Here is an excerpt from The Fairen...
An arrow shot through the air, just missing Jade’s head. She quickly turned her head to the direction of where the arrow came, her eyes darting at the shadowy movements. She saw nothing else but birds flying through the trees. She picked up the arrow off the ground and looked at the painted pad where the arrowhead should have been. Smiling, she dashed behind a huge tree trunk to her left.
Hidden behind large colorful leaves of greens, reds, and blues, she stopped to catch her breath. Sweat trickled down from her forehead and she raised a hand to brush it off. She licked her ruby lips, breathing heavily from all the running. It was quite humid for a spring afternoon. Only in the month of Apparil, the temperature has increased tremendously, which hasn’t happened for over fifty years.
Nurtas Woods has been a great place to practice, with hardly any interferences or unwanted dangers. The Woods have offered a sort of campsite for the girls, which they used for nearly a decade.
Suddenly, a flash of blue skittered in front of her. Her eye lids drooping, Jade turned to see a pale face smiling down at her.
“Not fair,” Jade complained, struggling to stay awake. “Aurora, you know you shouldn’t transform! And use magic on me, you know…I…don’t…use...magic…”
Aurora giggled merrily, “All’s fair in war, friend.” She looked at Jade with light blue eyes, trying not to laugh. She put a sleeping spell on her and now Jade was halfway lying on the ground, trying to get up.
Want more? I know I do! So this writer's block needs to go away so I can continue! I'm working on it...
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Friday, January 5, 2007
Siblings
Wynn laid on her back in the flowery meadow letting her face soak up the warm rays of the sun. She heard laughing and cracked open an eye just enough to see her two younger sisters playing.
She smiled and sighed, enjoying this beautiful day outside of the castle. She and her siblings have been cooped up all week, studying and practicing their instruments, their queen mother loved to hear them play. Being the eldest at seventeen years, Wynn chose to play the violin. Josephine, fifteen years, loves the piano, and the youngest, Margarite at twelve, was beginning to learn how to play the flute.
Their brother, the curious fourteen-year-old Edmund, had wondered off into the woods. He had little patience learning the lute, and would often try anything to get out of playing it. It must be hard not having any brothers to play with. When he was younger, they couldn’t get rid of him, even if they tried. He’d follow Wynn and Josephine, helping them pick flowers. Now, he much preferred being a lone adventurer, playing with insects or small woodland animals, or playing in his “fort”.
There came a rustling in the shrubs to her right. Wynn lazily propped up on an elbow and shielded her eyes with her other hand. She saw nothing.
She glanced over at her sisters, who were now sitting cross-legged, a pile of flowers between them, each making their own crown. Margarite looked over to Wynn, giggling, and then went back to her flowers.
Wynn sighed once more, lying back down. She daydreamed of the handsome prince in the recent novel she was reading, wondering if her prince would ever come. Next year she will be able to attend her father’s court and social events. Just thinking about it brought a smile to her pink lips.
The air grew suddenly quiet and Wynn was sure she heard movement coming from somewhere behind her. She sat up and looked around. She started to slowly get up, but a figure lunged out of the bushes, a sword above their head.
“I’ve got you now!” came a familiar voice.
The moment of panic gone, Wynn looked at her brother angrily. “Ed!”
Edmund smirked, his wooden sword still pointing at Wynn. “Surrender now, or feel the wrath of King Edmund!”
Margarite laughed and Josephine muttered “As if”.
Edmund frowned, lowering his sword. “Bunch of spoil sports.”
“Why don’t you come join us and make yourself a crown, Ed?” Margarite held up her work in progress.
“That’s for girls!”
“You didn’t use to mind,” Josephine glanced up from her work momentarily.
“Well, I’m a man now!”
The girls laughed and Edmund glared at them. He ran past Wynn, almost knocking her over, and grabbed Margarite’s crown.
“Hey! Give it back!”
“No,” Edmund grinned nastily, undoing the last piece his sister had finished.
“Ed!” Wynn cried. “Give Margarite her crown back, now!”
Edmund loosened it up some more, letting one drop to the ground.
“Ed!” Margarite shrieked. “Put it down or I’ll scream!”
He glanced over his shoulder towards his home. The great castle seemed to be staring back at him and he shuddered. His parent’s were probably watching.
He threw the crown onto Margarite’s lap. “This is boring anyways,” and with that he dashed back into the woods.
“Is it alright?” Wynn placed a hand gently on her sister’s shoulder.
Margarite nodded, picking up another white daisy and continued.
She smiled and sighed, enjoying this beautiful day outside of the castle. She and her siblings have been cooped up all week, studying and practicing their instruments, their queen mother loved to hear them play. Being the eldest at seventeen years, Wynn chose to play the violin. Josephine, fifteen years, loves the piano, and the youngest, Margarite at twelve, was beginning to learn how to play the flute.
Their brother, the curious fourteen-year-old Edmund, had wondered off into the woods. He had little patience learning the lute, and would often try anything to get out of playing it. It must be hard not having any brothers to play with. When he was younger, they couldn’t get rid of him, even if they tried. He’d follow Wynn and Josephine, helping them pick flowers. Now, he much preferred being a lone adventurer, playing with insects or small woodland animals, or playing in his “fort”.
There came a rustling in the shrubs to her right. Wynn lazily propped up on an elbow and shielded her eyes with her other hand. She saw nothing.
She glanced over at her sisters, who were now sitting cross-legged, a pile of flowers between them, each making their own crown. Margarite looked over to Wynn, giggling, and then went back to her flowers.
Wynn sighed once more, lying back down. She daydreamed of the handsome prince in the recent novel she was reading, wondering if her prince would ever come. Next year she will be able to attend her father’s court and social events. Just thinking about it brought a smile to her pink lips.
The air grew suddenly quiet and Wynn was sure she heard movement coming from somewhere behind her. She sat up and looked around. She started to slowly get up, but a figure lunged out of the bushes, a sword above their head.
“I’ve got you now!” came a familiar voice.
The moment of panic gone, Wynn looked at her brother angrily. “Ed!”
Edmund smirked, his wooden sword still pointing at Wynn. “Surrender now, or feel the wrath of King Edmund!”
Margarite laughed and Josephine muttered “As if”.
Edmund frowned, lowering his sword. “Bunch of spoil sports.”
“Why don’t you come join us and make yourself a crown, Ed?” Margarite held up her work in progress.
“That’s for girls!”
“You didn’t use to mind,” Josephine glanced up from her work momentarily.
“Well, I’m a man now!”
The girls laughed and Edmund glared at them. He ran past Wynn, almost knocking her over, and grabbed Margarite’s crown.
“Hey! Give it back!”
“No,” Edmund grinned nastily, undoing the last piece his sister had finished.
“Ed!” Wynn cried. “Give Margarite her crown back, now!”
Edmund loosened it up some more, letting one drop to the ground.
“Ed!” Margarite shrieked. “Put it down or I’ll scream!”
He glanced over his shoulder towards his home. The great castle seemed to be staring back at him and he shuddered. His parent’s were probably watching.
He threw the crown onto Margarite’s lap. “This is boring anyways,” and with that he dashed back into the woods.
“Is it alright?” Wynn placed a hand gently on her sister’s shoulder.
Margarite nodded, picking up another white daisy and continued.
Wednesday, January 3, 2007
The Dragon and The Brain
“Stan, can I ask you something?”
Stan bookmarked the page he was reading and took off his spectacles, looking up. “Sure, what is it?”
“Why are people so hostile towards me?”
“Well,” Stan paused. “You’re a dragon.”
“Yes, I know, but I’m not evil or anything.”
“I know this. But Walt, you did set many soldiers ablaze in an inferno of pain back in the day.”
A low growl came from somewhere in Walt’s long throat. “You know that all they were going to do was come here, in my castle, take my friend away, and slay me.”
Stan smiled. “Now Walt, I’m not saying that you were wrong. They just didn’t get to know the real you, that’s all.”
“She was the only one that would talk to me…well, besides you. I never really had any friends before you two.”
“Matilda and I are ever so grateful for your friendship, Walt.” Stan placed a hand on Walt’s scaly tail. “If it weren’t for you, Tilda and I would never have met.”
The room shook, and gold objects started to fall as Walt opened his mouth to roar with laughter. “What a day that was!”
Wide-eyed, Stan gripped his jewel-encrusted chair. “Yes…yes it was.”
“Stan, when you came in, demanding I release Matilda, I nearly died of laughter.”
“Yes, thank you,” Stan muttered. “You know I didn’t really want to slay you, but I was under so much pressure from my father. When no one could ‘free’ her from here, he willingly signed me up!”
Walt peered out from one of the high windows. “It was nice to finally meet someone who could join me in a decent discussion of Gorkin’s work.”
“Did you know that he’ll be releasing a new novel out soon?”
Walt turned around so fast, that the book in Stan’s lap fell to the floor. “When?”
“I…I’m not sure. Sometime this year, I think. I have a friend who will be meeting me in a small village to trade.”
“You have to read it to me!”
“But of course,” Stan smiled.
They both turned their heads to the opening door and stared at the figure entering.
“Tilda, my darling!” Stan jumped up and came to her, kissing her cheek, then his baby son’s forehead. “And how is little Joseph doing today?”
Joseph tried grasping his father’s spectacles and they all laughed.
“Curious, as always. Walt, how are you?” Matilda smiled warmly at the dragon.
“Well, thank you, my dear. I think I’ll go fly a little this afternoon, it’s so nice out.”
Matilda’s eyes clouded with worry. “Walt, I don’t know if that’s safe…”
“I’ll be fine. I can’t stay in this treasure room forever. I won’t go far.” Walt turned his magnificent green head to Stan, his amber reptilian eyes glistening from the reflection of the gold. “If you don’t mind…?”
“Oh, sure thing.” Stan went to the lever to lower the drawbridge.
“You all have a nice afternoon,” Walt said as he slowly maneuvered out.
Matilda waved, then turned to Stan. “Dear, what will you be doing today?”
Stan bent over to pick up the book he was reading and placed it on the chair. “What do you say us three head out? Maybe stroll down to the village?”
“I’ll get Joseph’s blanket!” Matilda smiled and dashed off.
Stan nodded, perching his spectacles back onto his nose. It is a lovely day.
Stan bookmarked the page he was reading and took off his spectacles, looking up. “Sure, what is it?”
“Why are people so hostile towards me?”
“Well,” Stan paused. “You’re a dragon.”
“Yes, I know, but I’m not evil or anything.”
“I know this. But Walt, you did set many soldiers ablaze in an inferno of pain back in the day.”
A low growl came from somewhere in Walt’s long throat. “You know that all they were going to do was come here, in my castle, take my friend away, and slay me.”
Stan smiled. “Now Walt, I’m not saying that you were wrong. They just didn’t get to know the real you, that’s all.”
“She was the only one that would talk to me…well, besides you. I never really had any friends before you two.”
“Matilda and I are ever so grateful for your friendship, Walt.” Stan placed a hand on Walt’s scaly tail. “If it weren’t for you, Tilda and I would never have met.”
The room shook, and gold objects started to fall as Walt opened his mouth to roar with laughter. “What a day that was!”
Wide-eyed, Stan gripped his jewel-encrusted chair. “Yes…yes it was.”
“Stan, when you came in, demanding I release Matilda, I nearly died of laughter.”
“Yes, thank you,” Stan muttered. “You know I didn’t really want to slay you, but I was under so much pressure from my father. When no one could ‘free’ her from here, he willingly signed me up!”
Walt peered out from one of the high windows. “It was nice to finally meet someone who could join me in a decent discussion of Gorkin’s work.”
“Did you know that he’ll be releasing a new novel out soon?”
Walt turned around so fast, that the book in Stan’s lap fell to the floor. “When?”
“I…I’m not sure. Sometime this year, I think. I have a friend who will be meeting me in a small village to trade.”
“You have to read it to me!”
“But of course,” Stan smiled.
They both turned their heads to the opening door and stared at the figure entering.
“Tilda, my darling!” Stan jumped up and came to her, kissing her cheek, then his baby son’s forehead. “And how is little Joseph doing today?”
Joseph tried grasping his father’s spectacles and they all laughed.
“Curious, as always. Walt, how are you?” Matilda smiled warmly at the dragon.
“Well, thank you, my dear. I think I’ll go fly a little this afternoon, it’s so nice out.”
Matilda’s eyes clouded with worry. “Walt, I don’t know if that’s safe…”
“I’ll be fine. I can’t stay in this treasure room forever. I won’t go far.” Walt turned his magnificent green head to Stan, his amber reptilian eyes glistening from the reflection of the gold. “If you don’t mind…?”
“Oh, sure thing.” Stan went to the lever to lower the drawbridge.
“You all have a nice afternoon,” Walt said as he slowly maneuvered out.
Matilda waved, then turned to Stan. “Dear, what will you be doing today?”
Stan bent over to pick up the book he was reading and placed it on the chair. “What do you say us three head out? Maybe stroll down to the village?”
“I’ll get Joseph’s blanket!” Matilda smiled and dashed off.
Stan nodded, perching his spectacles back onto his nose. It is a lovely day.
George Cooper
George Cooper stood behind the monitors, watching the contestants on Show Me the Money! bicker about who took who’s toothbrush again. He sighed and rubbed his face, feeling very tired. Being the producer of this new reality show meant little time for sleep, something that made him quite relieved.
“Mr. Cooper?”
George looked at his assistant. “What is it, Billy?”
“Mr. Copper, I asked if you thought we should take the hairbrush those two were talking about, make another fight, like the toothbrush?”
“Oh, fine, do it while they are asleep.”
This wasn’t the first time things would “walk up and disappear” while all was quiet and asleep.
George recalled that first night his toy truck came to life. He was six, his birthday had just past and his Uncle Eugene brought him this truck. He liked to go to antique stores and garage sales to see if he could find any new treasures. One day, he saw it, a beautiful red truck with a white strip running across it. It had big wheels and the headlights flashed when you pressed a button at the top.
Little George had his eyes closed, all tucked in, when he felt something rolling on his chest. Groggily, he opened his eyes and saw the truck there, flashing its headlights.
This happened the rest of the week. George asked his parents to get rid of it, but they thought he was being ridiculous. At night, he’d sit huddled in bed, watching the truck go in circles on top of his comforter. During the day, while no one was looking, the truck would roll to a very inconvenient spot, making his father trip, or his mother kick it, making them mad at poor little George. He had to find a way to get rid of it himself.
One day, his family wanted to take him to Pizza Pizzazz, so he brought the truck along. He pretended to enjoy playing with it, and his mother said, “See? Aren’t you glad you kept it?”
George nodded and smiled. They arrived and he waited for the opportunity when his parents weren’t looking to loose the truck. He succeeded.
That night, feeling a huge amount of relief, he sighed and snuggled his favorite blanket. The house was all-quiet, except for the noise of the crickets outside. Finally, he could sleep.
The blanket moved slightly under his arm. He sighed and rolled over, pinning the blanket between himself and the mattress. The blanket struggled under his weight, waking George. He gasped as his blanket wiggled some more. George opened his mouth as if in a silent scream.
“Shh, now,” said a voice to George’s side. It sounded so close!
Panicking, George fumbled for the lamp switch, knocking over his alarm clock.
“Ouch!” came a sharp cry.
George clicked on his lamp and saw his clock try to get back up. He stared as the lamp bent over to help the clock. George screamed.
His parents would hurry to his room, only to find everything still and were it should be. They found George under his comforter, only his wide, terrified eyes staring at them.
This would happen everyday for the rest of his life.
“Mr. Cooper?”
George looked at his assistant. “What is it, Billy?”
“Mr. Copper, I asked if you thought we should take the hairbrush those two were talking about, make another fight, like the toothbrush?”
“Oh, fine, do it while they are asleep.”
This wasn’t the first time things would “walk up and disappear” while all was quiet and asleep.
George recalled that first night his toy truck came to life. He was six, his birthday had just past and his Uncle Eugene brought him this truck. He liked to go to antique stores and garage sales to see if he could find any new treasures. One day, he saw it, a beautiful red truck with a white strip running across it. It had big wheels and the headlights flashed when you pressed a button at the top.
Little George had his eyes closed, all tucked in, when he felt something rolling on his chest. Groggily, he opened his eyes and saw the truck there, flashing its headlights.
This happened the rest of the week. George asked his parents to get rid of it, but they thought he was being ridiculous. At night, he’d sit huddled in bed, watching the truck go in circles on top of his comforter. During the day, while no one was looking, the truck would roll to a very inconvenient spot, making his father trip, or his mother kick it, making them mad at poor little George. He had to find a way to get rid of it himself.
One day, his family wanted to take him to Pizza Pizzazz, so he brought the truck along. He pretended to enjoy playing with it, and his mother said, “See? Aren’t you glad you kept it?”
George nodded and smiled. They arrived and he waited for the opportunity when his parents weren’t looking to loose the truck. He succeeded.
That night, feeling a huge amount of relief, he sighed and snuggled his favorite blanket. The house was all-quiet, except for the noise of the crickets outside. Finally, he could sleep.
The blanket moved slightly under his arm. He sighed and rolled over, pinning the blanket between himself and the mattress. The blanket struggled under his weight, waking George. He gasped as his blanket wiggled some more. George opened his mouth as if in a silent scream.
“Shh, now,” said a voice to George’s side. It sounded so close!
Panicking, George fumbled for the lamp switch, knocking over his alarm clock.
“Ouch!” came a sharp cry.
George clicked on his lamp and saw his clock try to get back up. He stared as the lamp bent over to help the clock. George screamed.
His parents would hurry to his room, only to find everything still and were it should be. They found George under his comforter, only his wide, terrified eyes staring at them.
This would happen everyday for the rest of his life.
Queen
Charles Verona has a secret. It’s not considered uncommon or strange. He has an obsession. Charles likes to win, all the time.
He walks the streets of New York city, a pretty young thing on his arm. His prize. Vikki Devonay is a young up and coming theater actress and he won her away from all her admirers. He stopped at nothing to get at least one date with her.
They walk down the lighted streets past stores and people browsing. Vikki stops to look at a clothing store window, admiring the new summer clothes. She talks of what she’d like, once she becomes a big star.
Charles smiles and nods, turning to the side slightly, putting his hand in his jacket pocket. His fingers lightly trace the small object, going around the square base, then to the top, the crown. His lucky object. A queen from a chess piece.
He smiles. Soon he shall have his queen.
He walks the streets of New York city, a pretty young thing on his arm. His prize. Vikki Devonay is a young up and coming theater actress and he won her away from all her admirers. He stopped at nothing to get at least one date with her.
They walk down the lighted streets past stores and people browsing. Vikki stops to look at a clothing store window, admiring the new summer clothes. She talks of what she’d like, once she becomes a big star.
Charles smiles and nods, turning to the side slightly, putting his hand in his jacket pocket. His fingers lightly trace the small object, going around the square base, then to the top, the crown. His lucky object. A queen from a chess piece.
He smiles. Soon he shall have his queen.
The Watering Hole
Like every day, the office breaks were at the water cooler, or Watering Hole, as someone dubbed, to listen to the latest gossip. Tom knew everything about everyone at the office. Everyone went, in fear that this time might be something about them.
“So there I was, filing papers for Mr. Johnson, when I see Sara and Duncan sneak off into the supply closet,” Tom said grinning.
“I knew it!” Dorothy exclaimed, glancing around. Funny, Sara or Duncan weren’t there.
“Yeah, they’ve been at it for well over two weeks now.” Tom paused to take a sip of water. “It’s just like Carol and John.”
“No!” Dwight finally managed to push through the crowd to get a cup of water. “Carol and John?”
“What have they been up to?” Dorothy clutched her paper cup intently.
“Well,” Tom took another sip, longer this time as he glanced around at the anxious eyes. “Carol is pregnant.”
There were gasps all around. “She isn’t married!” someone in the back said. “He is married!” came a response. They heard Mr. Johnson’s heavy footsteps approaching, alerting them to scatter.
“So, is it true, Tom?” Dorothy whispered, slowly making her way to throw her cup away in the trashcan.
“We’ll have to see until next break,” Tom smirked. He turned and chuckled as he walked back to his cubicle.
Heading to break, you can already see the nosey group salivating for their gossip. You sigh, and hope Tom isn’t talking about you.
You try to edge your way to the water cooler. You sure are thirsty. So many people in such a small space.
You hear Tom mention your pal, John, messing around with Carol and gasp in disbelief. Carol and John? At least you finally get a cup of water.
Sipping your water, you listen to Tom stretch this out, make everyone itch in anticipation. You think how much Tom must really enjoy being the center of attention, but then perk back up when you hear that Carol is pregnant. Carol pregnant? She isn’t married. You nod as someone says John is. You know his wife well. Ruth and your wife, Martha, play cards every weekend. This is not good.
The loud thumping of Mr. Johnson’s footsteps is a signal to scatter. You try to quickly gulp down the rest of your water before you head to the wastebasket. You glance at Tom, you is chuckling at himself.
“So there I was, filing papers for Mr. Johnson, when I see Sara and Duncan sneak off into the supply closet,” Tom said grinning.
“I knew it!” Dorothy exclaimed, glancing around. Funny, Sara or Duncan weren’t there.
“Yeah, they’ve been at it for well over two weeks now.” Tom paused to take a sip of water. “It’s just like Carol and John.”
“No!” Dwight finally managed to push through the crowd to get a cup of water. “Carol and John?”
“What have they been up to?” Dorothy clutched her paper cup intently.
“Well,” Tom took another sip, longer this time as he glanced around at the anxious eyes. “Carol is pregnant.”
There were gasps all around. “She isn’t married!” someone in the back said. “He is married!” came a response. They heard Mr. Johnson’s heavy footsteps approaching, alerting them to scatter.
“So, is it true, Tom?” Dorothy whispered, slowly making her way to throw her cup away in the trashcan.
“We’ll have to see until next break,” Tom smirked. He turned and chuckled as he walked back to his cubicle.
Heading to break, you can already see the nosey group salivating for their gossip. You sigh, and hope Tom isn’t talking about you.
You try to edge your way to the water cooler. You sure are thirsty. So many people in such a small space.
You hear Tom mention your pal, John, messing around with Carol and gasp in disbelief. Carol and John? At least you finally get a cup of water.
Sipping your water, you listen to Tom stretch this out, make everyone itch in anticipation. You think how much Tom must really enjoy being the center of attention, but then perk back up when you hear that Carol is pregnant. Carol pregnant? She isn’t married. You nod as someone says John is. You know his wife well. Ruth and your wife, Martha, play cards every weekend. This is not good.
The loud thumping of Mr. Johnson’s footsteps is a signal to scatter. You try to quickly gulp down the rest of your water before you head to the wastebasket. You glance at Tom, you is chuckling at himself.
RANDOM's Preface
Well, here is the Preface for my chapbook, "RANDOM".
This book is a random collection of a wide range of my works. Thoughts continuously run through my head, sometimes creating interesting mixes. RANDOM’s first piece is an imaginative look at people at the work place and how gossip is spread. Here, you can also see in more detail one of the listener’s reactions as the gossip is being told. The next piece, Queen, is a short story about one man’s hidden desire.
After these two pieces, the stories start to enter into one of my favorite genres: fantasy. When writing fiction, I love to venture into an unknown and unrealistic world, one that can break away from the every day norm. What if our home objects moved? Or we lived in a world with dragons, and we find out that they’re actually not so bad…
As someone told me, “Write what you know.”, the language in my writing is comprehendible for young audiences as well, like adolescent readers. Some of the stories in here are based on personalities of friends, (like the excerpt from The Fairen), or people I know. So sit back, and I hope you enjoy!
This book is a random collection of a wide range of my works. Thoughts continuously run through my head, sometimes creating interesting mixes. RANDOM’s first piece is an imaginative look at people at the work place and how gossip is spread. Here, you can also see in more detail one of the listener’s reactions as the gossip is being told. The next piece, Queen, is a short story about one man’s hidden desire.
After these two pieces, the stories start to enter into one of my favorite genres: fantasy. When writing fiction, I love to venture into an unknown and unrealistic world, one that can break away from the every day norm. What if our home objects moved? Or we lived in a world with dragons, and we find out that they’re actually not so bad…
As someone told me, “Write what you know.”, the language in my writing is comprehendible for young audiences as well, like adolescent readers. Some of the stories in here are based on personalities of friends, (like the excerpt from The Fairen), or people I know. So sit back, and I hope you enjoy!
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Intro
Welcome to the Fairen Blog!
What is The Fairen?
Well, it's a fantasy written by yours truly about 6 years ago. It's been undergoing major reconstruction at the moment, updates coming soon!
What is The Fairen?
Well, it's a fantasy written by yours truly about 6 years ago. It's been undergoing major reconstruction at the moment, updates coming soon!
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