What she said next would haunt her for days
For weeks, months, years, decades in many different ways
She would remember this moment with creeping dread
“I wish you were dead.”
As soon as she uttered the words she wished to reel them back
Hoping she’d be cut some slack
That she could apologize and set things straight
But at once she knew it was far too late
The treacherous words dwelling inside
Refused to stay hidden no matter how hard she tried
“I’m going to go” Jaspeak began
“This abuse I will not stand
Count your blessings if I choose to return
Know it was you who let this bridge burn”
At once both hot and cold
Although that part from the story would go untold
She stomped off not dating a second glance to take
For if she did she knew her heart would break
Jaspeak heard her father speak
The mere sound of his voice making her weak
She ran off without a word
Thinking this was all a bit absurd
This was the moment that would withstand time
To never be captured in prose or rhyme
When she abandoned her people for the sake of a boy
So why oh why did she feel this joy
This sense of peace and glorious calm
Feeling the electric prickle in her palm
This wealth of emotion bursting inside
All because her former self died
Now she had to rush to be with Roland
To be with someone who’d surely understand
What it was like to be so alone
Someone who could see what was inside shone
So she cast away her worries and her woe
Knowing where her heart needed to go
Jaspeak trekked through valley and mountain
She travelled through morning and nights dark as sin
Until she came to an unknown place
Nestled between two mountains as if they were giving it space
Her heart thundered as she knew
This was the home of the one she knew to be true
Roland the idiot who stumbled into her life
The one who was more than worth the strife
She found a cluster of trees for her to wait
For the boy, praying him not to be too late
The sun fell giving way to the moon
This burdening anticipation had to end soon
At last her wish was granted
As she peered beyond the trees where she was planted
She spotted Roland as he came shuffling in
When she saw him she broke out into a wide grin
“Here I am!” she had spoken
And at her voice his trance was broken
Now no smile came to greet his face
His eyes had lost their luster and grace
She asked “What does trouble you my dear?”
“I wish that you were still far from here”
Category: Work In Progress
The Witch’s Memory part 1 (recap)
As the stars and the moon sat up straight
The people of Durbin did celebrate
For their lost princess did return
So far that they would let their candles burn
Into a liquid pool of wax and goo
And they’d still dance and sing the night through
Her appearance alone would have been enough
For the people to gather round and strut their stuff
Yet their celebration would be a hundred fold
As she brought a boy with her brave and bold
One who wanted to take her hand
Before he knew she ruled over all this land
For this they’d dance until their feet were sore
Doing dances never done before
The curse was broken, filling the kingdom with joy
All hail the princess and the soon to be prince boy
While all of this was going on
Before the morning saw its dawn
A witch traveled through the haunted wood
Heading to where the cursed princess had stood
A princess made a dragon, full of fright
Too afraid to let her true self be seen in the light
Cursed until a boy saw the beauty inside
Stripped of misconceptions and any semblance of pride
All had gone according to plan
One weaved with her very own hand
She darted through the trees, grass and dark
Arriving at the cave so gloomy and stark
The witch traveled down into the cave so deep
Where the dragon did once sleep
Setting her bare feet on the magical soil
No longer filled with strife and turmoil
Seeing the hollow oh so empty
Filled the witch with unbridled glee
Now her mission could go undisturbed
Left to do as she pleased unheard
The witch inhaled a great breath
Laying eyes on what was left
Upon the dragon’s cave floor
Laid all her dreams and more
In place of the dragon’s stead
Were the tears the beast had shed
Upon the ground there were tiny shards
Shining brilliant with a texture quite hard
The witch picked up the gem and started to grin
Remembering how this all came to begin
It began a long time ago far from this cave
Where magic roamed free and the people were brave
Back in the land of Sluggatero
In a time set a thousand years ago
The people of Sluggatero were happy and carefree
Just as any group of people should be
The citizens were all magic imbued
Across the kingdoms others’ fears were not subdued
What they didn’t understand made them cringe
And fear the people living on the fringe
Fearing they would craft a spell
To make sure all in the world was not well
They pleaded with their king to end this mess
Of the magic folk they believed wished them stress
What was the king supposed to do
But scheme and plot the nights through
On how to handle the situation
With the people who worked divination
As the king thought up a way
To lead the magical folk astray
There was a girl and her family true
Playing under a sky so blue
The girl did laugh and giggle
While in the sky squawked a full
Flying free and unencumbered
As if not knowing the people’s days were numbered
After this particular tickle session
It proved time for another magic lesson
The father fell in the lush green grass
Flecks of grey peppered his moustache
His smile beamed bright like the heavenly sun
He was quite winded so playtime was done
“Come here my sweet child,” laughed the dad
“Surely another day there is fun to be had
But now is time to learn to sift
From what is curse and what is gift
Come now lass and take a seat
A respite from this summer heat
Let me impart a bit of knowledge in your head
Smarts I earned not just read.”
The girl sat down with a smile
And the grass accepted her, making her cozy for awhile
As the winds kicked up, caressing her face
Her father spoke with patient grace
“When it comes to magic you must be wise
A simple spell could mean your demise
Because all magic comes at a cost
Some spells can never measure what is lost
Know this little girl, know all the rules
Or a life of magic can be quite cruel
Lesson one can never enough be said
There is no bringing back the dead
Although your heart may ache from the loss of them
If you follow through the results will be from
Unspeakable horrors better left untold
Leaving your spirit bound and cold
A fate I do not wish for your little one
Buy hold your questions until this lesson is done
Lesson two could easily have been the start
As it deals with the matters of the heart
You may never use magic for the purpose of love
No matter what tribulation may come to shove
Love is a matter best left for the soul
Corrupting it will certainly take its toll
Love is powerful and meant to be free
If the person is not meant to live you, let it be
When it comes to lessons this’ll be the third
Please young one, do not find this absurd
Magic is a weapon that you can arm
But you must use it for good, not to bring others harm
We masters of magic were called for a great purpose
The violent ways of others is not meant for us
You were called for so much more
To do wonders never seen before
Don’t waste your gifts on petty revenge
I know all too well this is a challenge
People will push you to be oh so cruel
To fight, plunder, and certainly duel
I ask you now to let it go
The good in you needs to show
Our good shall bring us into the light
Where there will be no more trauma or need to fight
Where we can live in peace with those without the gift
And the wall that stands between us will lift
Only then will we truly live in peace
Unyielding love for every person each
When you truly understand these rules I gave
Then you will know how to behave
Once the world tries to steal your joy
So no matter what tricks they choose to deploy
You will still be our little one and make us proud
If you have any questions speak them aloud
Better to know now than not at all
Ask your query child before nightfall.”
NaNoWriMo Day 10
“Everybody wants to feel that you’re writing to a certain demographic because that’s good business, but I’ve never done that … I tried to write stories that would interest me. I’d say, what would I like to read?… I don’t think you can do your best work if you’re writing for somebody else, because you never know what that somebody else really thinks or wants.”
-Stan Lee
NaNoWriMo Day 1
Writing Quote Wednesday
“Writing isn’t about making money, getting famous, getting dates, getting laid, or making friends. In the end, it’s about enriching the lives of those who will read your work, and enriching your own life, as well. It’s about getting up, getting well, and getting over. Getting happy, okay? Getting happy.”
— Stephen King
Writing Quote Wednesday
The Witch’s Memory part seventy nine
The dark appeared to stretch vast and tall
As they crept up the side of the wall
The women’s faces were stark and gaunt
An image that would forever haunt
The princess throughout the rest of her days
Until the moon saw its final phase
They were ancient and decrepit
Their teeth were blackened and split
A cackle escaped their collective throats
Making it seem that her heart did float
As it trailed up her airway
Leaving the royal with nothing more to say
The Witch’s Memory part seventy eight
“It must be you,” said the princess with glee
“That I have been instructed to see
I met your kin outside these walls
Where the wilderness pleads its call
Your sister showed me things bordering the impossible
Sights that left me with a deep chill
I fall at your feet with gratitude
For your generosity is too much to exude”
With that she fell to her knees
And it seemed the world did freeze
All went still and quiet
The women turned toward the girl
And at that moment her world did swirl
The Witch’s Memory part seventy six
Then she found the source of the noise
Three women of regality and poise
Sat around a cauldron with a song in their throat
In the middle of a deep moat
The water was purple, deep, and rich
The princess knew immediately each one was a witch
Just like the one she met in the forest
She became even less stressed
Surely they were here to help her on her journey
To help her be where she needed to be
A smile came to greet her face
Confidence abounding she stepped into the space
Inkslayer’s Journal Entry 5
Hey everyone! Still reeling from getting Beyond Here out into the world. Make sure to get your copy. Also if you message me I can set up signing and delivering you a copy if you wish. In the meantime here’s a free read of a flash fiction piece that I hope to make a full fledged novel at some point. I hope you enjoy!!
Ghost of the Arena
Her nights were always the same.
The blood and her lone symbolic act were washed away with coarse goat hairbrushes. With each pass through she felt her wounds begin to tear anew. It reminded her that she will still alive. That the gods thought to curse her for another day.
She slept bare under the canopy of stars, the night sky matching her skin of coal. Each blazing jewel in sky was an unanswered plea for the release from the misery of this world. Before the morning light a new star would be born.
By the break of day she’d be awakened by Doc, a member of her troupe. In spite of overwhelming sense of death and horror which hung over the arena Doc managed to be cheery, sunlight dancing in his blue eyes.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t take a direct shot to the shoulder today. That is unless you’re not attached to it,” he said as he traced her collarbone with his finger.
Her waking pain was the same yet new nonetheless. “Are you giving instruction to your lanista?”
“Simply observing. It’s what I do.”
His olive skin never ceased to look pale against her own dark tones. The sun had taken its toll on his flesh leaving weathered lines behind in its wake. They paled in comparison to her menagerie of scars.
“How are the others?” she asked as she stood, her nude figure unabashed in the morning rays.
“Surviving.”
“That’s all that can be asked.”
“Indeed.”
They held a mutual respect for each other. A quiet means of foreplay that would proceed no further. There was no love for gladiators, not even amongst themselves.
Before eating or partaking in the meager water rations provided she had to become the warrior she was made to become, the ghost of the arena. As she slumbered through the night the crew used a large kiln to dispose of the losers of yesterday. Their ashes would be ready for her by the rising of the sun, a mixture of grey and ivory. From the top of her head to the soles of her feet the dark skinned warrior dusted herself in the regret of yesterday. When she was done she was new, baptized in the death of fire.
From here she dressed herself in her armor before joining her troupe for their rations. Although the only female amongst the several men they held her in high regard. Her actions in the arena had saved their skin on numerous occasions.
The rest of the morning consisted of practice, practice, and trying to find out why she was a black girl sentenced to die in the arena. Soon it was mid-afternoon and the daylight was saturated with the cries of a bloodthirsty audience. The games were set to begin, and her and her Poison Apples were set to take center stage.
But today was different.
The gates would wait longer today to open, to usher them into the madness. A trove of royal guards entered the confines of the area they called home, carrying with them the scent of sweat…and of her. The queen stank of nightshade, as poisonous as her heart. The queen considered herself to be a mother to the people, but to the gladiators made to fight on her behalf she may as well have been a wicked stepmother.
With her robes barely touching the tainted sand the queen made her way down the line of the Poison Apples until she reached the ghost of the arena. It was hard to discern anything about the queen behind that damn porcelain mask she wore.
“Will you win today?” the queen asked, her voice darkened as the sky as the sun sought to be tucked under the horizon.
The black girl painted in ash didn’t speak. Her time spent as a gladiator gave her the impression the queen had something to do with her imprisonment.
Although she couldn’t see it the warrior felt a cruel grin arch from behind the porcelain facade. “One can only hope so. My favorite apple in the batch. My Snow White.”