Swans In Space!

This one needs a blurb, so here it is:
To you or I, these swans are just ordinary birds, but to Doctor Valera, they are so, so much more.
All idea credit to my wonderful new anime-con-going friend, Rosalie. This is based on a manga of the same name, which seriously missed it's opportunity for a more awesome story.

----------

Doctor Valera
23
scientist
Penrith, NSW
Life achievements: | ...
Rosalie's fingers hovered over the keyboard, eyes glued to the screen. She hit the backspace key.
Life goals: | ...

Rosalie couldn't think of one thing that would be worth her life's work. She was a scientist, she wanted to ... to ... do something with her life.

She sighed and looked out the window at the lake across the road. Swans swam merrily around in circles, playing and ducking into the water and eating bread that was tossed their way. Oh, the life of a swan, it was so simple.

She stood up. There was no point sitting and staring out the window. She may as well go enjoy the warm sun and the breeze outside near the water. Rosalie was a woman of action, and sitting and daydreaming wistfully had  never produced the results she wanted. She hadn't studied all her life to stare at an almost-blank screen and feel sorry for herself. She slipped on her shoes and grabbed her keys before rushing out the door. She stopped in the hallway halfway to the elevator and ran back, picking up a notepad and pen before finally leaving.

The swans were playful, as if putting on a show for the crowd enjoying the sunny day. One spread his wings in front of a boy in a red cap, causing him to squeal in delight. He would have thrown his entire sandwich to the beautiful bird had his mother not grabbed his hand at the last moment, convincing him to throw his crusts one at a time instead.

Rosalie, sitting cross-legged on the grassy bank, smiled as the same bird stretched out its wings again and swam alongside one of its friends, who copied the action as they moved in a circle together. That was some impressive showmanship. The moment overcame her and she gave a small burst of applause at the display.

The swans looked in her direction, as if they understood what she was doing. The scientist and birds looked at one another for a long moment, performing for bread seemingly forgotten. Rosalie felt a shudder down her spine and broke the staring competition to study her shoes. When she looked back up, the swans were clamouring for bread once more, as if the eerie situation had never happened.


Rosalie looked for patterns in the moonlight on her ceiling, trying to stop herself from getting out of bed and looking directly at the shining gibbous moon outside. If she got out of bed, her chances of getting to sleep would be greatly reduced. If she got out of bed, she'd stare at the moon for awhile, get an idea, turn on her computer...

Thinking about all the things that would stop her from sleeping wasn't really helping her sleep at all.

Rosalie sighed and rolled over, coming face-to-beak with a swan.

"Ah!" Rosalie sat up, getting a better view to confirm it was, actually a swan in her bedroom.

The swan honked in return.

"What are you doing in my bedroom?" The absurdity of asking such a question to a bird was lost on her frazzled mind.

The swan lifted a wing and spun in a circle. He honked again.

"So you're ... one of the swans from the park this afternoon?"

It was dark, and Rosalie wasn't sure if she was going crazy when she saw the bird give a nod.

"What do you want?"

With another honk, this one softer, the bird spread both his wings and hopped onto the end of Rosalie's bed.

"You want to stay in my apartment?"

The bird snuggled down into the twisted blanket, treating it like a nest.

Rosalie stared at the bird for a few moments more, then got up and rushed to her front door. It was closed, the deadlock still in place. She checked the balcony door. Still locked. She rattled it and it didn't budge. She felt a breeze and turned to the kitchen, where the window was open.

"Mystery solved," she whispered with a sigh. She closed the window and went back to bed. She'd deal with the bird in the morning.

As Rosalie wiggled back between the sheets, she glanced over at the swan. He looked content, lazing at the foot of her bed with his head under a wing. Maybe she had a new pet swan.

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. :)