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Showing posts from January, 2013

Words, words, words

I'm having a hard time finding words.  I keep reading, hoping that I'll be inspired by the words written by others, and that those words will be like a key in my brain, unlocking my creativity.   It's like there's this well of colored juices and the depths of color are too far away for my bucket.  The chain gets heavier every time I try and send it farther down, down into oblivion, and when I bring it back up, it seems to bring the mists of hopelessness with it.

I don't feel particularly sad about this, only frustrated.  I'm angry.  There's so many things that I can't do right, but I could always count on the words.  No matter what's going on, there would always be words to comfort me, words for me to expel and shatter and stomp on.  My talents seem so very few, and writing is the one passion that lives in my heart, the one flame that never goes out however dark the shadows grow around it.  I don't know what to do to find the words.  I don't…

I am Fire (back of book/prologue)

Every waking moment, every second of my sleep, I am fire.  My blood burns and my eyes light up with flames.  They rise up out of my skin and dance along my limbs, burning without burning me.  I can make fire float up into the air and form shapes.  With a flick of my fingers, I can suck it back into my body, filling my lungs with ash, pumping heat through every inch of my body.  But I still breathe.  My tongue is bathed in scintillating embers that melt in my mouth.  I savor the taste; the hot, crackling treats put me in a good mood.  
    I am dangerous.  With a single, concentrated though, I can kill.  Burning, beautiful, breath-taking.  It doesn't always show.  Only when I am alone do I let myself transform into the elemental that I truly am.  My body shifts, becomes somewhat translucent, and flames run through my limbs in place of blood.  They are my covering and my vision, my self and my soul.  
    I am fire.

Merry, Pippin and the Wind

"You're very small."
Pippin looked up from his canteen of water.  "That's nice."
Merry frowned at him.  "What's nice?"
"Calling me small."
"I didn't call you small."
"You said, 'you're very small.'"
"And eat a lot."
Merry and Pippin stared at each other in consternation.  "What was that?" they asked together.
"Hello."
They looked around.  "Who's talking?"  Pippin was decidedly uncomfortable. 
"I'm all around you, everywhere."
Merry scrunched up his face.  "How can you be all around?  Are you more than one?"
"I am many, many, but all at once and all the time, anywhere."
Pippin stood up and looked around.  "What does that mean?  Are you in the air?"
"I am the air.  The moving, brushing, swirling, dancing air.  Most call me the wind.  Hello."
Pippin's jaw dropped.  "Do you talk like this to everyone?" Mer…