W.I.P. My Goodness

Working on new projects, or even finishing them, should have been a slogan of some kind for 2020.

Yet I've seen to come across more projects than finishing the previous one. It's been a fun journey though. Beginning new tales, working on old writings. Getting canvas and paints from various locals, setting to making a personal masterpiece.

While finishing projects is the bane of my existence, or rather, it causes too much remorse to leave a project in which I've been immersed, beginning them is a sport I've mastered.

Here is a paragraph from something I began working on while re-watching "The Mandalorian". It sort of started out as one thing, then morphed into another, before realizing it wanted to be science fiction.

The theatre was relatively small. It was a front for other businesses that rented out the various rooms and boxes. It had been transformed into a market place. A boost for the local economy and smaller businesses.

She lived in the confines of the massive structure.

Hiding.

She operated a small business of her own from one of the enclosed boxes. It was easy to lock her wares up for the night, rather than bringing them back and forth each day. She kept a small bunk for easy use at the end of the day, making her "shop" into her home. She hid it as a pallet she sat on while selling her wares. Hiding it in plain sight from the overbearing managers.

Share what you've been up to, and I'll see you next week!

W.I.P. Lots of Little Things

In these times I've taken up art.

I have a lot of paint (which increases those few times I leave the house), and I've gotten a ton of projects from Five Below. At this point, I think I'm personally financing the store.

Also - Dollar Tree is a great place to find stuff too.

I don't really have a whole lot of pictures of those projects, but I have been doing some extra writing too.

Here's a little tidbit.

The shot went past her head. She could hear the soft whistle, feel the slight shift of the air as it streamed beyond her. One moment she was facing down the fiend who’d nearly trapped her in another world. Who had succeeded in trapping others.

She watched the look in the man’s eyes as they widened. His fall to the ground had her confused.

Turning slowly she came fact to face with someone she hadn’t been expecting.

“I finally caught up with you.”

Her vocal chords forgot how to work. She barely managed to gape like a fish,. She didn’t think her eyes could grow any larger, nor her lids open further.

“Do you know how long it took me? After that last conversation?”

She continued to stare, uncertain if this was another vivid dream or someone was pulling her leg.

“After that last conversation I realized that I needed to do something to change. Certainly all the movements going around also helped spur me off the main drag. I retired, you know.”

She watched him, wondering if gaping would be acceptable.

Another shot rang past her. She jumped.

“What?”

The word escaped her lips on a confused brush of air.

“He was twitching.”

Confusion was her best option here.

“I went to your home town, looking for you.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“I saw what had happened, then began asking around.” He chuckled, “I suppose I would have made a great detective.”

She was an intelligent, resourseful woman, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember how to use actual words.

Another shot rang in her ears.

“What the heck was that for?”

She spun around to find the fiend had crawled up behind her.

“What?”

Don't forget to share what you've been working on! Let's get some things done!

W.I.P. National Novel Writing Month 2019

Well.

Back to the month of something in the air that drive us all to write over 50,000 words.

Here's a snippet of what I'm working on, how about you?

“Take those two away.”

The voice of the Erlkonig startled her. She turned. Watched as the Guard escorted the two offenders of magic away. She couldn’t call them parents at all – they hadn’t raised her. They hadn’t been there her entire life until they wanted something from her. Of her.

They tried to put up a fight. Without magic, they were nothing.

That could have been me.

The thought haunted her.

If she had been raised by these two, she would have wound up on the other side of the coin. Between light and dark she was already walking along the grey line. She knew going to the dark side wasn’t an option. Yet, there were also repercussions for going too far into the light.

Her parents had gone to both extremes.

When the sounds of protest from them faded, she was left among a crowd. While they were all friends, it was still too much.

The power the book had blasted had drawn out everyone within the town boundaries.

“Miss Smok?”

Her name cleared some of the daze in her eyes. Her mind was still foggy. There was a haze that was trying to clear.

Shaking away the cobwebs she saw the forest.

Across the field she watched someone emerge from the shadows of the trees. They stumbled slightly, as though the legs were unfamiliar on land or with the land. They stumbled a while before straightening and looking up. At her.

What are you up to this month? Leave a comment below.



EDIT: I posted this on Monday.....do I get points for being early?

W.I.P. Kinda Not As Busy

This past week has been one dosy as a time.

I've come up with lots of new ideas. Lots of new places. New characters. Old ones that like to creep into everything else (the jerks).

The newest idea I've labeled "The Mechanic".

It sorta stemmed from my ride on the Smugglers' Run over in Galaxy's Edge. It did begin as a fanfiction, of sorts. Than came to be something else entirely.

A little blurb of what I've been thinking about can be found below.


I had to leave.

I couldn't stay in this land of fiction anymore. I had to move out on my own. I had to become my own person.

Not the person who was known for the lost years I couldn't account for.

I wouldn't account for.

How could I tell them?

It was easier to gather my tools and get on the bus.

I got strange looks. Naturally.

"Who wears long sleeves in the middle of the summer?"

"What's with her face?"

It was easy to ignore them. I'd been ignoring people like that all my life. Why let it get to me? I'd heard worse.

I'd been through worse.

"Kettle Cove."

The bus pulled to a stop. No one got up.

I did.

"Thank you."

The driver's shock almost made me smile.

Stepping into the crisp air I breathed in the scent of pine, pumpkin, and spice.

I already felt home.


What are you working on this week? Leave a comment below and let's help each other.

W.I.P. Umm.....

Here is a little excerpt from something I've been working on. At one point I added two potential ways of phrasing things. Let me know which one you think fits bet.

The morning after the concert and double homicide I woke up to someone trying to toss me on the floor. I’d fallen asleep in a rather large beanbag chair that felt more like a cushion than anything. After the other gals had drunk their fill of rum (Lizzy prevented me from getting any, at least remembering through her alcohol-induced haze that I didn’t drink), I had crashed from mental exhaustion. The bean bag was perfect – I melted into it and bundled down.

“Where’s Ann?”

I’d covered my face with another blanket, not wanting to deal with people in general. The choice to hide was gone the moment I was lifted into the air.

“Don’t toss me!”

The bean bag came down and I was left facing a bewildered Erik and Inspector.

“What were you doing there?”

I was half way awake, a bit wider now that I’d almost been launched into a couch and in no mood for stupid.

“I was sleeping. In case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Wait…are those your pajamas?”

I paused, glancing briefly down at my long pajama pants and baggy tee shirt. Looking back up I raised half an eye brow, “Yeah. You got a problem with my comfort?”

“No! No, no, it’s just…”

“Ann we need you to come with us to the Basement. It’s not safe for you.”

I stared down again…. “Yeah. You do realize you just barged into a room full of women who were having a slumber party (sleep over?)?”

They had the decency to blush.

I ushered them out.

“Right, well I’ll be out when all of us are decent and dressed. Bye!”

Shutting the door in their face I glanced around the previously full room.

“Traitors,” I murmured. Scrounging my clothes from the piles on the floor I slipped into the bathroom and got ready.

What are you working on this week? Need any help - I'd be glad to!

WIP: A Little Bit

Can I just say - I'm not all that inspired to write anything today?

It's rainy out, gloomy, cold and I have been hiding inside watching videos online while resolutely avoiding work of any kind/form.


As it is work in progress week I will add a few poems, and a little snippet of the latest workings on. Leave a comment with anything you're working at this week.

“Erik, this is stupid, why do I even have to be here?”

“You’re the owner – the whole benefit is for you.”

“Great,” I muttered under my breath.

He opened the door to the ballroom and I had to stop for a moment. The whole place looked like a swanked night club. I went in and was soon swallowed by the higher end of society. 

Rich socialites and bachelors were breathing down my neck, offering me their word of support.  A few offered me drinks. I looked over at the bartender and was relieved to find Tom there. Each glass that came my way would be perfectly 100% alcohol proof.

Thank you, Tom!

The night went on. I danced with a few billionaires, forcing myself to be nice and participate in their almost drunken behavior.

“Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”

I looked up at the stage. The DJ cut the music and there was an MC there, looking about as steady as a sailor on dry-land. I watched with mingled curiosity as the assembled crowd grew quiet. Erik sidled up to me. I gave him an equally curious look, and then felt worried when I saw him grin.

This, can’t be anything good.

“As you all know, this benefit is to help support the Destler theatre. So far, through your generous donations, we’ve managed to raise that bar a little higher.”

There was polite applause.

“Erik,” I whispered, “what the heck –”

“And now, for the highlight of the night,” I turned back to the MC. “Gentlemen, open your wallets and bid generously. It’s time for the auction!”

There were hearty cheers around the room.

Auction?

“Our first lady is one the move affluent models in the city –”

I tuned the MC out and fully focused on the musician.

“Erik, you never said a word about an auction for women!”

My voice was low, whispered, hardly heard above the din of bids ringing above my head. I was furious and was almost positive he knew it.

“It’s just an auction for a date, nothing illegal about it.”

I glared back; I opened my mouth to protest when the MC shouted.

What are you working on lately?

WIP: The Alley

A little something I've been working on. Accents are not my forte in writing yet - I'm still working at them.

‘We have to find him – quickly.’

Confused, I looked around, ‘Find who?’

I turned around, but I couldn’t see who I was with, if I was with anyone at all. Whoever was there didn’t respond again. I nearly jumped out of my skin when someone took my hand. I was led through a wooded area and into a small village. The set distracted me enough from my escort. It wasn’t large enough for an actual town, and calling it a village almost seemed almost too kind. There were a bunch of little cottages built really close together, a few larger houses in the middle of the square. He pulled me forward again and all I could see was the back of a black cloak. He led me through the back streets, avoiding all the main roads that passed through. Each time he heard someone coming down the street he became ancy, almost nervous. When another person turned down our alley, he quickly pulled me close, bringing his large cloak up to surround us – making us blend in with the shadows around us. I continued to follow him, keeping one hand on my large skirt to keep myself from tripping on the hem.

‘Wait here.’

I paused. He left me standing in a darker alley, cut off from the rest of way. I watched him, curious, as he climbed up onto the roof of the house to my right. A moment later he disappeared over the other side. I shrank back into the shadows, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable. I found small comfort there with the darkness closing in on me.

‘Miss, can ye ‘elp me?’

I nearly cried out in alarm, jumping. Spinning in a full circle I found a small boy standing in the doorway across from me. He shrank back, quivering. I could barely see him – his skin was dark; almost exactly like Brian’s.

‘Wh-what is it?’

I shook, wondering where on earth Erik was.

‘I – I’m lost – an’, scared.’

I bit my lower lip. I wasn’t sure what I should do. Erik had told me to wait there for him until he came back from wherever it was he went. Waiting intoned the notion of not moving from the position where one was left. I couldn’t risk going off, but I couldn’t just leave the child there. That was irresponsible.

‘Where are your parents?’

His eyes grew dark, he almost started crying, ‘I don’ ‘ave  any.’

I felt my heart wrench from the tone in his voice. He was all alone in this world – defenseless.

I bit my lip again, mulling it over before making a decision, 

‘Alright, come with me. I’ll take you somewhere safe.’

I moved out of the shadows and stepped close to him, reaching out. He was timid, shy. At first he moved away, then slowly reached out and took my offered hand. The instant we touched a chain leapt from the dark and wrapped itself around my wrist, snaking its way around the boy’s, linking us together. A splint of shock ran through me as I heard dark, almost maniacal laughter coming from out of the darkness to my right.

How about you? What are you working on this week?

WIP: NaNoWriMo

This year for National Novel Writing Month I've gone back to my roots. I've been fleshing out some of the scenes of a story that's been long in the making.

Here is a little excerpt for you. Always: comments and critiques are welcome.

“I feel a connection to this story Keef. This story intrigues me; I need to know how it will end.”

Keef sat back, disbelief and concern fighting for his attention.

“Ya think this story yer after is gonna end well?”

32 spread his fingers wide, “I can’t say a thing.”

They both leaned back in their wicker chairs. The soft hum of a fan overhead keeping time with their thoughts. The wind blew through the trees, bringing the smells of gardenia and coconut. From off the water the salt air stirred these together. It could have made a decent perfume. Birds called out to each other. A few critters ran amok among the foliage and branches of mangroves.

Keef sighed, then took a drink. He cleared his throat once, twice. A few more minutes slipped by.

“32,” Keef cleared his throat again, “what happens next?”

32 sighed, a soft release of breath that barely stirred the air. He’d been thinking the same thing since finding that first clue in the islands public library. A sort of note pressed into an old book of laws and regulations. A book no one thought to look at twice, or even once. His only reasoning for picking the book up was to prove a point to his neighbor. The note had been written almost a century before. The neat, precise hand could belong to anyone, there was no sign of a rushed hand.

What are you working on this month?

WIP: So glad it's not OMD!!

Right, well, I panicked a bit today. I seriously thought it was Obscure Movie Day. In which case I was going to do "The Rocketeer"....until I realized I did it last month. Then I panicked again, thinking I'd have to find another obscure movie to talk about and panicked on what to do....until I realize that it was Work In Progress day.

Whew!

I have so many things I've been working on. Firstly - Poetry class. There are a few new ones that I'm going to share. And then there's Inktober - which I am in progress of finishing.

Without further ado, enjoy the poetry and the art. Also feel free to leave a comment with what you're working on in the comments below.

And a little poetry for the ending segment.

When Life Was Good

Tell me a story of when life was good,

Something I don’t know.

Back when the evenings were full

of laughter, Of smiles.

A time when love never thought of dying.

Of saying hurtful untruths.

“She said I was pretty.”

Words to demean.

“You’re too stupid to know.”

Words.

Life used to be filled with kind words.

(“I appreciate all you do.”)

A morning of frenzied eating, lunch packing,

running for the door. The bus.

Home once more to loving hands

To a full house of those who protect.

Tell me a story once shared,

When life was good.

Autumn

Nighttime comes, I dream

the world is how I imagined!

Bright-lit streets, small, comfortable

house. Easy, soft, living.

Books fill the air,

the scent of parchment and ink prolific.

Mixed fragrances of honey, pumpkin,

cinnamon; spices.

Old burned furniture.

Scarred wooden panels.

Blaze of light, cackling away.

Chocolate: hot, steamy, white clouds

floating on the surface of foam.

Complete. Relaxed.

Home.

Mansion Fire

Lime Green, vibrant

Haunted high,

Less than a thousand

within

Ghostly wails

Tortured spirits

Tightening shadows

Slither along the walls

scamper across the ceiling

Footsteps

Lingering echoes

Fading voices of the lost

Spinning Darkness

Sending lovers spinning

Grim and Grinning

Ghosts

~

Older Than Time

A tune, a melody

older than the time

around it.

Long, golden, bright

shimmers like silk,

it’s melody spinning

its web.

Spinning, high on

toes, we weave through

spheres of harmony.

At one with the cosmos.

Melodies play

around the room, deep

tones that resonate.

Night

Turns the sky to ink.

Pinpoints

litter the ink with

gems of the universe.

A tune, a melody

Older than the time

around it.

Buried

My garden is full of life:

bugs, butterflies, caterpillars,

the many flowers that have been bred.

Tulips, pansies, geraniums,

a Sierra Sunset.

They sleep, better than me, in

their soft, earthy beds.

The smells of dirt, the

packed in families huddled

en masse together.

Lilies, hyacinth, rose

buds, poppies.

They strive against the

wind, withstand the

storms that billow and beat.

They outlast the frigid

snow – blanketed beneath

in their earthy beds.

Buried like all thoughts

of those times long in the

past.

Buried.

Return

Why did you come back,

If only to cause misery?

We were all happy, too happy,

it seems, to realize what was to come.

Why did you come here

to ruin the peace we had?

The flow of our lives were

Solid, sure and un-manipulated.

Why did you not grasp the

way we tried to help?

Our lives stopped to help,

we put our worlds on hold to aid.

You only wanted sympathy,

and slaves, dominion overall.

Why did you let yourself,

become the thing you divorced?

While trying to overcome the past,

you buried us in the same pain.

Why can’t you see how much

you've changed everything?

The sound of life is what you took. I

Lost my voice, my music within.

No more lights after

eight, no more car.

No more music, though

it's therapeutic, it bothers you.

No more fun inside this

house – not with you inside.

You’re trying now to make

amends – I can’t help but laugh.

You’ve burned this bridge,

you've broken, shattered the plate.

Your life isn’t my mistake,

your choices are not mine.

The only thing from you

I’ll take, is what not to do

with mine.

What are you working on this week? This month? (I can't wait till NaNoWriMo!)

WIP: Ideas

Back in school and I've had some amazing ideas for stories.

The trick will be writing them all down before they leave my mind, but I finally feel as though some sort of progress in those regards is coming to fruition.

It's been great so far this year. I've already written two poems (and learned that the first time apparently isn't the one you should publish, as they need to be re-written over and over and over (and often over and over and over) again).


I will post the first two I wrote here below, the first drafts, that is.

Tell me what you think. Leave a comment and let me know your critique.




[EDIT: I will post them tomorrow. Gotta get some sleep!]


"When Life Was Good"
Tell me something I don't know
A story of when life was good.
Back when the evenings were full
of laughter. Of smiles.
A time when love never thought of dying.
Of saying hurtful untruths.
Words to demean.
Words.
Life used to be filled with kind words.
A morning of frenzied eating, lunch packing,
running for the door. The bus.
Home once more to loving hands
To a full house of those who protect.

Tell me of a story once shared,
When life was good.



"Autumn"
Nighttime comes, I dream
the world is how I imagined.
Bright-lit streets, small, comfortable
house. Easy, soft, living.
Books fill the air,
the scent of parchment and ink prolific.
Mixed fragrances of honey, pumpkin,
cinnamon; spice.
Old burned furniture.
Scarred wooden panels.
Blaze of light; cackling away.
Chocolate: hot, steamy, white clouds
floating on the surface of foam.
Complete. Relaxed.
Home.


(Leave a comment below with your thoughts or criticisms.)

WIP: Plots and Plights

I hate writing plots.

I hate writing outlines. With a passion.

I hate the whole 'research and plan the entire thing out before writing' element of writing.

(Which is why I sorta ramble each week on my blog here. The most I've got planned is the theme/topic.)

Recently while writing another little novel I accidentally had my character doing a YouTube mini web-series. It worked well with the story-line and fit well with the mood.

Then I got thinking. . . .  Wouldn't it be cool to make that into a real web series?

Cue yesterday when I used a template taken from Pinterest (yup, everything's there) to write out a plot. There are only a few questions is asks you in order to make out an entire Plot In A Day.

Plot In A Day

What is Your Premise and Basic Plot?

Decide Who the Characters Will Be

Decide What Drives Each Character

What Aren't These Characters Giving Away Right Off the Bat?

What is Going to Change These Characters?

List out the Major Events of the Novel with Subplot in Chronological Order.

Decide Where to Start Writing

Once You've Gotten the Second List Done, You've Got A Plot

Now, I got stuck at the "List the Major Events...." one, because while I have the basics, I don't know if I want to plan the entire thing, or just go for one episode at a time. Which is where my little Block of Writers comes in.

There is a little tidbit with each of the Queries listed above, but I won't write them out.

The Project I'm working at is titled Tomes - and I'm fully ready to film . . . once I can get back my creativity and write an episode.

What are you working on this week?

(Also - if you want the extras involved with the list, send me a message, I'm happy to share!)

WIP: June - Ummmmm

Right, so I've been rather lack in my writing of late. Though I do have ideas flowing through my head, it's been getting rather difficult to get them to down on paper (or word document). So, here's a little bit of a story I've been trying to get down.

Once his laughter subsided she realized that this creature was no monster. The façade he wore may be frightening, but there was something deep inside of him that spoke of another. While he laughed at her remark various thoughts flashed through her mind: exactly what was he laughing at her was the foremost.

“Forgive me,” his voice was soft, gentle.

She smiled, “Of course.”

They stood facing one another, watching. She was certain he was studying her as she was him.

“I’m sorry,” a sudden realization overcame her, “but the previous time I was here you told me you were the sole occupant of this castle.”

He seemed puzzled, then looked around the empty foyer before replying, “I am.”

“And yet you have an entire cast of staff to make tea.”

She watched him consider that. There had to be a reason.

“Oh. I see what you mean.” He came down the stairs to stand next to her. “Perhaps I did mislead you as to the number of residents here.”

Standing close to him set something racing through her. A surge of adrenaline coursed through her, telling her to run. Rubbing her arms she took a few steps away to look out the windows that hadn’t been broken.

“I can see why you did,” she stared out at the grounds. There were others out there, tending to the dreary landscape. She didn’t see any sort of reason to keep the grounds up; unless there was a pressing need to walk through the snow. It looked peaceful out there. The white ground was almost as misleading as the – his –

“I’m sorry, but do you have a name?”

She spun around to face him, only to bump into him again. She hadn’t heard him walk close.

“Sorry,” he rapidly stepped back to put some distance between them.

Her heart hammered in her chest; though she was uncertain whether it was from fear or something else.

“No, it-it’s alright,” she trailed off.

They stood there, staring at anything else in the room except each other. She’d never felt this way around anyone else before. It was as though she was courting someone and had been caught unaware at a fancy party. It was ridiculous. They were both adults.

So why did she feel as though there was something else connecting them together?

* * * * ** * *

He watched her from across the hall.

He cursed himself again for his lack of manners. All the things he’d learned about conversation had seem to fly from his mind, leaving him standing like a fool. Following so close behind her had startled her more than she was letting on as well.

This was a bad idea, the thought crossed his mind again.

She cleared her throat, seeming to search for the right words to say.

Wait, didn’t she ask me a question? He frowned at the thought, turning away.

“I would tell you my name, but I’ve forgotten what it was.”

“How could you forget your name?”

There was no malice in her voice. Only curiosity.

Turning he shrugged, “After the first dozen years it didn’t seem necessary.”

She cocked her head to the side, “The first dozen years?”

He cursed himself again. Should he tell her everything? Let her know that this was a cursed castle? That every living thing in here had been doomed for the past century?

Looking at her he saw a gleam in her eye, one that spoke of adventure, knowledge, and understanding.

“Master, lunch is served.”

He shifted, not quite jumping (as she did).

“Thank you Leon.”

The butler left for the dining rooms. In the aftermath he let the silence linger while he collected his thoughts.

What have you been working on recently? Leave a comment below and share your progress!

WIP Week - Outlining

Right, well let me tell you about my writing style.

I get the story in my head. When I'm in the mood (or the zone) I write/type depending on what I prefer. I NEVER outline. Not even when I was supposed to do so in high school.

The last some odd years - basically since middle school - I've had this story idea in my head. I'm not ashamed to admit it began with a fanfiction for Lord of the Rings, spanning into Pirates of the Caribbean, Van Helsing, and The Phantom of the Opera.

Over the course of those many, many years it has evolved into something far more frustrating and life/mind consuming. (It may be a miracle I managed to stay sane for so long.)

Now, to this outline.

I realized that this massive fanfiction had an excellent plot, great locations, interesting tech, and a bunch of characters ripe for the picking. Only....they weren't their fictional characters anymore.

Through the course of years the characters left behind their rather copyrighted persona and became something more original. It was a miracle.

So I spent a few hours (yup, hours) going through the story. I made an outline for the first time in forever.

(.....yup....good luck getting that song outta your head.)

Right now it's at seven (7) pages, and I'm still not even close to being done with it.

The only issue I now face.

Writing.

I have 2 1/2 pages written out, but I'm taking my time in doing so. I did set a deadline to have chapter one done by the 15 of April. See how well that didn't turn out? Life happens, and we can't always keep up. (Well, I'd be more inclined to do so if I was getting paid for it. Or if I had an editor or a BETA reader.)

Huzzah for being a free writer!

Here's a little snippet of my outline for WIP week!

THE LIEBRARY

-Liebrary houses ancient books, of magic, obscure, rare finds

- A group of Magicians were in charge of keeping it

- They abused the power in the books

(Possible ghost of the past in charge of it now)

What's something that you are working on? Would you be interested in reading my novel, piece by piece?

WIP - Weekly Progress

I have nothing to report here - move along - NOTHING TO SEE HERE!

..... just kidding.

Kinda.

In the past few weeks I have been trying my best to get back into the field and zone of writing. It's never as easy as it seems, but once you get those juices going it's easy . . . (That was a rather bare-faced lie right there, but it does, ask any published writer).

Now - writing isn't exactly an art form.

It's a frustrating process that makes you want to, and often succeeds, in tearing your hair out.

I've been going back over previous works throughout the years and doing some re-writes. It's made me realize that I often have a great foundation and basis for a story before I peter out and lose interest in the story. Coming back to it years later I've found there is more motivation and inspiration to continue with the story.

Well, with all that ado, I present to you a re-worked little short back from years ago and redone in this past year's NaNoWriMo. No title, just the story.

As always, leave a little comment below to share what you're working on.

Changing my address had seemed like a great idea. The reasons were this: the way things were going, or the path we were heading down, I didn’t want, or shave have bothered with staying in the same boarding house for more than a few days at a time. If I became sick I would take a week to try and recover, but never for longer than that at one address. I continued moving around, one by one, just having the gut feeling that I should always be on the move. Keeping on the run to make things difficult for whomever it was I was running from. I made a certain point to avoid all of the places that I’d frequented the previous occasion that I’d been here. (Which was sad because I missed all of those places.) I was only here to avoid people in the general populace. I didn’t want any more new people in my life, nor any of the old ones either. I’d keep it that way. I’d managed to keep it up; at any recent address I would dine alone, content to avoid all of the other tenants, doing my best to avoid mingling or small talk.

Though, every resolve finally burns in the embers and dies out.

I knew there’d been a bush I’d been dancing around, figuratively. I’d beat around the bush for long enough. I had to finish what I’d come here to do. I had to find the one person in this city who’d been there the last time – we had to talk about what had happened before.

Since it would be a reunion of sorts I decided to dress for the occasion. I kept it looking nice, while at the same time practical: skirts (many layers of), a practical shirt with a bodice, a small overcoat, then my regular overcoat, a pair of gloves, and a scarf wrapped around my neck to combat the chilly fall weather. I went out that night with every intention of finding him. He had to be easy to find, right?

I knew what I wanted to say to him, I went through it like a monologue in my mind, playing the words over and over again in my mind. It would be simple. All I had to do was find him.

I didn’t know where to go, or start with, so I sort of ambled all over Paris hoping for a great turnout. It wasn’t the worst city to be wondering rather aimlessly around – there were plenty of places that I could pause and sit for a moment to relax with a small sample of food and a drink. The best sorts of food and drinks provided.

After passing such another location I soon found myself wondering on the steps of Notre Dame (to which I dare you not to sing that aloud or in your head). There were plenty of other single walkers out that night, of each sex and persuasion. It was a pleasant evening out, so it was no wonder the streets were becoming full of people, out and about on such a lovely night. I looked up the side of the building at the gargoyles guarding the towers and turrets and bells of Notre Dame (again, I defy you not to sing it!). Most of them seemed rather happy up there, the exception being a few of the more sinister looking creatures who chose to glare down at the masses of the city.

Don't forget to leave a comment, and have a fantastic week!

WIP - A little writing

Right.

Christmas brain. That's why this is a day late.


In the past few weeks I've been working a few different things. Mostly an original little piece based around the legend of Orpheus and Eurydice.

I used a few characters of my own, and incorporated music into it. (Hmmm....I might post links to the actual songs as we go along.....or not.)

So - here you have it. It's a little Greek Mythology, a little Broadway, and a lot of me.

(Note: Not a self-insert.)


The Story Draft One:

10 Years.

That was a large number to think about. She'd been in the ghost realm that long - her body in a coma, more death like than sleeping. The Hat-Box Ghost had left her there, with a darkness deeper than him. Through the years they has successfully broken her memory - erasing all those she once knew and loved.

Erin moved out of the spotlight position of his company. Losing her had been unacceptable. He spent 10 years trying to find a way to bring her back. Some of the dwarves had made her a glass casket; holes near the bottom and sides to keep out the elements. Part of this curse was that she wouldn't age while asleep. For her time had all but  ceased moving. He would visit her every week. The place on the mountain offered a stunning view of the land still untouched by the hands of industry.

"Erin, this idea is mad." The voice behind him was one of reason, one of her older, well younger brothers. "Even if you succeed, what's to say she'll be the same?"

He had a plan now. He knew how to save her. The answer had been staring him in the face. It was as much of history as He, but it had worked. It would work again.

"Jack's right, Erin, don't think -"

"I have thought, I've been thinking of nothing else for the past ten years," his own voice, mangled. "It's the only thing I haven't tried yet. It has to work!"

Erin straightened. Placing the flowers on the top of the glass he watched her. If you paid close attention you could see her slight intake of breath every few minutes. If you weren't looking for it you'd miss the sign of life altogether.

"Think of the risks man."

"Jack, I appreciate the concern, but this is my fault. I'm going to do it."

He stepped around the two. After the years of research he'd done, all the planning, everything was set. If Orpheus could do it to save Eurydice, surely he could do it to save Mira.

"Do you know what you're going to sing to lure her back," provided this half-brained dream works, the third man thought, yet didn't say.

Erin glanced back at the century (well older) old musician. They were on the campus now.

"Yes, Erik. I have a playlist all set," he strode into the apartment complex. As per usual the elevator was on the rocks again. "I put it together last week."

On the eighth floor he went down to the last door on the left. He could have afforded a nice house in any part of the world: instead he'd contended himself to this old building. It was close to where she was. He could have stayed at her house out in the woods, but it felt hollow.

"Right, so we're doing this. What can I do to help?"

Erik shook his head, "I've got everything I need. Just keep an eye on the entrance while I'm down there."

A few weeks ago one of the archaeology students had uncovered, well discovered by sheer accident a tunnel in the mountain. A spirit had emerged with it, claiming it was a portal to the ghost realm. After cooler heads had come and a few Demigods confirmed, it was confirmed as a route down to where the spirits were kept. The idea to go down and bring her back had slowly stemmed from that. He would do whatever it takes.

A half hour later he came to the cave entrance. Only Jack had come with him. No one else believed it would work. It was odd to think of this youth as an adult now. Ten years had gentled aged him well.

As they approached the Gate Keeper slowly looked up. It was a dark cloth over the frame of a corpse. There was no smell to it, no scent. It was a thing that always stood, patiently waiting for someone to come and pass through.

"What is your purpose?"

"I'm here to bring back the soul of Mira Penumbra."

For a moment the ravaged visage seemed to grin. Then it stepped back, waving its arm  toward the opening of the cave in a showmen's gesture. From the depth a set of stone steps appeared. There was only one direction to go: down.

"You know the rules Jason of the Argonauts. Break them and she is lost for eternity."

"I understand."

Erik took a breath and stepped inside.

He'd read, studied, been told the tale, yet finally going down seemed surreal. There was no echo of his step on the stores, no lingering echo to fade into the encroaching black. The light was dim, coming from sources he could not place. As he made his way down and further down still he began to see the signs of a vast dwelling. He knew that was where her soul, her spirit would be. Leveling out on the ground he looked behind him - there was no trace of the entrance. High above him the world lay, full of light. He was in the pit of night.

"What is your purpose here, mortal?"

Turning back to the path leading to the underground castle he saw a guard.

"I've come to free the soul of Mira Penumbra."

He didn't know if he imagined it, but the guard seemed to grin.

"Right this way."

Through a door of black granite was an outdoor throne room. Upon a throne of pure obsidian sat a figure framed in shadows. Erin couldn't make out any details about the form. Around him in the courtyard were the souls of those who had dearly departed their mortal coil. These spirits were grey, hazy as though they might vanish forever. When he looked near a broken and barren willow tree he saw a spirit that appeared brighter than the rest. He knew it was her.

"What is your purpose here, demigod?"

He faced the throne, stepping before it.

"I am Jason, leader of the Argonauts. I have come here to return the soul and spirit of Mira Penumbra, who is not fully deceased. I am here to bring her back."

The mass of shadows moved, swirling and slithering like snakes.

"Come forward."

Erin watched as a spirit, brighter than the others, stepped up next to the throne. He withheld a gasp as he recognized her. She hadn't aged a day in ten years, still wearing the dress she'd been in. Everything about her was the same, except the gleam in her eye was gone. Instead she appeared lost.

"You know the rules Argonaut: you will walk forward, she will follow. If you look back once, she remains here. Forever." There was a grin in the shadows voice, "You are free to persuade her however you choose."





Tune in next week - when I'll finally be back on track!