Wednesday, February 18, 2015


(Note: the people in the image above do not look particularly like Logan or Sadie. But the image evokes the feelings and emotions I was trying to get across with this writing; so I added this special piece of art in.)

I was on the swings at the park today, listening to music, thinking, and absentmindedly practicing voices. Out of nowhere, I suddenly found myself acting out the conversation here. The general idea had already been in my head, but nearly the entire conversation sprang to mind, line by spontaneous line, all at once, at the park today. When I acted this scene out, Logan had a Scottish accent and Sadie an English one; but that was just how I imagined it. It doesn't actually hold any significance that I know of.

The bit of backstory needed - Logan is a twenty-almost-twenty-one-year-old fellow, and Sadie is a fifteen-year-old. They met somehow, realised they were in similar situations at home or at school... and one thing led to another before they were forced to leave - Logan, chased away by a family who never cared in the first place, and Sadie, who ran away because she didn't feel accepted or loved. Sadie is a dreamer through-and-through, and almost childlike. Logan is a little more - okay, a lot more - aware of the world.

That in mind, here's the scene I wrote. It's random and probably not very good, but I like it; so I posted it here.


 "Logan?" Sadie murmured, lying down on her back in the grass and watching the sky. The last flames of sunset were fading past the horizon, and velvety dark blue began to spread a blanket above.

"Yeah?" Logan sat beside her, resting his elbows on his knees.

There was a beat of silence, and then she spoke again. "Do you ever wonder what it would be like to visit the stars?"

Logan ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the sky and then back down at his younger friend. "Sometimes. I think everyone does, at one point or another."

Sadie kept talking, her voice distant, as though speaking from another world. "We can, someday. Some people have wings, you know."

"Do they?"

"Mmhm. See, good people have wings. You know, the people who are kind, and gentle, and go out of their way to help others simply for the sake of helping others. They have wings." She paused, and when Logan glanced at her, he could see her eyes were shut.

Assuming she was asleep, Logan turned his head, planning to get comfortable and try to catch some sleep as well.

Suddenly, she spoke again. "You have very lovely wings."

Logan raised his eyebrows, surprised. Then he smiled slightly, unfolding his legs from beneath his chin and straightening them. "Oh? What do they look like?"

She spoke through a yawn. "They're feathered, and a faded purple. There are faded forest green streaks, and faded midnight blue streaks... but your wings don't look solid, they look almost like mist or... or fire sometimes."

"They do sound pretty." He glanced sideways at her. "Do you have wings?"

"Yes." She spoke matter-of-factly, eyes on the sky again.

"And what do your wings look like?"

"They're feathered, and dove-grey, with pale blue streaks. I like my wings."

"I like your wings too." Logan was quiet for a moment before speaking again. "Does everyone have wings?"

"No, because not everyone is good yet," Sadie replied. "Once they learn to love, then they will find their wings."

"You always say that everyone has some good in them, no matter what," Logan pointed out.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean they're good people yet; just that they have an ember glowing somewhere deep inside of them." She propped herself up on her elbow and reached out, touching a finger to the scars on Logan's wrist. "They haven't found their wings yet because they haven't learned love or kindness."

Logan bit his lip, the scars reminding him of words and of people he would much rather forget. Before he could search for something to say, Sadie had lain down again.

"We'll fly someday, and we'll get to see the stars. See, we have wings so that when the bad people are trying to hurt or trick us into losing our wings, we can leave the chains of the earth and fly away, somewhere safe. And instead of being around for them to hurt us, we can go and sit on the edge of the crescent moon, or play Tag among the stars."

"Can we fly right now?" Logan asked.

"Not yet. We're still learning how," Sadie said, nodding. "We'll learn."

A companionable silence fell as Logan pondered on everything Sadie had talked about. The sky was dark now, and the stars she held in such high esteem were flickering high above.

Sadie spoke again, and this time, the topic had changed.


"Yes, Sadie?"

She sat up, hugging her knees to her chest. "Do you... do you think the reason we have no homes and no families now is because... because the Father really is angry at us? Punishing us? Like everyone said?"

Logan's heart went cold and he moved closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. "No, Sadie." He grasped for an explanation. "You explained it yourself."

She tilted her head. He continued. "We're out here because... because we have wings. You can't trap a bird inside a cage, can you? They're free spirits. They get sad if they have to be kept in one place. And we have wings; we can't be trapped in the same place forever either. We have to travel, because we're free, and when you're free, you can't stay put for long."

Sadie thought about this, leaning her head sideways to rest it on her shoulder, atop Logan's hand. "But why did our families and friends get upset at us?"

Logan shifted and put his arm around his friend's shoulders. "Did they have their wings yet?"

"No." She gazed off at the horizon, deep in thought.

"Well... they weren't upset at us so much as confused." Logan disguised his sigh behind the clearing of his throat. "See, our wings are so different, so bright... they weren't sure how to handle it. It hurt their eyes, and it was something new; something they had never encountered before. And new things scare people sometimes."

"They were scared of us?" Despite the darkness, Logan swore he could see her face fall.

"Not us. Our differences. They were scared of our wings, Sadie. But you'll see - someday, they'll find their wings, and they won't be scared anymore. Then they'll be ready for us to come back."

Sadie was quiet, but he felt her relax a bit. He continued talking. "Until then, we're going to travel. We're going to use our freedom to visit all sorts of places, and maybe even find other people with wings. And we're gonna learn how to fly."

She nodded, yawning again. "I wish my mum wasn't scared of my wings though. And that your mum wasn't scared of yours. I wish you hadn't had to leave."

"Trust me, I don't mind it at all," Logan murmured. "Don't worry. Someday they'll realise that we're just different, and then they won't mind us coming back."

More quiet fell.

After a while, Logan murmured, "Sadie, can people lose their wings, once they find them?"

There was no answer. Listening carefully, Logan heard steady breathing and realised she had fallen asleep.

He gently took his arm from around her shoulders and lowered her to the grass again. She curled up, head resting in a patch of clover.

Logan stood and walked a few yards away, looking down the hill at the town below. He glanced back, lost in thought, before returning to his position a few feet from Sadie. Memories plagued him...

After several moments lost in thought, Logan rummaged around in his backpack until he had located his permanent markers. He selected a purple one and uncapped it, placing the cap in his mouth.

With a steady hand and using only the faint lights from the sky, he sketched two feathered wings onto his wrist, nestling them inside a ring of stars. He studied the job as best he could in the dimness for a minute before recapping his marker and returning it to his backpack. Holding his wrist up, he stared at both the drawing and the marks underneath.

Then, with a last glance in the direction that led to where he had once called 'home', he sprawled out on the grass next to his friend and folded his arms behind his head. Thoughts of stars and wings and 'good people' filled his mind.

He watched the silver-pinpointed expanse of dark blue above his head until somewhere along the line, sleep found him, and he drifted off with a small smile on his face.


Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Star Trek: Holy Worlds - Season 1 - "Cuttlefish and Kittens"

((Author's note: this is called "Star Trek: Holy Worlds" due to two things. One, the site where all this took place was called Holy Worlds. Two, that seems to be a running theme of series names - Star Trek: Enterprise... Star Trek: The Original Series... stuff like that. So this particular series is called Star Trek: Holy Worlds.))

Space, the final frontier.

It has been completely wrecked in the Holy Worlds chatroom today. *laughs*

So... this is the story I wrote based very heavily off the roleplay that went on in the chatroom of a site called Holy Worlds today. It started because Abigail, whose nickname is Kirk, got splashed with a wave sent by Elusive Starlight, and suddenly turned into a cuttlefish. Caeli turned into Bones - her nickname is Bones - and then things just went from there.

I'd give a synopsis except there isn't a solid plot. Basically, Kirk is a cuttlefish, and there are disembodied voices making creepy Frozen references, bodies in closets, kittens, a Teimaro, and two men acting like children over a few disconnected wires.

Yeah. Enjoy reading this glimpse of our insanity, I guess. Don't say I didn't warn you. ;) But before we begin, here's a list detailing who played who in the roleplay; nearly all lines for the characters in this story were created by the people playing those characters. Credit where credit is due:

Lady Abigail Mimetes: Abi (and all cuttlefish), Kirk, disembodied voice(s), and Simperer.
Aris Annor: Anora, and the Teimaro.
Caeli: Bones, Kaylee, and the kittens.
The Dark Golden Dreamer: Spock, Scotty, and Jayne.
Elusive Starlight: Elusive Starlight

And now, without further ado, I present to you...

* Star Trek: Holy Worlds *
Season 1 - Episode 1 
"Cuttlefish and Kittens"


The Enterprise wasn’t quite the Enterprise.

It was, but it wasn’t. It was in an alternate universe created by writers from the Holy Worlds. As a result, chaos and insanity now reigned on the Enterprise as the crew attempted to keep things calm and failed.

A girl who called herself Elusive Starlight had appeared onboard, used some form of magic, and sent a wave of water crashing through a corridor—effectively splashing Captain James T. Kirk.

The water swept him away into another room.

McCoy noticed this from his vantage point in the sickbay at the safe end of the hallway and ran to check on his captain.

Kirk had hit the wall and was lying there motionless, staring up at the ceiling as water slowly drained out of the room and back into the corridor. McCoy knelt down, scanning Kirk with his probe before prodding his shoulder. “Jim. Jim, it’s just water for crying out loud.”

Kirk blinked, not saying anything. Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, Kirk was gone and a strange tentacled fish had replaced him. For all intents and purposes, it appeared the fish could breathe oxygen.

“What—” McCoy stared in shock. He carefully moved closer to the strange creature.

A baritone voice from behind McCoy startled him from his thoughts. “Doctor, it appears our captain has become what Earthmen typically call a ‘cuttlefish’.”

McCoy glanced over his shoulder to see Spock and blinked, one eyebrow raised, before taking a copy of the Starfleet Medical Staff Handbook out of his doctor’s bag. “Oh, is that what that is? Well, why is Jim…?”

Spock watched as the strange fish waved its tentacles around and changed colours. “It seems to be so. As for why, it would appear that the wave of water sent through the corridors by the young lady earlier possessed some sort of property that caused it to turn the captain into an aquatic creature.”

The wiggly sea beastie that had once been Kirk attempted to impersonate Las Vegas seaweed.

“Well, what am I supposed to do, Spock?” McCoy asked in frustration, scowling at the Vulcan. “I’m a doctor -  a human doctor – not a veterinarian!”

Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice began to speak. It sounded as though it were coming from the fish.


McCoy leapt away from the fish, eyes wide. Spock simply stood there with his hands clasped behind his back, regarding the fish calmly.

“Bagel?!” McCoy asked. “What about a bagel?”

Music started playing. It was recognizable as music from a very old Earth film that had been called Frozen. “For the first time in foreverrr…”

“And now there’s Frozen music. What is with this place?!” McCoy burst out.

“It appears to be the same as it always has been, Doctor, with slight changes brought on by the appearance of that girl from earlier,” Spock mused.

The singing started up again, still coming from the fish’s general direction. It was set to the tune of a song about snowmen from the same film as mentioned earlier. “Will you help me hide the bodyyyyyy… it doesn’t have to be in the closetttt…

Spock raised an eyebrow, gazing down at the fish. “I do believe the captain is unwell and feeling uncharacteristically violent.”

“He’s also a fish,” McCoy stated dryly.

Spock nodded. “Indeed.”

~*~ \\// ~*~

Meanwhile, in the rec room…

Anora stared wide-eyed at the closet. Speaking to no one who was physically present, she said, “Abi! Did you wash the body of the prints? You gotta remove the prints so you aren’t a prime suspect!”

She dragged the body out of the closet and hosed it down with a hose that appeared out of nowhere.

Satisfied with her work a few moments later, she attached a rope – that appeared out of nowhere as well – to the body, and dragged it back into the hiding place.

And that was when Spock, who had left the room where the cuttlefish was, happened to show up.

~*~ \\// ~*~

Spock walked into the rec room. He stopped and crossed his arms, watching silently with one eyebrow raised as the girl attempted to adequately hide a lifeless body in a closet.

McCoy followed closely behind Spock, coming to a halt and staring in shock at the scene. “What in the world is going on here?!”

The girl ignored them and started pulling up boards inside the closet in order to hide the body under them. “Abi!” she called to no one who was physically present. “What kind of air freshener should I put in the closet to hide the smell of decay?” She used a push broom to shove the body into the hole made from the boards.

McCoy continued to stare with an expression of open-mouthed shock (that closely resembled an invisible facepalm).

Spock, his eyebrow still quirked, spoke to the girl. “If I might ask, what has occurred here?”

The girl paused. “… gotta hide a body.” She nodded twice and then put the floorboards back together.

“Hiding it without notifying anyone, particularly the ship’s chief medical officer, is an irrational plan,” Spock pointed out.

“Psh, that’s just more paperwork.” The girl waved a hand and then dragged a fuzzy rug – that appeared out of nowhere – over the spot the body had just been placed.

The aforementioned medical officer was still standing in shock, stammering but unable to form a cohesive sentence due to the bizarrely macabre scene in front of him. Spock raised both eyebrows now in an ever-so-slightly perplexed expression at the stranger’s words.

The girl repeated her question. “Abi! What kind of air freshener?”

A disembodied voice responded cheerfully, “Thieves’ oil. Use that.”

After a long few moments of stunned silence, McCoy turned to face his Vulcan friend. “Spock, there’s something crazy goin’ on in this ship and I have to tell you, I don’t like what I’m seeing.”

Spock looked at McCoy for a moment and then nodded once. “I, too, find it most… disconcerting.”

McCoy raised one eyebrow at Spock’s lack of indignation. “Yeah, well, you would.”

Spock glanced at McCoy with another raised-eyebrows look that seemed to say, ‘I think I know what you’re implying with that sentence, but since I’m a Vulcan, I couldn’t care less’. Then he unclasped his hands from behind his back and folded his arms across his chest. “I think that for now the best course of action is to place this girl in detention until the current dilemma at hand is solved.”

~*~ \\// ~*~

Due to yet another invisible being known as a ‘writer’, someone else had appeared on the Enterprise. A man with dark hair and hazel eyes appeared from thin air and began to explore, an air of idle curiosity about him.

Someone spotted the stranger and turned on the communications. “Warning. There is an unknown man heading towards the Bridge. I repeat, there is an unknown man heading towards the Bridge. What are my orders? Tikhonev out.”

There was no answer. Because, quite obviously, Captain Kirk was still a fish.

~*~ \\// ~*~

McCoy heard the warning, which had been broadcasted across all communication frequencies. “Well, great, now there are multiple maniacs running around this ship. You know, for a second there, I thought this was supposed to be a Starfleet venture for the sake of science and humanity.” He rolled his eyes heavenward, exasperated.

“If that is the case, doctor,” Spock replied, “Then taking care of one ‘maniac’ – as you say so eloquently – at a time is the logical course of action.” He flipped open his communicator, which gave a chirping beep in response. “Spock here. Send two security details; one to the bridge, and one to the rec room – we have an intruder here as well. Place them both in custody until further notice.”

As he issued the orders, McCoy stepped forward, staring at the closet thoughtfully. He opened it and started to pull the floorboards and the rug away. “I should make sure the man is really dead and not just unconscious. There’s no way of knowing, what with all the madness going on recently.”

Spock, after making sure the girl wasn’t going to run away (she wasn’t; she was simply standing in the corner and talking to the disembodied voice), went to stand next to McCoy, clasping his hands behind his back.

As soon as their backs were turned, the girl crept quickly away without a sound.

~*~ \\// ~*~

The darkhaired stranger – known as Simperer – sat on the Bridge, inspecting the control panel and wondering where the lights came from. Having come from a world without electricity of any sort, it was quite confusing.

After a few minutes, he figured out how to open the control panel. He studied the wires before deducing that the Enterprise must be a living thing of some sort – after all, it had veins, as he could clearly see here. Only living entities had veins.

Suddenly, a voice spoke behind him. “Watchu doin’?”

He jumped and turned around to see a girl standing there. (This is Anora from the rec room – the one who was trying to hide the body – in case you haven’t figured it out yet.) “Have we been eaten?” Simperer asked.

“Eaten?” the girl asked, surprised.

“Yes.” Simperer regarded her seriously.

She laughed. “No, dear. It’s a spaceship. Like… a ship that’s a house, in the air. Very high in the air.”

The door to the turbo lift slid open, and a man in a red shirt – Scotty was his name – entered the room. He halted abruptly, noticing the open control panel in front of Simperer. “’ey, what’s goin’ on here? Leave that alone!”

Simperer ignored him for a moment, talking to the girl. “How is it propelled?” He touched a wire. “Where does the polychrome luminescence originate?" He stared at the glowing buttons for a moment longer before turning to Scotty. “Who are you?”

“Uhh… I’m not sure. Some form of energy…” Anora responded. “Maybe gas or oil? Or… ooh! Like lightning!”

“I’m the chief engineer,” Scotty said. “Now what do ye think you’re doin’?”

Simperer tried to pry a button off of the panel. “How…?”

Scotty’s eyes widened. “Don’t do that!” He hurried forward and batted Simperer’s hand away from the button.

Simperer tilted his head. “An engineer?” His eyes widened slightly. “Lightning?” He backed away. “How do they trap it?”

The girl paused. “Uhh… with different metals and equipment. It’s controlled into energy, and powers the ship.”

Kneeling down, Scotty inspected the control panel for any signs of damage. “Trap what?” he asked absently, voice tinged with slight annoyance.

“The luminescence, in the hard knobs,” Simperer replied. He glanced at the captain’s chair and pointed at it. “Does the lord sit there?”

He noticed two levers on the control panel pointed in opposite directions and twitched. Reaching out, he fixed the levers and made it so they were pointed in the same direction.

An alarm rang out as Red Alert was triggered by the movement of the levers. Scotty sprang to his feet. “What in the blaze—what did ye do?!” He ran over to where Simperer stood and quickly shut Red Alert off.

Simperer cursed at the sudden unexpected noise and whipped around, drawing his sword. “What was that?”

Author's note: this is an actual photograph of a person who looks like what Abigail imagines Simperer to look like. This is not a random guy. It really is Simperer.

“You set off Red Alert, is what it was!” Scotty retorted. He saw the sword and stared incredulously. “Are ya mad? Put that thing away!”

Anora got wide-eyed and lowered Simperer’s sword arm. “At ease! Easy, easy…”

Scotty took his phaser out of its holster just in case.

“What is a red alert?” Simperer asked. “Is it dangerous?” He scanned the area with his eyes before looking at the girl. He shifted to an ‘at ease’ posture, sword still drawn.

“It means you just sent a message to the entire crew sayin’ there’s a code red, or a dangerous situation happenin’!” Scotty explained, temper rising.

“Simperer, put your sword away, okay?” Anora asked. “So things don’t get worse.”

“Why isn’t anything labeled?” Simperer inquired. He told the girl, “If the situation deteriorates, I prefer to have it drawn.”

She rolled her eyes. “Simperer, the situation WILL deteriorate if you keep it out. They’ll all feel like you’re the threat. We don’t want that.”

“How many are in the flying house?” Simperer ignored her words, preferring to continue with his questioning.

“Lots,” the girl said, smiling. “They could probably fit a lot of Jaegar’s army inside.”

Scotty, finally finished with his inspection for damage, answered one of the man’s previous questions. “Nothing’s labeled ‘cause the only people legally allowed to work on a starship are ones that know what they’re doin’!”

 “You.” Simperer motioned to Scotty. “With what weaponry is this flying house outfitted?”

“She’s a starship, not a house, ya nutter,” Scotty retorted. “Phasers… laser and plasma cannons… why d’ye want to know? And how’d ya get here anyway?”

Simperer ignored the question and turned to Anora. “You will translate.”

“Uhh…” She paused. “Lasers are like concentrated streams of lightning turned into energy. Plasma cannons are kind of the same, but only do it in spurts.”

Simperer’s eyes widened as he stared at her in awe, before they narrowed authoritatively. “Show me.”

Scotty, meanwhile, had turned on the communications. “Where’s the captain? For tha’ matter, where’s Mr. Spock? Why is the Bridge empty?”

He received no responses. He heard Simperer speak and turned. “Ye’re not goin’ to see the cannons, laddie, that’s for certain.”

Simperer looked impatiently at the girl, not acknowledging Scotty.

A disembodied voice rang across the Bridge. “Scottyyyyyyyyy. This is your Captainnnn speakiiiiing.”

The engineer looked in bewilderment around the room. “Captain? Where are ya?”

There was no response.

Scotty frowned, and then looked at the girl. “Under no circumstances are ya allowed to show him the cannons!”

Simperer, bored and frustrated now, returned to the control panel and disconnected a wire. All the lights blinked out as the control panel died.

“He just wants to see them—” the girl started. She stared. “Simperer, stoppit!”

“It bleeds sparks,” Simperer whispered in awe.

Scotty’s eyes widened. “Stop it! Ye’re gonna send us into lockdown if you keep it up!” He took his phaser out once again and pointed it at Simperer. “Stop right there, lad, and don’t ya move.”

“SCOTTY! PUT IT DOWN!” the girl exclaimed, stepping between the two men. “Don’t do that!”

“I’m not gonna shoot him, as long as ‘e stops tryin’ to sabotage the ship!” Scotty said.

Simperer frowned, looking at the phaser. His eyes narrowed again, and he moved for his dagger.

Scotty took a step forward, about to step past the girl. “Stop it right there, or I really will shoot.”

The girl placed her hand on Simperer’s arm. “Simperer, don’t.” She turned her eyes on the other man. “Scotty, lower the gun. Just… let’s all calm down. He’s only curious how things work. He learns by doing, that’s all!”

Scotty scowled. “His ‘doing’ is gonna end up cutting all our power, or worse.”

“Well, show him things he can work with that won’t harm anything! Give him spare parts or something!” the girl suggested.

The scowl turned into a frown. Scotty hesitated, and then nodded slowly. “… that I can do. If ya need to muck about with somethin’, come with me and I’ll take ya to Engineering, give you some doodads to examine.” He didn’t lower his phaser, however.

“What is a doodad?” Simperer asked.

“A doodad is just an expression for little trinkets,” the girl explained brightly. “He’s going to show you things you can examine without harming the flying house. See, you make him nervous when you pull those cords.”

“The house can be harm—” Simperer stopped when she mentioned Scotty being nervous. “Nervous…?” He scowled and whipped a knife at Scotty’s hand. “Nervous men should not have weapons.”

Scotty dodged out of the way just in time, the knife hissing past his shoulder. “Now see here, stop that! Tha’s your last chance; if you try anything again, you’ll be out like a light, mark my words.”

“Simperer!” Anora put herself between the two men again. “Stop it. You’re gonna make it worse!” She glanced over her shoulder. “Scotty, just wait! Holster the phaser.” She turned back to the other man. “Simperer, at ease. Put away your blades. Scotty will show you things you can examine that won’t damage the flying house, alright?”

Simperer glared at Scotty.

“Scotty… if I promise to keep an eye on him while he examines the doodads, will you put away the gun?” the girl asked.

Scotty hesitated, the phaser still in his hand, before slowly holstering it; though he kept his hand hovering nearby just in case he needed to defend himself again. “Aye.” He peered at the girl.

She relaxed. “Thank you.”

Simperer put the wire back where it belonged. The lights flickered on as the control panel came back to life. He rose to his feet.

“Thank you, Simperer,” Anora said, grinning. “Ready to go see the doodads?”

“Doodad is a peculiar word… but yes,” the man replied.

“Lead the way, Scotty!” Anora exclaimed.

The engineer cast another suspicious glance at Simperer and the girl. “Aye.” He led you both down to Engineering.

Anora tugged on Simperer’s hand to urge him along quicker. “C’monnnn.”

Simperer looked around. “What do the coloured uniforms mea—why are the dresses so short?” His eyes widened slightly.

“The colours indicate their rank,” Anora said.

Scotty elaborated idly as he walked on. “Red is operations, gold is command, and blue is science.”

“The skirts… I don’t know… Hollywood-issued, probably,” the girl added.

“What is Hollywood?” Simperer asked.

“A fancy place. They make a lot of money.” Anora nodded.

The parade came to a halt as Simperer stopped, distracted by an automatic door that had caught his eye. “It stays open for however long you need it to and magically closes exactly on time…”

“We gotta keep moving, Simperer,” Anora said, laughing.

He gave her a pitiful look that seemed to say ‘please let me stay, this is magical and I want to study it’. She frowned. “Sorry, buddy. Maybe we can come back later.”

Scotty watched them impatiently.

The two of them continued walking and Scotty moved on. Simperer alternated between watching doors open and shut automatically, and wondering about short skirts.

Anora paused, hearing a disembodied voice (or perhaps more than one talking to her), and halted. She patted Simperer. “I have to go do something. You follow Mr. Scotty and have fun with the doodads. I’ll catch up.”

Scotty did not look overly pleased as he watched the girl hurry away. He continued walking regardless, hoping that the man would behave in Engineering.

A woman in a red dress walked past. “How do they sit down…?” Simperer asked.

Scotty glanced over his shoulder. “They sit down just fine, now stop your gawkin’, laddie.”

Simperer ignored him and continued to stare at all the women who walked past. They began to look increasingly more embarrassed under his scrutiny.

They reached Engineering and Scotty looked back. “Either ya come on in here and stop having your head turned by pretty… faces, or I take ya to a detention cell.”

Simperer walked into Engineering and looked around at everything, a bored silence ensuing.

Scotty rolled his eyes and handed the man some old mechanical pieces and an empty phaser. “Have fun and stay put.”

With a contented expression on his face, the man began to mess with the phaser, dissecting it and attempting to build things from what he was given.

~*~ \\// ~*~

Meanwhile, back in the rec room a short while before, McCoy had finished examining the body. “He really is dead, Ji—” He turned to face Kirk before seeing that the captain was inexplicably elsewhere. Then he remembered that the captain was now a cuttlefish. “Dang it, Jim, don’t run off when I’m making pronouncements!”

The cuttlefish randomly scooted its way into the room. A disembodied voice came from the fish. “Sorry, Bones. You were saying?”

Before McCoy could respond, a loud commotion sounded outside.

Spock peered down at McCoy, then glanced at the cuttlefish that was Kirk. Before he could say anything, the sounds of chaos were heard from outside the rec room.

He glanced down at the body. “I am certain that he truly is dead, Doctor.” Without saying anything else, he turned around to go investigate the loud noises, leaving McCoy and the cuttlefish with the body.

The cuttlefish stared at McCoy and the body with its eerie-looking eyes that could stare into your soul.

He was silent for a short moment before calling after the science officer, “Thanks, Spock. I’d be lost without my Vulcan.”

He looked uncomfortably back and forth between the body and the fish for several seconds before shaking his head and standing up. He hunted down a redshirt and had the other man help him place the body in an appropriate place before placing the cuttlefish that was Kirk in sickbay. Scratching his head, McCoy took in the scene.

Moisturize me.” The disembodied voice that seemed to come from the cuttlefish spoke again. The fish stared into McCoy’s soul.

The doctor blinked slowly before sighing and rubbing at his forehead with his fingertips. He left a pitcher of water next to the cot the cuttlefish was on. After a few minutes, he muttered under his breath and headed off to locate where and what the chaos was.

Meanwhile, Spock had realised that whatever had caused the ruckus was a living entity, a creature of some sort. (What he did not know was that this particular creature was a Teimaro, and Anora had summoned it in order to divert them, so she could hide the body again. Which she went and did as soon as he had left. She stole the body and hid it in a box in the cargo hold, stacking a bunch of other boxes on top of it.) Using his tricorder, he worked on tracking it down.

Spock continued walking down corridors, holding his phaser in one hand and his tricorder in the other. He alternated between glancing at the screen and watching his surroundings.

Then he saw it.

The creature was green, and about the size of a young toddler. Its veins bulged and black claws on all of its paws clicked against the floor at the opposite end of the corridor. Yellow eyes with cat pupils blinked at him.

Spock went completely still, regarding the Teimaro with a steady gaze. It snarled at him, drool dribbling from its teeth. Spock slipped his tricorder back around his neck and made sure his phaser was set to stun before pointing it at the animal; the entire time he never took his eyes off the creature.

Just then, the Teimaro charged at Spock, its steps wobbly because of the smooth flooring and environment conditions it was not used to. Spock fired his phaser at the creature just as McCoy ran down the hallway beside him. The energy connected with the Teimaro, stunning it.

“What is that thing?!” McCoy exclaimed, pulling his phaser from its holster.

“I am not certain,” Spock said to the doctor. “It seems to be—”

The Teimaro had not been stunned for long and dove for Spock’s legs in an attempt to mutilate. Spock stumbled backwards, trying escape the creature’s jaws.

“For crying out loud—!” McCoy fired his phaser at the Teimaro. It was undeterred by the stun setting, snarling as it bit and snapped at Spock, who was finding it increasingly difficult to keep even one step away from it. He managed to put just a few inches between himself and the animal and sets his phaser from stun to kill. He fired.

And the Teimaro scrabbled on the metal floor, its clumsiness causing it to just barely avoid getting hit. It shrieked in rage, temporarily confused.

Spock backed away slowly until he was standing next to McCoy. His phaser and eyes stayed trained on the Teimaro as he spoke. “I believe the correct response I am supposed to give is ‘thank you’.”

McCoy didn’t take his gaze off the creature either. “Well, if we get out of this alive—”

The Teimaro snarled and charged once again, this time at McCoy. The doctor ducked out of the way.

Spock fired his phaser again, hitting the creature square in the chest just as McCoy fired his own phaser – though narrowly missing his mark.

The Teimaro collapsed on the floor, dead.

McCoy recovered his composure, rising to his feet and going to inspect the creature. “Is it dead?” He huffed a chuckle. “I thought I missed.” He failed to credit Spock with good aim.

Not that the Vulcan minded, solely because of that fact – he was a Vulcan. And all Vulcans knew they were superior in general, so why bother trying to defend themselves to humans? He crouched down to inspect the Teimaro. “Yes, it appears to be dead, Doctor…” He examined it meticulously, tilting his head to one side. “Fascinating creature…”

McCoy knelt down beside Spock, poking the animal once with his phaser before gingerly turning it over. “Is it some kind of cat?”

Spock peered closer at the Teimaro when McCoy turned it around. “It would seem so, Doctor… it has more feline features, but in its behaviour, it acts as though it is a canine.” With an approving expression, he raised an eyebrow and proclaimed, “Fascinating.”

Suddenly, there was a flash of light and a laugh.

And then Spock and McCoy were no longer on the Enterprise.

Now they found themselves on the first floor of a mansion. In the centre of the room, there was a swimming pool. Sofas and armchairs were scattered around strategically, and large plush bags of what could only be foam pieces sat in the corner (they were beanbags, you see).

And in the room, there were three girls. One with wild brown hair that couldn’t seem to decide if it was curly or a tangle of birds’ nest material sat next to the pool. She was trailing her hand through the water and watching as golden and green designs appeared in the blue depths with each stroke of her fingers. She soon got bored and started walking aimlessly around the room, her trench coat shifting from the colour tan to the colour green at random.

The other two girls stood together near a sofa at the west end of the room, underneath an intricate chandelier. One of them had lovely long red flowing hair and purple skin, with green eyes. The other girl was a bit shorter than her friend, her hair styled in a brown bob that set her blue eyes off nicely. She wore a flowery shirt.

There was another being in the room – another cuttlefish. It was swimming around the water. An empty plate with only a few crumbs of pie left on it sat at the edge of the pool.

The girl with the bobbed hair remarked wistfully, “I vant a cat.”

“I have eight cats, Kaylee!” the girl in the trench coat called from the other side of the room. “Come to my house and I’ll let you have one.”

Instead of going to all that trouble, the redhead gave Kaylee a fuzzy kitten. Trench Coat girl shrugged and grinned. “Or Anora can give you one, that works too.”

Anora grinned at the girl in the trench coat. “I always have free kittens playing around here, Jayne.”

Trench Coat girl – Jayne – nodded. “That I’ve noticed.”

“No. Wait.” Kaylee pointed at three other kittens. “I forgot about Smaug, Tilk, and Pretzel…” She held the new kitten awkwardly while the slightly older kittens looked on with suspicion and jealousy.

Jayne trotted across the room and scooped up the three older kittens into her arms. She made her way over to Spock and Bones, handing the Vulcan the kittens before wandering away again. She stopped next to the pool and flopped down on her stomach to look into it. “Hey, Abi. How’s it going down there?”

The cuttlefish surfaced in response.

Spock blinked down at the kittens, fumbling with them slightly as he attempted to hold Smaug, Tilk, and Pretzel without letting any of them fall to the floor. He retreated to an armchair and sat down, awkwardly letting the kittens sit in his lap.

The new kitten, still in Kaylee’s arms, gave the other kittens a smug look. They gave no response, wandering around in Spock’s lap.

McCoy grinned, walking over. “Have some friends there, Spock?”

Spock raised an eyebrow at McCoy and said nothing. He glanced back down at the kittens, which were still in his lap and stumbling around. Smaug batted at Pretzel with one fluffy paw. Pretzel gave a quiet hiss, his little face showing all the ferocity a tiny kitten could possibly muster.

Spock absentmindedly began stroking Smaug’s fur in an attempt to soothe him and keep him from attacking the other kittens again. He watched as the kitten pulled away, staring blankly at the Vulcan who had dared touch the fur of the royal Smaug.

In response, however, Pretzel mewed and rubbed against Spock’s hand, begging to be petted. Spock obliged, still looking as though he wasn’t quite in reality at all – entranced by the warm, soft, furry creatures he had been handed.

McCoy covered a satisfied smile with his hand, rubbing his jaw as he watched Spock and the kittens bond.

Spock remained oblivious to McCoy’s amusement, scratching behind Pretzel’s fuzzy ears.

The girls and the cuttlefish spent the rest of the time chattering and exchanging candy. Spock kept petting the kittens and McCoy continued to be amused. They were not going to be replaced back on the Enterprise until the invisible entity that had brought them here allowed it…

So they may as well make the best of it.

Wednesday, December 3, 2014

Elf Eyes

(So, I had a dream last night, and this is what I ended up writing afterwards. It has a character from my fantasy trilogy in it - Arisso - but he isn't a main character in that trilogy. Which means that this is the only place you'll see this particular scene, because he isn't supposed to have his POV shown in the actual novels at all.

It's not very good writing, and it's random. But this blog has been too quiet as of late, so I decided to post it. Like it, hate it, print it out and burn it - I really don't care. It's just here to be here.)




Arisso opened his eyes slowly, and the world began to come into focus. Hazy-minded, he blinked a few times before remembering. Elves, the forest… unconscious… ambush!

He lunged forward, being yanked backwards again when the chains attached to his wrists and ankles pulled taut. With a low growl, Arisso snapped his head up to look towards the door of the cell, wanting to see who it was that had awakened him.

An Elven lady with long tresses of pale gingery-blonde hair stood just a few inches out of reach of his range of movement, her face serene. Her gaze was fixed upon him.

“What do you want, Elven witch?” Arisso spat. “Are you here to finish me off? Why didn’t you or your friends do so long before now?”

“I stopped them, mo rhan. I wanted to speak with you.” Her voice was soft and lilting, and reminded Arisso of the dainty silver bells often rung during festivals in the village he grew up.

“What could you possibly have to say to me?” Arisso muttered, his face set in a scowl as he stared at the stone floor beneath him.

The Elven lady’s mournful sigh could barely be heard, and would not have been, if not for Arisso’s keen senses. She spoke again, with determination glowing in her eyes. “You are Arisso Carnar, son of a man known as Earc Carnar. You grew up in the town of Tamarack as a boy, moving to Erathna when you came of age, and joining the forces of Lord Rarrick as an adult. You—”

Arisso interrupted, a twinge of shock jolting through him. “How do you know these things? Who are you?”

He was not prepared for the next four words.

“I am your mother.” She looked at him with such gentleness, such… such love. How was this possible?

“Lies! My mother died when I was born, witch! You have invaded my mind and stolen my memories!” Arisso snarled, lunging forward again. The chains stopped him, but he was now only a few mere inches from the Elven lady.

Something tiny and bright glistened as it slid down the Elf’s cheek, but she managed the smallest of smiles, continuing to speak. “You have always felt slightly different. You sense things others do not. You are now thirty and nine winters old, and where your comrades’ eyes begin to wrinkle at the corners and their bodies begin to weaken, you still seem a young man, no more than twenty and seven winters old.”

Arisso’s breath caught in his throat, and he started to interrupt, but her words held him in thrall, even moreso than the chains.

“You do not have the tapered ears of most half-elves, nor do you share our stature or demeanor. If you had been raised by someone less embittered at the world and less greedy than your father, perhaps your personality would have been different… but your eyes… they are eyes that have seen oceans of starlight, skies of fire, and many years of love and sorrow. They are an Elf’s eyes, mo rhan. You have not seen all those things, but your ancestors have.”

Arisso shook his head once, a sharp and jerky movement as a flash of what could only be described as denial and panic surged through him. “No.”

“Look into my eyes.”

Though what he wanted most was to keep his gaze fixed on the ground, Arisso found himself lifting his head. Despite the shadows in the room, he found himself looking into two eyes, shining with tears and full of love, watching him. They were the gray of the sky after a fierce storm and the silver of the sea during a winter dusk… the same shade of gray as his own eyes.

He tore his gaze away, letting his arms hang in the chains and staring at the floor. Terror and uncertainty raged through him, slowly gathering in his heart, where he forced it to turn to anger. Anger and hatred was the only way to deal with such things… Half Elf, half human...

With a sudden speed that took even the Elven lady by surprise, he lunged against the chains again, roaring, “I am NOT a filthy half-breed!"

She took a step back, and he saw her tremor, just slightly. In a soft voice, she whispered, “One day, mo rhan, you will know the truth.”

Before he could snap back with a retort, she had left the cell. The door locked behind her with a dull clang that rang with an ominous finality.

A finality that worried even the hardhearted Arisso Carnar.

Monday, October 13, 2014

The Guardian of Adventure

Author's note: This won't make too much sense to anyone who isn't familiar with the film Rise of the Guardians; if you wish, look up the Guardians and you'll understand it more. This is sort of a letter, sort of a goodbye, and sort of a short story thing. I don't even know. I do know that it is part of a series of similar works that may or may not be posted. It took a lot of courage to post this one, for reasons that various people will understand. Either way - don't read it if you don't want to.

(Also, none of the photos included are mine, except for the airport one.)


I don't remember the first times we spoke, nor do I remember what we said. Maybe you do, but I don't believe I'll ever find out now; those memories are lost to time and the bright new adventure of the sunrise. Just as you are.

Somewhere along the lines, we became friends. It was never to last; and somewhere deep down in my heart, I knew that. For how can one remain lifelong friends with a bird - a free soul? How can one assume they will forever stay by the side of the Guardian of Adventure, who can stay in no place for too long?

But I still have memories.

I remember the jeans, faded and battered from years of mountain hikes, forest walks, and explorations of dark places within the earth. I remember the blue bandanna, the one that lent you luck. Most of all, I remember your grin that always shone with bravado and mischief, and your darting green eyes always searching for the next challenge.

I remember your voice; distinct and unique. You complained about it being too high-pitched, but I disagreed. It was soft, warm, with a lilting hint of an accent to it, and could often calm my frayed nerves and instill a thirst for adventure in me all at once.

The autumnfall days - so long ago, they seem - where I would pace restlessly, hungry for excitement, and a spark would light up my eyes... and I would run to the phone and dial your number, knowing that even if I couldn't go on an epic quest of my own, your intensity for living and passion for adventure would help.

The dark winter evenings where I would be at the computer, alone, and the phone would ring. My father would answer, then pass it to me, and I would realise you had called as a surprise to cheer me up.

The cold winter evenings where I would be running up the driveway to get the mail, come back, and hear from my brother that someone had called me. And it would be you. I remember sitting down with a bowl of soup between my arms when I answered the phone, having to explain to you and your curiosity why I was out of breath. And I remember curling up on the floor afterwards to listen to you recount the adventures you had gone on since we last spoke.

I remember when I first found out I would be going on my first vacation in ten years (and the first out-of-state trip of my life); I ran to the phone to call you, excited. "I'm finally going to get out of the house and go somewhere," I told you, bright-eyed and excited. "It won't be for around a year, but I've got the plane tickets and reservations on a room on the cruise ship and everything!" You expressed happiness for me, knowing from previous conversations how much the trip meant to me; then proceeded to give me advice, telling me dos and don'ts of cruise ships and the Caribbean. I hung on every word, overcome with excitement and feeling as though the entire world had been set right.

I remember the summer after when I awoke to a letter from you, saying goodbye to our community of fellow storytellers. I had expected it; you had told me you would be leaving. I had not known the date, however... and so I saw your farewell. But I never had the chance to say goodbye to you myself.

I was left for months to wonder of the whys and wherefores, until the day my plane flew out to the other side of the country. In the airport, I caught sight of you and once again the familiar feeling of peace and adventure all at once caught hold of me.

You were in Japan. We spoke for a few moments, and then it was time for me to board. And that was the last time I ever saw you. It was only hours afterwards as I watched the mountains drift past beneath us and the clouds whisper past the airplane windows that I realised... I had once again forgotten to tell you goodbye.

It's a painful word. 'See you later' is so much simpler, and yet... when one senses that a 'see you later' is going to become permanent, it is so very hard to say something that reflects that permanence. I never did. I pay for that mistake with tears.

The whys and wherefores still plague me. But deep down in my heart, I have the answers.

You were always and always will be the Guardian of Adventure. A free soul; a bird in flight. You cannot stay in one place for long. You will not be caged. You were for the longest time, gazing at a sunrise of new beginnings you could never reach.

The door swung open one day. You spread your wings and took flight, never looking back. And, after all, who could blame you? It was a new adventure, and one you had longed for; for so many years.

I understand why you left. You left because as an explorer, as a fighter - as the Guardian of Adventure - you could not stay. It would have broken your soul, just as a bird's soul is broken when it is trapped within a cage.

You left because you had to leave; to find yourself and to gain your life back. To escape that cage you were trapped in for so long. To keep fighting for truth, to keep searching for adventure. You had to leave so that you could keep that spirit of adventure alive.

And if you had to leave, then I suppose there was no better reason.

You are loved, and you are missed, bold warrior. Keep flying and keep chasing down your dreams. Keep finding those adventures.

Friday, September 26, 2014

Autumnfall Brings

Autumnfall brings beauty and wonder.

Green gives way to other hues, and suddenly the sunny early mornings become cloudier; but not unpleasant, for there's a crispness and sharpness to the air that makes me feel alive. Things have quickened. Somehow, summer seems slow, lazy, and calm... Autumnfall appears to me to be the opposite.

Dewdrops of faerie rain glistening on the morning grass changes place with frost, glittering stardust of silver and white on the ground. I step out to give the cats their breakfast, and sometimes discard my shoes in favour of walking barefoot across the cold sidewalk and through the frosty grass. I can breathe in deep and the brisk air recharges my still-sleepy senses.

Warmth appears in the form of soft blankets, creamy hot chocolate, and cozy sweaters.I run in the forest and soothe my aching lungs with smooth chocolate-hazelnut tea upon my return. The spicy aroma of cinnamon, ginger, and cloves fill the house as the cookies bake in the oven.

Mother's Christmas songs are already playing now, and I can hear Bing Crosby in the background as I lie down, awake and dreaming. "Where the treetops glisten... and children listen... to hear sleigh bells in the snow..."

Lying down in the still-green grass to watch the clouds drift smoothly past. The sunlight flickers across my face and a cool breeze ruffles the clover. A ruby-red rose nearby is slowly losing her petals, reminiscent of a legend about a beauty and her beast.

The trees whisper stories to each other, as leaves dappled in brown and yellow and orange fall down around me. And if I close my eyes and keep my mind wide open, I can see dragons soaring among the clouds and faeries darting around the leaves tumbling through the air...

Autumnfall brings dreams. Oh so wondrous dreams.

Dreams of magic, dreams of mystery, dreams of the future, dreams of adventure and life and love.

But Autumnfall brings other things too; things that, while not tangible now, were so very real many seasons ago.


Dusk falls sooner as days march on, and I find myself sitting on the front step, watching the sun set and longing for the days when I would take the lightsaber out of the closet and duel the neighbours and my brother in the dark. The days when we could laugh and chase each other through the forest, carefree and happy, are gone now, but on Autumnfall evenings like these, I can't help but remember. Not only the times spent with friends, but other times too.

I can remember the smoky-sweet scent of marshmallows burned in the bonfire. My brother never ate them any other way. The bright flames flicker, hissing and snapping, reaching high towards the yellowing trees above. I can remember watching him nibble at the now-black charcoal-covered marshmallow, and laughing because surely he was the only one in the world crazy enough to like burned sweets.

I can remember afternoons when we waited eagerly for the sun to go down, so that we could go run through the dark after supper. My brother had a crooked old lantern he built all on his own - blocks of wood nailed haphazardly together, with a little groove for a candle to sit on the inside. I can remember watching him light five matches to make the candle burn... he never could get the flame to stay bright with just one match. We would go marching down to the forest, two brave warriors on the run from Urgals, or sometimes German soldiers. Bravely we would trek through the forest. And I can remember when the lantern burned out, the sudden surge of fear and our yelling as we bolted back to the house, him gasping out, "I thought I saw a werewolf in the trees." I can remember going wide-eyed, believing him, and running the rest of the way to the house to stand safely beneath the pale yellow lights.

I can remember early snowfalls where the neighbour kids and I would drag the sleds out to slide down the hills again and again, before the inch-deep snow melted. I can remember the hailstorms that would rattle the roof, and the times I would run outside with reckless abandon to race through the pouring hail, just to say I had done it.

I can remember afternoons curled up on the sofa with blankets, chocolate, and stuffed animals, watching Disney films.

I can remember racing through the yard with Sela, my precious, precious Sela. I can remember feeling like together we could take on the world.

I can remember recklessness and courage and joy. (And the fact I can still remember those things lends a sense of hope.)

I can remember family and friends, and Thanksgiving reunions. I can remember games and fun and the bright eyes of a girl so amazed with the world that she could get drunk on just plain living. The world was magic, and I can remember how she wanted to explore every inch of it, how she knew that no matter how much she explored, there would always be those magical corners just out of her reach - the oceans, the stars, the very centre of the earth.

I can remember walking out to the forest to watch the sky alight in a blaze of pinks, golds, oranges, reds, and lavender. I can remember standing there, brown and yellow leaves falling down around me, gazing up in complete awe at how beautiful the neverending expanse was. Wishing I could fly. Just wishing that I could find some way to be up there, in the sky, caught in a storm of colours and stars.

Autumnfall brings many, many beautiful things.

Perhaps memories are the most precious of all of them.

Monday, June 30, 2014

Blog Tour: Meet My Main Character

Welcome! I know, it has been quite a long time since I posted on this blog. You have my deepest apologies. Perhaps hearing a bit about one of the bright souls running around in one of my stories will appease you.

I was tagged for this tour by the lovely Faith Blum. She is the author of A Mighty Fortress, which is the first book in the brilliant Hymns of the West series.

On to the questions!

1) What is the name of your character? Is she fictional or a historical person?

One of the main characters of the story is Skye Calderano. (She shares the title of 'main character' with Anden Ramoor, whom you will hear a little more about in the later questions.) She is fictional, not historical; she couldn't be anyway, as she lives in the future!

2) When and where is the story set?

The story is set sometime in the future; probably around the year 3217. It is set on several different planets at various times in the book, but mostly on one planet. I call it Adsila for now, but that name might change. The city of Qytet is where all of the characters, main and supporting, band together.

3) What should we know about her?

Skye is a 16-year-old orphan who is struggling to find her way in life. As a child, she was full of spirit and always curious - always wanting to learn, learn, learn. When her mother died, she became quieter and less excited about things. After her father was gone, she stopped entirely. The flame is still there, but subdued by grief and confusion. Her father, Lenard, and his best friend - Anden Ramoor, so close to Lenard that he was appointed Skye's uncle by her parents - were the co-owners of the starship Pariah; until the ship vanished, and her father was allegedly killed (neither she nor Anden saw him die, but Anden saw him mortally wounded, with injuries hardly anyone could survive - as a result, they [and I, myself] assume he is dead).

She was sent to an orphanage, despite her father having always wanted Anden to be her legal guardian if anything happened to him. Skye is allowed occasional letters from Anden. One day, she senses that he is up to something big - so she runs away from her current foster home and goes to find him.

4) What is the main conflict? What messes up her life?

The conflict starts when she runs away from her foster home to go to where Anden lives and find out what he's up to. When she does, he explains that he has arranged a search for the Pariah: he wants to find the ship, and - hopefully - the man (or alien) who stole it. Skye insists on coming along, some of her old fire coming back. As for what messed up her life - that was the theft of the Pariah, and the death of her father. That was when her entire life got turned upside down.

5) What is the personal goal of the character?

Skye has several goals - she wants to find the Pariah. Her childhood was filled with dreams of someday being the captain, or at least her father's second-in-command. She knows she can no longer fulfill that dream, but it is one reason she so desperately wants to find the ship. She also wants to find out what truly happened to her father - how he died, and why.

She also wants to get permission to have someone she knows and loves as her legal guardian. Not necessarily Anden, but someone she actually knows (family friends, or other relatives), rather than jumping from foster home to foster home.

6) Is there a working title for this novel, and can we read more about it?

The working title is Tomorrow's Bones. However, it is just that - a working title. I have been considering changing it. As for  reading more of it, you can find unedited snippets here and here. You can also look at quotes and character/story inspiration in these two image boards: Tomorrow's Bones {Storyboard} and The Pariah.

7) When can we expect the book to be published?

I'm honestly not sure. I hope to have it published by Summer of 2015. I don't know if I will or not, but I'm certainly going to try.

The next thing I'm supposed to do for this tour is tag 4-5 authors. I managed to get 6!


Ophelia - Marie Flowers is a  Christian, writer, singer, and Nurse aid. She enjoys using her talents to remind others that there is hope, and that we never truly walk alone in this life. She is the author of two poetry books - Sixteen, So In Love With You and her most recent, Zeal Aspiring

Find her books here:

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As a dreamer, tea-drinker and star-chaser, Elizabeth Kirkwood has a dual obsession with writing and talking about brilliant writing.  When not dredging her fingers in authorly ink, you will find her playing guitar, doodling on her friends' Latin notes, or talking about scientific poetry.  Her first novella, Bridled, is to be published in 2014.

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Chasing Woven Glass Through The Storm

Cathy Baker is a person of many facets. She is an eighteen-year-old college student who loves writing and reading fantasy, and pondering those strange and profound mysteries of life. She has been writing since she was eight, and finished her first novel when she was twelve (not published - she set it aside for some years and is now in the process of revising it). She has been developing other stories ever since. She tends to write in spurts; as with the rest of her hobbies, she often goes for days or weeks without indulging, only to suddenly receive a powerful burst of inspiration at the most inconvenient moment, causing her to drop everything and write. Her alter ego is a winged, six-foot-tall squirrel warrior from a far-off land.

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In the land of reality lives a homeschool graduate named Jessica Verve. She owns four editions of Black Beauty and a vintage dictionary that would put many dumbbells to shame. Hermited away beneath her bed lives a fuzzy red dog who loves to verbally express his emotions while she is in the middle of writing a very important scene in one of her WIPs. Most people think she spends her days spinning tales in one of her favorite genres (Mystery, SciFi, and Character Study) but in reality she is plotting to rule the world [of insects] with an immobile army of carnivorous Venus Fly Traps within the next thirty years. Okay, maybe not…

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Jessica Verve


 Jeremiah Stiles is a werewolf living in the cold, dark, regions of Washington state. He writes science fiction and fantasy when he isn't working secretly in a warehouse or eating things that threaten those whom he loves.

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A servant of the Author, and a servant to all who serve him:
Patrick Lauser was born and raised in the tops of the trees in Washington state, and is currently in the tops of the mountains in Ireland (which are about as high as the trees were in Washington).
A reader, starting from the Word of God, and sifting through the world of Ideas (a word he involuntarily tends to capitalize).
A writer of the unheard of, and a thinker of the unthought of.

His hobbies include, but are not limited to: photography, throat singing, wearing camouflage and black, and eating hot-sauce on cake.

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