Jackie, Blodeuedd, and I are back to working up some Flash Fiction fun. We will do flash fiction posts every two weeks, give or take due to holiday's and such. I will post my complete story here. Jackie will add the beginning and a link to her flash fiction on her Live Journal and Blodeuedd will be posting on her blog.
Enjoy our quick glimpses into worlds of the unknown.
~~~~~~~~~~
(Untitled)
By: Melissa Hayden
Sarie looked over her shoulder. She was able to keep her wings still now, as she walked through the dark forest far from the village. Everyone thought she was always hyper on fairy dust with the constant movement of her wings, ever so slight even but it was movement. Movement so they didn't see what the shades of blue, purple, and black drew when still. Her mother knew, and she was the only one.
The fairies of the earth would have thought her evil and kicked her from their band if they saw her wings still. Everything here is about living, and Sarie was scrapping by on duties by helping with small things. She was good at making paths of dirt or bare stones to sit on. She could even create benches of old wood. However, she couldn't make the beautiful flowers that shone bright in the sun like the other girls. The few flowers Sarie did make were not of vibrant colors, they were dull and dark of a death essence to them. But she couldn't bring herself to share this with the others. The strange part of it all for her was her flowers only formed from the flowers that had died and moved on to make rich soil for the next flower.
Sarie looked over her shoulder as she crept to the other side of the lake. She made this journey many times in the last ten years. Ever since she passed on Sarie's tenth birthday she'd come on the anniversary of her passing and Sarie's own birthday. She'd always sworn to Sarie she'd be there for her. Sarie needed her as she was the only one that knew what Sarie was. Sarie also made this journey every time one of the fairies passed on to be one with the land they loved. The pull from the dead was to much and she had to dispense of it somehow.
The twigs faintly shifted under her steps. The branches of the bush wilted away from her, granting her access to her spot at the lake. Sarie knelt at the lake side. She felt the thorny vine tattoos shift on her arms, swirling down her arms as she reached for the water's surface.
"Hello, mother." Sarie whispered. She didn't need to whisper but it felt...normal that way.
"Sarie dear. It's happened again?" The voice was like the wind in Sarie's ear. "I wish I could hug you, my child." The skeleton floated to the surface as the thorn tattoos swirled faster.
"It's okay mother. Coming to you and doing this is what helps make the draw subside until the spirit has passed into the earth." Sarie smiled. It was true, yet she wished her mother could hug her again too.
"There are to many passing to soon." Her mother paused then went on, "Has anyone ever seen--" Her mother started to ask.
"No mother. I've kept the skull secret. They haven't seen or figured it out. But I don't know how much longer I can keep it from them. They are expecting much more from me. More of things I can't give, like the rest." Sarie knew if she couldn't pull her own weight she wouldn't be much help to her cousins and fellow fairies.
Her mother knew her thoughts. "They will never ask you to leave for not being strong enough."
"I know mother." Sarie rushed out, "But I want to give like they give to me."
"Sarie dear, it is time." There was silence as they both were afraid to talk about it. Finally her mother went on, "My sweet bearer, you are as important as those who bring life. We haven't had one of your affiliation in far to long and they have forgotten how important you are. Your powers call upon you when one passes to the earth as you are to help guide that soul to it's next life. They will look in the ancient records, and they will find the truth. The time has come child."
"Mother, I don't know if I can. I've lived in secret for so long."
"I know. But from the whispers I'm hearing, they are going to need your calling to help them all. There are evils unlike any they've seen in the past brewing in the distance. And they are coming this way."
"I'll try mother." Sarie wiggled her fingers on the waters surface, remembering the feel of her mothers long lost soft skin.
"You need to tell them dear. And if you are shunned, don't go far. They will be calling you back soon." Sarie felt the wind curl around her in a hug fashion and curled her shoulders with it.
"Thank you mother. I should head back before I'm missed."
"Safe travels my dear." Her mother said as the skeleton slipped into the murky water of night.
Sarie stood there for a moment longer before she left. The thorn tattoos had gone still on her shoulders once again. The village had always thought her mother left to travel the world, not that she had passed on from the vibrant living. She had always hoped to become strong enough to bring her mother back from the dead, but hadn't yet come to that level. Besides, what good was it to be a necromancer fairy in the world of living?
~~~~~~~~~~
My story is a bit shorter this week. Here's the preview and link to continue reading:
<i><b>The Darkness</b></i>, an original short story by Jackie Lester
As I lay in the dark room, I thought about all of the possibilities.
What if magic was real? Maybe I could grow a pair of wings. Great, diaphanous ones that could take me far away from here. They would be in shades of purple, my favourite colour, and would sparkle in the light like they’d been constructed from some material only found on the moon. They would be beautiful and powerful and see me safely through any situation.
The rest can be read by clicking here.
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
Flash Fiction (6)
Jackie, Blodeuedd, and I are back to working up some Flash Fiction fun. We will do flash fiction posts every two weeks, give or take due to holiday's and such. I will post my complete story here. Jackie will add the beginning and a link to her flash fiction on her Live Journal and Blodeuedd will be posting on her blog.
Enjoy our quick glimpses into worlds of the unknown.
~~~~~~~~~~
(Untitled)
By: Melissa Hayden
Miamee picked up her pace. The frantic fast walk grew into a jog as she rushed through the shadows of the streets. They were following her. Always following her. The people here thought her crazy, but it wasn't possible for her to be crazy.
She slipped her hand over her short wet hair. The moisture in the air was heavy, leaving an oily condensation on her. Her breath heaved and the puffs of moisture escaped around her as she ran through the alley.
The world quickly shifted around her as she left the city behind and entered the graveyard of her kind. The kind no one knew she was. She had to face the nightmares and visions she had or be driven to this scrap yard like others before her. There was something there in those memories, she knew it. Her creator needed her or someone needed her. And she needed to find out who and why.
The air felt thinner on her sensor enhanced skin outside the city walls. Out here it was harder for her to breathe . She reached down, flipping a compartment open at her waist, and turned the knob. The air breathers would adjust to take what they needed. Miamee found on her first visit outside the city that the air was not lacking in oxygen as the city was. The city has conditioners on street corners where people huddle to inhale pure air. Miamee didn't need oxygen as people did. She still needed it, but she needed it for the steam powered heart - using less of it than the living did. She was created for that purpose and to run the errands through town that her own could not.
Miamee stepped over the wreckage of wires and metal parts. It took Miamee time to figure it out, but there is a path to follow. The analytical mind saw the path, foot step holes in the scrap that appeared to be tossed away. There were even wires outlining a direction, if you looked close enough in the design of the scattered mass of wires. Miamee smiled, knowing there was something here. She simply had to find it.
Looking down at the path Miamee didn't see it. She raised her eyes and jumped back a step, slipping on the muddy metal falling to the ground with a clatter of metal pieces around her. A head blocked her path. Miamee paused. The world grew quiet again as the scraps fell to rest once again. The head hung in the night before her it's eyes glowed red, which was new. Miamee tilted her head left then right. Kali. Miamee crept to her knees, eyes on Kali. She stood, watching Kali. Kali never moved or spoke. His head hung in the air with the night as a canvas.
Miamee's hand was before her, inches from the mask of a face that could easily bite through her treasured skin. But she reached anyway. Her fingers slipped over the smooth metal of his forehead. Down the bridge of his nose to his cheek. His cheek was cracked. Had someone hit him with something harder than his metal frame? Miamee felt the moisture escape her eyes, something her creator saw fit to allow her body to do to fit in with the humans she would be around.
Miamee's other hand came up, seeing he was harmless, to his jaw. With a click under the jaw his mouth swung open with a scream of metal on metal, causing Miamee to flinch. Her hand slipped to the jaw joint on the other side and a click of a button, hidden from view, was pressed.
Miamee didn't know how she knew what to do, but she did. Her body moved without her command. With a click from Kali's head, the tongue popped open on the tip and a note slid out. What did Kali have to share with her?
~~~~~~~~~~
Preview of (untitled), an original short by Jackie:
To continue reading, click here.
Enjoy our quick glimpses into worlds of the unknown.
~~~~~~~~~~
(Untitled)
By: Melissa Hayden
Miamee picked up her pace. The frantic fast walk grew into a jog as she rushed through the shadows of the streets. They were following her. Always following her. The people here thought her crazy, but it wasn't possible for her to be crazy.
She slipped her hand over her short wet hair. The moisture in the air was heavy, leaving an oily condensation on her. Her breath heaved and the puffs of moisture escaped around her as she ran through the alley.
The world quickly shifted around her as she left the city behind and entered the graveyard of her kind. The kind no one knew she was. She had to face the nightmares and visions she had or be driven to this scrap yard like others before her. There was something there in those memories, she knew it. Her creator needed her or someone needed her. And she needed to find out who and why.
The air felt thinner on her sensor enhanced skin outside the city walls. Out here it was harder for her to breathe . She reached down, flipping a compartment open at her waist, and turned the knob. The air breathers would adjust to take what they needed. Miamee found on her first visit outside the city that the air was not lacking in oxygen as the city was. The city has conditioners on street corners where people huddle to inhale pure air. Miamee didn't need oxygen as people did. She still needed it, but she needed it for the steam powered heart - using less of it than the living did. She was created for that purpose and to run the errands through town that her own could not.
Miamee stepped over the wreckage of wires and metal parts. It took Miamee time to figure it out, but there is a path to follow. The analytical mind saw the path, foot step holes in the scrap that appeared to be tossed away. There were even wires outlining a direction, if you looked close enough in the design of the scattered mass of wires. Miamee smiled, knowing there was something here. She simply had to find it.
Looking down at the path Miamee didn't see it. She raised her eyes and jumped back a step, slipping on the muddy metal falling to the ground with a clatter of metal pieces around her. A head blocked her path. Miamee paused. The world grew quiet again as the scraps fell to rest once again. The head hung in the night before her it's eyes glowed red, which was new. Miamee tilted her head left then right. Kali. Miamee crept to her knees, eyes on Kali. She stood, watching Kali. Kali never moved or spoke. His head hung in the air with the night as a canvas.
Miamee's hand was before her, inches from the mask of a face that could easily bite through her treasured skin. But she reached anyway. Her fingers slipped over the smooth metal of his forehead. Down the bridge of his nose to his cheek. His cheek was cracked. Had someone hit him with something harder than his metal frame? Miamee felt the moisture escape her eyes, something her creator saw fit to allow her body to do to fit in with the humans she would be around.
Miamee's other hand came up, seeing he was harmless, to his jaw. With a click under the jaw his mouth swung open with a scream of metal on metal, causing Miamee to flinch. Her hand slipped to the jaw joint on the other side and a click of a button, hidden from view, was pressed.
Miamee didn't know how she knew what to do, but she did. Her body moved without her command. With a click from Kali's head, the tongue popped open on the tip and a note slid out. What did Kali have to share with her?
~~~~~~~~~~
Preview of (untitled), an original short by Jackie:
Maire walked through the woods, careful where she stepped in case anything was tucked under the loose leaves that covered the ground. The patrols had been through here earlier and had given her crew the all clear but there was just so much crap all over the place. This would be slow going.
She pulled the rolling cart along behind her, the wood creaking as it bounced over unseen roots. Her scanner detected nothing in the vicinity and she grumbled in frustration, wishing she could go faster but tied down by the bulky equipment she needed for the clean upTo continue reading, click here.
Monday, July 7, 2014
Writing Update - June
Melissa:
We all have goals each month. Mostly realistic goals. But! We have that one dream goal. You know, the one that you know you most likely are not going to accomplish, but damn wouldn't it be nice if you did. Yeah, that one. I had one for this month. And I feel a little bummed I didn't reach it. Realistically, I knew I wouldn't but I so wanted to surprise myself.
What was it? To get through a full first reading of my novella story and have changes done and to a ground-zero draft. Haha. I laugh now as I might be about half way through the story now, maybe slightly over that. I knew I could reach that goal, but I really would have felt great if I had.
But I will wear the tall, proud feeling for what I did accomplish in June.
Through the month I've been working real hard to keep my nose to the page and the lead scribbling. Now, does that mean the marks are any more than scribbles? Heaven's I hope so. lol.
I've been trying a different tactic with the re-writes with this novella story (still nameless - I'm terrible at these things). I print a section or two, which range from 700 words to slightly over 2,000, then read through it with a pencil in hand. It might take one night or two to get through the section then the next night I sit down at the computer and add in the changes. Sometimes while doing this I make a few more changes as the whole section is fresh in my mind too.
What I'm finding is that many of the shorter sections I can add a few hundred words to. No not much, but a hundred or two hundred words, hey it helps. I knew when writing this, as a Camp NaNo project, that I was missing lots of great moments between characters. I *hopefully* am smoothing out those moments that were choppy and dropped. Oh, don't get me wrong, there are still TONS of missed opportunities. This is only to get me to a rough, rough first draft. But I'm doing it. I feel I'm getting there. That's what's important.
By the count at my Facebook page RoTaNoWriMo (which includes words from a formula for reading in re-writes and Flash Fiction counts) I came out with a total word count for the month of: 5,350
Going by the Novella size, what I've actually added in words: 2,977
Also we had Flash Fictions totaling:
2 Flash Fictions: 1st at 633 words
2nd at 780 words.
Onward I go into July with high hopes and lots of writing to add. I know there is a whole scene I wanted to add that I didn't think of until after I finished this novella. And, with thinking about more stories here I think the ending has to change drastically. Yes, there is lots to do here in the last half of the book, it might even be more time consuming than the first half. ;)
Jackie:
Well, I had big hopes last month for a massive word count addition by the end of June, 10k to be exact. Aaaand, I came nowhere close. Much of the problem is that re-writes are definitely slow going. It didn't help that I didn't work on it a little bit each night as I should have. Things were looking promising for a bit when I sat down one night and, from the beginning, added over 500 words into the first page and a half alone. It just didn't happen frequently enough and stalled as a result.
I do have my Flash works for the month to count in, so not a total failure, but still, I know I can do better and will strive to make that happen. (As I write this, I realize I've just spent a whole weekend NOT writing. I'm hanging my head in shame...)
Final tally:
WIP: 570
Flash 4: 922
Flash 5: 797
Total 2289
Meh, not what I'd hoped. I do understand though that unless I'm working on the re-writes constantly (which is hard to do when working full-time and other life stuff), it will be slow going. I've reconciled my thoughts to that but also given myself the stern talk about working more often, even if it works out to only a 1/2 hour each day. Every little bit will help.
And on the note of talking to myself (that happens a lot, don't tell anyone), I want to mention that I've taken to reading my work out loud to make sure I'm maintaining the tone I want. From writing essays at school etc., it's easy to slip into more formal vernacular. This results in a very boring read, I tell ya. I knew someone that could only read while saying the words out loud. I thought this was sheer crazy talk but now totally understand the value in it. Give it a try and you'll see what I mean :)
For July, I hope to get through a chapter or two of re-writes. I don't think I'll commit to a particular word count but target more a percentage of the overall document. I think at the moment there are 40 chapters in my story, so that would mean 5% re-written. If I get more great, if not, at least I'm still working on it.
Hope your month goes well and you get to write like crazy too!
We all have goals each month. Mostly realistic goals. But! We have that one dream goal. You know, the one that you know you most likely are not going to accomplish, but damn wouldn't it be nice if you did. Yeah, that one. I had one for this month. And I feel a little bummed I didn't reach it. Realistically, I knew I wouldn't but I so wanted to surprise myself.
What was it? To get through a full first reading of my novella story and have changes done and to a ground-zero draft. Haha. I laugh now as I might be about half way through the story now, maybe slightly over that. I knew I could reach that goal, but I really would have felt great if I had.
But I will wear the tall, proud feeling for what I did accomplish in June.
Through the month I've been working real hard to keep my nose to the page and the lead scribbling. Now, does that mean the marks are any more than scribbles? Heaven's I hope so. lol.
I've been trying a different tactic with the re-writes with this novella story (still nameless - I'm terrible at these things). I print a section or two, which range from 700 words to slightly over 2,000, then read through it with a pencil in hand. It might take one night or two to get through the section then the next night I sit down at the computer and add in the changes. Sometimes while doing this I make a few more changes as the whole section is fresh in my mind too.
What I'm finding is that many of the shorter sections I can add a few hundred words to. No not much, but a hundred or two hundred words, hey it helps. I knew when writing this, as a Camp NaNo project, that I was missing lots of great moments between characters. I *hopefully* am smoothing out those moments that were choppy and dropped. Oh, don't get me wrong, there are still TONS of missed opportunities. This is only to get me to a rough, rough first draft. But I'm doing it. I feel I'm getting there. That's what's important.
By the count at my Facebook page RoTaNoWriMo (which includes words from a formula for reading in re-writes and Flash Fiction counts) I came out with a total word count for the month of: 5,350
Going by the Novella size, what I've actually added in words: 2,977
Also we had Flash Fictions totaling:
2 Flash Fictions: 1st at 633 words
2nd at 780 words.
Onward I go into July with high hopes and lots of writing to add. I know there is a whole scene I wanted to add that I didn't think of until after I finished this novella. And, with thinking about more stories here I think the ending has to change drastically. Yes, there is lots to do here in the last half of the book, it might even be more time consuming than the first half. ;)
Jackie:
Well, I had big hopes last month for a massive word count addition by the end of June, 10k to be exact. Aaaand, I came nowhere close. Much of the problem is that re-writes are definitely slow going. It didn't help that I didn't work on it a little bit each night as I should have. Things were looking promising for a bit when I sat down one night and, from the beginning, added over 500 words into the first page and a half alone. It just didn't happen frequently enough and stalled as a result.
I do have my Flash works for the month to count in, so not a total failure, but still, I know I can do better and will strive to make that happen. (As I write this, I realize I've just spent a whole weekend NOT writing. I'm hanging my head in shame...)
Final tally:
WIP: 570
Flash 4: 922
Flash 5: 797
Total 2289
Meh, not what I'd hoped. I do understand though that unless I'm working on the re-writes constantly (which is hard to do when working full-time and other life stuff), it will be slow going. I've reconciled my thoughts to that but also given myself the stern talk about working more often, even if it works out to only a 1/2 hour each day. Every little bit will help.
And on the note of talking to myself (that happens a lot, don't tell anyone), I want to mention that I've taken to reading my work out loud to make sure I'm maintaining the tone I want. From writing essays at school etc., it's easy to slip into more formal vernacular. This results in a very boring read, I tell ya. I knew someone that could only read while saying the words out loud. I thought this was sheer crazy talk but now totally understand the value in it. Give it a try and you'll see what I mean :)
For July, I hope to get through a chapter or two of re-writes. I don't think I'll commit to a particular word count but target more a percentage of the overall document. I think at the moment there are 40 chapters in my story, so that would mean 5% re-written. If I get more great, if not, at least I'm still working on it.
Hope your month goes well and you get to write like crazy too!
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Flash Fiction (5)
Jackie, Blodeuedd, and I are back to working up some Flash Fiction fun. We will do flash fiction posts every two weeks, give or take due to holiday's and such. I will post my complete story here. Jackie will add the beginning and a link to her flash fiction on her Live Journal and Blodeuedd will be posting on her blog.
Enjoy our quick glimpses into worlds of the unknown.
~~~~~~~~~~
Blood Tears
By: Melissa Hayden
Ira left her helmet somewhere on the battlefield. Her hastily chopped hair plastered to her head with sweat and blood. She felt the sickly sweet smelling wetness ooze down her face and neck as she stormed through the mud and blood trodden field. She had to get away, leave this all behind before... She pulled and gripped at the buckles and ties of her armor, removing the armor on her arms then her chest plate.
She looked down at her men and the monsters. Her heart ached, as did her body, at the thought of them all sharing the same graveyard. They fought for their lands, their people, but never did they think their spirits would reside in the same home of those they hated so deeply. No one would listen to her when she told them. The goddess had spoken but they didn't want to believe a young girl.
The goddess drew them here. Saturating their very fiber, their blood, with seething. Ira tried to warn them, tell them of the lady they would feed. None listened. All the men felt was the boiling desire to attack. No fair beauty would stop them. They responded with joy and pride to fight for her and to save all the fair ladies of their land.
The once beautiful and fruitful field is now graced, with now delicacy, with blood and gore. The men were cut and mangled by teeth and claws, some even by bastard swords and stones. The dead beasts lay surrounded by bodies of men, but all the blood mingled all the same. As will the spirits until the end of time.
Ira pulled at the strings of her leg armor, kicking it from her. She weeped as she stumbled over an arm, or leg, at this point she couldn't tell anymore. She slipped on the soggy ground, landing face first in an open abdomen. She rolled and wretched, but all that came up was yellow then red. There wasn't anything left to extract. Goddess love her, there wasn't anything in there to start with. She couldn't eat knowing what was coming.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand seeing the bright red of fresh blood when she pulled it away. She touched her eyes with her fingers, drawing them back to see the same liquid there.
"Noooo." She wailed to the silent sky.
The Goddess emerged from a white cloud. She approached Ira, and Ira watched the striking woman. Ira dropped her eyes, not wanting to offend the goddess, but she felt the goddess's eyes never looked from Ira. Never look to the brutal deaths around them.
The goddess put a gentle hand to Ira's head, her hair sticky with blood - of her own or others she did not know - grew to the long locks she had before she joined the army. The goddess gently brushed the long hair from Ira's eyes.
"My dear child. You were chosen by me. This could have ended in two ways. They chose this ending. You were in this battle and survived this tragedy for a reason." She paused and Ira waited. "To be my vessel and carry my word."
"But," Ira felt her voice hoarse from yelling through the battle, "but they won't listen to me. You saw..."
Ira looked up to see the goddess smile. A smile that stopped Ira in mid thought, and scared her.
"That, my child, is why you will be the blood child. You saw and fought here. You are the sole survivor and now carry in you my power of blood magic."
The goddess drew her hand to Ira and as it neared, Ira saw the crown of red weeping roses she held.
"You carry the power of my will. You will be worshiped by all in my honor. You will work my deeds among the people." The voice echoed through the dead air of the land.
Ira tilted her head and gasped from the sharp pain of thorns embedding themselves, and the rose crown, into her skull. She was now one with the death goddess. This was her reward and punishment, all in one. She failed yet succeeded. Terrible the tricks of the gods.
Ira opened her eyes, feeling the thick tears that were coming heavy at first now slow. She turned to see the dead soldiers and beasts alike on their knee around her as she stood. She was in command now, for her patron goddess.
She felt the hot tears roll down her cheeks again, as well as the dripping from her head. She and her rose crown weep the blood of her soldiers.
She always would.
~~~~~~~~~~
Preview of The Runaway, an original short by Jackie Lester
They might as well have left the thorns on the roses they'd used to form the circlet that held Abhi's veil. Though slight, its meaning seemed to weigh the headdress down painfully on her head, like it was creating a million tiny cuts, blood seeping from each wound. Looking in the mirror, she struggled to reconcile the reflection that revealed the simple, delicate ring of white roses. Instead of blood, it was only the glistening of tears that stained her cheeks.
To keep reading, click here.
Enjoy our quick glimpses into worlds of the unknown.
~~~~~~~~~~
Blood Tears
By: Melissa Hayden
Ira left her helmet somewhere on the battlefield. Her hastily chopped hair plastered to her head with sweat and blood. She felt the sickly sweet smelling wetness ooze down her face and neck as she stormed through the mud and blood trodden field. She had to get away, leave this all behind before... She pulled and gripped at the buckles and ties of her armor, removing the armor on her arms then her chest plate.
She looked down at her men and the monsters. Her heart ached, as did her body, at the thought of them all sharing the same graveyard. They fought for their lands, their people, but never did they think their spirits would reside in the same home of those they hated so deeply. No one would listen to her when she told them. The goddess had spoken but they didn't want to believe a young girl.
The goddess drew them here. Saturating their very fiber, their blood, with seething. Ira tried to warn them, tell them of the lady they would feed. None listened. All the men felt was the boiling desire to attack. No fair beauty would stop them. They responded with joy and pride to fight for her and to save all the fair ladies of their land.
The once beautiful and fruitful field is now graced, with now delicacy, with blood and gore. The men were cut and mangled by teeth and claws, some even by bastard swords and stones. The dead beasts lay surrounded by bodies of men, but all the blood mingled all the same. As will the spirits until the end of time.
Ira pulled at the strings of her leg armor, kicking it from her. She weeped as she stumbled over an arm, or leg, at this point she couldn't tell anymore. She slipped on the soggy ground, landing face first in an open abdomen. She rolled and wretched, but all that came up was yellow then red. There wasn't anything left to extract. Goddess love her, there wasn't anything in there to start with. She couldn't eat knowing what was coming.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand seeing the bright red of fresh blood when she pulled it away. She touched her eyes with her fingers, drawing them back to see the same liquid there.
"Noooo." She wailed to the silent sky.
The Goddess emerged from a white cloud. She approached Ira, and Ira watched the striking woman. Ira dropped her eyes, not wanting to offend the goddess, but she felt the goddess's eyes never looked from Ira. Never look to the brutal deaths around them.
The goddess put a gentle hand to Ira's head, her hair sticky with blood - of her own or others she did not know - grew to the long locks she had before she joined the army. The goddess gently brushed the long hair from Ira's eyes.
"My dear child. You were chosen by me. This could have ended in two ways. They chose this ending. You were in this battle and survived this tragedy for a reason." She paused and Ira waited. "To be my vessel and carry my word."
"But," Ira felt her voice hoarse from yelling through the battle, "but they won't listen to me. You saw..."
Ira looked up to see the goddess smile. A smile that stopped Ira in mid thought, and scared her.
"That, my child, is why you will be the blood child. You saw and fought here. You are the sole survivor and now carry in you my power of blood magic."
The goddess drew her hand to Ira and as it neared, Ira saw the crown of red weeping roses she held.
"You carry the power of my will. You will be worshiped by all in my honor. You will work my deeds among the people." The voice echoed through the dead air of the land.
Ira tilted her head and gasped from the sharp pain of thorns embedding themselves, and the rose crown, into her skull. She was now one with the death goddess. This was her reward and punishment, all in one. She failed yet succeeded. Terrible the tricks of the gods.
Ira opened her eyes, feeling the thick tears that were coming heavy at first now slow. She turned to see the dead soldiers and beasts alike on their knee around her as she stood. She was in command now, for her patron goddess.
She felt the hot tears roll down her cheeks again, as well as the dripping from her head. She and her rose crown weep the blood of her soldiers.
She always would.
~~~~~~~~~~
Preview of The Runaway, an original short by Jackie Lester
They might as well have left the thorns on the roses they'd used to form the circlet that held Abhi's veil. Though slight, its meaning seemed to weigh the headdress down painfully on her head, like it was creating a million tiny cuts, blood seeping from each wound. Looking in the mirror, she struggled to reconcile the reflection that revealed the simple, delicate ring of white roses. Instead of blood, it was only the glistening of tears that stained her cheeks.
To keep reading, click here.
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Flash Fiction (4)
Jackie, Blodeuedd, and I are back to working up some Flash Fiction fun. We will do flash fiction posts every two weeks, give or take due to holiday's and such. I will post my complete story here. Jackie will add the beginning and a link to her flash fiction on her Live Journal and Blodeuedd will be posting on her blog.
Enjoy our quick glimpses into worlds of the unknown.
~~~~~~~~~~
Bright Light and Dark Swirls
By: Melissa
The light reflected off her colorless eyes. He watched from the brush, returning his attention to her cupped hands as she created a butterfly out of the glowing light. She didn't know he was here or she wouldn't be using her magic. He knew when he first saw her that he couldn't do what he was sent to do, and hadn't returned to the Lord in a week. He'd be beheaded for not finishing the job.
His first view of her was of her cloaks hood hanging low, nothing but shadows visible underneath it. There were the dark veins curling over her hand and arm as she held it out. He notched his arrow and readied for the shot, then he paused as she reached for a blacked flower. He knew she had done that, was positive from what he'd heard of this hag of a witch that lived in the forest.
Stories raced through the town of the children she'd stolen, cooked, and eaten. The spells she put on their crops and animals, spoiling all so the town starved. Yet he paused when she bent. Strands of bright blonde hair slipped from the shadows of the cloak. He watched the section of hair. It was the color and movement of hair belonging to a young woman.
In that stalled moment of time he watched with intensity, as if he was caught in a spell, as she cupped her hands and light bloomed. The magic didn't surprise him, but what did was the flower grew into a vibrant lavender blossom, tall and strong. A squirrel came to sit beside her, along with rabbits and other small animals of the forest. He knew in that moment she was not the culprit of what was ailing his home town. The forest would not react to a being as so, not if it wished death upon it.
When she sat, she pushed her dark hood back. He dropped the bow and covered his mouth to keep from gasping. She was stunning. Her petite nose and thin lips accented her fragile structure. Her eyes are what he couldn't look away from, as pale as the blue sky on a clear summers day, almost of a pearl white. She smiled as the animals rubbed against her, and she petted them as they were her own companions.
Over the last week he's watched her nurture the soil and animals around her. Today, he watched the newly formed butterfly flutter from her hands and around her head, drawing a smile to her delicate face. He couldn't do what he was hired to do and he couldn't return home either. That would be certain death and disgrace to his family. Better they thought he died in the forest. Would she accept him here in the forest? He'd seen her each day for a week and couldn't bring himself to approach her. Surely she wouldn't turn him away, not from what he'd seen of her interactions with the forest.
"Come. I'm tired of waiting for you." She spoke softly.
He narrowed his eyes on her. Was she talking to him? She didn't look up from the rabbit she was petting.
"Yes. I'm talking to you. You've wasted a week in that brush. You think I wouldn't know? The forest tells me much." Her voice was felt like the breeze in his face, forward yet warming.
Now her pale eyes were on him. He was buried in the brush, she couldn't have known exactly where he was. Yet her eyes met his without searching. He birthed from the brush and walked to her, seen anew with her eyes.
The girl grinned. He had forgotten about the marks on her arm, until he saw the dark swirls curving up her wrist over her hand.
Jackie's sneak peek:
(untitled), an original short story by Jackie Lester
Enjoy our quick glimpses into worlds of the unknown.
~~~~~~~~~~
Bright Light and Dark Swirls
By: Melissa
The light reflected off her colorless eyes. He watched from the brush, returning his attention to her cupped hands as she created a butterfly out of the glowing light. She didn't know he was here or she wouldn't be using her magic. He knew when he first saw her that he couldn't do what he was sent to do, and hadn't returned to the Lord in a week. He'd be beheaded for not finishing the job.
His first view of her was of her cloaks hood hanging low, nothing but shadows visible underneath it. There were the dark veins curling over her hand and arm as she held it out. He notched his arrow and readied for the shot, then he paused as she reached for a blacked flower. He knew she had done that, was positive from what he'd heard of this hag of a witch that lived in the forest.
Stories raced through the town of the children she'd stolen, cooked, and eaten. The spells she put on their crops and animals, spoiling all so the town starved. Yet he paused when she bent. Strands of bright blonde hair slipped from the shadows of the cloak. He watched the section of hair. It was the color and movement of hair belonging to a young woman.
In that stalled moment of time he watched with intensity, as if he was caught in a spell, as she cupped her hands and light bloomed. The magic didn't surprise him, but what did was the flower grew into a vibrant lavender blossom, tall and strong. A squirrel came to sit beside her, along with rabbits and other small animals of the forest. He knew in that moment she was not the culprit of what was ailing his home town. The forest would not react to a being as so, not if it wished death upon it.
When she sat, she pushed her dark hood back. He dropped the bow and covered his mouth to keep from gasping. She was stunning. Her petite nose and thin lips accented her fragile structure. Her eyes are what he couldn't look away from, as pale as the blue sky on a clear summers day, almost of a pearl white. She smiled as the animals rubbed against her, and she petted them as they were her own companions.
Over the last week he's watched her nurture the soil and animals around her. Today, he watched the newly formed butterfly flutter from her hands and around her head, drawing a smile to her delicate face. He couldn't do what he was hired to do and he couldn't return home either. That would be certain death and disgrace to his family. Better they thought he died in the forest. Would she accept him here in the forest? He'd seen her each day for a week and couldn't bring himself to approach her. Surely she wouldn't turn him away, not from what he'd seen of her interactions with the forest.
"Come. I'm tired of waiting for you." She spoke softly.
He narrowed his eyes on her. Was she talking to him? She didn't look up from the rabbit she was petting.
"Yes. I'm talking to you. You've wasted a week in that brush. You think I wouldn't know? The forest tells me much." Her voice was felt like the breeze in his face, forward yet warming.
Now her pale eyes were on him. He was buried in the brush, she couldn't have known exactly where he was. Yet her eyes met his without searching. He birthed from the brush and walked to her, seen anew with her eyes.
The girl grinned. He had forgotten about the marks on her arm, until he saw the dark swirls curving up her wrist over her hand.
Jackie's sneak peek:
(untitled), an original short story by Jackie Lester
Sleep lifted from me at an infuriatingly slow place. I was aware of an intense heat around me though I still couldn’t quite manage to open my eyes yet. I struggled to pull at whatever was tied around my neck, making breathing seem impossible but my fingers failed me. There was nothing to grasp. I pushed hard against my eyelids, praying they would open and I could see where I was and what was going on around me.
Continue reading here.
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Writing Update - May
Melissa:
Well, it was a tough go this month. My time has become divided among a few projects I was working on, and not all are WIPs. I started a content editing page where I advertise my content reading services to authors. Then I was preparing for Balticon, where I was a panelist on five different panels (and can't wait for next year to do it all over again!). To end the month I found a local literary festival I wanted to attend, many local authors and it was free to get in. Had to go! lol.
As for my journey with words this month... er, *looks to the side and floor* I'm guilty as charged. I wasn't as productive this month.
In all of this I found that Jayda's story and world were to in depth for me to try to grow and workout with everything else I had going. I want to get through her story and make it happen, but I think I need a time where I can sit down and do nothing other than her story. Maybe when I'm on vacation in July?
So I ventured to another little piece I have, a Steampunk Romance of a fairy tale remix of sorts. The story has taken on a feel of it's own, away from the fairy tale I was using as a base for it and I'm excited for that.
Another thing I'm excited to be working at again, Flash Fiction shorts with Jackie and Blodeuedd. *sigh* These are fun and make me curious for what I could expand on. We did two this month, one had a science fiction flare to it as the second was more of an urban fantasy.
As for words... According to RoTaJanNoWriMo (which includes 10% of words read in re-writes) I got out 3,047 words. That's not much. But it is re-writes and they take me FOREVER.
The actual numbers my projects increased by, 2,761 words:
Steampunk Romance: 1664 words
Flash Fiction 2: 468 words
Flash Fiction 3: 629 words
Jackie:
Unlike Melissa, I didn't have a whole lot going on during the month of May. Naturally, that should've meant so much extra time to work on my writing. Turns out, not so much. Most of me free time was used planting my garden and finally enjoying any nice weather that came my way. I caught up on reading as well, using these as research (that's how I justified it anyway) in what to do or not and maybe ideas of how to improve my work. The good thing is that the more I read great writing, the more I'm convinced to keep trying...not to say what I have or will have is great, but that's the goal eventually (one can hope ;).
I totally agree with Melissa about her struggles with Jayda. I have the same issue and really, it's just that I have no idea where to go from here. More needs to be added but I feel I need to absorb my first draft, wear it like a second skin, so I know it all inside and out as I try to expand and alter what I already have to make it even slightly palatable. It's intimidating as hell, hence the constant procrastination.
In the mean time, I did write the two Flash Fictions, as Melissa mentioned. Also, I woke up one morning after an incredibly vivid dream and started making notes for a new project, potentially a YA one. If I can get a bit of world-building done, this might be a fun one to work on. Lastly, I actually did some research for the WIP that I most want completed as well as a few notes. Here's my tally:
Flash #2 467
Flash #3 1190
YA outline 757
WIP 450
Grand total 2864
I would be happier with that number if it was a weekly total but at least it's something anyway.
Melissa:
Okay Jackie. After seeing the month we had, I'm going to set a goal. June is going to be a month of setting new habits (or attempting to). I'm going to exercise and re-write alternating days during the week, Sunday through Thursday. I'm hoping to get at least half way through this story. Now remember, this story is just shy of 40,000 words so shouldn't be to bad. I would like to say I'll get through the whole thing, but there is loads to grow so at least half way is my starting goal. But I'm going to push for more.
Jackie:
I'm going to try to work on the same kind of every-other-day schedule as Melissa, providing I can keep it consistent around real life events too. Of huge note for me is an event featuring Diana Gabaldon on the 20th, which should be amazing :) For the writing, I would like to see at least 10k added to my work in progress and then maybe a 2 or 3k extra words from Flashes and other notes I make along the way. I've been lax in actually getting the work done so if I can meet this goal I'll be happy; if I can beat it, crazy happy dancing will ensue ;)
Have a great June all!
Well, it was a tough go this month. My time has become divided among a few projects I was working on, and not all are WIPs. I started a content editing page where I advertise my content reading services to authors. Then I was preparing for Balticon, where I was a panelist on five different panels (and can't wait for next year to do it all over again!). To end the month I found a local literary festival I wanted to attend, many local authors and it was free to get in. Had to go! lol.
As for my journey with words this month... er, *looks to the side and floor* I'm guilty as charged. I wasn't as productive this month.
In all of this I found that Jayda's story and world were to in depth for me to try to grow and workout with everything else I had going. I want to get through her story and make it happen, but I think I need a time where I can sit down and do nothing other than her story. Maybe when I'm on vacation in July?
So I ventured to another little piece I have, a Steampunk Romance of a fairy tale remix of sorts. The story has taken on a feel of it's own, away from the fairy tale I was using as a base for it and I'm excited for that.
Another thing I'm excited to be working at again, Flash Fiction shorts with Jackie and Blodeuedd. *sigh* These are fun and make me curious for what I could expand on. We did two this month, one had a science fiction flare to it as the second was more of an urban fantasy.
As for words... According to RoTaJanNoWriMo (which includes 10% of words read in re-writes) I got out 3,047 words. That's not much. But it is re-writes and they take me FOREVER.
The actual numbers my projects increased by, 2,761 words:
Steampunk Romance: 1664 words
Flash Fiction 2: 468 words
Flash Fiction 3: 629 words
Jackie:
Unlike Melissa, I didn't have a whole lot going on during the month of May. Naturally, that should've meant so much extra time to work on my writing. Turns out, not so much. Most of me free time was used planting my garden and finally enjoying any nice weather that came my way. I caught up on reading as well, using these as research (that's how I justified it anyway) in what to do or not and maybe ideas of how to improve my work. The good thing is that the more I read great writing, the more I'm convinced to keep trying...not to say what I have or will have is great, but that's the goal eventually (one can hope ;).
I totally agree with Melissa about her struggles with Jayda. I have the same issue and really, it's just that I have no idea where to go from here. More needs to be added but I feel I need to absorb my first draft, wear it like a second skin, so I know it all inside and out as I try to expand and alter what I already have to make it even slightly palatable. It's intimidating as hell, hence the constant procrastination.
In the mean time, I did write the two Flash Fictions, as Melissa mentioned. Also, I woke up one morning after an incredibly vivid dream and started making notes for a new project, potentially a YA one. If I can get a bit of world-building done, this might be a fun one to work on. Lastly, I actually did some research for the WIP that I most want completed as well as a few notes. Here's my tally:
Flash #2 467
Flash #3 1190
YA outline 757
WIP 450
Grand total 2864
I would be happier with that number if it was a weekly total but at least it's something anyway.
Melissa:
Okay Jackie. After seeing the month we had, I'm going to set a goal. June is going to be a month of setting new habits (or attempting to). I'm going to exercise and re-write alternating days during the week, Sunday through Thursday. I'm hoping to get at least half way through this story. Now remember, this story is just shy of 40,000 words so shouldn't be to bad. I would like to say I'll get through the whole thing, but there is loads to grow so at least half way is my starting goal. But I'm going to push for more.
Jackie:
I'm going to try to work on the same kind of every-other-day schedule as Melissa, providing I can keep it consistent around real life events too. Of huge note for me is an event featuring Diana Gabaldon on the 20th, which should be amazing :) For the writing, I would like to see at least 10k added to my work in progress and then maybe a 2 or 3k extra words from Flashes and other notes I make along the way. I've been lax in actually getting the work done so if I can meet this goal I'll be happy; if I can beat it, crazy happy dancing will ensue ;)
Have a great June all!
Thursday, May 29, 2014
Flash Fiction (3)
Jackie, Blodeuedd, and I are back to working up some Flash Fiction fun. We will do flash fiction posts every two weeks, give or take due to holiday's and such. I will post my complete story here. Jackie will add the beginning and a link to her flash fiction on her Live Journal and Blodeuedd will be posting on her blog.
Enjoy our quick glimpses into worlds of the unknown.
~~~~~~~~~~
Rooftop Angel
By: Melissa Hayden
Enjoy our quick glimpses into worlds of the unknown.
~~~~~~~~~~
Rooftop Angel
By: Melissa Hayden
Adon leaned forward as he placed his hand on the smooth
weather rounded edge of the roof top. Running his fingers through the warm
flakes and over the sleek perfect surface of the stone, even as the world fell
apart around him. It was one of the oldest structures on the city. He remembered
when it was built and how time had changed around it. The solid building held
together through hundreds of years as the weather beat on it, rounding the
edges to give way for nature.
Leaning forward Adon was to the point of gliding from the
top of the building to help the few remaining on the streets. He was stopped by
a strong hand on his shoulder, pulling him back to the flat walkway of their
temple.
“It’s for the best.” The deep baritone voice said.
Adon couldn’t take his eyes from the crumbling world below
him. “Is it? How do you know?”
“The world has done this before. It cleanses itself and
starts anew.” The calm in the deep voice started to rattle Adon’s thoughts.
It couldn’t be okay, to watch as this happened. It felt
wrong. After all the years with these creatures his heart knew a love for them,
even if they weren’t perfect. But that was the draw. They weren’t perfect. Not
like his kind. Not created in perfection and when they didn’t live up to that impossible
expectation, to simply be tossed away. The only reason his kind still lived was
in their creation they were born to immortality. A flaw their creature made
sure not to repeat. The powers that discarded them to this land know of ways to
kill the Fallen. Hunters had been sent over the years to eliminate his kind
from existence forcing them to live in hiding while trying to help the world as
best they could.
Adon shook the warm ashes from his hair and wings as he
turned on the balls of his feet to face the tall brilliant man behind him. “And
this is it? This way?” Adon could feel the anger rising in his voice with his
heart beats.
“You are young, Adon. You did all you could to help them.”
It was acceptance in the deep voice. Acceptance for what they were doing to
flesh and bone of mankind.
“It wasn’t enough!” Adon’s temper broke from the cage he was
containing it in.
The last hundred years had been his time. He was to help the
mere mortals through the changes, to not let them get away from themselves. And
he couldn’t do it. Not alone anyway. And Apyon, his father, wouldn’t help. He’d
given up on the race after Adon was born, his sweet love dying of the drugs humans
gave to their own kind behind barred windows in the place where those that
speak of ‘what’s not real’ end up calling home.
Adon turned to look over the edge again, working to his long
memory the world when it was at its prime. The gray fluffy flakes thinned as
the wind blew up to the sky allowing Adon the view of a woman staggering
against the wall stories below him. She coughed as the fires raged through
buildings and the streets. Adon felt the earth quake and saw it rip open. He
watched as the hungry earth awakened into a predatory monster as its gapping
maw grew, reaching to swallow her.
If he had a soul, he was sure what it would tell him to do.
The mortals he loves are now dying before his eyes.
This was the last leap of faith for him.
He heard his father call after him as he descended to her.
He had to try, even if the hunters saw him fly.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The Stone Guard, an original short story by Jackie Lester
He looked down from his vantage point. It was dark now, allowing the light from the penthouse apartment to shine brilliantly. It was made that much more spectacular by the falling snow. The floor to ceiling windows were still uncovered and he watched as the woman moved from her kitchen, cradling a steaming cup in her hands, to drop herself into the plush red sofa in the sitting area.
Raven tried to pull himself away, knowing it was time for him to rest. He also knew the woman would be safe now that she’d been returned to her home. Returned by him.
Click here to continue reading.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The Stone Guard, an original short story by Jackie Lester
He looked down from his vantage point. It was dark now, allowing the light from the penthouse apartment to shine brilliantly. It was made that much more spectacular by the falling snow. The floor to ceiling windows were still uncovered and he watched as the woman moved from her kitchen, cradling a steaming cup in her hands, to drop herself into the plush red sofa in the sitting area.
Raven tried to pull himself away, knowing it was time for him to rest. He also knew the woman would be safe now that she’d been returned to her home. Returned by him.
Click here to continue reading.
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