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.
~~~~~~~~~~
Ocean's Deep to the Stars
By: Melissa Hayden
Turning his attention to the side window he sighed. Whatever he thought he say shimmering was gone now. George turned back to watch where the spot light of the submersible combed the ocean floor. He was determined to find the lost city, positive it was here. But after five days of searching George's confidence in his research started to wan. The ancient tablet found in the ocean showed water movements of the time it was from. George had been convinced from the first moment he gazed upon the tablet, seeing the elegant script written on it, that it was from the long lost water faring people - the Atlanteans. They lived off the ocean for sustenance and power. He tracked the changes of the currents science had recorded over the last decades, and related it to what he read in the elegant script of the tablet he found. It lead him here.
It should be here.
George turned his head, cursing under his breath as he rubbed his neck from the heated cramp in his neck from the quick movement. He swore he saw steps out of the corner of his eye. The dark water was playing tricks on him along with his over excited mind.
George turned the submersive to head that direction. At this point what was the harm in checking? he thought. Looking down, he saw it. Lifting his head with disbelief he saw it stretch in front of him.
Pearl stairs shinning in the depths of the dark deep curving as it reached to a swirl of stars above. Stars? Sun didn't even reach here, how was he seeing stars? A bright light flashed and a tall person stepped to the top of the stairs. Slowly the person descended.
George was dumbfounded that a person appeared in what was space and is now walking down steps in the ocean. He's walking, not floating, and definitely not drowning. He must have pulled a muscle in his neck harder than he realized, causing sparks and flashes of light in his eyes. Maybe the oxygen level is low.
The jerk of the vessel brought him around to look at the gauges. He'd ran into the reef. He cursed, thankful his crawler didn't move fast, but feared there would still be damage. Damage he couldn't afford at this level of the ocean, or above as he'd sunk all his money into this expedition. He had to get back to the boat, but to leave this sight...
The person was closer now, having an elegance to his steps that was beyond that of the most balanced dancer he'd seen on television. Now, he could see it was a man... George squinted. The man was dressed in a toga with gold glittering around his head, waist, and arms. The shoes, if that was what they were, laced up his calves. The outfit made him look longer. Almost like he was stretched.
The man was framed with the dark ocean around him, yet he shone with brilliance. He reached the bottom of the stairwell and reached to George. Then George felt the submersive shake.
Friday, August 22, 2014
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Writing Update - July
Melissa:
I started the month out strong....then life took over. I worked on re-writes and felt I was making headway. I had a small section I had to enter, which then changed things in the ripple affect of events and what the characters say. But this is good! It's what was needed and wanted. Maybe even draw the two closer together that I needed to bring closer.
Also, getting further into the story I'm finding there are things I have in place in the beginning that I can tie in better or use for what I have going on later in the book. *fist pump* Yes! I love that. I can see it all falling into place and all of it is useful and used. *happy dance* This is a huge thing for me. I was always afraid that I dropped things in that would never be seen again. I'm sure there are a few, but at this point I'm happy. :)
I am even formulating the next story in my mind so there are things I need to drop in this story to explain the next one. Crazy how that happens. ;)
Words added to story (By RoTaNoWriMo which includes the formula for reading words plus added words along with Flash Fiction count):
7,664
Actual increase in number (with adding and deleting):
5,234
Flash Fiction pieces:
1st - 655 words
2nd - 894 words
So, actual words written: 6,783
As for going into August... er, um.... I'm going to have to keep on this writing break, even though it's going to eat me away inside. Kiddo has crazy hours for football practice, and family always comes first. I enjoy watching him practice, and he wants us to watch him practice. So my time will be there. What I'm hoping is once school starts I can get back on a schedule and get this story punched out to a first rough draft that I can ask for help on.
Jackie:
Like Melissa, I started out July strong...though mine was more about being in the right mindset. I had big ideas, I made notes, and seemed to be heading in the right direction...until it came time to implement these into what I already have written. And then it all fell apart.
The project was, and is, never far from my mind but I just couldn't seem to get into the rhythm I needed to keep working. I've thought a lot about why this is and have decided that because what was written was all completely pants'ed during NaNo, it isn't near where I want it to be to start, never mind simply adding into it. The whole thing needs to be stripped down and re-done. So that's how I'll be approaching it from now on. The issue could also have something to do with my reluctance to actually sit and work on it, but I'd rather it was more a result of the first scenario...
I do have some scenes that were successfully written or re-written and also have the Flash Fiction numbers to add in for the month, but the total works out to much less than even 100 words per day for the month. Because of this, I need to push myself further to make sure I sit down and write at least something...a minimum of 500 words, say....everyday most days. Otherwise, I'll be left regretting that I didn't even try.
The totals for the month look like this:
Flash 1 - 873
Flash 2 - 261
WIP - 1203
For a grand total of 2337.
The only promise I'll make for August is that I will beat July's word count, hopefully a significant increase, but, you know, summer and all that ;)
Here's hoping August is productive for everyone, at least as much as it can be while the weather is still warm and the kids are at home :)
I started the month out strong....then life took over. I worked on re-writes and felt I was making headway. I had a small section I had to enter, which then changed things in the ripple affect of events and what the characters say. But this is good! It's what was needed and wanted. Maybe even draw the two closer together that I needed to bring closer.
Also, getting further into the story I'm finding there are things I have in place in the beginning that I can tie in better or use for what I have going on later in the book. *fist pump* Yes! I love that. I can see it all falling into place and all of it is useful and used. *happy dance* This is a huge thing for me. I was always afraid that I dropped things in that would never be seen again. I'm sure there are a few, but at this point I'm happy. :)
I am even formulating the next story in my mind so there are things I need to drop in this story to explain the next one. Crazy how that happens. ;)
Words added to story (By RoTaNoWriMo which includes the formula for reading words plus added words along with Flash Fiction count):
7,664
Actual increase in number (with adding and deleting):
5,234
Flash Fiction pieces:
1st - 655 words
2nd - 894 words
So, actual words written: 6,783
As for going into August... er, um.... I'm going to have to keep on this writing break, even though it's going to eat me away inside. Kiddo has crazy hours for football practice, and family always comes first. I enjoy watching him practice, and he wants us to watch him practice. So my time will be there. What I'm hoping is once school starts I can get back on a schedule and get this story punched out to a first rough draft that I can ask for help on.
Jackie:
Like Melissa, I started out July strong...though mine was more about being in the right mindset. I had big ideas, I made notes, and seemed to be heading in the right direction...until it came time to implement these into what I already have written. And then it all fell apart.
The project was, and is, never far from my mind but I just couldn't seem to get into the rhythm I needed to keep working. I've thought a lot about why this is and have decided that because what was written was all completely pants'ed during NaNo, it isn't near where I want it to be to start, never mind simply adding into it. The whole thing needs to be stripped down and re-done. So that's how I'll be approaching it from now on. The issue could also have something to do with my reluctance to actually sit and work on it, but I'd rather it was more a result of the first scenario...
I do have some scenes that were successfully written or re-written and also have the Flash Fiction numbers to add in for the month, but the total works out to much less than even 100 words per day for the month. Because of this, I need to push myself further to make sure I sit down and write at least something...a minimum of 500 words, say....
The totals for the month look like this:
Flash 1 - 873
Flash 2 - 261
WIP - 1203
For a grand total of 2337.
The only promise I'll make for August is that I will beat July's word count, hopefully a significant increase, but, you know, summer and all that ;)
Here's hoping August is productive for everyone, at least as much as it can be while the weather is still warm and the kids are at home :)
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
Flash Fiction (8)
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
She felt the whimper in the back of her dry throat. Her hands and feet twitched as she grazed over the ground, running as fast as they would take her. She twitched her nose as the tall grass slapped her muzzle.
She wasn't fast enough. There was a whine beside her and she tensed her muscles more, hoping they will give her more speed. The dark gray cloud descended around her. Disoriented she tried to run out, turning to get out of the blinding air. Fearing there would be a tree or rock in front of her or get caught, she dropped to the dirt - her stomach and face flat on the moist dirt.
She inhaled the moist smell of earth. It must have rained recently. She savored the smell, having missed it in that prison of tortures. The gray floated around her with a snapping and sizzling. Then it reached tentacles of smoke to her nose and mouth.
Her eyes flew open but she didn't move. Her body felt wrong. The whine was here, beside her. She held her breath. Something weighed on her legs and arms. Warmth. Fuzzy. Her sisters. Her sisters were here with her, protecting her in her new and fragile form. She reached and ran her fingers over the fur of her sisters. The girls had left the skulk to find her. And find her they did. They didn't even shun her for the form she was now forced to take. The witch had cursed her. Now she was on the run escaping the experiments of the witch. She missed having four legs.
She savored the warmth and moment of false safety as she watched the rising sun curled up with her sisters. A twig cracked. At least she kept her fox senses even in this two legged form. She turned her head, her sisters ears all perked.
She didn't want to give away her location, if she hadn't been found. But she turned as her sisters crept off her with their orange fur raised. Her long red hair caught on the bark of the tree at her back. She kept from yelping at the sharp pull on her head. She looked over the large log after she pulled her hair free as her sisters looked through the gap under it.
A person stalked out of the woods, and her eyes caught what hung at his hip. Her sisters started to growl and hiss. She patted their heads and she shushed them. They might be safe for now, but the dark gray cloud that seeped from the woods told her it was time to go.
Serry turned and crawled to the brush with her sisters.
~~~~~~~~~~
Jackie's preview:
The House on the Bluffs, an original short story by Jackie Lester
The spot by the river where the fallen tree spanned across the water was always her favourite place to read. It was especially good because, the way the huge limbs had landed, they’d created a natural nook, like the cradle of a mother’s arms, perfect for leaning against and daydreaming. Ryan planned to take full advantage of these things, having nothing better to do at the moment.
She leaned into the curve of the tree, not even worried how the small bits of bark might become uncomfortable. Ryan didn’t care at all. She just smiled at the pleasure a beautiful summer day like this can bring.
Click here to keep reading.
Enjoy our quick glimpses into worlds of the unknown.
~~~~~~~~~~
(Untitled)
By: Melissa Hayden
She felt the whimper in the back of her dry throat. Her hands and feet twitched as she grazed over the ground, running as fast as they would take her. She twitched her nose as the tall grass slapped her muzzle.
She wasn't fast enough. There was a whine beside her and she tensed her muscles more, hoping they will give her more speed. The dark gray cloud descended around her. Disoriented she tried to run out, turning to get out of the blinding air. Fearing there would be a tree or rock in front of her or get caught, she dropped to the dirt - her stomach and face flat on the moist dirt.
She inhaled the moist smell of earth. It must have rained recently. She savored the smell, having missed it in that prison of tortures. The gray floated around her with a snapping and sizzling. Then it reached tentacles of smoke to her nose and mouth.
Her eyes flew open but she didn't move. Her body felt wrong. The whine was here, beside her. She held her breath. Something weighed on her legs and arms. Warmth. Fuzzy. Her sisters. Her sisters were here with her, protecting her in her new and fragile form. She reached and ran her fingers over the fur of her sisters. The girls had left the skulk to find her. And find her they did. They didn't even shun her for the form she was now forced to take. The witch had cursed her. Now she was on the run escaping the experiments of the witch. She missed having four legs.
She savored the warmth and moment of false safety as she watched the rising sun curled up with her sisters. A twig cracked. At least she kept her fox senses even in this two legged form. She turned her head, her sisters ears all perked.
She didn't want to give away her location, if she hadn't been found. But she turned as her sisters crept off her with their orange fur raised. Her long red hair caught on the bark of the tree at her back. She kept from yelping at the sharp pull on her head. She looked over the large log after she pulled her hair free as her sisters looked through the gap under it.
A person stalked out of the woods, and her eyes caught what hung at his hip. Her sisters started to growl and hiss. She patted their heads and she shushed them. They might be safe for now, but the dark gray cloud that seeped from the woods told her it was time to go.
Serry turned and crawled to the brush with her sisters.
~~~~~~~~~~
Jackie's preview:
The House on the Bluffs, an original short story by Jackie Lester
The spot by the river where the fallen tree spanned across the water was always her favourite place to read. It was especially good because, the way the huge limbs had landed, they’d created a natural nook, like the cradle of a mother’s arms, perfect for leaning against and daydreaming. Ryan planned to take full advantage of these things, having nothing better to do at the moment.
She leaned into the curve of the tree, not even worried how the small bits of bark might become uncomfortable. Ryan didn’t care at all. She just smiled at the pleasure a beautiful summer day like this can bring.
Click here to keep reading.
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Flash Fiction (7)
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.
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 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.
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