A Test of Sorts

Write at the Merge gave us this quote: 

“Why is summer mist romantic and autumn mist just sad?”

― Dodie Smith, I Capture the Castle

this picture:

Image courtesy of Unsplash.

and 500 words with which to come up with something.  This is a continuation of my White Wolves story.  To get the other parts, follow the tab at the top of the page.  As always, concrit is most welcome as I tend to get these written and one quick edit before posting.

“Ms. Becker”

“Jen, please.  I feel old being addressed so formally,” Jen’s nerves pitched her voice higher than normal.  She though she sounded like a scared mouse, or one of her son’s squeaky toys.  That thought brought tears to her eyes, but she fought them back not wanting to start this meeting off with a bad impression.

He flashed a brief smile, “Jen, then.  We’ve been looking into your situation.  We have a few concerns we need to clear up.”

Jen’s heart leapt into her throat cutting off her voice almost entirely, “What?”

“Your son’s father,” Rhys appeared to hesitate.

“What about him?  He’s not around.  He doesn’t have any rights to Curran.”

“We know.  We also know he’s in prison for first degree assault with a deadly weapon.  What we need clarified is your role in that charge.”

“What!  Why the hell does that matter?  The bastard was trying to kill me because I stopped him from beating my son for dropping some Cheerios on the kitchen floor,” Jen jerked to her feet, knocking the chair back, “You know what?  Forget it.  I’m leaving.”

Rhys stood and touched her shoulder as she turned, “Wait.  Please.”

Jen froze but did not turn back to him.  He took his hand from her shoulder.

“That’s what we needed to see.”

She turned at that, “You needed to know how much of a jerk my son’s father is?  How stupid I was at the time for thinking I could have a relationship with the asshole?  That the only good thing I ever got out of him was my son?”

“No.  We needed to see how far you’d go to protect your son.”

“You could have just asked.”

“Words mean little.  Actions are truth.  Isn’t that right?”

Jen sat as if the bones in her legs had disappeared.  He was right and she knew it.  They were the words she’d been living by these last two years.

“Come walk with me.  The fresh air and movement will do you some good,” Rhys held out one hand, almost as if it was a peace offering.

Jen nodded and allowed Rhys to escort her from the bar.  Logic screamed at her that this was a bad idea, but instinct said otherwise.  Jen had been learning to trust her instinct more often as logic seemed to fail her too many times lately.

A cool mist had enveloped the area while they talked inside.  The trees seemed to weep, their tears dampening the road beneath their drooping branches.

“We needed to know how far you’d go to protect your son because we have some leads.  But it’s going to be a tough road and there’s no guarantee about what will happened before it’s all over.”

“I don’t care.  I need my son.  Do you know where he is?”

“Not yet.  But we know he’s alive.  And we know his father isn’t what he seems, either.”

Be sure to check out the other responses to this prompt.  The badge below will take you right there!

Coffee Shop Window

Trifecta gave us the following picture for inspiration to write 33 words about it:

Thomas Leuthard / Foter / CC BY

I

If you click on the picture above it will bring you to the photographer's attribution page.

I offer my response:

“Study hard.”

“Find a better life.”

No!

Look up!

Life is passing you by.

It’s about the

Journey

Not the destination.

With you head down

Books scattered ‘round

You’re missing the point.

Be sure to head over to Trifecta Writing Challenge via the badge below to see what others said about this picture in just 33 words!

Book Review: I’m No Monster: The Horrifying True Story of Josef Fritzl

I missed last week’s book review so I wanted to make sure I hit it up this week.  And the book up this week is a doozy.  It’s I’m No Monster: The Horrifying True Story of Josef Fritzl by Stefanie Marsh and Bojan Pancevski.  This is a “true crime” novel, so to speak.  It is the story of Elizabeth Fritzl.  Back before Elizabeth Smart and Jaycee Dugard, there was Elisabeth Fritzl.  She was born in Austria.  Her father, Josef, began to abuse her at age 11.  At age 18, she was taken prisoner by her father and held captive in a secret chamber in their home for the next 24 years while he repeatedly abused her.  She eventually bore him 7 children.  One died shortly after birth, three were allowed to live freely with Josef and his wife, Rosemarie.  The other three remained with Elisabeth.

The story is an amazing tale of resilience and survival.  I felt like the authors treated the case with a decent amount of respect considering the topic.  The writing was not stellar, but it wasn’t painful to read either, unlike the subject matter. 

The biggest thing I want to stress is that this is NOT Elisabeth’s story.  She has never openly shared her side of things.  The authors researched the family history and tracked the story in the press.  They, from what I remember since it has been a little while since I've read it, never got to talk to Elisabeth or other members of the Fritzl family.

Incidentally, Elisabeth Fritzl does not go by her given name anymore and the new town in which she lives in Austria is heavily guarded.  Much of that protection stems from the local townsfolk.

I can’t say whether or not you should read this book.  It is certainly not for the faint-hearted.  But, if you can handle such difficult subject matter, it can give some insight into crimes like this.

Inferno

Master Class is back!!  I actually missed the first one.  I'll admit that.  But I had enough time to squeak in a response this week.  We were given "Never name the well from which you will not drink." from Marion Zimmer Bradley's The Mists of Avalon.  We had to use it as the first or last line.  I chose to use the line to start off the next piece of a short story that was actually started from a Master Class prompt last fall.  Hopefully I can get it finished sometime soon so I can aim to get it published somewhere.  As always, concrit is most welcome.  Here it is:

Never name the well from which you will not drink, he thought to himself as he came to.  The last thing he remembered was breaking through the hole to see what was beyond the cracks.  All he got was a glimpse of flame and hands.  He hated flames.  Too many of the scars he had were from flames.

Now he had a real dilemma.  They wanted him to give the spirit up.  Give it to them.  He’d told himself he’d never betray his word again.  He’d done that too many times.  He couldn’t do it again.

But, if he didn’t give up the spirit, they would keep him.  Forever.

His one chance at having his life back was slipping away.  He finally understood what the priestess meant.  Did the others give up the spirits they carried or did they refuse and were stuck somewhere in this hell?

The only upside to the situation was that he got away from the desert emptiness.  Not that this was much better.  At least it was different, though.

Focus! he snapped at himself.  He needed to figure out how to get out of this.  There had to be another way out.  He just needed to figure out what it was.  He strained at the chains around his arms and legs again.  They tightened again.  It was almost to the point he was losing circulation.

He slumped, dangling like a broken puppet in a demented version of Dante’s Inferno.  It was futile.  The chains wouldn’t give.  The ideas were gone.  He was no different than the others.  He’d be stuck here just like the others.

“Hey,” a soft whisper came from the flickering shadows.



I forgot!  Make sure you head over and check out other takes on this prompt!  Just click on the icon below.

Random Sunday – Cold, Laundry, and Chairs

Can I just say that I am really sick of the cold?  I know.  98% of the country is saying the same thing.  But, come on people!  We here in MN have been colder THAN THE SURFACE OF MARS!!!  There is just something wrong with that.  And it needs to change – ASAP.

I had a rather humorous observation regarding laundry today.  My son loves to be in the laundry room with me.  Might have something to do with the fact that it’s where the vacuum is and he has an odd obsession with the vacuum.  But, I figure, while he’s in there with me, he can help as much as a 17 month old can with the laundry.  He’s done it enough times with me now that he knows the basic routine.  Obviously he can’t do it all on his own – he’s a little short for that – but he gets what needs to happen.  My observation was that he is doing better than many of the teenagers I work with regarding how to do laundry.

I offer a piece of advice for you.  Do not get cane backed chairs.  I know they really aren’t in style much anymore and my dining room set is rather old.  But avoid them at all costs anyways.  Every rivet, button, belt, item in back pockets, etc. catches on the cane and tears it to shreds.  I sweep (or should sweep realistically) almost every day because there are little bits of cane all over the floor regularly.  I can’t wait to get rid of the chairs, the cane on the chairs, or maybe both.  Someday.  Until then – I sweep.

HoloPlanet

I combined two prompts this week.  Studio 30+ gave us the words planet and loathe.  Write at the Merge gave us this quote

“Sometimes legends make reality, and become more useful than the facts.”

~ Salman Rushdie

and this picture

Image courtesy of Unsplash.

Here is my response:

“You mean I can do all of this with my mind here?”

“Yes.  This planet creates what you imagine.  It will keep filling up empty space until none is left.”

“What happens then?”

“Then it resets.  Starts over.  But you need to be careful here.”

“Why?”

“Because you can interact with your creations.  You are not simply an outside observer.  When you start exploring what you created, you are bound to continue until you reach the end of your creation.”

“Why is that so bad?”

“Come with me.”

I followed him down a path in between two separate worlds.  My utility suit felt a little sticky and, in all honesty, I was itching to create a nice beach where I could take it off and relax in the warm sun.

We stopped in front of a third world.  It was tenement complex bigger than any I had ever seen back on Old Earth.  Lights were on in the windows.  I even thought I could smell a variety of dinners wafting their aromas down alleys and across the empty boundary line to my scent deprived nose.

“I still don’t get it.”

“Where does this end?  Do you see it?  How many apartments do you think are in this world?  How many scenes to play out in each apartment?”

“I don’t know for sure, but from what I can see there’d be a lot of apartments to check out.”

“Too many.  The student who built this world detested authority.  He wouldn’t accept my rules and expectations for him no matter how hard I tried.”

“I would loathe it too, if I didn’t know how much was at stake with this project.”

“He’d forgotten that.  He was stuck in the creation, figuratively.  Now he is literally.”

I turned to my trainer, my jaw dangling in the fictitious breeze.

“Yes.  That is correct,” my trainer interpreted the look on my face, “He is stuck in there until he has explored every tenement building, every apartment, every scene.  That is the one rule here.  You must finish what you start.”

No wonder my trainer was a legend.  He’d been out here for fifteen years training in new graduates where the passing rate was only about twenty five percent and the consequence for failure was all too often death.

For the first time I really understood what I was facing.  And I was terrified.

Any concrit you have is most welcome.  Be sure to click on the images below to see other great responses to these two prompts.

                                                      

Random Sunday – New Community, Toys, and Fish

I have gotten brave.  I joined a new online community.  And I did it under my own name, rather than the Wisper pseudonym I have (and still) use.  I just got approved for Studio 30+.  But, as luck would have it, I don’t even have much time to head over there and play on the site for a while.  Darn school and work getting in the way!

I have come to another conclusion regarding children and toys.  You will NEVER have all of the toys picked up.  Evidence – as I sit and type this post at my kitchen table I have a singing ladybug and a John Deere tractor under my feet.  I've already picked each of these two specific toys up two or three times, at least, today.  Yet they have now taken up residence under the kitchen table.  I give up.

We took our son to Sealife Aquarium at the Mall of America today.  While not a huge aquarium, at least not compared to Sealife Park Hawaii or SeaWorld, it is a great aquarium.  My son loved it.  It makes me wonder what it is about fish that is so attractive to him.  He’s loved fish since he was a couple months old.  My dad helped teach my son to scoot on his belly by holding the iPad in front of him with the aquarium app running.  I may never know.

In the Aftermath

This is the next part in my Weather Riders series.  To find the rest of the story up to this point, follow the Weather Riders tab above.  As always any concrit is most welcome.  I know there are a few things I need to do to seam these pieces together better - such has having changed my narrator's name part way through the series and needing to make sure it's consistent through out the posts.

I don’t know how long it took for the ambulance to get there.  I told the paramedics Isaac had tripped and hit his head.  They didn't ask what we were doing out in the park during the storm.  I didn't care what they thought as long as Isaac was okay.

I couldn't remember the ride to the hospital with Isaac.  So much was swirling through my mind.  Caiden was so not what I had been told to expect from his kind.  Sure.  He came across cold-blooded mercenary.  But that kind of person wouldn't have cared about trying to save Isaac’s life.  Or soothing my fear.

Spending the next several hours in the emergency room was not part of my plans for the day.  I wanted to stay long enough for Isaac to wake up, or at least for the doctors to tell me he was fine.

I must have dozed off because I woke to Isaac nudging me.

“Shay?  What happened?”

I handed him a glass of water with a straw to ease the burr in his voice, “Don’t you remember?  You went rogue.”

“What do you mean I went rogue?  I was out in the park making sure the storm passed through without major issues just like I always do.”

“No, Isaac.  I was there.  You were riding the high and totally drunk on the storm surge.”

Our conversation was interrupted by a knock at his door.  A short blond-haired man with the most intense blue eyes stood with one hand in his pocket and the other resting on the door frame.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to finish my job.”

“You’re on clean up?” I didn't want to give out too much information where anyone besides Isaac could hear me.

“Yes, ma’am.  I was also told to send you on down the hall.  You’re wanted down that way.”

I arched an eyebrow.

He held both hands up in self-defense, “Hey.  Don’t shoot the messenger here.”

“All right.  But I’ll be back to check on Isaac.  If things go downhill there is nothing on this Earth that will stop me from hunting you down.”

“He’ll be fine, ma’am.  Not trying to brag, but I am one of the best in the area.”

I brushed passed him as he headed for Isaac and I went down the hall.  At the main entrance Caiden leaned against the wall.

“I wanted to make sure you had a ride home.”

My breath caught a little against my will, “I’ll be fine.  Thanks for checking, though.”

“You did good out there, Shayna.”

My silence must have bothered him, “You did what you had to do.  You helped save his life and you didn't panic.  No one was hurt and the storm was controlled,” he continued, his voice low enough I strained a little to hear him.

“I still feel like I betrayed him somehow.”

“Trust me.  You saved his life.  Look.  Let me take you out to dinner.  Consider it a work dinner.  There are things we need to talk about.”

That made me nervous.  But I wasn't sure what was worse, that Caiden wanted to talk to me or that I was being asked to dinner with one good looking man.

Realization

I've come to a realization.  I know it's not a profound one, but it is an important one.  I've come to this realization before, but, like many others, I keep forgetting it as I get busier.  My realization is this:

I need to make at least a little time for myself regularly.

If I don't, I start to lose pieces of myself.  And that makes for a miserable me.

You see, and if you're a regular reader you probably have seen, I have been neglecting this blog some again up until the last few days.  That was when I had my realization.  I've found that even in the few days since I started to make a point of writing again, I'm a little more relaxed and I am finding it easier to get my other, required, stuff done.

So, let that be a lesson to you.  Find those things you enjoy.  Set aside a little time each day for them.  The few minutes you take away from "more important things" will benefit those "more important things" so much more than had you spent those few extra minutes on them.

The Old Ways

I want to throw a quick couple things out there before I get to posting my response to this week's Write at the Merge.  First, I will try really hard to get to other links.  But, please bear with me as it may take me a bit of time between working full time, grad school part time, and a 17 month old.  Also, due to the aforementioned list of stuff going on, this got dashed out in about a half an hour.  It is another scene to a longer short story I'm working on.  I will try to get back and add in the links to the rest of the story, but for some reason the labels aren't working right at the moment.  Anyway, concrit is most welcome.  I'd love to hear what works and what doesn't in the scene as I'm not entirely sure it's right yet.  So, click on the link here to see the prompt (and check out other responses!) and let me know what you think!

Maroshek wandered down the path among the Firs in the royal gardens.  The acrid odor of smoke mingled with the fresh, crisp pine sap.  Pieces of his armor dotted the trail behind him as if they were some twisted mushroom like blight in the perfection of the park.

He reached a small clearing and fell to his knees, no longer caring what his actions looked like to anyone who might see him.  It was over.  And she hadn't come.  The fires twisted and danced through the battle for the city as if they were djinn from the old stories.  But she wasn't there.

“Take me!” he screamed into the hazy night air as crazed shadows from the thousand fires twisted around him, “I surrender.  I have failed in the one sacred duty of my House and have lost all honor,” his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper as he collapsed into the cool grass.

Maroshek jerked upright as the soft swish of a footstep penetrated his whirling thoughts.  Out of the shadows a figure approached him.  Just out of arm’s reach it stopped.  A flicker of light flitted through the clearing illuminating the figure.

Jaylen.

She smiled as she knelt in front of him, brushing his face with the back of her hand, “Maroshek.  I knew you’d come.  I knew you’d save me.  Bring me back.”

“How?  I.  What?”

“Shh.  You are paralyzed with questions, with doubts.  But you held to the old ways.  Your faith.  Your sacrifice.  That is what kindled the magic to complete my rebirth.”

“My sacrifice?  You mean the old ways are real?”

“Yes.  The old ways are real.  I’ve learned much while I was gone.  Our houses let the old ways die.  What once were sacred rites became meaningless ritual.  As the rites faded, the magic within my house dwindled.  That is why the House of Phoenix nearly died.  It was your sacrifice that completed the process and allowed my return.  Just as the old ways prescribed.”

“What did I sacrifice?  I still live, though I would have gladly died for you, right?”

“You still live.  This is not a dream, nor is it heaven.  But you were willing to sacrifice all that you are.  The surrender of your essence, your soul if you will, became the offering.  It opened the way for me to come back, not just touch this world from afar.”

Jaylen pulled him to her, his head resting against her chest.  He was tired, so tired.  With her new found powers, Jaylen washed away some of Maroshek’s fatigue.  Just enough to allow him to finish his job within the city.

He pulled away after a bit, “What about the fires in the city?  They are too great.  The city is lost.”

“It is not lost.  It is cleansed,” seeing the look on Maroshek’s face she continued, “Go.  See for yourself.  Then come back to me at the palace.  Though the battle is won, there is much still to do.”

A Prayer

Sorry I missed a few weeks.  Things got rather nuts.  Anyway, here's this weeks Trifecta Challenge:

We are asking for a 33-word response to the following snippet:
The first time I saw. . .


 Here's the catch: all of your 33 words must be one syllable each.  We're going low-brow on your this week.  Or not.  Can you class it up under these restrictions?  Give us your best.

To clarify, we are giving you 5 words.  We want another 33 from you, for a grand total of 38.


Here's my response:

The first time I saw you I loved you.

Your soul pulled me in.

I was drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

I gave you my heart.

Please don’t let it burn.  I beg you.

Be sure to click on Trifecta here or above to see other amazing responses to this prompt!

Book Review: The Moonball by Ursula Moray Williams

The first thing I want to put out there about The Moonball is that it is an older book.  Therefore some of the language and perspectives in the book are a dated and not considered “politically correct” anymore.  That being said, here goes.

I love The Moonball.  The story starts with a group of town kids that are bored.  Suddenly, during a storm, an unusual object shows up.  At first they didn't even realize it was alive.  But, it brought a sense of adventure, indeed caused some adventure, for the kids.

It is a pretty simple and straight forward plot line.  There are no real twists or surprises.  Like I said, the language is a bit dated, but it is clear and easy to read.  The moonball is the best developed character in my opinion, and it doesn't ever say anything.

All in all, there is something charming and comforting about this book.  Put it on your guilty pleasures reading list.  It won’t take long and I doubt you’ll regret reading it.

Random Sunday – Tuesday, Driving, and Life

I know.  It’s actually Tuesday.  And I've been gone a while.  There are several reasons for that.  First, I started my next grad school class and it’s kept me busy.  I also ended up getting a new laptop in here, which is what I write on the most right now, and that is taking me a while to get set up like my old one.  But, I’m back.  Missed it by a little, but it is the third anniversary of my blog as well.  Hopefully soon I can get enough time carved out to give it a little face lift as an anniversary present.

I noticed something today.  People start to drive really dumb as soon as it snows.  Now, in places where snow is fairly infrequent, I would get it.  I would probably be one of those dumb drivers.  But, this is not there.  This is Minnesota.  This is where we were colder than the surface of Mars a week ago and few news outlets even commented on it.  This is where some places in the state have had, literally, 4+ FEET of snow.  Come on, people!  Figure it out!

For some reason, life has been getting away on me a little.  I know.  Before you go pointing out the obvious like I have a 17 month old son, work full time, and go to grad school half time, understand that’s not really what I meant.  I just mean that things are flying by so fast.  There are so many things I want to do and I just haven’t done them yet.  That was what I was getting at in my New Year’s Resolution post.  I want to really live.  I want to do those things.  I want to not have regrets when I look back at my life.  I will work on making this a reality this year.