Pages of Life

I pulled out an old planner
And flipped to a random page
There I found an old resolution
Where I vowed to write every single day

I know it didn’t happen
My writing fell off the shelf
But I had high hopes back then
And they’re still my hopes even now
To make it an author’s decade
That was going to be my vow

I flipped a few months later
And to no real surprise
The goal again was writing
And pray that I’m doing it right

Then down to the last page
Was a letter of defeat
The hope to be a better person
And a prayer I wrote for me

It’s amazing how a whole year
Can be written so simply
And the dream from a little freshman
Shines on throughout, it seems

For Fun

The puzzlement in my brow keeps falling deeper and deeper I’m sure it’ll leave frown lines on my face. A bundle of words sit on the screen. Two paragraphs in the entire document that I had no idea would come out.

“You look troubled.”

The cool voice had a hint of a peaceful night to it. I lean back from the desk. A man with silver hair stretching his shoulders leans against the wall. Amusement twitches my lip. “Candra. What are you doing here?”

He shrugs. “You tell me.” He pulls off the wall and over to the desk. In the light of the lamp, his pale eyes shine like the full moon. “You needed an idea and this is what we’ve got.” With a skinny hand, he motions to the computer screen. “Trouble with the novel?”

I correct him. “The sequel.” He stares blankly at me and I plop back in the chair. “They keep changing the story.”

He raises a crescent shaped eyebrow.

I get a little impatient. He should know what I mean. I rudely motion to the screen. “The characters.”

His frosted lips curl to a smile and I see his gaze flicker to a banner above the window. “Right,” he says with a drawl. “It’s almost as if you have a quote for this.”

I huff and I don’t look up at the banner. I know what it says. It’s a quote from a video game character who also happens to be an author. It says the characters drive the story and not the author who writes it. “I still believe that.” I can’t help but be stubborn. I motion to the screen. To the two paragraphs that came out of nowhere. “But I had a plan. What am I supposed to do with that?”

Candra shrugs. “Then delete it.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

I purse my lips and bite them between my teeth. Candra leans against the desk and crosses his arms. The squint in his eyes has growing amusement behind them. I knew he’d wait as long as it took for me to answer. He was ever patient. Ever watchful.

I fix my gaze on one of the paintings on my walls. My voice comes out stiff. “Because it makes things more interesting.”

His grin stretches ear to ear. “Are you saying your story isn’t interesting?”

I lean toward him. “It’s interesting,” I snap. “But, this,” I motion to the two paragraphs. “Opens up so much. It changes schematics. Changes how the main character–” I cut off with a groan. “I’m gonna have to rewrite everything.”

Candra started picking at his fingernails. “Well, you already knew that. You knew this wasn’t going to be the final draft.”

I pout. “I know. I’m trying to get the story on the page so I know what to change in the beginning.” I look around the desk for a clean paper. “I need to start making a list. There’s becoming too much.”

Candra looks at me side-long. “You have a list. You have several. There’s the one on the computer. The one on your phone.” He points over me. “Pretty sure that notebook there has a thing or two in it.” I must not have controlled my expression very well, because he suddenly nudges me. “Don’t look so down. It’ll be great once it’s done.”

I swallow and bob my head. Writing a story is fun and all until you actually start trying to do it right. “It’s just a daunting task.”

Candra smirked. “So was the first book and look where it’s at?”

I can’t help but smile at him. Sitting up straighter, I release the daunting feeling with a breath. “Right, I should get back to it.” I look at the two paragraphs on the screen with acceptance of their challenge. “I wonder what other surprises will pop up.”

Candra clears his throat. He motions to the internet tab on the computer. “You’re recording this conversation. Why…uh…why are you posting on the website? Aren’t you worried people will be a little concerned for you talking with an imaginary friend?”

I can’t help but chuckle. Imaginary friend was right. “So people can see at least one conversation a writer has with themselves to say sane amidst all the writing and rewriting and editing and plotting and reconfiguring and writers block and all that.” I lean back and toss my hands in the air. “Plus, it’s fun. Sometimes you have to write something fun and crazy to change it up and keep you going.”

Candra smiles. He tips his head and taps his forefinger against it. When I turn back to the computer screen, he fades away like a cloud slipping away from the moon.

Words it Takes

Notebooks upon notebooks
Words upon words
So many things written
To help a story be heard

Two notebooks with ideas
Another with reminders
Then there’s the several
That have the story in their binders

So many with scenes
written out on the pages
To be reviewed and edited
The start of the stages

Let’s not forget
All the loose papers,
notecards, and lists
A million or more words to help this story exist.

Being a writer isn’t easy
Ideas come when you least expect it
You have to get it down somewhere
Or else you’ll regret it.

On a document on your phone
A notecard or a sticky
A papertowel from work
You can’t be picky

So with all these notes
Scattered about
It’s hard to remember
Through all the doubt

A story of a hundred thousand
Takes many more words
I bet a million
Only makes up one of my thirds

Write the ideas
Write the hopes
Write whatever it takes
To make this story not a joke

One million
Two, three, or four
It’ll be worth it someday
I know that and more

So, I’ll keep writing
On whatever’s in hand
To make my story happen
And help it to stand

Working on a Dream

Daily writing prompt
What have you been working on?
View all responses

I’ve been working on a chapter
That doesn’t come for a while
I’ve been pouring out these scenes
Because the characters make me smile

I have it on the page
Of a notebook of white blossoms
The character’s heavy. Hope’s erased
He’s feels he’s at rock bottom

Perhaps I’ve been at it
Because I know how he feels
Perhaps it’s easy
Because, to me, it feels real

In writing his pain
His strife. His tears.
I put him face to face
With what he most fears

Writing his agony
The rut where he’s stuck
Then writing his way out
How to help him look up

If he can somehow manage
To lift his weary head
In a world where he believes
Everything he loves is dead

Then perhaps, I to
Can rise up from defeat
And no longer wallow
At a world that looks bleak

There’s a powerful connection
Between an author and their character
You share each others’ pain
Help you come out for the better

So, I’ll continue to write
The small hope in his mind
That gets him to stand
sword in hand, he will rise

And though the doubts are there
Whispering his failures
This small speck of hope
Will shape his behaviors

Then, if he can do it
Why not I?
I could stand
And see the wonders of life

Though doubts will still be there
I’ve this speck of hope
To cling to and wield against
All that makes me mope

Like him, I’ll see it through
Make the unseen, seen
Because that’s what I’ve been working on
My most precious dream

Book Review: Incarceron by Catherine Fisher

I listened to this book as an audiobook and I greatly enjoyed it. The idea of a prisoner who has no memory of who he has endless possibilities and I feel Catherine Fisher had a unique take on the prospect. She has a bunch of diverse characters within her story and I had a hard time finding one I didn’t like. I found myself even rooting for the character that drove under my skin. In the end, the character I was rooting for the most broke my heart so much that I immediately downloaded the sequel, Sapphique.

The fantasy world of Incarceron is exciting and full of little details that make your rib shudder when you really think about it. At first, I was bit confused because I felt a touch of sci-fi within the story, but it’s fantasy elements aren’t overwhelmed by it. As the story progressed, it became clear how the sci-fi supported the tone of the story.

As I was listening to my audiobook, I remember fearing that the story was becoming predictable. You have a main character searching for his memories and you have a secondary main character searching for someone specific. It becomes clear early on that they need each other, and you start to see the path of the story. However, Catherine Fisher does a great job throwing doubt into the mix. Is the main character really who we think he is? Or is he a monstrosity of old parts sewn together?

I was drawn into Incarceron without knowing it was a series. When I had only an hour left on my audiobook, I realized there would be more to the story. There was too much that needed to happen for the story wrap up in an hour. I was debating at that point if I wanted to listen to the sequel and any book after it. Yet, the last chapter made up my mind for me. As I said, I immediately downloaded the sequel. I’m a lover of redemption stories and I hold out hope that the character that broke my heart will return. I’ll type up a short review of the sequel when I finish it as well.

For now, I recommend reading Incarceron by Catherine Fisher. There’s adventure, mystery, scandals, and masks of the court. Even recounting it now, I have questions I hope get answered in the sequel.

Thank you, Catherine Fisher, for your story.

Look Up

A world of events
Can hang heavy on your head
You turn your eyes down
And contemplate shadows on the ground

You find yourself stuck
With dark clouds in your mind
This path that you’re on
It’s not easy to climb

Each steps feels a struggle
As you watch the mountains at your feet
You can’t get around them
You want to admit defeat

When the world assaults
with negativities and fears
It lures your head down
so anxiety can draw near

It wants you to quit
It wants you to give up
To hold your light from the world
It’ll make you think you’re forever stuck

Yet, one simple motion
Can push the fear away
A breath of fresh air
A cool, lazy green sway

Turn your head up
See the leaves hang in the trees
See sunlight make them dazzle
Like they’re waiting to say “cheese”

Dark oaken branches
Against a baby blue sky
White fluffy clouds
Dancing so high

They say it’s alright
The world is not lost
Even as the leaves fall
And all is covered with frost

Nature persists
And nature remembers
Wildflowers are wonderfully cared for
Though tomorrow they might be embers

Keep your eyes up
Don’t let the weight of the world droop them
You might miss the sparrow on the branch
Or the titmouse taking a scratch

Even they know
All will be alright
Food will be found
If they only take flight

So, look up in the heaviness
When the world screams and cries
Look up when all integrity
Is long gone from sight

Look up to find hope
In the smallest of things
Because sometimes the little
Is the anchor we need.

Look up.

A Visit of Halloween

‘Twas the night of the spooky season, when all through the town
Midnight was stirring and monsters were around
Spiderwebs were hung on on porches to scare
Young trick or treaters who would soon be there
The children were out on this night of dead
While visions of ghouls danced in their heads
And mamma in her jacket, and I in the car
Watched the children giggle to the next house from afar
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
I laughed pretty hard when I saw what was the matter
A spider sprang from the shadows and web
Scared my child over. He fell on his rear end.
The moon as my witness, we make sure he was alright
With a smile, he sprinted to the next house in sight
I followed, in wonder. The house breathed an eerie blue
And before my eyes the ocean’s depths came anew
With a big old pirate, with pistol out quick
I knew in a moment this house would be sick
More rapid than sharks, tentacles sprang from the yard
The pirate whistled and shouted, “Avast me! En garde!”
My child was a mixture of terror and excitement
The candy was past the pirate. His way of enticement.
To my child the pirate snickered and asked in delight.
“Do ye have what it takes on this hallowed night?”
“I see ye eyein’ me treasure, but to claim such a prize,”
“ye must endure my shipwreck with ye own eyes.”
He motioned away to the garage of the house
Where the ocean’s depths haunted about
My child looked at me, in his knight’s costume and all
I was the courage he needed. We’d both face the squall
Taking his hand, I told him “Hold your breath.”
And together we entered the deep, dark depths
He clung to me when a shark swam by
And I myself was wary and wry
The seafloor glittered with the pirate’s lost gold
And scattered upon it, the bones of a pour soul
We continued on and found the shipwreck
The jolly roger was wrung by its neck
Through a port hole, a shadow did creep
The sucking of tentacles rang through the deep
“It’s time to go,” I thought. “Get the treasure and leave.”
I picked my child up and tripped on chains at my feet.
A cackling laugh found us at the surface.
I heard my son gasp, shaking and nervous.
The pirate leaned forward, and tilted his head.
His scarred cheeks were jolly and red.
“I take it ye got scared?” He asked with a smolder
My child was burying his head in my shoulder
When my child was silent, the pirate just laughed
He stepped back and grabbed his candy-filled stash
“What a brave little pirate, ye would make.”
“Take your piece of my treasure. You’ve earned it today.”
Out of my shoulder, my child did grin.
He took a whole handful of the candy within.
When I set him down, he looked at the depths.
His feet wouldn’t let him take more steps.
To my surprise, he asked with hesitant chin.
“Would it be alright if I went through again?”
The pirate grinned with gold on his tooth
“Aye,” he said, “but no more treasure for you.”
With a brave breath and his candy bag held tight
My child went alone back through that fright
I smiled and mamma, beside me, shook her head.
“He’ll be talking about this house straight up to bed.”
I quietly agreed. I know I will be to.
This house brought the block something anew.
My child ran out of the depths with a smile.
“Is it okay if we stayed here a while?”
Momma shook her head. It was school night after all.
I thanked the pirate and he stood up tall.
We headed down the drive, my son looking back
He waved to the pirate, that crazy quack
Then I heard him exclaim, as we drove off the scene
“Good night to you all, and Happy Halloween!”

Put Off Interview

“Alright,” I sigh and toss my notebook and pen on the desk. “Let’s do this.”

“Unhand me!” A man with raven black hair wrestles himself out of Candra’s grasp. When he sees me at the desk, his venomous eyes flare. “You’re the one behind this insult, aren’t you? Don’t you know who I am? You and your snow-brain here will face the curse of the–“

“Yes. Yes.” I wave my hand in dismissal. “The curse of the ancestors for getting the better of you and all your fancy titles.” I nod to Candra. “That’ll be all. Thank you.” The look in Candra’s silver eyes wishes me luck and I’m as sure as water freezes that I’m going to need it.

Candra departs, but the raven-haired man doesn’t take notice. He lunges at the desk, leaning on it so intently I can see the hairs in his flared and narrow nose. “I’ve never seen you before in my life. I’ve never seen this place before in my life. If you are a servant of–“

I cut him off to spare myself his arrogant raving. “I’m not what you’re hoping I am. Trust me, you won’t get any glory going against me. If anything, I’m here to help. We’ve been–“

He scoffs and it irks me that he doesn’t get off the desk. He just keeps looking down his nose at me with those green, snake-eyes. “How could you possibly help me?”

The brief moment his eyes flicked downward told me he already sized me up. Compared to his garb, I probably looked like some snow slug in hibernation. My oversized t-shirt and sports shorts were rags compared to the crystals on his hide clothing. Each crystal was perfectly placed to make him look as regal and terrifying as possible. When he tapped his fingers against the desk, the crystal points like claws on his gloves caused the metal desk to ring. They were harder than plate armor, and my stomach twisted, because I know what they really are.

I must have made a face, because he stretched his thin lips to a grin. “Jealous of my trophies, are you? I’ll hath you know it took a lot of work to achieve this glorious blessing from the ancestors. You’ve no adornments, so I ask again. How can you help me?”

I tweak an eyebrow and feel the edge of my lip curl. “For starters, I kidnapped you from your Clan, didn’t I?”

The embarrassment twitched anger on his face. He finally pulled off the desk. “A chance of luck, nothing more. What do you want with me?”

I took a deep breath, thankful that he was willing to get down to business so quickly. I clicked my pen and opened my notebook. “We’ve had a lull in the sequel where you come in for a long time now. It was suggested to me to interview you and see what happens.”

I tried not to enjoy the confusion that squinted his eyes. “Interview?”

I made a note on the paper. “It means I want you to tell me about yourself–“

The way he swelled, I swore he was going to crack his crystal armor. “Say no more. I am always open to teaching my admirers everything about me. I am the image my people strive for. It’s flattering you went to such lengths, but–“

I tapped my notebook. I didn’t pull him from the Clan because I liked him. “Let’s just stick to my questions, shall we?” I didn’t bother to offer him a chair. Stories were a part of his peoples’ culture. I had no doubt he wouldn’t be able to sit still while telling me about how awesome he thought he was.

He dropped his hands to his side as his green eyes studied me. I’m glad the distrust between us was mutual. “What are your questions?”

“You’re the leader of your people?”

“I am.”

“You take enjoyment in it?”

He stuck his pointed chin in the air. “It is a great glory to lead my people like my ancestors before me. I hath proven my path is paved to be intertwined with legends time and time again.”

I raised an eyebrow. This wasn’t exactly news to me. “How would you describe yourself as a leader?”

A brief knot knitted in his dark brow as if my question was obvious. “My accomplishments describe my leadership. I hath tamed the crystal fire and vanquished the enemies of my people. I had seen ten harsh winters when I killed the first of many striped beasts that hunt the southern wood. I guide my people in the way of our ancestors and it is our ancestors that guide me to glory. It is my destiny to reconcile the wrong committed to my people in ages past.”

I fold my hands together. I know the answer to this next question, but I want to hear him say it. “How would you reconcile that wrong?”

There it was. Those venomous green eyes held a hate as frigid as the arctic. He looked me dead in the eye and the hairs on my neck stood up when he spoke.

“I will kill the devil.”

I leaned back, trying to play it cool as I knew what those words really meant. “How could you possibly kill the devil?”

He leaned on the desk again and anger burned in him as he was probably sick of hearing disbelief like the kind in my voice. “He will return to my people, and I’ll kill him. In fact, he hath been delivered to my clutches already.”

“If you have him, why didn’t you kill him?”

He pulled off the desk and paced the opposite wall, slow and methodical. “I did not expect what he brought with him. He hath fooled the ancestors, but I’ll make them see. I’ll do whatever it takes to make the snow run red with his blood.”

I hummed and glanced at my notebook. At the part I’d been stuck on for years. “So, when your initial plan doesn’t work out, what do you do?”

He smiled thinly. “I expected his diabolicalness and will heed to the howling winds until I can use them to my advantage. He’ll think he won. He’ll think me a fool and let his guard down. My people have been patient for generations for this retribution to free us from the binds our shame. I’ll show them all the truth of who he is. The ancestors will praise me for seeing through his treachery when they did not.”

He paused and I took note of the darkness that twisted his face. His venomous eyes stared at a point in the room and I knew he was recalling the stories passed down by his people. The heavy treachery he believed in that condemned them to a world of eternal winter. Yet, in a moment, his darkness swept away and an adder-like charm softened his smile. When he looked at me, there was a wit of carefreeness in his eyes. “The only trouble that burdens my shoulders,” he continued, “is how I’m going to kill him. There isn’t a way that seems just right, yet. Perhaps, that’s where you can help me?”

“No,” I said flatly. “Why don’t we move on? You weren’t very clear in how you’ll make the devil think he won. If you’re going to make him think he won, does that mean you won’t be around?”

He huffed. “Of course not. That would arouse suspicion.”

I knitted my brow. I wasn’t sure what I thought of that, but I indulged the idea. “So, you’ll allow the devil to wonder willy nilly around the home of your people.”

The look on his face gave me the sense he thought I was dumb and I tried not to grind my teeth in response. “My loyal followers will be watching him at all times.”

I flipped a section in my notebook. To all the noteworthy characters I wanted to somehow include in the story. “You mean the Raven’s Rage?”

He nodded. “There is no one more loyal to me.”

I flicked exasperated eyes up to him. “That’s because she’s in love with you.”

The cock of his grin flashed his pointed canines. “As all women should be.”

I pursed my lips as irritation boiled up in my gut. I check-marked a box in my notebook to seal his fate. “Alright, you’re obsessed with glory, you take advantage of how women feel about you, and I’m guessing you don’t return the Raven’s Rage’s affections?”

When I looked at him, he bobbed his head in some lazy-boy shrug. “She’d be useful in extending my bloodline at some point, but for now, her skills as a warrior best suit me.”

I sighed. “At least you acknowledge her talents. Is that your only redeeming quality?”

His face fell flat. “Excuse me?”

I motioned to my notebook. “Right now, I really don’t like you. You’re a selfish and arrogant son of a snow slug obsessed with killing the devil. You must have something decent about you.”

The way he stilled told me I triggered a nerve. He stepped slowly up to the desk and leaned against it. His raven hair fell in front of his face, but his eyes remained aimed at me like a spear ready to be thrown. His look wasn’t quite hate, but I must have insulted him to bring out this icy personality he often tried to bury.

“Selfish?” He repeated in a tone as low as a valley’s wind. “Hath you not been to where I live? Hath you not seen what I and my people endure? Everything I do is for them, you wretched naysayer. Everything. I uphold the law of the ancestors. I make it possible for us to survive. We must always demand strength because anything less will lead to our demise. Any weakness must be lost to the ice else we will cease to the exist. It may seem harsh, but so are the lands we live in. The curse of my people hath been brought upon us by the devil and by ending him, we will thrive beyond the path the ancestors have laid out for us. By killing the devil, my people will be free. Free of our shame and free to return to the land he bars us from.”

He stays leaned upon the desk even in my silence. I can’t help but study his face. I believed him. I believed that he wanted better for his people, but I couldn’t help but sense a falsity in his tone. He was trying to sound scared. Trying to sound like he feared he wasn’t measuring up to the immense pressure he was under. He was trying to portray that his arrogance was a front to hide a fear he seeded deep down, but I knew better. His arrogance was who he was. He saw himself as a master, after all. He saw all the world as his birthright.

I slowly offered a thin smile. “You’re very good at manipulating people, aren’t you?”

His lip twitched a snarl when he realized I saw right through him. He leaned off the desk and stood like a commander scowling at a subordinate. “You’re clearly more than what you seem. Who are you?”

“I’m still waiting for that redeeming quality.” I ignored his question and tapped my notebook. “What’s one thing about you that will make you not seem like a monster?”

His thin eyebrow peaked like the snowcapped mountains. “You make being a monster sound like a bad thing. Don’t you know? Some people choose to be monsters, because that’s the only way to survive. I’m not afraid to do what it takes for my people. There is no line I will not cross.”

Twilight

Twilight dances in vibrant colors. Orange streaks line orbs of yellow with the faintest green within their depths. The clouds of night block out patches of light and layer shadows like a heavy blanket upon the brown of the earth.

Twilight’s face is shrouded by a dusky veil. Yet, the horizon line is divided with light and dark. Sunbeams bleed through, but fading light darkens your toes. Night stretches on with flashes of color like scars on its surface. It winds and winds like the gradual blending of stripes.

The energy of life shifts in the wane of twilight. While the world of day fades to sleep, night life hums with the quiet energy of stars. Predators of shadows and silence take to the hunt while fireflies dance like fairies in the wood. All the while, day walkers turn a sleepful eye.

Day and night. All heed to the dance of Twilight.

A Day in a Cartoon

Writing Prompt: If you could spend a day living the adventures of any cartoon character, which one would you choose?

If I could spend the day as a cartoon character, I’d pick Monkey D. Luffy or Roronoa Zoro from the Japanese manga, One Piece. They’re pirates sailing the sea and living a life of adventure. They’re free to live as good people, chase their dreams without giving up and most importantly: having a loyal crew at their side.

Luffy and Zoro have friends that accept them for who they are. Their disagreements and drama are short lived because what’s most important is that they’re together. They can count on each other to have their backs and help out. They achieve the impossible and they have fun doing it.

I’d be Luffy to have fun with his rubber powers, rocketing around the ship and buildings and having troubles bounce right off you. I’d pick Zoro because of his skill, loyalty, and duty of looking after the crew. Outsiders look at Zoro and are intimidated, but his friends know who he really is.

There’s over 1,000 episodes of One Piece. It’s full of battles and adventures of exploration and saving kingdoms, but I’d probably pick a day where the whole crew is on the ship just hanging out. Fishing or training or experimenting. It’d be a day where everyone only needed to worry about being who they are. Then, at the end of the day, everyone comes together for a meal. It’s a joyful time where everyone is together and you have to be extra vigilant to keep what you have on your plate.

Those are the cartoon characters I’d be for a day if I could. What about you?