Repeated Adventure

I went on an adventure as a younger girl. It felt like a dream. So many islands with different ages and cultures. Yet, for some reason, I was alone. I found myself with just a notebook and a library of puzzles. How did I get there? I’m afraid I didn’t know. But, to navigate the puzzles was the only option I had to find my way home. I somehow did it. Just me and my little notebook. I still think it was a dream, but it couldn’t have been. Not when I’m staring at the islands again.

How did I get here? The first time I didn’t know and I still don’t know now. The islands don’t look like they changed. The observatory. The tall pines. Even the spaceship on the far shore. It’s all the same like time doesn’t exist. I’m not the young girl I was back then. I don’t remember the answers to the puzzles. How do I get home? Why am I here again?

I start down the dirt trodden path. I remember a secret door down by the docks. I started there before, I’ll start there again. The water laps against the creaky wood. I never touched it last time. I fear to touch it this time. All the puzzles hinted no danger, but the air between the islands. It feels like something is out there, waiting for me to make a mistake.

It takes me a minute, but I figure out how to open the door at the docks. The chamber beneath has something to help me continue. That’s what I remember, at least. It isn’t what I was expecting, though. My notebook sits upon the pedestal. I thought I brought it with me last time. How is it here?

Flipping through the pages. Looking at my notes, images, and maps. I can breath a little easier. With this gift from my younger self, I can make it home again.

On an Old Notebook

I pulled out an old notebook
To see what I could read
And down on its pages
Were dreams written by me

How old was this notebook?
It doesn’t have a date
But the dreams, I do believe
Still ring true today

What’s it say if a notebook
Holds dreams that still ring true
Is it a purpose or a guidance?
Something you were meant to do?

Yet, years stretch the notebook
Some words are faded and gone
Is there a deeper meaning
When a dream takes so long?

Reality makes it’s way in
And tells you its through
There’s no point in trying further
Your dreams die inside of you

What does it mean
To still yearn for a dream?
It is selfishness?
Or a greater scheme?

And what happens when
The world gets in the way?
Kills your dreams
And takes them away?

Yet, still

On an old notebook
To remind you its there
The dream still whispers
To let you know it still cares.

Book Review: Sapphique by Catherine Fisher

Last week, I was able to finish my audiobook of Sapphique by Catherine Fisher. It’s the final book in her two-part Incarceron series. From my last book review of Incarceron, you know I wasn’t shy in saying how much I enjoyed the book and Sapphique is just as enjoyable. The old characters and new are likeable. There are twists you don’t see coming in the story and just enough doubt sprinkled throughout to make you question character intentions.

Catherine’s writing was very well done and you could easily paint a picture of the world in your mind. It definitely made me look forward to my long drives to and from work. That’s when I listened to the story the most. There were just a couple minor things that I had issues with in the story. The point of view shifted between the characters a lot during one scene, so keeping track of it got confusing at times. There was also a character in Sapphique who I wasn’t entirely sure what he brought to the story other than the arrival of a certain object, but his personality definitely made some scenes more interesting.

If you read my book review of Incarceron, I mention a character that I was rooting for as a redemption story. Things didn’t turn out with that character like I expected or hoped for, but I’m satisfied with his ending. It would be interesting to read a story following the events of Sapphique and how the characters continued on after its ending, but sometimes, that should be left up to the reader’s imagination.

I definitely recommend the Incarceron series to any lover of fantasy or sci-fi. It’s a great read.

Thank you, Catherine Fisher.

Night of Halloween

Come all you ghouls
Come all you ghosts
For come night
Is Halloween
The gleam of the twilight
To a foggy, cool dusk
Haunts lie in the night
Keep low. Be hushed.
Over the shine of the moon
Witches fly on their brooms
Bats take leathery flight
The vampires looking for a bite.
Hear the wind howl
The werewolves share the same tune
They’ll be on the prowl.
They might be looking for you.
Then just down the road.
The graveyard’s full of dancing bones.
Skeletons cackle and clack.
With zombies all with hunched backs.
On through midnight.
To the break of the dawn.
The haunts and the spirits
Come out on the lawns.
But there’s no need to be afraid
It’s just the spooks
Coming out to play
To bewitch the night in a magical scene
On this and every Halloween.

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?
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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.