Okay, New Plan

I have so many ideas and interests, so little time and energy to implement them properly. 

I've always wanted to be a writer, and since ... I was 12, I knew that I only wanted to be, specifically, a novelist.

I've done a lot of testing of that over the years. I wrote some (really bad, so don't ask if you can see it) poetry, took a journalism class, tried my hand at writing some scripts and made this blog for short stories, but I can't get away from novels. I always kept them away from the internet because, hey, I actually want to publish something of them one day, but I still have so much to learn, so much to polish, so much to keep revising, that I don't see that dream being fulfilled anytime soon.

Some writers hoard their work because they're shy/unconfident "No one can see it until it's done", "I'm worried it's not that good, so I don't want to show it."
But here's my dream in a nutshell: I want people to read what I write.

So I'm going to put my work where people can read it. 

I was going to make a sister blog to this one, so that I'm not posting chapters of novels to people who only actually want to read short works. If anyone wants to help me out ... you know where I am, right? I'd love help. From design (I'm sure you've realised how sucky my blog designing skills are) to artwork (No, I can't just learn to be a visual artist. I'm a writer) or anything else you think my blog needs in order to be most effective for getting my stories out there.

So check it out when I'm done. It'll be called ... Noveltopia (not really, but I wouldn't put it past me. Feel free to suggest a better name)

Tracey and the Space Pirates (2)

Jason walked out onto the surface of a new planet, a few steps behind his captain. It looked the same as any space dock on Earth, but somehow, it felt different. He tore his eyes away from the back of Tracey’s head and looked around himself in wonder. Not one of the faces he saw were familiar to him, and no one gave him so much as a second glance. His anonymity carried the feeling of freedom with it. He turned his attention back to the woman he was following. Not complete freedom. Not yet.

The captain hadn’t said much to him since their agreement just a few days before. She’d kept to herself. 'Off flying the ship,' Soze had said with an amused glint in his one eye, as if it were some private joke. 

Jason hadn’t been allowed into the command room. In fact, he hadn’t been allowed anywhere much other than the kitchen and his quarters. Though he’d found out why the corridors sparkled. The other men had made him clean them every morning after breakfast.

When they’d landed, it was about an hour before Tracey assembled them all in the common room. She announced she was taking Jason with her to speak with the client, and gave Soze an apologetic look. The look in his eye as the two of them left together told Jason 'you’d better watch out for her or else.' 

He really worried too much. Jason wondered what Soze thought might possibly go wrong for the captain of a transport ship in the bright light of day on the planet Alpha. 

The dock exit took them to the middle of a busy open-air market, just like the one on Earth. The Earthen hub of interstellar travellers was always full of stalls selling overpriced souvenirs and fast food, and this planet seemed to be no different.

“You’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”

Jason jumped. He hadn’t realised Tracey had slowed down to walk beside him. He simply stared at her as they walked along, not sure of how to respond to such a statement.

Tracey smiled patiently at his silence. “It’s good to know I’m not the only reason you joined my crew.”

“It is?” Jason blinked at her stupidly. In the light of Alpha’s two suns, his mind couldn’t seem to keep up with the conversation.

Tracey sighed. “People need a purpose in life, or they will never let go of the past.”

“So you’ve ... brought people on board before and they ... didn’t work out?”

“Something like that. Sometimes the best place for a criminal is in prison where they can’t do any further damage.”

Jason looked down to his feet and listened to the combined laugh of a family walking in the opposite direction. They were speaking some foreign language he didn’t understand. They were new to the area as well since the primary language he’d been hearing since landing at this port was English. He felt Tracey’s hand on his shoulder.

“Not you,” she said softly. “I’m sure whatever’s in your past wasn’t too ...” she trailed off, seemingly unsure of how to finish that thought. Jason wondered if this was how she usually spoke to her new crew members.

“I dealt in drugs.” He shrugged, keeping his eyes down to not meet her disapproving stare.

“Not anymore.” 

Jason thought he could hear the shrug in her voice, and smiled without looking up at her. The past was the past, after all.

The two companions walked the rest of the way in silence, Jason sifting through his memories of past misdeeds, ready to put them behind him.

                                      ---

“I’m here to see Raynor.”

The bored girl at the front desk looked up at Tracey slowly. When her eyes met those serious dark ones though, she instantly flared to life. She nodded, gestured to a row of cushy seats in the waiting area and picked up her phone.

"Mr Raynor, your 10 o'clock is here."

When the receptionist turned back to her desk, she looked at Jason and frowned. Startled, he saw that Tracey had already moved off and sat down, and quickly followed suit.

Tracey gave an amused smirk as she picked up a magazine and started flipping through the pages for something that might interest her. Jason was more interested in the office they found themselves in.

Although they had walked in from a dirty side-street, the office was well-presented. The deep red walls looked as though they were freshly painted, the large reception desk shone with a professional look, and the stack of magazines brimming with celebrity faces sat atop an expensive-looking glass coffee table. Used to dealing with back alleys and dodgy businesses, Jason was surprised to walk into such a place. 

He glanced at Tracey, engrossed in her magazine. She wouldn't have dealings like that, though.

"Soze would normally come in with me," Tracey said thoughtfully, still engrossed in her reading. "I assume he gave you some instructions on how to accompany me on this trip?"

Jason raised his eyebrows. "Wherever you go, I'm there to watch over you."

"That's what I thought." Tracey flipped over the page, still not looking up at him.

"I-is that okay?" Jason asked.

Tracey finally looked at him. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Well, you brought it up."

"I just thought I should know what stance you're going to take. Raynor's going to insist that you don't come in."

"Oh?"

Tracey turned her head as another man entered the waiting room. She stood up and took the offered hand. 

As the two shook hands, Jason studied the man. He was tall and thin with blonde hair, wearing an expensive-looking suit. He was handsome. Jason didn't trust him.

"Welcome, Tracey. I trust your journey here was pleasant?" The man's voice seemed sincere, but that just made Jason dislike him all the more.

"It was fine, Mr Raynor." She waved a hand in Jason's direction, indicating that he should stand too. "This is my new crew member, Jason."

"Jason." Raynor held out a hand and Jason shook it, but the smile on the other man's face didn't reach to the suspicious frown in his eyes. "You'll be waiting out here for your captain, won't you?"

"No way." The two men continued to shake hands, trying to stare the other into submission. "Whatever you have to say to the captain, you can say in front of the crew."

Raynor gave a questioning glance to Tracey, and she just smiled and nodded in return. Raynor rolled his eyes, his hand finally releasing Jason's.

"I suppose I should have expected it," Raynor said. "Come along into my office. We have a job to discuss."

Distractions and infections

It's been too long, time to post new stuff!

I haven't been posting for awhile because I'm easily distracted. So here's two things I've been distracted by lately:

First, a link to what I actually HAVE been writing. A link, coz it's fanfiction, and for some reason I don't really want to put it on my blog (copyright? Because people may not like it? Lameness? Take your pick as to possible reasons :P)

Oh, and there are two links, coz I posted to two sites. Your regular old fanfiction.net where everything goes http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8597131/1/The-Studying-Obsession and a site designed for the particular fandom (which one? You'll have to click to find out) http://www.fimfiction.net/story/56793/The-Studying-Obsession

Second, a new thing. Ideas constantly plague me, and I've wanted to write this story for ages, so this is the character voice that came to me at about 2am this morning. This is unique in that this isn't the usual way I start writing a story (not to mention first person narration is not my thing). 

The urge to eat the flesh of a human, that’s something that takes getting used to. It’s what I imagine being addicted to a drug is like, because, in life, I never had that experience myself. Not even the soft stuff. So I wasn't even addicted to coffee. But this feeling, it's more like the hardcore drugs. The urge to eat the flesh of ‘humans’ is like a heroin addiction brought on from only being in the general vicinity of heroin.

This is a kind of crazy and baffling thing. Especially if you were one of many like me who never even realised they were infected before the cravings hit.

Most of us have stories as to how we got this way. Even the ones who didn’t know right away realised in hindsight how it probably happened, but for me, it’s a complete mystery. One day I was a normal human being, the next day I was trying to stop myself from chewing the arm off the woman who sat too close beside me on the bus.

At least no one will ever do that to me again.

But I’m getting ahead of myself, I guess. I should start from the beginning.

Unless you’ve been living under a rock – a very nice rock where the problems of the world don’t touch you – you will know all about the zombie virus.

That’s not its official name, but you don’t grow up in the generation that sells a manual of how to survive the zombie apocalypse and not call it that. 

Not that this is an apocalypse. 

I’m not an apocalypse. I resent that. 

But I resent most people these days, no matter what they call me.

Zombies, the undead or the infected, whatever people might call us, we’re not monsters. When the zombie virus hit, it wasn’t in the way people were expecting. I’m not what people expected from a flesh-eating monster. So it’s understandable, with the abounding pop culture references, that humans reacted in the way they did to this new threat to their neat little worlds.

You see, traditionally, zombies were always after brains because theirs were … gone? Melted? Broken? Who knows the science behind movie zombies, but the science behind our brains is that they still work. We’re still thinking members of the homo sapien family.

We’re just not those living, breathing examples. Not the shining paragon of evolution, which, I assume, was the idea behind what caused this outbreak in the first place: a way to cheat death.

And we do – cheat death. Since I found out I was … death-challenged, I have ‘lived’ through a few experiences that would spell death for a normal human. It’s not easy to patch up broken bones when they’re not gonna grow back, let me tell you.

Yeah, so there's that. Dunno where it's going, but hey! Zombies! Is it gonna be an exploration of what it means to be human? Is it going to be an apocalypse story? One about the evils of humanity? A comedy? A drama? A coming-of-age story for a zombie? Who knows. If you wanna give suggestions, maybe adopt it so I'll write it for you, leave me a comment, we'll see how it goes.

And other than that, I've been trying to work up the courage and skills to create a vlog. Just me reading my stories out loud and posting them to YouTube. I have lots of ideas, but very little skill, so if you wanna help me actually get stuff done, by all means offer your expertise and suggestions.

That's all from me! I have a second part of The Seer, Princess Tilly and Tracey and the Space Pirates all with varying degrees of done-ness, so if you wanna see something sooner rather than later, keep those encouragements coming!

See you all next time. 

P.S Edit: Looking over my 'to be posted' stuff, I also have the beginning of a story titled 'Swans in Space.'
Cast your votes, people! There's a lot of stuff that has potential to be posted within the next week!

JAM FACTS

We interrupt your irregularly scheduled stories for some facts about jam.
They were not, in fact, written with my extensive fiction-writing knowledge.
These facts were provided to you by university students who have attained, or are completing a Bachelor's Degree in prestigious Australian educational institutions.

Disclaimer: These scholars may or may not have anything to do with jam, the making of jam or any other preserves and may not, in fact, be involved in any food-type studies or activities at all. 

Second disclaimer: This blog post makes no reference to:

The Jam (a punk rock band from the 70s and early 80s)

Pearl Jam (seriously? How old are you?)

Space Jam (A movie starring Michael Jordan and the Looney Tunes characters)

Jim Jams (a.k.a pajamas/pyjamas)

Traffic/Paper jams (the bad kinds of jam)

Signal jamming

Anything else about music, basketball, pop culture, businesses, products or concepts that may include or make reference to the word 'jam'

Third disclaimer:
The views in these jam facts do not necessarily reflect the views of the writer. I am just the faithful informant for these important 'facts' about 'jam'.

Jam Fact #1 Jam was invented by Russians.

Jam Fact #2 In 2009, three perfectly preserved jars of jam were recovered from the Titanic wreckage.

Jam Fact #3 King Henry the sixth had a secret passion for creating unusual and exotic flavours of jam.

Jam Fact #4 During the Christmas period of 1988, jam sales plummeted for no apparent reason.

Jam Fact #5 It is illegal to sell jam in Uzbekistan.

Jam Fact #6 Americans refer to a jam-like substance as 'jelly'. Jelly is, in fact, a completely different type of food to the majority of the world.

Jam Fact #7 Jam in 2012 has 39.4% more sugar than jam in 1910.

Jam Fact #8 The ancient Egyptians believed jam had medicinal properties and applied it to gangrenous limbs and psoriasis.

Jam Fact #9 Jam is the most commonly sung-about commodity.

Jam Fact #10 There is little difference between jam setting sugar and castor sugar.

Jam Fact #11 Jam is usually fruit-based.

Jam Fact #12 Relish is not jam.

Jam Fact #13 Bbq sauce is not jam.

Jam Fact #14 If all the jam in the world were put into the ocean, blue-finned tuna would grow a second fin.

Jam Fact #15 The song Three Blind Mice was originally about three blind jams. However, the mice were introduced after people complained the song did not "make sense".

Jam Fact #16 In 2020, jam-making will debut as an Olympic sport.

Jam Fact #17 Jam is rarely used in biological warfare.

Jam Fact #18 Jam spelt backwards is maj

Jam Fact #19 All jams can be enhanced by the addition of garlic

Jam Fact #20 Dr Seuss ate jam on toast more frequently than green eggs and ham.

Jam Fact #21 Cordial is just diluted jam.

Jam Fact #22 The most common use of jam is as a spread on toast, fresh bread or scones.

Jam Fact #23 Jam is a rare commodity in South Korea and is priced at $24.79 per ounce.

Jam Fact #24 There were two jam-related deaths recorded in 2007.

Jam Fact #25 Captain Planet sometimes used jam to defeat enemies.

Jam Fact #26 Up to 0.004% of university students procrastinate doing important assignments by making up fake jam facts.

Jam Fact #27 Jam (and bread) are essential to the completion of the drink, Ti.

Jam Fact #28 One of jam's most important, but least-known uses, is the dissolving of early morning frost on car windows.

Jam Fact #29 The vast majority of jams come in a container regularly referred to as a 'jam jar'. This is made of glass and can be straightforward or fairly peculiar in shape.

I and the contributors of these facts hope you enjoyed the things you may or may not have known about jam.

Caution! The validity of these facts can not be confirmed. Don't use them to make yourself sound smart lest the opposite should happen.

This blog was made in jest due to some inspiration from this page. Go there for some real facts about jam (in the U.S). Or go here for Wikipedia's take on the delicious preserve

The other Wiki has this to say about jam.

Here, here, here and here are places you can buy jam online (from Australia)

This site and this one describe how you can make your very own jam.

It's almost my holidays, so look forward to a new piece of one of my stories (if you've got a preference for which one I work on, tell me on my Facebook fan page.)

The Seer

The light filtered through the windows of the hospital corridor, motes of dust spinning lazily to the floor. There were people around: doctors and nurses hurrying from one room to another, pausing only to acknowledge coworkers;  patients in embarrassing spotted hospital gowns shuffling on their way to the cafeteria or the courtyard; visitors who scurried nervously along, glancing at room numbers with apprehension. It wasn’t the strangest of scenes, but it took Karina a few seconds to register that this scenario was playing with the sound off. She stood in a silent hallway, but it didn’t seem the least bit eerie. Behind her was an open door to a private room. She stepped inside to see a woman in labour, her screaming and the surrounding staff’s encouragement completely muted. It felt like a private moment, so Karina turned to face the door which was now closed. She approached it and reached for the handle. But although the metal was solid beneath her hand, she found she couldn’t turn the knob. She tried to twist it for as long as her patience lasted, then reluctantly turned back to the birth. Except everything had changed. There was only one person in the room now.The woman who had been in so much pain just a few moments ago now sat up in her bed, reading a book. There was something familiar about the woman, and Karina drew closer to see. She looked like her friend, Dee. But older. Her mother? Dee was having a little brother or sister? Karina stopped to ponder that happy thought. Was this a dream? She shouldn’t be so excited for her friend if this was all in her subconscious.

      A nurse breezed past with a baby in her arms. She handed it to Dee’s mother and the woman stared down into the bundle, a quiet contentment filling her features.
 

      Karina opened her eyes to find herself on her bed. Sound rushed back to the world and for a second, she thought she could hear the air moving around her. Bringing her mind completely out of the hospital room, Karina realised she was sitting. She looked down at her bed. Still made, as it had been since she got up that morning. And it was the middle of the day. A beautifully sunny Saturday. She’d just had lunch, and had come up to her room to get ... She didn’t know. Karina’s mind was slow to readjust to her life. Dee appeared in her line of sight in the doorway.

     “There you are! Did you zone out again or something?”

     Karina must have been a blank, because Dee gave a worried frown and sat down beside her. It wasn’t until Dee’s hand touched her own that Karina remembered the two of them were orphans. She’d never met Dee’s mother. Dee had never met Dee’s mother.

     “I just had the strangest zone out,” she told her friend. “I saw ... I don’t know what I saw, exactly.”

     “Don’t worry about it. Let’s go outside and climb the hill to look out on the town. You like it when we do that.”

     “I do?”

     Dee gave her a soft smile. “Don’t be worried. You’ll get it all back soon.You’ll be okay.”

     Karina let her friend take her by the hand and lead her through the doorway. They were almost at the stairs when Karina pulled back, having had a sudden flash of memory. Dee gave her a questioning look.

     “When I ... go ... I don’t usually see things, do I?”

     “You haven’t before.” Dee searched her face, a frown trying to hide in her pale blue eyes. She gave Karina’s hand a light squeeze. “What did you see?”

     Karina gave a short laugh. “Nothing to be worried about,” she said. “It didn’t even make sense, really. What I saw ... what I must have seen. Was you. Being born.” She laughed again, but this time it was filled with nervousness.

     The worry left Dee’s face. “So when you go away, you’re probably dreaming. It’s fine. We’re fine. Don’t worry about it.”

     Karina gave her a half smile in return. “You said something about the hill?”

    Dee nodded. She didn’t let go of Karina’s hand as they made their way down the staircase. Karina stared at the panelling on the walls as they descended, trying to get some memory back. The old farmhouse was pristinely clean for a building that housed twelve kids between the ages of six and eighteen. If it wasn’t, she was sure Mr and Mrs Brabham would be able to find a group of cleaner kids to keep watch over. There was no shortage of unwanted children throughout Gradia’s towns, and staying at the Brabham farm was quite a sweet deal.

    Both Karina and Dee were at the older end of the orphan spectrum, nearing the time when they’d have to strike out on their own after Academy exams, which were looming ever nearer. Dee tugged her urgently through the open door and into the sunshine.

    “Better yet?” she asked, stopping to face her friend.

    Karina closed her eyes and felt the warmth on her skin. “I’m wondering whether I’ll be able to remember how to do sums in time for our exams,” she said with a cheeky smile.

    Dee sighed with relief and Karina lifted their joined hands, pulling her friend towards the hill in a run.

The young man held out his sword, a beam of brilliant light streaming out of it towards the writhing darkness. His mouth opened to yell something Karina couldn’t hear. He charged forward, driving the illuminated weapon towards the formless black.There was a flash and the sword vanished along with the shadowed mass. The man then turned to face her, giving a determined glare to something behind Karina.

    She turned to stare into the eyes of a dragon.

    Karina was startled back from the other world to find she was being shaken. She moved her hands to pull off the offending grip that held her and stopped when her blurred vision focused on Dee.

    “Please stop now,” she asked softly.

    Dee let go abruptly, causing Karina to stumble backwards into a wall. She turned to face it, trying to regain her balance. When the world finally stopped pitching, she turned to Dee. Her arms were folded, clearly waiting for Karina to speak first.

    The two girls locked gazes. “What?” Karina demanded.

    “Do you know where you are?” The words seemed to drill right into Karina’s soul through her friend’s stern stare.

    “Ahh ...” Karina tilted her head to look up at the building behind her. “Oh. The Academy.”  She rested back against the wall, but pushed off it in alarm when she remembered something else. “Exams! Did I ...?”

    “We just finished when you went away again. I had to drag you away before anyone noticed you were just blank.”

    “And how long were you shaking me?”

    Dee looked down. “Long enough. You make me worry that one of these days you won't come back.”

    “Right. Thanks. I’m glad you’re here to look out for me.” Karina gave Dee a comforting smile, but it didn't remove the concerned look Dee was giving her.

    “Where were you this time?”

    “In a cave. There was a man – a boy our age, I think. And he was fighting a dragon!”

    “A dragon? Your dream-world is kind of disturbing.”

    “You think these are dreams? They’re too real to be dreams.”

    Dee finally approached Karina and placed a hand on her shoulder. “If they're really not dreams, what are they?”

The Missing Page

I'm trying to think of something witty to say about this piece. Though I can only tell you why I wrote it. My friend, Jessica, has a habit of telling me to write stories about normal things. Which I don't do. Strangely, when she suggested I write a story about someone losing their assessment outcomes for a uni assignment, I got inspired to do something with it. This is how it turned out. 

This is how I tell the story of a normal, boring, everyday situation...

Jessica sat at the desk in her study, staring at the computer screen. She’d left this assignment till the last minute – again.

     There were only two weeks before she had to hand this report in; she couldn’t believe she’d been so slow in getting started. Her Occupational Therapy course was her life, but lately she’d managed to get distracted by sport and friends, baking and leisurely reading, though she was always aware these weren’t as important as excelling in her studies.

     Jessica shuffled through her papers. She needed that page ... that page ... where was it? She would never know the direction her words should go if she didn’t have the assessment outcomes for the treatments of fatigue that are supported by evidence-based practice. How would she ever succeed at this most important of assignments without it?

     She stood up, frantic to find this recently missing link to her scholarly success. Two weeks was already pushing the time she needed to write an outline, find appropriate quotes from her textbooks and get her beautiful and incredibly intelligent friend to proofread it to find any mistake or grammar problems that might make her work anything less than perfect. So these precious minutes she was wasting searching were absolute agony to her.

     “Jessica?”

     Responding to the voice of her husband from the other room would only further delay the beginning of her work, so Jess pretended she hadn’t heard, flipping again through her folder of notes for the elusive page.

     “Jess!”

     Jessica paused in her hunt. Mitchell’s voice was ... worried. She let go of the paper in her hands and stepped cautiously forwards. She opened the door slowly and saw Mitchell. He seemed to be struggling with something. She moved out of the study and could see the complete picture. Mitchell was holding one side of a few pages of paper and pulling as a little creature tugged on the other. Jessica could only stand in place and watch.  The small monster was only as high as Mitchell’s shin, but was holding his own in the strange tug-of-war.

     “Mitch ... what ...?” Jessica could only stand and stare at the bizzare scene in front of her.

     “Jessica ... he has your assignment ...”

     Jessica looked at the top page and the printed text all over it. “It’s a draft, Mitchell. You can let it go.”

     Mitchell looked down at it, too. “Okay.” He dropped the paper and the little creature fell backwards.

Standing at her husband’s side, Jessica watched as the small creature recovered itself and gave a triumphant grin at his prize before disappearing amongst tiny smoke-like whisps.

     “What the hell was that?” Mitchell asked, putting a hand on Jessica’s shoulder. Jessica was still staring at the space where the monster had been and turned her face to look at Mitchell.

     “I think that may have been the thing that took my assessment outcomes.” Jessica glanced back to where the creature had disappeared from and frowned. “I'm going to have to call someone in my class and ask if I can borrow theirs.”

I'm thinking there's more to this story. Ask and I'll take a shot at making it longer. :)

Two Against the World

Hey all. It's my blog's anniversary month, so I'm trying to post more. There's a long and boring story about where my archive of short stories went (coincidentally a little over a year ago) but I won't go into that.
Anyway, this story! It was a commission work for a friend on deviantART (Scarydestiny), based off this work of hers and the original characters that came with their world.


Leslie had been having a difficult day at school, anyone could see that. It was best to tiptoe around the thirteen-year-old deviant when she was in any kind of bad mood, but Jamie, her best friend, was never one to leave his dear companion to her own devices. Besides her brother, he was the only one who could deal with the strange and powerful girl. Most people were scared of her. Jamie had no fear of anything, not since the accident three years before that had left him in a wheelchair. He was his own kind of outsider, and knew how it felt for people around to never interact properly for fear they would cause feelings to be hurt.
      This day, he had taken note of her emotional state and watched Leslie carefully from the corner of his eye as they met in the hallways. She was bursting with pent-up energy, and Jamie was actually at a loss about what to do for her. Her anxiety was showing in the way she fidgeted, tapped and twitched, and in her frustration and shaking hands. If she could make it through the day, he would watch her sprint down the running track behind the school to release her energy. If only she would make it through the day...
      In the class after lunch, Jamie found himself worrying for her. This wasn't an ordinary day for Leslie, and he knew it. She was too proud to admit that she needed someone to lean on. Jamie looked down at his useless legs and remembered sadly that he wasn't exactly the best for that particular friendship role.
      A cry from the hall made him look up from his work. No one else in the classroom seemed bothered, but the sound made Jamie nervous. He didn't worry about raising his hand, simply rolled his chair out from behind his desk and made his way to the teacher.
      "May I be excused?" he asked, not waiting for an answer before moving towards the hall. Asking was simply a formality for him, after all. Teachers were always willing to give him anything he wanted. He was disabled, and that entitled him to certain privileges that came with being pitied. Getting whatever they wanted was something he and Leslie had in common.
      As Jamie wheeled himself down the hall, he noticed Mrs. Crowley standing outside the janitor's closest. She was mumbling something, leaning towards the door and holding the handle. "Is something wrong?" he called out to her.
      Mrs. Crowley turned to look at who had adressed her, a worried frown creasing her already wrinkled skin as she peered over her glasses. "Jamie?" she asked. "Oh good. You're here. I need you to do something for me. Go to my office and call Leslie's brother, Liam for me, will you? Leslie's only gone and shut herself in the closet again."
      Jamie reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile phone. The older boy picked up on the second ring. "Liam? Leslie needs you." 
     The conversation didn't last much longer than that one sentence, and at the sound of the dial tone, Jamie replaced his phone. He could imagine Liam, already halfway across his school, running to his sister's aide. He sighed and watched Mrs. Crowley continue trying to coax Leslie out of the tiny room. Sometimes it was just those two against the world, and no one else mattered. Mrs. Crowley always did her best to calm Leslie down when she had one of her episodes, but both she and her brother were oblivious to anyone else in the universe. Not even Jamie could help.
      Jamie approached the gray-haired woman and place a tentative hand on her arm. "I called Liam. He'll be here soon. What happened?"
      Mrs. Crowley sighed and gave the door one last wistful look before letting herself be led a short way away from it. "You know Leslie, dear. Her science teacher upset her and she drained the life from one of his beautiful potted plants. She ran out and shut herself in the closet. But I don't  know why she got so upset. She didn't hurt anyone."
      Jamie looked to the door, wishing he could do something. Anything. He could imagine how Leslie was: sitting in the small space with a blank look on her face, refusing to make any response. There were times when she couldn't control her power -- days when she was anxious and couldn't help sucking the energy out of something nearby, and it weighed heavily on his best friend's heart. It scared everyone except Jamie and Mrs. Crowley, so most people kept their distance from her at all costs. Even her parents seemed to refuse to be close to her...
      Liam came skidding down the hallway, his short blonde hair swaying in the displaced air from the speed of his movement. He barely gave Jamie and Mrs. Crowley a glance as he came to a stop in front of the closet.
      "Leslie?" he called out in his soft voice. The emotion he put into that one word conveyed every feeling he had for his little sister. "Leslie, it's time to open the door now."
      There was a click as the door unlocked and Liam pushed it open, immediately taking his sister into his arms. There were only small trails of tears from her eyes, but Liam wiped them away and held her to him as if she was sobbing.
      "I'll fix it," he crooned. "You know I will. It doesn't even matter because I can put things back the way they were."
      Jamie turned away. He'd seen these scenes enough to know exactly how they went. Liam could fix everything, after all. Whatever life energy Leslie took away, Liam could put back. It was best for him to just to back to class and leave them to it. Though he couldn't help but continue to stare. The siblings didn't even acknowledge his presence, and he was on the outside of even his fellow outsiders.

Forward or Die

This was a uni assignment I did once for a reading night. Everyone seemed to like it. I ... can't really say that I do. I don't think I'm much of a comedic writer, but here it is, for your enjoyment. Suppose it might be even better if you heard my dramatic reading of it. Ask me to read it to you sometime. ;)

Ah, and it never had a title. This one I just thought up on the spot, so if you've got a better idea, I'd love to hear it.

The nighttime glow of the moon reached in through the net curtains and the skylight, illuminating the sparsely furnished room. A shadow stretched into the corner behind the open door, and it was there that Louis crouched, staring resolutely into the eerie stillness. His back pressed to the wall, he held a pair of oversized scissors in one hand and clutched the neck of a chipped wooden cricket bat with the other. There was no chance anyone would sneak up on him tonight.
         As he waited, he thought bitterly about how the universe must hate him. Of all the times it could, why did his computer have to crash right after he clicked the forward button?
         It hadn’t even had the decency to stay on long enough for him to see dancing monkeys flash across the screen – a feat he’d been promised for sending the prosperity angel email to the twenty required contacts, as well as ten more for extra riches.
         And so now Louis was miserably slouched, awaiting the sinister email’s retribution, as he had been since the sun had squeezed its last drop of day from the horizon to make room for the night.
         A black figure passing in front of the light from the window knocked Louis out of his daze. The moon’s glow had suddenly dimmed and the dark outline of a person was barely discernable from the surrounding shadows until a stray gleam of metal caught Louis’s eye. He was paralysed with a terrible fear when he realised what it was ...
         A deadly ninja assassin had come to issue the email’s judgement and as Louis crouched, watching the killer, he realised the truth as he remembered the warning stories:
         Tina had deleted the email right away, and that very night she had a fatal car accident. It must have been the ninja.
         Jimmy had read it, but left it unsent in his inbox in favour of rushing to propose to his girlfriend. But after accepting his proposal, the young woman took a hiking holiday and was never seen again – the work of the ninja.
         And Louis would never, ever forget Michael, who only forwarded the email to two contacts and the next day lost his job, never to be hired again, and was served by his wife for a divorce. The ninja!

         The ninja in Louis’s room scratched his head and lifted a corner of the bedsheet to peek underneath. Louis had never been so scared in his life. All this personification of death himself had to do was turn and check the corner and his life would be over faster than he could blink. Everyone knew that ninjas could overpower anyone but a samurai, so Louis’s scissors and bat would do nothing but enrage the assassin and cause his death to be more drawn-out and torturous.
         In a stealthy and swift movement, the ninja dropped to the floor, checking beneath the bed. He slid like a whisp of smoke back to his feet and looked to his left and right, but not behind. After pausing in thought a few seconds more, he shrugged and dissolved back into the darkness.

Louis didn’t budge until full sunlight passed through the window and warmed his frozen fingers. Only then did he release his deathgrip on the makeshift weapons and stood to stretch. He had to get to another computer a.s.a.p to send the email ... and to update the Wikipedia article on ninjas.

I am the Kraken (part 5)

Part the last. Yes. Seriously, when you get to the bottom of the page, it's the end of this saga. Oh, the ways I can comment on this last part ... I'll leave that to you. Comment. More on this phenomenon in my closing remarks.
And if you haven't read the rest of the story yet, click these links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Trent sat on the floor of the Kraken’s office, breathing heavily and looking distressed.

     “That was ... you’re ... it’s ...” He took a deep breath. “You’re the one I met at the ball.” His teeth showed as he gave a brilliant grin.

     Emma just stared. She had wondered whether Trent had really noticed Frank that night, or if he’d believed it actually was a unicorn. Now her question was answered and she didn't know how to react. She’d just risked a lot to save this boy, and all her plans had failed. She wasn't exactly sure how to proceed.

     Trent was still panting and looking disheveled, so she reasoned fixing him up was the best way to start. Leaving him on the floor, she walked out to get a glass of water. None of her assistants were around, so she had to find a glass herself, and by the time she returned to the office, Trent had dragged himself over to the couch and was slumped against it. She crouched down in front of him and put the glass to his mouth.

     “There aren't any of my people around, so I’m going to have to do this on my own.” She put her free hand to lightly caress a bruise on his face. “I can’t say I’m a great nurse though.”

     Trent smiled, taking her hand gently. “It’s you, so I won’t mind. You just saved me, after all.”

     “I only found you. It was Frank who did the saving.” Emma pulled herself away from Trent to retrieve the first aid kit behind her desk. Trent waited until she had pulled out antiseptic before speaking again.

     “Frank. That’s the name of your unicorn?”

     Emma frowned as she dabbed the cream a little too roughly. “No, his name is Fios. And he’s not mine. Fios is his own unicorn.”

     “Oh,” Trent said, wincing. “Sorry.”

     There was silence between the two as Emma wrapped his wounds in bandages and gauze.

     “He doesn’t like you,” Emma said thoughtfully.

     “Oh? I guess I’m going to have to endear myself to him, then?” Trent gave a half-grin, clearly exhausted. Emma helped him onto the couch.

     “I ... have to go see if Fios is okay. He was pretty mad at me.”

     “I’ll come.” Trent tried to sit up, but didn’t get more than his head upright again.

     “No, you sleep here. Everything’ll be locked up, there’s food in the fridge. I’ll be back early tomorrow morning.”

     “Fine,” Trent sighed. “You go make sure your unicorn-friend is okay. I’ll just sleep.” He closed his eyes. Emma moved to the door and stopped, turning to watch Trent for a moment before continuing out.

Emma walked in her front door and shut it loudly. The light in the front room flicked on. Fios knew she was waiting for him to make an appearance, and managed to hold back for about a minute before he stepped into the room, his eyes dark with resentment. She waited for him to speak first, and he did.

     “Why did you make me save him, Emma? You know I don’t like the boy.”

     Emma was quick to answer as she had previously. “But we need him, Frank.”

     Fios tossed his head. “We do not need him. I told you that. And now he is the only other who knows of my existence. That is not right, I am here in the human world only for you, Emma.”

     “I don’t know what your problem is, Frank. If I want to–”

     Fios snorted, interrupting her. “I want to be the only one at your side, Emma. You will make a choice between Fios-Rente-Narve-Kassa and this Trent.”

     “Frank, you know I can’t make that choice. Trent is human, people can see him and understand that he’s my partner.”

     Fios stepped forward holding his head at her eye level. “If you need another human, then you do not need me.”

     Emma kept her gaze hard, and Fios realised she wasn’t going to change her mind. She wanted him to share her with the boy, but Fios just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bear to watch her be with Trent and expect him to be happy about it. He lowered his head and looked away.

     “Your final decision is that you want to keep us both?” he asked.

     Emma sent a wordless affirmative into his mind and Fios sighed. He looked to her once more and pressed his nose to her cheek. “I wish you the very best in avenging your father’s death,” he told her. “But I cannnot stay with you.”

     Emma jumped abruptly as Fios pulled away from her. “What? Frank, no, you can’t–”

She reached out to him, but Fios transported himself from her world back to his own meadow. The other unicorns looked up as he appeared, and Fios turned his attention away from them to the grass beneath his hooves. This was where he belonged, whether the others of his kind would accept him or not. Emma had made her choice.

It was the crack of dawn when Emma slouched back into her office. She’d waited up all night to see if Frank would come home, but he hadn't made an appearance.

She was surprised that Trent was already awake. He was looking refreshed, and his wounds hadn’t been so bad as to keep him from moving about freely. She watched him limp over to the fridge, giving her a questioning look. But Emma was determined not to speak first.

     “What happened to the unicorn?” Trent asked.

     “He left. I can’t get him to answer me anymore. We’re on our own.” Emma watched Trent pull a carton of milk from the fridge and pour some into a glass. Looking him now, she couldn't remember why she had rushed off to save him against Frank’s wishes. He was nothing special. Frank was the one who was  special.

     “We need a brilliant plan,” he said cheerfully, oblivious to her overnight mood change.

     “Here’s my brilliant plan, Trent: we storm the building. Then maybe I can call Fios back to me.” Emma had screamed for him to return and he'd given no answer, but she knew that Frank would come back if she proved she could do it without him. He had to. She was going to do this without Trent, as well. She wouldn't follow anyone else’s plans anymore. It was time to follow her own path.

     Emma scowled all the way through her breakfast with Trent, though he did his best to cheer her up. As the morning wore on, her staff floated into the warehouse to work for the day. She moved to the top of the stairs outside her office, Trent hovering just inside the door nervously as the staff waited and looked up warily as she stared down at them. They waited patiently, only speaking in quiet murmurs until it seemed everyone had turned up. There was an eerie silence when Emma finally spoke.

     “Friends, I know that yesterday was a disaster for us. But it was a disaster for Jareel as well. They will be recovering, and so today is the day to hit them hard. I have waited too long already to reclaim my family’s business. The Kraken and I have discussed this at length, and today is all or nothing. He will support me in my rise, or he will watch me fall. Gather everything together, because today we will no longer be splintered, but be under the direction of myself or of Jareel.”

     Emma didn't wait for any reaction to her speech, she just stepped back into her office. Trent followed her like a puppy.

     “You spoke with the Kraken? Was the unicorn ... Fiot? The Kraken?”

     “Fios-Rente-Narve-Kassa,” Emma said quietly without looking at him, “Is not the Kraken. I am the Kraken.”

     Trent took a deep breath and let it out. Emma could feel his eyes on her back as she watched her employees scramble about on the factory floor through her viewing window.  

     “Guess it was a short discussion, then,” he said, in an effort to lighten her mood. 
     Emma cringed inwardly. She found his lightheartedness attractive and endearing, but Trent was no replacement for Fios – her Frank, so hardened herself against it. She and the unicorn been together for so long she couldn't bear to imagine living without him. Emma didn't understand why he had to leave just because of Trent. She felt empty without her constant companion, and she had to end this campaign against Jareel so she could focus on bringing him back to her side.

Emma stormed into the main building of her father's business and shot wildly into the foyer. A security guard and two reception staff fell to the floor. Within a few minutes, her staff had surged into the room and secured the ground level. As men and women started for the stairs and went down to the basement cells, Emma took the stairs going up.

     “Hey!” Trent called after her. “Where are you going? We have to do this together.”

Emma turned in the stairwell to level a glare at the boy. “Jareel is mine,” she said.

Trent was too far away to hear her words, but she saw him give a worried glance back down before running to catch up with her. “You’re not going alone.” He passed her to take the lead up the stairs, and Emma let him. It was his place to keep her safe as part of her staff.

     The shot came from further down the stairwell. Emma and Trent ducked and Trent fired his own gun back in that direction.

     “So much for the element of surprise,” he said, glancing upward to make sure no one was above them.

     Emma only nodded. It was only two levels to the floor of the main office, where Jareel would be. She dashed up the stairs as Trent inadvertently laid down cover fire and she heard him yell some kind of expletive behind her.

Jareel heard a few gunshots. Louis looked up from the paperwork he was reading.
     “Did we have any training scheduled for today?” he asked.
     Jareel waved his hand in dismissal. “I don't plan that sort of thing. Now continue with your report from yesterday.”
     Louis shifted nervously at the sound of more gunfire. “Yesterday, we, uh, suffered few casualties, but have many wounded missing today. Unfortunately, I don't think the other side has many dead, either. There were no bodies left behind, so we can't confirm-”
     The intercom crackled to life. “Mr. Nolan, Sir, we have a situation.”
     Louis looked alarmed, dropping the papers onto the desk and drawing his gun from inside his coat.
     Jareel sighed as he pushed the button to respond to his receptionist. “Let me guess: Miss Jensen is making another move. Proceed to crush her as we did yesterday.”
     “Sir ... We're not getting responses from the ground or first level teams. By the time I heard about any of this, they'd gotten to the second floor.”
     Louis swore. “How did she recover so quickly? We have to get you-”
     “Go take care of things, Louis.” Jareel strolled over to a cabinet and withdrew a shotgun. “I'm not in charge because I fail to take care of things myself.”
     Louis hesitated for a second, but knew better than to disobey an order. Jareel began to load ammunition into his weapon. He was going to blow a hole in that girl's head, as he should have done in the first place. Then he'd deal with that fool who called himself the Kraken. He moved out into the reception area, finding his receptionist cowering behind her desk. He did only hire her for her looks, after all. He held his gun with one hand and grasped her arm to pull her to her feet. A pretty, unarmed girl would make a useful human shield. He let go and nudged her towards the door with his gun. She put up her hands as if he was going to shoot her, but moved obediently.
     “Put your hands down,” he told her. “You're just going to check hallways for me. You're unarmed, so no one will just shoot you. I want Emma's head.”
     “O-okay.” The girl put her hands down and opened the door a crack, poking her head out. She looked both ways before opening it wider and stepping into the hallway. Jareel was about to follow her when she gave a shriek and raised her hands. He raised the gun and took a purposeful step outside, noting the newcomer was his old courier, Trent, before blasting him through the chest. The boy crumpled to the floor as the two stood watching.
     “Good,” he said to the girl. “That's exactly what I want you to do. And when we find Emma-”
      He was interrupted by the cold steel of a knife at his back, but before he could turn it had penetrated his flesh. His assailant wrenched the shotgun from his grasp.
     “When you find Emma, she'll stick a knife in your back.”
     Jareel groaned and fell to his knees.
     “Go find Jareel’s closest and get them here,” Emma told the girl. “Your boss and I are going to have a chat.”
     The girl scurried off and Emma kicked him in the side. 
     “Get up and into your office,” she said. “We've got some things to discuss if you want to live.”
     Jareel got to his feet. Emma wanted to gloat, which meant he had a chance to turn the tables. Like father, like daughter. He smiled to himself, stumbling through his reception area just in front of the stupid progeny of his old boss. Emma kicked the door closed and turned to Jareel, holding up the stolen weapon. Jareel opened his mouth to speak, but the blast of the gun was faster than his words.

Emma put down her gun as the door burst open. Some of Jareel’s goons were there, led by Louis. She stepped aside to show them the prone form of their former boss.

     “It’s over. I’m in charge now.”

     When they lowered their weapons, Emma raised hers again. “And take Louis to the basement cells. I want him tortured for his part in assassinating my father.”

     “What?”Louis put his hands up in surrender as a the man and the woman directly behind him grabbed his arms. “I was just following orders. Please. Boss. Please.” They dragged him away, leaving a group of five armed men standing in the doorway. Emma glared at them.

     “Go tell everyone I’m in charge and they don’t have to fight anymore,” she growled at them. “We don’t want more people dying unnecessarily. This whole saga’s already going to cost us enough in compensation to the city.”

     When they’d left, Emma leant against the desk, looking down at the corpse of Jareel, her enemy. She didn't take pleasure in causing pain, but this man had left her with a lifetime of anguish. She glared at him.

     “I wish I could have spent more time killing you,” she told the lifeless body. “Everything was perfect before your stupid coup. Now I have to run this business on my own.” She sighed. “Well ... with the Kraken.” She looked up to the ceiling. “Fios! Come back. You can be the Kraken!” She waited, but there was no reply, no flash of his grey flank appearing in the room. He had gone to the meadow, he had to be able to hear her. “Fios!”

Now for my post-I-finished-something rant...

Sometimes I wonder if I’m writing this blog for the 500 hits its had - from which I’ve gained an entire two comments; for those who tell me that my blog is cool or they like certain stories (and yet, never comment); to advertise I’m writing stories for friends; or simply for myself. 

The only reason that leaves me not depressed over the lack of comments is the last one, and that’s just sad, because I don’t need to post things to the internet for myself.

So ... you know ... comment. It shows passers-by to my blog that other people actually take the time to read it. And if you have a blogger account, follow? And share my blog with other people. Coz you do know that’s the only way I'm going to get anything out of writing this junk, right? And like my Facebook page. If you like what I do, do something in return, because otherwise my (semi) hard work is for nothing.

In summary: comment, like (or +1, even), share, follow.

 Do it! I'll love you forever!