To a New Year

The New Year is time for many to start again. For once, this actually includes myself.

In years past, my New Years celebrations have been with some great people, mostly close friends and my younger sister. This year was quite a different experience for me. Not in that there weren’t great people there, because there were! Instead of a bunch of adults kvetching and sending out a giggle into the night to break up the conversation, I spent the night with a little girl (I really should say young lady, I’m sure she’d prefer it) who was keen on making herself known as a young intellectual force in a game of Cranium. She’s bright and has a wonderful future ahead of her. I also spent the night with a new love. He and I rang in the New Year with the celebratory midnight kiss. It was a quiet moment that many people talk about. The world seemed to be shut out for a moment. I felt his lips, his arms around me, and the warmth of the moment. It was, one of the most perfect kisses I have had the pleasure of experiencing.  

Mmmmm..... sugar-y

In the season of new beginnings, the romance is not the only thing that will be changing my life. I’m revamping my writing. This year is the year of finishing for my writing. I’ve started three different novels over the course of the last three years, and I am keen on pushing at least one to completion. I need to get it out there, even if it’s just to get rejection letters. I want to be published before I’m 30 and while I know I am still a few years behind that… time isn’t going to slow down and make it easier on me. Time to get to work.

I’m also working on a fun little side project that I’m fairly intent on showing the world as I go. Once I get the first 15 entries done, I’ll be posting a link. For now, the only clue I’ll give you is Letter #1. See the entry and see if you know. If you’re in Inkwell, you know, so no cheating!

Well.

Now that that’s out there… What are your goals for the year? How did you spend your New Years? Did you find a moment of perfection? Please feel free to write a bit and leave it in the comments section.

Cheers,

Jessi

NaNo Dare 1 : Character in a Tavern

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

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

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

“What will you have tonight, Erik?”

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

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

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

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

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

A Time for...

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

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

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

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

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

“Were you close to her?”

“No. I'm here for her mother.”

“Ah... Thank you.”

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

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

Time to go back inside...  

The Moment When...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you, my love.

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

Namaste,

Jessi

Astor's Grace - Old WiP

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                “Your Grace…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Moment Away from the Fiction: Dating a Geek

Dating.

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

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

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

What type of Geek are you dating?

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

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

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

2.Knowledge Nerds

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

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

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

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

Are YOU Interested in What They Are?

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

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

As Aforementioned... Be Understanding!

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

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

Talk to Them

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

Enjoy Them for Who They Are

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

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

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

A Knight's Decision

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sins of the Court

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From the Eyes of a Watcher

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Goggles and Lace Writing Challenge: The First Snowfall

I walked quietly through the paths of the campus, looming grey clouds, gently reminding me to get inside before some sort delinquent weather started dropping from them. It was cold enough for snow but still. It was early November in New England, it could go either way. Heavy freezing rain, or a light snow to usher in colder and much harsher weather ahead. I took a deep breath and let the cold, moist air fill my lungs. It seemed a welcome relief in the dryness of late fall...

I pulled my coat tighter around me and looked over the cold grey of the campus that matched the clouds perfectly. For all the damp coolness and the warmth of the dorms that lay just 50 feet away, I wanted to stay outside. I took a seat on the park style bench outside the big rock in the freshman quad and pulled a pack of cloves from my pocket. It'd been a long semester already and finals had yet to come. Hell, it wasn't even thanksgiving yet. The funny part about all of it was, the campus hadn't seen it this quiet since the first day of freshman move in. There wasn't a soul outside in the impending storm.

I took a clove out and lit it frowning as the smoke rings blew away in the breeze. The cinnamon spice taste of the cigarette reminded me of the holidays in the best and worst of ways. It was ironic that these were the memories triggered by the snow. I let the smile slip from my lips as someone sat down next to me. I looked up and held my pack of cloves out to the new occupant on the bench. My room mate took one and lit it, looking out at the path leading towards the campus center.

“Ready for the holidays?” Her thin hands held the cigarette delicately, watching my movements, calculating what I would say before I said it. I smiled softly, but sadly. “I see.” She nodded and took a drag, trying to ignore the fact that I'll be staying on campus again this year. She always makes the offer to bring me to her house, but I always decline. I love her family, I do. They're amazing but...

“I don't know...” I hear myself saying and watching as the first snowflake lands on my black naval coat. I take a drag of my own cigarette and relax as the smoke passes over my lips.

“You should.”

“I should what?”

“Know. It's been three years. Come home and enjoy the days with some family.” She's more insistent this year than in the past. She should be by all rights. I'd turned her down for three years running at this point.

“We'll see.” The silence in the air was dampened by the softly falling snow. She looked up at the sky and let the snowflakes fall on her ebony eyelashes. A smile passed over her lips and she stood in front of me, offering me a bony white hand.

“Let's go. I need to pack.” I looked her over for a moment and stood, finishing my cigarette. I took her hand.

“Yeah..." I knew that mischievous smile on her lips. I was either in trouble or about to have my things packed for me. The snow, however menacing it was to drivers, is what made me remember that one happy thing. Every time it snows, I have to smile. The crisp air, the faint memory of cinnamon and that smile... Something I'll never forget.

A Slave's Tale

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ohh! Can we? Will Mommy be upset?”

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

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

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

“Yeah! Tell me about Earth!”

“Ok... Once upon a time...”

[to be continued]

Preview of My Camp NaNo Project : Aurona and Eiji

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

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

"Auri, you have to go to work."

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

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

"Look, Eijin..."

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

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

Dear 16 year old me.

Dear 16 yr old me,
Hey. How's 11th grade treating you? Awful I know. Still thought I'd ask. You haven't graduated from high school and college is still two years out. Grandma has just passed on. Princess will die soon, so give her a hug for me, please. But it gets better! That's the good news. The other bit of good news? You're going to be amazing. And I say that with a bit of perspective. You're 25 now, realizing that you're old, and looking at your little sister who just turned 18. She survived so far! It's practically cause of celebration. No death via sodium intake.

So here's the deal. High school wasn't easy and college doesn't get any easier. As a matter of fact, it just gets harder. You're going to have one of the hardest years of your life. And I truly mean that. I could show you the scars, but you need to experience them to grow. Out of freshman year, you realize that you're strong enough to live through the depression. You start to see that that quirky guy you met in Japanese civ, is going to save your life. Better yet? He's going to become one of your best friends. No really. We're still friends. Even after you kiss him and realize it's a little weird. Don't forget to compliment him on his skills. It's only polite.

Kit is still our best friend. She's gone to FL now, and it broke our heart. But she had to go, sadly. Soon enough she'll be home though. When? I don't know. But she will be home. She's been friends with us for 13 years now. Crazy huh?

You have friends that love you. You have guys that are amazed by you. They think you're beautiful, something we never thought would happen, right? Mostly for some uh, more physical reasons but that's neither here nor there. By the time you get here, you'll have experienced, love, loss, tragedy and joy that no one can ever take from you. You'll have been engaged, and so close to being married. And then you'll make the decision to end it. Because in the end, you're not the one for him. And trust me, there's more than the initial reasons.

These people change everything about you. They challenge you, they make you stronger, and you love them more for it. They're going to make you angry beyond belief, and push you until you think you're going to break. And they show you in the end, who you really are.

You start an amazing writing group with your best friend. And the support system that you create there for others is invaluable. Not only are you helping keep the creative spirit alive and well in the community, but you're writing. Just like Gram. Ok maybe gram didn't write about mutants, fate, death and coffee.

So life will get harder. But you have to know that even when you're sitting on the floor of your dorm thinking it's the end, you will get better. Honestly. And even though I know you'll never see this, I know someone who knows a 16 year old, soon to be 16yr old, or once was 16 will. Depression is a very real thing and needs to be addressed head on. So please always remember to be kind, hug often and laugh even more than you think your sides can take. Have one drink too many once in a while and lay in your best friends lap, listening to a good conversation. And just remember. You're going to be amazing.

Love,
Me.

The War of the Realms -Dreamscape Pt. 1

(apologies, this is a bit clunky but it's my first entry back into the non-scriptwriting world after a long hard month...Enjoy)

The gentle tick tock of my wrist watch seemed to pound loudly in my ears as I lay trying to pretend to be somewhere else. Once upon a time, it seemed, the tick tock of my grandmothers watch would soother my tired mind, lulling me to sleep. Now I lay on the battlefield of the Dreamscape, the watch the only thing that crossed the plane with me. I lay silently, a human among a land of monsters, waiting for death to come. My hear stopped several seconds ago, but I was still breathing. I pushed myself to roll over and lay starring at the starless sky. The purple clouds swirled overhead and I became entranced with my own breathing. Someone or something wasn't letting me die.

I winced as the pain in my abdomen increased, pushing myself to a sitting position. I was cold. I looked back down. My body was still with me, so I wasn't a ghost. I looked over myself and saw my wounds, I was bleeding heavily, though the blood loss seemed to have little effect. I reached a shaky hand up to my chest, checking for a heartbeat. Still nothing. I sighed. My commander had pushed ahead in an effort to keep her daughter from the kingdoms boundaries. I looked down and picked up my lance, my pistol, and a small notebook. My wrist watch tempted my heart to start beating with it's every steady ticking and tocking. I looked towards the horizon. The eagles were being sent to aid in the battle. They and the dragons would make up the bulk of the air forces. Their riders were a lucky few. I however, was infantry. Merely one of the humans hat got conscripted for when the dreams took a bit more of a violent turn. This however, was war, of a magnitude unseen by many here for thousands of years. The family had split into two factions. Here I sat on the Dreamscape, the other army, under the rule of the Nightmare Queen, the daughter of the Dreamscape's ruler, Emeline. I suppose I could bore myself by recounting the history but 'd rather not. I had to focus on getting back to the front lines.

I flipped open my little notebook and began to whisper it's words softly to myself.
“Because I believe, I can. Because of Emeline, I am.” My eyes closed and I felt my body fall backwards, my breath stopping as I hit the soft grass beneath me. I remember feeling... alive. And then, nothing. Odd really...

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Devon? You're going to be late for school! Get up, hon.” Devon's mother called up, already irritated that her teenage son was falling behind in his schoolwork, and now he had been sleeping for nearly the last 24 hours. All he had to do was get through the last few months and then get to college. It all seemed so close... She sighed and walked upstairs, leaning her ear to the door, listening for movement. Nothing. Her eyes narrowed and she opened the door. Her breath stopped, but her heart continued. Her son lay with eyes open, blood trickling from his mouth. A silent scream echoed through the house as 911 was called. Sadly it was too late for Devon. His body had given too much to the war...

~*~*~*~*~*~

I took a breath. My heart began beating. But this time... I felt as alive as I did in the real world. And gods the pain... I slumped over and began breathing harder. A hand rest on my shoulder. I turned. The faceless soldier gave it a gentle squeeze. The soldiers never recognized me before... What was going on. I stood, barely able to hold back the vomit from the pain. AS I stood, the watch fell. The gentle ticking had stopped. The watch lay dead. I picked it up and regarded it thoughtfully. Another nudge from the soldier.

“Will you bring me to the front lines?” Wait... Whose voice is that? I blinked and the faceless soldier seemed to smile, offering me a look into his bright shield.

“I'll bring you to Emeline...You have much to discover about your death.”

To Be Continued...

Exercise 4 from Goggles and Lace: A Different Perspective

(I should preface this by saying that this particular scene was incredibly difficult to write but, yes, it really did happen, though certain dialogue etc that i was physically not present for has been fictionalized, obviously. I wish I could have written something else, but this is what leapt to mind.)

"I'm doing the right thing." I sighed and pushed a blond lock of hair backwards from my face. I looked in the rear view mirror of my car. The cruiser was right behind me as we pulled up to the ivory colored house. On the outside everything looked so tranquil. So normal. I took a deep breath and got out. Officer Flannigan nodded and patted me on the back. I rang the doorbell.

"Just a minute" I sighed and my hear drops. They don't know I'm coming yet. I'm always nervous at these things. But it's for the best. I have to keep telling myself that otherwise I'll end up second guessing. I can't afford that here. I glanced at the driveway anxiously. Her husband wasn't home. Maybe it would be easier.

"Yes?"

"Mrs. Peterson" My rehearsed lines seemed to literally fall out of my head as I looked at the woman, holding her 6 month old little girl. I coughed and stepped into the house, Officer Flannigan behind me.

"What's going on?"

"Based on the evidence, from your neighbors, doctors, and what I've observed here in your home, I'm coming to collect your children and bring them to foster care, pending a trial."

"What?!?"

"Please. Get the other two children and have them pack some clothes." I looked past her to see the eldest of the children sitting on the stairs. I smiled at her and I was met with the hatred I'd only seen out of grown adults. I reached out to her in vain and she bolted up the stairs, slamming her door.

"I don't understand!" The mother began crying and making mention of something but I could have cared less about her. Her case file had her diagnosed as manic depressive with mild adult ADD, a lifetime of verbal and physical abuse from her deceased father, and a laundry list of other issues. Besides, I've honestly heard most excuses before. As with all my cases, I was far more concerned with the children involved than the parents. I looked over to Officer Flannigan and he nodded, heading upstairs to go get the little girl. The middle child, a boy of 4, was already downstairs, playing quietly, a giant bruise on his forehead, from what they claimed was an accident at church. The mother was packing the two younger childrens' clothes. Officer Flannigan reappeared with the eldest under his arm. She was crying. I had to look away. The mother was yelling but at this point I had almost completely blocked her out. The rest was a blur...

We made it out to my car, the children packed into the back seat, their bags in the trunk. I looked up to the rear view, starring right back at me was the eldest. She starred at me defiantly. She would get over this... Move onto a better life, with a family that treated her well.

"Do you have anything you want to say, Jess?"

"You're a bitch."

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.