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Life as a song

Life's better as a song
Not so much about the coming and going But always rolling right along Life's better when you sing Sure, it can't fix everything But it's balm for the cuts and soothes the wounds And yesterday's bruises will be gone soon
Well, the road is dusty and you want a drink So you clear your throat and think of better things When you sip your precious water Let it slip down nice and slow And let out the anxious notes That have been begging to show
Life's better with a song Maybe all those long high notes Draw out the end of the bitter lows Life's better if you sing I admit it's not much to me When my head hurts and my eyes sting But when I'm losing the battle against Everything, then, then the song goes on
Well, I took a shot for king and country And wound up naked on bloody gurney I thought about the life I'd led Decided against letting myself be bled So I let out the notes That had buried themselves in my throat And the birds all sang with me And somehow I …

I've named my villain!

So, here's my basic characters, in order of importance:

Name: Kyenna Sarrel Gender: girl Age: 17-18 Physical Traits: maroon brown hair, long in a braid, sea-foam green eyes, slender but not a stick, 5'4", muscled but not obviously, smallish feet, oval face, soft chin and cheekbones, pretty not beautiful, light freckles, tan skin Personality quirks: speaks her mind, dancing feet, bites her lip, likes to keep moving, Background: her parents are both honored soldiers, she is of noble birth but her lifestyle doesn't speak of it, when at home she has private teachers and wears dresses, Dialect: she speaks with authority and correct speech, though she doesn't always realize it.  In certain crowds she slips into slang, often caught using "dregs." What power does she have? language What virtue will she embody? Unconditional love What character trait does the hero demonstrate that might seem negative?  Impulsivity and bluntness. What undeserved misfortune has the hero suf…

Poisoned

"We found Lord Halstings; he was under magical protections, but Kara dissolved them.  Tiva, what have you done to yourself?"     "I'm all right.  Where have you taken Halstings?"     "He's under guard at the entrance to the tunnels.  We had to bind him, as he's a bit unstable.  You're bleeding."     "I'm all right."     "You're not all right, you're bleeding.  Let me see."     "Leave me alone, I'll be all right once we get out of this stinking place.  Is Emerc placing the charges?"     "They're done.  Give me your arm, now step on-, here, just climb out the window.  There's a barrier below; you won't fall."     "I can feel the barrier, Jayde.  My senses haven't left me."     "Good, but I'd feel better if you'd let met take a look at your--"     "Ceryn says you can ride down with me, he's got help."     "I do love the convenience of…

The Place of Restitution (part 1) working title

"Wow, this place is huge!"  Quileya tilted her head back and extended her neck.  "I didn't know it was going to be so white."
"According the records, it was built nine centuries ago, by the former inhabitants, a bug-like species called the Dorfflassen.  Twelve legs, three eyes and very high intelligence.  Apparently they just disappeared right after they completed the inner temple."  Rothis flipped through the pages of an invisible book hanging in the air.  "Doesn't make that much sense, considering It usually likes mindless minions.  And why would they disappear?  Wouldn't It want them around for the war?"
Quileya sucked her neck back to its normal proportions.  "You're reading the records, check the most recent entries."
Rothis frowned.  "This is odd.  Someone was here four years ago.  Who would want to come here?"
"Maybe they were sent, just like us."
"But Awdendet said no one had been here for at…

Lightning Tea

Purple lightning streaks across my window  suddenly the sky has turned to white Like aliens are land on the rain-drenched soil  and the crickets have all gone quiet Rain still drums on the roof  and the humidity drips beads of sweat down my back Here's the part where I freak out and escape out the window I wanted this time to relax
You're something to see  when your hair is wet and frizzy  held in place by static electricity I would laugh but you seem so stressed  so I'll leave you alone right after you get home Then I'll come back and fix you a cup of tea Then we'll chat and you'll tell me why you're crying
And when I've calmed you down, I'll tell you to lie down  and you'll sleep off the tears  in a dream that lasts for years And when you wake up,  you'll be ready for another cup,  but by then we're best friends  and a mug of tea is enough A mug of tea shows the love

A terribly written back-of-book story summary

A young girl.  A land at peace.  An evil villain bent on destroying it.  Life will be lost, circumstances will changes, and love will be stretched to the near breaking point.  How far will Kyenna go to save her world? 
Raised by warrior parents, Kyenna is a girl of determination, compassion and spirit.  Although the land has been peaceful for near a decade, once again evil threatens the prosperity of the entire kingdom.  The savagery doesn't seem to affect her personal environment very much, but when Kyenna's brother is taken by ____ for his twisted experiments, she understands just how personal the destruction is.  Kyenna sets out to recover Kyerin, and possibly save the world in the process.
(I still haven't named my villain.)

The Illusion (a short story)

Torash ran in front of me, pushing branches aside or hacking at them with his sword when they wouldn't give way.  Our pursuers had dogs tracking our smell anyway, so no amount of caution would hide our trail until we reached the river.  Speed was what mattered now.  Verain ran behind me, making no sounds while Torash and I crashed through the bushes that blocked our path.  I couldn't even hear her breathing, but knew she was there, protecting my back just like before.  My own heart thudded against my ribcage, beating for all it was worth; my lungs trying to give me the air I needed to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
     Or legs, rather, because I still couldn't feel my feet.
     I knew they were there.  There was a definitive weight attached to my ankles that surely hit the damp earth repetitively as I ran.  I just couldn't feel it.  Slint had said this would happen.  I'd tried to warn myself against it, to remember that lies flowed out of his mou…

Sleepwalking

How do you live in such a mad world? The perfume you breathe is made of crushed pearls Where the red high-heeled shoes stalk the concrete Card towers tilt to the drum of dead feet
The pigeons all watch from their gargoyle homes As if they, the scavengers, see while they comb All our garbage and stare at our bare listlessness The streets full of strangers; our mindless existence
We all are the cat who walks by himself With pride and long noses, our mirrors and shelves All places alike and all places the same Stories of how we once knew our own names
Which hat will you wear?  Which mask matches today? Which sequined gown for the masquerade? Where everybody dances like nobody cares Sleepwalking, lips moving in irreverent prayer
How do you live in a world gone to the dogs? Or to the mice that live hidden in drug-induced fogs The roses have faded, the green leaves have all changed Would that we all were hungry, blind or deranged
Perhaps we'd be searching or moving, instead Of sleepwalking, tilting, just li…

Yearnings of a Writer

I wish I could write about moths. Their delicate, fluttering wings dipped in ink     would make beautiful art.
I wish I could write about starlight. The magic of the heavens come down to earth     in breathtaking radiance.
I wish I could write about roses. Velvet carpets for the water worlds inside     dewdrops make for an enchanting scene.
I wish I could write about windows. Big or small, whether open or shut,     these are gateways to freedom.
I wish I could write about my mind. The endless rainbow of imagination     would paint beauty onto canvas     and I would never want for another story.

i don't know the bad guy's name yet

Describe the terrible thing that your hero does not want to happen:
____ yanked Kyerin upright and held his wrist over the cauldron.  "Just a few drops and we'll be done with this nastiness.  Yes, my dear, just a bit more."  He slit my brother's wrist and blood spilled out, dripping into the hissing fluid.  Steam rose from the surface and choked me.  Kyerin was barely breathing anymore.  I fumbled around before I found a handhold in the wall to pull myself up with.  Finally upright, I hobbled over to where ____ had thrown Kyerin after he'd finished with him.  I held him against me as his face grew increasingly pale and his chest increasingly still.  ___ danced as he stirred his death soup manically.  I watched helplessly as the vapors drifted out over the grey lands, appearing to deaden even more that which was already lost.  Abruptly, I noticed a coldness in my bones and looked down to find all warmth gone out of the body I held, which was just that, a body; my…

a memory of England

Our house in England was called "the Old Stables," guess why?  It had been the stables for the manor house two lots over.  Right next to us was the carriage house, which had also been converted.  All together they had been part of Baston Manor.  The road was even called Baston Manor road. 
     The house, being an old stables, had only one upstairs room, which became my room just by general consensus.  Upon entering through the front door, you could walk down a long hall to the left, passing the kitchen, office, and master bedroom.  At the end of the hall was the master bathroom, and you would turn right, pass a little bathroom, (which was always very odd,) and encounter the second bedroom.  The lounge was accessed by walking straight forward after coming in the door, then to left of that - and in back of the kitchen - was the dining room.  Altogether the house was very odd, but we came to love it and rather made it our own.
     We had a conservatory after the dining room…

Heh.

For some reason I wrote this little story intro about a girl taking her drunk older brother home from a bar.  You learn that their parents are gone, the girl earns all the money and her brother's name appears to be Red. It's from the girl's perspective.  I like writing drunk characters, mainly on account of the way you get to describe them.  There's a lot of room for creativity in anything, but writing about drunkenness is just fun.  I usually smile when I'm doing it.  Also, I kept hearing in a sort of southern accent in my head.

I do tend to write a lot about what I don't know than what I know.  Even more room for creativity that way. Fantasy is an endless backyard in that respect, but even when I write about assassins, or drunkards, or a blind or deaf person, I just love getting into it.  Usually the unknown is scary to me, but with writing, it's just one long adventure that really never ends, not so long as I'm "putting pen to page."  It&#…

A scene where something goes wrong

Stars going out woke me up.  Well, I don't know what woke me, but the sky was fading from deep blue to periwinkle in the dawning light of day, with faint traces of starlight still blinking here and there.  Although I often grumped when I was woken earlier than usual, today I jumped out of bed and ran to the window, because the sky looked strange.  An odd grey cloud appeared to be spiraling across it, and I knew it wasn't smoke.  It was something deeper, maybe smoke's toxic cousin.  I watched the grey smoke-like cloud float across the beauty of the dawn until I realized that my gut was signaling my head and the signals were all bad. 
I pushed off from the window frame and dashed to my wardrobe.  A grey shirt, grey boots, grey clothing fell down onto me.  I scooped them up and tossed them aside.  My nightdress was exchanged for a violet shirt and a dark blue skirt.  My short boots I pulled on as I hopped toward the door.  After wrestling with the handle in the semi-darkness I…

Hello world!

I've been gone for a very long time, I know.

I graduated high school and now I'm in my gap year.

I'm trying to write lots of stuff.  Mostly this one novel.  I'm supposed to write/outline some of it everyday but it's not exactly happening.  So I'm going to commit to write something each day and then post it on here.  If anybody comments to tell me encouraging stuff it would really help with the "commitment" part.

I mean, I've committed to writing on a blog everyday before.  It didn't go so well.  I tried to do devotions everyday and eventually slacked off.  Maybe because this is something that I really, truly love, I'll do better at keeping up with it.  I hope so.  Anyway, here I go!  Wish me commitment!

I'm Special (short story intro)

"Honey, what are you doing?  Come back here."
"Hey, don't go over there!  Do you hear me?  You'll get sick!"
"Savie, sweetheart, you have to come back.  You can't go there.  Don't go in there!"
I heard them all.  They kept calling, but I didn't listen.  They mean well, but they don't understand.  If any of them were to walk into this house and see what I see, they would get sick.  They would die.  But I won't get sick.  I won't die.
'Cause I'm special. _______________________
Nobody's sure where the disease came from.  Nobody knows who got it first.  Right now, all we want to know is how to stop it.  They've tried everything.  Doctors, scientists from all around the world have been in constant communication.  They set up a place for them to all work together, hoping to find a cure for the disease.  So far, no luck.  Sometimes it seems like they've found something.  One of the people they test it on will get be…

Scars Burn

I'll walk away Hoping I'll stay the same But the visions of you I'll remember They're implanted in my brain
I walk back to where I started Hoping that now that we've parted I'll forget What I saw you do But I don't And now I'm broken-hearted
I can turn my back But what I've seen Is now in my mind I can start again But what I know Is forever mine Though I can change my ways That time will never return Though I can close my eyes Memories flash and scars burn
I'll pick a new way Hoping I've chosen right But as I'm walking forward I'm walking into the night
I can't go back To the person I was I can't change the past Nor can restore the love I let my chance go into the wind
I can turn my back But what I've seen Is now in my mind I can start again But what I know Is forever mine Though I can change my ways That time will never return Though I can close my eyes Memories flash and scars burn
I tried to change the future So I changed my life If I were computer I could rebo…

Night's Work

You touch I sting Leave me alone I gotta do my thing You tap I bring All the heat And now you're burning You slip I bite You don't go Anywhere tonight You sleep I fight All the world's battles Then turn off the light
I spin You wake Watch where you step Maybe the last one you take I leap You make Faces at me Before you gotta fake I lose You drown Somebody pays For money going down I win You frown Now when I smile You think that I'm a clown
You reach I leave Better take off This is your reprieve You wait I weave Take off the jacket Your heart is on your sleeve You jump I hold The river's way too fast And it is way too cold You swim I mold Somebody's gotta do The things that they've been told
I fly You fall The rocks in your pockets Aren't helping at all I soar You call Maybe you want to rethink Before you freefall I stop You start Nobody's here to hear The beating of your heart I slow You spark Dawn is coming Say goodbye to the dark