I honestly didn't even proofread this.

“I promised a friend a fluffier piece today, so I will take a stab at it. At one time, I only wrote funny stories. Can’t be that hard to go back, right?”

I typed that 15 minutes before my air conditioner shut down. Just wow. Not normally a major incident for someone, but it is a big deal to me. I have a grumpy and fluffy ball of fur known as a chinchilla. (Her name is MochiMallow) If you don’t know what a chinchilla is, go Google it. Google search the babies. They have so much forehead it’s insane.

Now that you’re probably wondering why I told you image search the baby chinchillas, I will get back on topic. A chinchilla can’t get over 70-75 degrees or they will have heat stroke. This is due to their lack of sweat glands. They have no internal way of regulating body temperature, like sweating, or panting. Nor can you get them wet really, because they have a tendency to mildew. That comes from having a ton of fur. The fur is so dense that it doesn’t dry quickly.

So when I realized the air conditioning had gone down, I went into action. After tossing Mochi into a cat carrier, I threw some kind of combination of work clothes into a bag with my tablet and phone and booked it to my sister’s house. I’m still there. Jaya is helping me keep my cats fed and watered, so Punk and Morgana are well taken care of.

My AC will by fixed by morning hopefully and I can get back into my writing schedule. I feel bad already using up my two days off this week by accident.

But in other news, I am starting a side projection with my Nakama. Should be fun. That will post twice a week, when we get the details hammered out.

So in an effort to post something funny-ish, I shall post bios on my three pets.

~~~~~

Morgana

Nicknames: Fattyface, Sugarbutt, Bebegirl, MorNaNa, NanaFace

Age: 7 years

Weight: Fatty fatty bombalatty

Color: Black

Likes: Tuna, Roast Beef, Milk, Pettings, Eggs, Chicken, Scratchies, Catnip, Cottage Cheese, Yogurt, Visitors, People, Singing, Bacon, PTX, Cheese, Oreo filling….

Dislikes: Any other cat ever, baths, the vacum cleaner, getting splashed, being under blankets.

Punkin Muffin

Nicknames: Punk, Punkie Junkie, Junkie Butt, Punkerell Q Fatbutt, Bobo, Bubby

Age: 5 years

Weight: Somewhere over the Rainbow, we don’t know

Color: Orange and orange and orange

Likes: Chin scratchies, Back scratchies, his Shiny Red Love, hiding under hanging blankets or skirts

Dislikes: The outside, Door bells, Knocking on the door, Visitors, Cheese, his cat carrier

MochiMallow

Nicknames: Mochi, MochiDoch, Miss Bit, Fussyface, Furmagheddon

Age: Somewhere between 3 and 4

Weight: One cloud fart

Color: Beige with Crimson eyes (Not Albino)

Likes: Raisins, Cranberries, Stealing socks and pens, Rosemary sticks, Dust baths, Punk

Dislikes: Morgana, Loud noises, warm weather, any predator, Me most of the time

Ok, I’m so done for tonight. Laters all ya’ll crazyfaces.

What even am I doing?

So this is what came out of my brain today. Hour and a half of writing without editing. So tired, not even gonna edit it now but I blew that word count out of the water tonight. 

This is considerably darker than most of my other stuff, just so you know. 

~~~~~

Incense gave a slight tang to the air as waitresses swept by. Dodging patrons and each other, women placed cups of bright liquids at a table, before flitting to the next in line. Perfumed smoke drifted around the heads of the diners, coming from pots on the walls. Soft chatter rose in small waves from each table, overlapping and mixing until all that could be heard from the stage was a muted buzz. Mona pulled the center curtain back an inch more, peering into the dim dining space.

“It’s funny. All these humans paying a premium to come here, drink watered down Nectar, and hobnob with ‘supernatural beings’.” Mona dropped the curtain and adjusted her pallu, the long swathe of fabric hanging over a shoulder on her saree. “Don’t you think it’s funny, Benny?”

The stage manager glanced up from his lists. “Very funny. Are you ready to go? Your set is starting in a minute.”

“Yes, I’m ready.” She rolled her eyes and moved to her curtain mark. Squaring her shoulders, she flipped the curtain aside, gliding on stage.

Mona heard a gasp pass around the room as the patrons noticed her, one by one. She twisted around a bit, to bring the full length of her lower half into view. She could feel their stares on her, from the bottom of her saree, along all ten feet of her snake-like body, scales that gleamed in the dim light. The room fell silent as she hissed into the microphone softly. “Sssso nice to see everyone tonight. My name is Simone and I’ll be your dinner entertainment tonight.”

The band began to play an old Bollywood classic as she began to dance, her long body curling over itself in soft shapes. After a few minutes, Mona began to sing as her eyes scanned the crowd. The more seasoned diners soon went back to their meals and conversations, while the new comers stared in awe. Ever so often, Mona would wink at one of the humans staring at her and make them blush, man or woman. She also kept an eye on the wait staff, moving in and out of the tables. The lead waitress would point at this person or that, leaving a small red or pink flower on their table.

Mona’s green eyes narrowed as she spotted a man place his hand a waitress’ rear. The waitress, a small faerie named Webbie grabbed his hand and pushed it away. From the stage, Mona could see his face get red but she couldn’t hear what was happening. Webbie moved away from the table, clutching her tray tight, her wings shaking. Mona glanced at the side of the stage to see Benny angrily shaking his head. Swallowing her fury, Mona smiled bright and continued to sing.

At the end of her set, Mona slithered off the stage onto the dining floor, to make her rounds of the diners. She gave the tables with the red flowers a wide berth, while stopping and chatting at the tables with a pink blossom.

Out of the corner of her eye, Mona saw the man who accosted the waitress stand up and head to the back of the room. She tracked him until he passed from her line of sight. She took a less direct path, weaving between tables and patrons, taking a quick moment here and there to place her hand on a shoulder or murmur a word of thanks. When she reached the back, Mona found the delivery door ajar, propped open with a wet floor sign. Inching the door open, she peered out onto the loading dock.

The human had Webbie pinned face first against the wall, with one of her arms twisted up between her shouler blades. From the door, Mona could hear the small fae’s muffled sobs.

“Please, I’m so sorry.” Webbie whispered. “I didn’t mean it, please.”

“Oh, you meant it alright. You stupid little brat, how dare you try to call me out in front of my wife.” The human growled. His hand wrenched Webbie’s arm higher as he pushed her face further into the wall. “I should take this out of you hide, you-”

With a low hiss, Mona launched herself from the door. She hit the human with a full five yards of unchecked fury and slammed him into the concrete wall beside Webbie. As the fae stumbled away, Mona held the man, wrapping his legs and body tight in her coils. She gripped his face with her nails, turning him to face her.

“Whose hide are we going to be dealing in?” Her voice a soft threat, Mona dragged a long, sharp nail down the side of his face. After a moment of silence, she hissed louder, shoving his face into the cold concrete of the wall. “Well?”

The man started to blubber. “Puh-Please. Oh god, are you gonna kill me? Don’t do that, I can pay you. Please, I’m sorry!” She could feel his tears dropping onto her scales as she coiled tighter.

“That sounds very familiar. But you didn’t accept it when Webbie apologized, did you?” Her voice took on a crooning note. “Why don’t we try this conversation again?”

She turned him around, so he could see Webbie huddled by the delivery doors, holding her wrist to her chest. “Apologize to her.” Mona leaned in close, so her breath brushed his ear. “Make it convincing.”

“Please, I’m sorry, please make her let me go, I’ll never do it again. I’ll never drink again, I’ll be nice to ladies, I’ll even call my mom every week. Just please, don’t let her kill me, please.” He sobbed, staring at Webbie.

Mona watched the small fae nod, tears streaming down her face. “Webbie is so much nicer than me. I’m more inclined to deal out what you deserve.” She chuckled. “But that may just be the hunger talking.”

The man started to sob out an apology again before the naga cut him off. “But what say we make a deal. First, you leave Webbie a considerable tip, say $1000? Then you never come back here, ever again.” Her fangs brushed his throat a bit. “How’s that sound?”

He stammered something that resembled consent. Mona smiled. “If we see you here again, consider this verbal contract null and void. Now go back inside, settle your check and have a peaceful night.”

She uncoiled her body from him and shoved him to the door. With one eye on him stumbling inside, she glided up to Webbie and wrapped an arm around her. “Hey hun. Lets get you fixed up.”

With a sniffle, Webbie followed Mona through the employee’s door across the loading dock. “Um, Mona, would you have really… Really eaten him?”

Mona glanced back at her with a fang flashing smile. “Of course not. I abstain from meat on Thursdays.”

~~~~~~

I don't even know. I hope I didn't offend my Indian friend with this story. I love her to death.

I just started out with an idea of a nightclub singer in a club that caters to humans and non humans alike. Then it came out as this. I don't even.

I didn't make up anything strange or odd in this one, I promise.

I have a tendency to devour books. I usually peruse a lot of free classics, as well as some rather questionable free or severely discounted gems on the Amazon bookstore. I got to read the entire 14 book series of Frank L. Baum’s Oz novels this way, as well as trying to slog my way through the translated Les Mis. Not an easy task.

As an avid reader, I know I’m about to hang myself when I say before the movie came out, I had never read Ender’s Game, by Orson Scott Card. I loved the movie and Ender himself, the isolated genius who knew he had to sacrifice himself to save humanity. I realized I had to read the book as well, in order to do the story justice. You know the ancient nerd adage… “The book was way better than the movie.”

I devoured Ender’s Game in a matter of hours. Skimmed back to the start of the Ebook and read it again slower, over the course of days. This was a couple of years ago, so I felt the need to reread it just a month or so ago. I redownloaded my Kindle book and loved it again, as expected. But in the back, just past the final page, there was a sample of another book that had been added since my last download. Seemed interesting, so I bought it.

I have spent every break, every spare moment in a long line, or just any little inbetween second I can spare reading The Lost Gate. Obviously by Card as well, it is about a boy named Danny who lives with his very very extended family of mages somewhere in the rural Eastern US. This story is about Danny trying to find himself in a world he feels has no connection to him, as well as great wars between the great mage families, demigods and drowthers (aka muggles for the HP inclined out there).

Check it out! That exclamation means go do it now!

I’m so sleepy, I’ll just leave it at that and cheat a little, counting this as my 6/03 entry. Clearly it is the fourth but oh well.

How even do titles? Magpie fairy I guess?

I wanted to cop out on the writing today. I really did. Long hectic day at work, traffic and heinous heat throughout the day. I feel like I can barely put together sentences, let alone meet a simple word count goal for today. The problem is, I promised another person I wouldn’t skip a day. Plus, what kind of person would I be if I failed on day two?

Don’t answer that.

I’m just going to put up a quick blurb about a character that I wrote about a little while back, the magpie fairy. I still don’t have a name for her, honestly.

…..

Light filtered in through the attic window, hitting the spinning mobile of colored glass and stones. Rainbows flew across the bare wood floors, bouncing and skipping across the magpie’s closed eyes. With a groan, she pushed her cloak of feathers off and rolled off the hanging nest. Her body twisted to bring knobby knees under her before hitting the floor with a muffled thump.

Her fingers raked black hair from her face, pushing and pulling it into a knot at the base of her neck. Fishing a ribbon from the tangled pile that was her nest, she tied it tight. With a kick or two, she scavenged some dark clothes to wrap around herself and tossed her feather cloak over top.

She twined her fingers through the strings of the mobile, twisting the stones and glass this way and that, humming under her breath. The lights flickered over her face and hands, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. In the center of the mobile hung a fat chunk of crystal, gleaming and shining bright. As she hummed, the light from the smaller stones dimmed and the crystal grew brighter. It blinked in the light, sending spots of light around the small space. The motes of light slowed and took shape on the rough wooden boards. Four long legs and two arms appeared in the spots of light, then a long mane of hair and tail. In the vision’s hand lay a sword.

The magpie perched back on her heels. She looked back up at the still turning knob of crystal then back at the picture picked out in tiny glittering lights. Her own voice was hollow and alien to her ears as she mused aloud. “I’m not to keen on picking up a job that has me crossing paths with a centaur, not to mention her being armed an’ all.”

The crystal kept an unbreakable silence, twisting in the still attic air.

“Fine, I’ll check it out. But don’t be blaming me if I don’t come back for a while.” She strode to the small window and pushed it open. The wind ruffled her feathers as she gathered the cloak around her and jumped in the air.

………

What is with me and cliffhangers? I don’t even know. I promise I’ll do something worthwhile eventually.

In which I talk about silly things.

I’ve called myself a writer since I was 10. Long before that though, I liked to make up stories and bring my sister into them. I would supply the world, setting, and general direction, while she would fill in the more human roles. She would also create characters to act as a foil for my own. Back then, they were usually princesses on journeys of great import, bound for heroic sacrifice and epic adventure. They were all hopelessly naive. My sister would usually create characters that were a bit more street smart and wary, ready to believe you but trust still had to be earned.

We had fun. Despite looking crazy and being “those twins”, we loved it. It was our thing, our personal story book that no one else could read, because it was only in our hearts. Not that we always got along while doing this. More than once or twice, we got into screaming matches because we both wanted to lead the story that day, or some other reason, very valid at the time.  We fought over so many things in our lives, it was only natural to fight over this as well. So inevitably when one of us called it off ‘forever’, it would only be a few days. Then she would sneak into my room and away we’d go, to another planet or dimension.

I still cherish every one of those characters, even the ones I’ve forgotten the names of. They are a reminder of a time when I learned just how limitless my imagination could be. If it weren’t for my sister constantly playing along, I doubt I would be the person I am today. Sounds cliche, but every word of that statement is completely true.

Amber, I hope you can forgive me for rambling on this. I spilled the beans. I simply wanted to start my project where I started, whispering silly stories to my twin sister.

Its not nessicarily a story post but I felt the need to post something. My laptop crapped out on me, so I upgraded to a Samsung Tab A with a keyboard case. Yay for mobility on my writing! Hopefully this will help, in addition to my writing play date with Remi.

Wish me luck, my nonexistant followers!

Flash Fiction.....

So I got off work early and instead of being a sociable human being, I hermit-ed myself into my apartment and kicked a story out of my head.

This little thing has been rattling around in my head for a few days now.

~~~~

“Don’t you think it’d be nice for her to wake up and fall asleep in the same place for once?” Dad slapped his hand down on the table with a crack. His shoulders were bunched up and tight as he stared at Mom.

I couldn’t see her but I could picture Mom’s face scrunch up. She had her back to me as she hissed at him. “You’ve got to keep it down.” She balled up the t-shirt she was scrubbing in the sink and I heard her breathe in, long and slow. “I can’t have this argument again. It’ll just end with you and me mad at each other for weeks and Cee wondering what she did this time.”

From my hiding spot in the bedroom, I saw Dad throw his hands up. He said something I didn’t understand and pointed at Mom. “Far be it from me to oppose the will of the great Enora! We’ll just keep running and running and running. We’ll just run until we fall down and then who will protect Cee then? Who?” His voice rose and rose until he was shouting the last words.

Mom stood as tall as she could, her head almost bumping the 7 foot ceiling of our pop up camper. I saw her face as she turned to look at Dad, her gold eyes glowing in the dim lamp light. “Do you think you can go head to head with the Council? I know I can’t. I can talk trees into walking across the road and sing the rivers to a frozen crawl but I cannot go against the Will.” Her voice was low, almost a whisper. “If the Council were to say Cee is to be put to death and I, her executioner, I would have no choice but to. Its is not more and no less than that.”

Dad tried to cut in, his whisper a sharp hiss but Mom cut him off with a gesture. She continued. “Cee is my treasure, Berryt. I will not cast my precious pearl before those swine. I knew the minute I held her, I would never let her go.”

“That’s what caused this in the first place! You had to have her!” Dad smacked the counter again. “Eight years ago, you couldn’t resist the call and we’ll always pay the price. She’ll pay the most of all. She won’t belong here any more than she did in Avalon. She’s eaten of the fruits of Avalon and will never feel at home here.”

Mom backed up a bit so I couldn’t see her face any more. Her voice became softer, trembling as she spoke. “They wouldn’t have loved her like we do. They had too many children as it was. The woman even said she didn’t want her around. You heard her, Berryt.”

Dad sighed and turned away from Mom, walking towards the bedroom. I scooted backwards on my butt, pushing myself further into the shadows around the big bed. He stopped at the curtains which marked bedroom entrance. I could just see his hand as it squeezed the door frame. “Yes, Enora, I heard her. And I let you convince me it’d be better for her if we took her.” He sighed again, a low breath of air that seemed so sad. “I’m as guilty as you are. I know.”

A sniffle was the only reply that came from Mom. Dad turned his back to my hiding spot. “She won’t be safe no matter what we do. She’s marked. Here and back home.”

I inched forward again, straining to hear Mom from the kitchenette. The lights flickered as she whispered in the same strange language Dad had used. I peeked around the corner and saw her sitting at table, head on her folded arms. Her long hair draped over the end of the table, black and glittering in the low light. Her voice was muffled and hoarse when she replied. “I used to enjoy seeing all of this world. The sunsets are so much more amazing here than Avalon. Each time we stopped, the sunset was just a little different than the last one.”

“Enora, the sunsets aren’t-” Dad stopped and shook his head. I watched him walk over to Mom and put his hand on her head. She looked up at him. “The only way to truly protect her is to give her all the knowledge we have.”

I stood up, still partially hidden by the curtain between the bedroom and dining room. I pulled the edge of the curtain back far enough to see fully into the room. Mom was holding her necklace in her hands, turning the apple charm over and over in her fingers. After a few minutes of silence, Dad took her hand and stopped the movement.

I could see tears on Mom’s pale cheeks. “What if she hates me? She might not ever forgive me.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Dad kissed her on the forehead. He pulled her close and hugged her. “But we have more important things to talk about.”

Mom stood up straight and pushed her hair behind her ears. Her eyes were still red and puffy. “Its time we told her, then.”

“In the morning.” Dad squeezed her hand.

I took a step forward and pulled open the curtains. Mom looked at me with wide eyes as Dad put on his stern face.

“Cee, what are you doing up? It is way past your bedtime.” Dad loomed over me, more than 6 and a half feet tall. I stared right up into his eyes.

“You said its time to tell me.” I looked from him to my mom. They both stared back, silent. “So tell me.”

Mom came to me, smoothing her hands over my bed head hair. “Cee, we can talk in the morning. Lets all go back to bed.” Her voice was too calm, too happy to be real. She smiled at me and I didn’t believe it.

“No. I want to talk now. I want to hear you say it.” Again I looked at them, right in my parents’ eyes. “Go ahead. Say it.”

Dad cleared his throat. “Cee, that’s no way to speak to me or your mother. I think you need to go to bed.”

I stamped my foot onto the thin carpet and felt the boards underneath. “I won’t. If you won’t say it, I will.”

“Cee, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mom’s voice got higher as she gripped my shoulders, kneeling to my level to look right into my eyes. “There’s so much to this you don’t understand, honey.”

“You took me from a human family when I was a baby.” I gazed back into her eyes, my brown reflecting in her gold. “I’m a changling.”

~~~~~

Also gonna try experimenting with Google Drive as a mobile cloud so I can work on stories and poems on the go. You know, instead of constantly playing Fruit Ninja or Sailor Drops. Adulting, productive, all that jazz. 

Alright lovelies, gonna go sleep now. laters!