Aside from that, you broke about six codes of conduct at once Mr. Reiss.”

“Yes sir.” Ah this would be the part where he apologizes. I looked over at him. Instead of him looking back his eyes were fixed on Gustav, who glared over the top of his archaic reading glasses.

“Go back to your quarters. You're suspended from duty for one week. You are confined to your level.”

“Yes sir.” His voice was defiant, even in his answers. He stood, saluted and was escorted from the room. Gustav took off his glasses and rubbed his ever increasing forehead.

“You didn't start this shit did you George?”

“You think if I had started it, he would have been able to walk away?” I rolled my eyes and let them land back on Gustav. He smirked and let an exasperated laugh escape for a split second.

“Captain, alien vessel approaching to our starboard.”

“Never a dull moment.” Gustav sighed and stood gesturing towards the door so I could lead. The door slid open and the crew looked tense. I relaxed my shoulders as much as I could, forcing them down. I ignored most of the stares and looked at the view of the ship. The hailing frequencies were open but no one was answering. I shifted my weight and looked closer at the ship on the screen.

“Fuck.” I whispered and it was already too late. On the bridge stood four armored soldiers with blasters. My eyes widened and a fifth being joined them. She looked female though who knows. She looked around her and met everyone's gaze as one of the guards handed her a headset.

Gustav stood up a bit straighter and I frowned. This situation felt a little too familiar for my liking.

“We come in peace, strangers.” The woman said, in a polyphonic voice. I raised a brow, but managed to hoke back 'Yeah with blasters. Nice touch. How about a muffin basket next time?'. I didn't think Gussy wanted to break up another fight today.

“Peace generally doesn't come with blasters pointed at the one you're trying to convince of that.” Gustav growled. I bit my tongue so hard I could taste the copper. The woman smiled and motioned for her men to lower their weapons.

'Just kill them George...'
'No I can't.'
'They're intruders. They deserve it. You'll be hailed as a hero.'
'No.'
'Just imagine the feel of their bones racking in your hands...'
'Not the time you sadistic fuck' Thankfully the voice seemed to die down and recede to the back of my mind as I felt my vision blurring for a moment, watching the woman and her entourage. This could get messy if I wasn't careful. I felt someone's hand on my shoulder. My head turned to see my therapist and one of her attendants. They knew me too well. I turned back to the entourage of aliens. The woman eyed me.

“Keep your dog at bay will you?”

“Funny you should say that, you brought all of yours...” I sneered letting a wicked little smile take over my features. Gutav's face paled and the woman laughed.

“You're such a good little puppy aren't you? Don't worry,dear. Your time will come.” I could feel something in the back of my mind that wasn't mine. It was her voice coaxing me on. I laughed. Gustav paled as the gaze between the woman and I darkened considerably.

“Sometimes thoughts are better left unsaid.” she sneered.

“Than perhaps you should learn you place and keep your mouth shut.” I snapped and let the smile erupt into a full mad mans grin. This would be fun.

(ok normally I don't do this but i'm stuck on where to bring this next. I need suggestions because i don't want this to die off. Cast your votes or second someone else's below <3)

Writing Exercise from Inkwell: A Brother Gone Astray...

His pure white hair spoke to his perceived purity, wisdom, and intellect. His eyes were the clearest blue and led some to believe that he could see into their soul. His mannerisms were calculated to a fault, but always came off as some sort of natural elegance to the unrefined eye. None of those things were true if you knew him. I would describe him as a dedicated actor. One able to take on any role with conviction and presence.

I knew him before any of that mattered. Before he was a respected clergyman. I knew him when he was a killer, true to his form. A thief and someone who joined the Guild to get by as best as he could. He enjoyed his work, and was one of my closest brothers. Really he hadn't changed. He just had a crew of more devoted liars around him now. I chuckled as I stepped from the shadows of the temple. I wiped my left hand on my pants and dipped two fingers into the holy water, crossing myself, before heading to the front, where my brother stood. I began to hum a familiar tune, adding words slowly.

"An eye for an eye, a lie for a lie,
Your lies for my truth, your truth for your life..."

I saw a glimmer in his eye. No wait, maybe it was fear. It was a look I was unfamiliar with but one that set my heart to race. I watched for the tell tale signs of fleeing but he stood still, motioning the ones around him to back away. The look in his eyes changed and he opened his arms wide.

"Good to see you again Brother Grimm" His sly smirk would betray him to any in the brotherhood, but seemed sincere enough for the blind fools around him.

"And to you as well. We are glad to find you in such good health." I practically hissed the last part and stopped just before his grasp. He nodded and gestured behind him to the room behind the altar. I shook my head and made a soft clucking noise.

"Ah Brother, you never learn do you." I smirked and looked at him form under my hood, the glint of my dagger playing on the wall of the temple. His eyes cast downward for a moment and he pulled his hair back in a dark brown leather tie.

"It's come to this has it?"

"Aye, Brother. Your truth for your life." I smirked and watched him. This would be a good fight.

A Double Li[f]e Pt. 2

I open my eyes to a field of flowers. I smile softly, feeling the warm sunshine on my face. I get up, standing in the midst of millions of daisies. My feet are bare and I'm wearing a white dress. I take a deep breath and inhale the sweet air of spring. I'm afraid to close my eyes, maybe forcing me out of this field. I look around, stopping on a young girl.

"Hello." I say, offering her a smile. She tilts her head and blinks, offering an empty smile in return.

"Who are you?"

"My name is..." I stopped for a moment and the little girl's eyes turned dark black, and she began to rise from the ground. I held up my arm in front of my face, to see my bruised and broken arm hanging in front of me.

"No..." I moan and start breathing quickly. I turn to run and fall to the ground, blood pooling under me from my leg bones poking through my shin. I cry out, not because I'm in pain but because it's all coming back to me...

My eyes flash open and I'm screaming. The soldiers are holding me down... I start sobbing when i stop screaming, trying to tell them desperately that I was just trying to survive. It's all incomprehensible. They can't understand. God the pain...My eyes flutter and i feel someone tapping gently on my face. I open my eyes and he gives me a thumbs up. I think it's a he. It's hard to tell in fatigues. I can't hear their voices. They can't hear mine. All I can feel is pain and the hot tears pouring down my face. The heat... god it's hot here...I look at the soldier and close my eyes.

The field is gone. I'm back in a room with the interrogator. I shudder and look up from my feet, to his face. I'm met with a slap, and I cringe, opening and closing my jaw a couple times, getting ready to spit out some vicious slur. Instead, nothing comes out. I blink and open my mouth again, mouthing the words to a swear, but no sound emits. What the hell...I'm slapped again and he begins speaking but not in a language I understand.

My eyes open again and I'm on a stretcher. There's some kind of loud rumbling about me. I'm strapped down again. This time by straps and not by arms. I look over to where some of the noise is coming from. There are two men in camo coats standing to my right. They seem to be discussing something, but the background noise is too loud. I grimace and tug at the back of one of their coats. The doctor turns and smiles wide for a moment before, frantically looking at something. What's that beeping? He grabs a needle and injects something into a clear tube... wait is that attached to my arm? I blink and begin to realize what's going on. I'm on an Army transport. I relax a little and the look at the gentleman again. Do I know them? I sigh and begin to feel comfortable... Maybe I won't die today.

[...to be continued]

A Double Li[f]e

I learned very early on that the ability to live a double life was the best asset to my arsenal of weaponry. It's really not as dramatic as all of that, though. Well I suppose given as I'm writing this I'm handcuffed in a confession dragged out of me. And by dragged I mean,beaten. My eye is swelling shut and the cuffs are too tight. My leg is broken and I'm covered in bruises.

A thud to the my back."Erase that. Start from the double life". I cough and lick my bottom lip. Copper. Great. More of the same then...

It's really not as dramatic as all of that, though. Well I suppose given as I'm writing this I'm handcuffed in a confession dragged out of me. And by dragged I mean,beaten. My eye is swelling shut and the cuffs are too tight. My leg is broken and I'm covered in bruises. I began my training with the CIA at the age of 20. Irony being that I couldn't yet drink but I could serve my country as a spy. It's really very difficult to have a normal life, when you're training at night and trying to go to university during the day.

I look over my shoulder to the guard behind me. Just a few more hours. They must be on their way by now... He doesn't see my act of insubordination and so i turn around again and look back to my paper. He doesn't care about any of this. Just following orders. I can't hate him for that. I can hate him for the broken bones and bruises, and the twitch I'll have for a month of so. Bastard.

My duties have led me through two divorces and an assassination of a husband. By the way I'm only 30 years old. This service without question thing must get on peoples nerves. Does it get on yours I wonder?

I stop in my writing for a moment and hear a grunt from behind me. I smile to myself and continue.

My mission as it was handed down was to

A sudden slam from the other side of my cell door and a blast of gunfire. Finally. I remain focused on my paper and the gunfire resounds through the hallway. Took em fucking long enough. I'm up in the air and thrown to the wall. "God damn it." I growl. I'd landed on my broken arm and there is bone piercing through the flesh. I can feel the cold realization of shock settling in. The door opens and my world goes black...

[to be continued]

A Shadowy Beginning

A tall angular woman looked out from around the door frame.

“Hello?” She was not answered by voice but by a hail of bullets and gel tasing fragments. She ducked back behind the door, mentally rolling her eyes.

“So much for that…” She blew a blond and blue section of hair out of her face, looking back over her shoulder. “Ethan, I would suggest you hurry along in there…” She screwed on the silencer to her Hammerli and fired ten shots out into the company’s hallway.

“Just hold them off a little longer, eh Annaeka?” Ethan growled from behind a computer screen, his hands moving far quicker than any normal human could ever fathom.

“Would you not use my real name. It is seriously disconcerting…FUCK!” Annaeka growled and slid back behind the door frame, holding her shoulder. “Look you son of a bitch if you don’t get that data I swear to all that is…”

“Done. Let’s go.”

“What?"

"You heard me."

"You had to wait until I got shot didn’t you?” She pulled out one of her many grenades and lobbed it down the hallway, “Sit tight.” She closed her eyes, put in her earphones and waited. A flash of blinding light, and piercing sound permeated the building rending any unsuspecting stunned and unconscious. Ethan smirked as the bomb went off and the pair escaped through the side doors of the building. He checked the alley and he nodded as he observed the bustling crowd just leaving the subway a block down. The two slipped into the crowd and ended up hopping two different trains on their way back to their home base. Mr. Johnson would be at the bar within the hour to complete the transaction and allow them to go on their merry ways.

“Ethan.”

“Yes Annaeke?”

“Do you ever wonder if we will die doing this?”

“No.” Annaeke would have responded but the sharpness in Ethan’s voice told her she had asked the wrong question. Around anyone else, she watched herself. Watched how she reacted, how they reacted, thought carefully about what words to choose and which ones would inflict the most torture on the individual for the fullest effect. She could mentally breakdown and then slit the offenders throat without actually showing any emotion. It was Ethan that caused her to second guess herself and made her feel normal. She cared for him like an older brother, watching anytime he brought women home to see if they were simply one times flings or if they stood a chance to last. None of them had been able to last with him more than a couple months. Not that she couldn’t relate to that. Being a runner made things difficult with relationships.

“Annaeke?”

“Hm?” Annaeke looked up to see Ethan with a lofted brow in front of her.

“Are you ok? You started mumbling in Sphereial again…” He looked concerned but it only lasted a moment before Annaeke nodded.

“I am fine. Simply lost in my own thoughts. You know… We should go out tonight. Get a drink at a less seedy bar than the one we’re going into. Have a nice glass of wine and just relax. Act like normal people for a change. Or does that not seem fun to you?” Ethan smiled and nodded. Something about his face softened for a moment before he looked up to see the entrance of the bar, blocked by a police line.

“Fuckshit.” Annaeke said it for him. The two continued walking past, while Ethan looked up the communications to see if they had set a back up location.