Kiersten White's Contest - Less than "super" creature encounters

Kiersten White author of Paranormalcy, Supernaturaly and Endlessly (which will be released in two months) posted an online contest earlier this week.  Unfortunately the contest  was closed upon my arrival but the concept was great.  In reading through the comments there were a lot of really funny and imaginative entries.  I really wanted to write my own, even though technically the contest was over and I figured that if I felt compelled to play her game, even though I was not going to get anything out of it, other than a few belly laughs,  then you might too.

SO,  this is what Kiersten wanted her readers to do :

I want you to tell me how a supernatural creature would disappoint you in reality.  [Explain] how a supernatural creature encounter would be light on the "super" part.

Kiersten was also kind enough to give us some examples:

Finally got a werewolf boyfriend, but he's so skinny he doesn't even rip out of his shirt when he shifts. Lame.

Met a super hot guy in science class who looked like he wanted to kill me. Turns out more Dexter than Edward. Typical.

Dating a fallen angel would be way easier if I didn't have that stupid down allergy. Hives? Not so romantic.

I went to Disneyland and met a pixie, and all I got were these vicious bite and claw marks.

This would have been my response, if I had arrived on time......

When I turned eighteen I traveled to the Scottish Highlands to attend magic school. I wasn’t there more than a day before I met Druesilla. I thought having a Cait Sith for a friend would be really cool, but it turns out she’s a real witch.


If you want to play along feel free to write your own. If I get a number of responses then I'll send a note over to Kiersten's blog and see if she'd like to visit and comment on your less-than-super creatures.

The Rate - DWP From 5-30-12

This form is called a Pun-Ku. I've been tooling around trying out some new stuff, just to shake things up. Four lines - with a 4-5-4-4 pattern. Lines three and four rhyme.

I'm not concerned
With those silly stars
To rate my skill
Comment at will

Patience - 2 Haiku -DWP From 5-29-12

Models of patience
Constantly in the habit
The traits of a nun

First you plant the seed
Tend it and watch as it grows
At last knowledge blooms....

The Circle - DWP From 5-28-12

A never ending loop,
A gold ring that binds,
Worn by one of the group,
It's playing tricks on their minds.

Finally - DWP From 5-27-12

Finally readying my fiction manuscript for the mail

Permanently adding the proper number of stamps

I wondered what the editor would think of my tale

Now that the story had undergone so may revamps

My Video for Camp NaNoWriMo

Did anyone else make a video for camp? Mines not great but I never claimed to be a movie maker.. My goal is to write books, I'll let someone else produce them. =)

Trust - 4 Line Poem - DWP From 5-26-12

The damaging secret must be kept

Button your lips and hunker down

For once the wrong ears intercept

With lightening speed it travels town

Guilt - 4 Lines of Prose - DWP From 5-25-12

An instant message from Gabriel appears in the middle of my computer screen, hiding my current project from view.

“So when are we hearing more from Drue? I want to read more of her story.”

“Oh I don’t know,” I reply. “I’ve got so much going on right now. I’ll try to get something written this week.” =/

“Well hurry up! We haven’t heard from Drue since March!”

After letting out a long sigh, my fingers began to pound the keys once more ”Okay! I’ll do my best.” I wrote before signing off and tearing up a handwritten page of fruitless ideas.

Another day spent with school books, homework and after school activities. Our schedule is so hectic, I can’t even remember the last time I played with my kids.

Cursed - DWP From 5-24-12

On a white pillow made from the finest silk lay the blood red stone of the House of Celine Demure.

Examining the ruby through its plexi-glass containment I watched as its many facets reflected the florescent lighting that shined from above.  The cut was exquisite and the clarity was among the brightest I had ever seen.  The gem was a picture of perfection and I ached to possess it.

I pressed my nose against the glass searching for hidden security measures but it wasn’t long before my interest started attracting the wrong kind of attention. A security guard walked over. I smiled.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” I said in an attempt at making polite conversation.

He sniffed and replied “Yeah, it’s a pretty trinket. But I wouldn’t want any part of it.  The thing disposes of anyone who wears it.”

Trinket!  I thought to myself, I was so agitated at his lack of appreciation for such a unique piece of art that it took a moment for the other things he said to sink in.

“Disposed of?” I said aloud, though I was speaking more to myself, than to the ignorant fool standing next to me.

He shrugged, “That’s right Miss. A series of mysterious accidents, the ladies get their tickets punched long before the train is due.”

Overlooking his uncouth idiom, I steadied myself before asking my final question “How long did they live?”

At this the guard smiled, exposing a small dimple and a row of gleaming white teeth.  “Less than a day dear, if I were you I wouldn’t try it.”

Imprisoned - DWP From 5-23-12 - Camp NaNoWriMo

I had thought it was a good idea when I received the email.  Its subject was seemingly innocent. “Come to camp” was all that it had said. If truth be told, I was thrilled just to receive the invitation.  Without hesitation I registered for August and agreed to the terms, 50,000 words in a single month.  I’ve never attempted anything so daring.  While my friends were discussing which manuscript draft they would be editing, I was struck by the sudden realization that I was not prepared. I have no story, no character, not even a single solitary idea that could support 50,000 words.   To top it off these kids won’t be at school, they’ll be here with me!  At this thought my mouth went dry and my throat began to close. Beads of sweat started to form on my forehead. I’m trapped, imprisoned by my own enthusiasm!

 But you know I’m great with deadlines; this may just work out to my advantage.

< >

If you decide to come to camp, please let me know what your Camp Name and Cabin Number are,
We could all use a bit of encouragement.  http://www.campnanowrimo.org

Book Review : Twin-Bred By Karen A. Wyle

As a mother of twins I have been able to experience the twin connection first hand.  There is a bond between twin siblings that is beyond what words can truly express. In my experience the attachment between the children runs so deep that the connection is stronger than that of the relationship between the children and their parents.

Because this book involves the twin connection it was of great interest to me, however the addition of science fiction elements makes Twin-Bred a must read for all.

Let's talk  about the book:

 

For seventy years members of the human race have lived on the planet Tofarn along side the Tofa people. However their  differences in appearance, mannerism and culture prove to be a cause of contention.

 

Afraid the next incident could lead to war scientist Mara Cadell has a radical proposal, the Twin-Bred Project. The purpose of the project is for host mothers to carry fraternal twins; one Tofa and one human. She hopes that the joining of their cultures will allow the races of Tofarn to better understand each other and eventually bring peace.

 

The human counsel approves the project and the Tofa agree to cooperate. However readers will soon learn that the Tofa have their own agenda. As if that weren't enough to put the entire project in jeopardy a racist council member, Councilman Kimball, believes that the human colonists should have killed off the Tofa race before inhabiting Tofarn.

 

Chaos ensues and it's up to Mara and the internal voice of her deceased twin, Levi, to avoid the dangers and shepherd the Twin-Bred project through to completion.

Can inter-species diplomacy begin in the womb? Will the Twin-Bred fulfill their destiny and bring peace to the Planet of Tofarn? Or will Councilman Kimball turn the Twin-Bred into a weapon against their own species?

A Review By R. Lee Holz:

"Twin-Bred is one of the best science fiction novels I've read in decades. It is literary fiction as well as S-F. . . . Twin-Bred is anything but derivative. To the contrary, it is one of the most original stories I've ever read, not an easy thing given the countless variations on human/alien encounters and relations already published . . . . [T]he book is beautifully written and riveting. The complex, flawlessly structured plot evolves logically, but continues to surprise to the very end . . . . Highly recommended for lovers of both S-F and literary fiction." -- R. Lee Holz, author


About the author, Karen A Wyle:

Karen A. Wyle  resides with her husband and children in Bloomington, Indiana. Her childhood ambition was to be the youngest ever published novelist. While writing her first novel at age 10, she was mortified to learn that some British upstart had beaten her to the goal at age 9. She finished that novel nonetheless. After a prolonged detour, she returned to writing novels in 2010. Wyle self-published Twin-Bred on October 15, 2011 -- her older daughter's birthday. She has another novel in rough draft and will shortly be starting the sequel to Twin-Bred.

Author website: www.KarenAWyle.net
(sign up for email alerts about new releases and events)

Author Facebook page: www.facebook.com/KarenAWyle

Author on Twitter: @WordsmithWyle

Author's blog: Looking Around, at http://looking-around.blogspot.com

Q & A:

Q. What inspired you to write Twin-Bred?

A. I read an article online about interactions between twins in utero -- synchronized movement, touching, even kissing. Either this article or a comment on the article mentioned the long term effect of losing a twin in utero. As an avid science fiction reader, I tend to see the sci-fi potential in any event or discovery. I imagined a scientist seeking to overcome the comprehension gap between two intelligent species by way of the bond between twins. It would be natural for the scientist who conceived this idea to be a twin; it would be intriguing if she were a twin survivor, and if she had somehow kept her lost twin alive as a companion, who could be a character in the story.

On a deeper level, I have always been fascinated by communication issues and the struggle to understand what is different.

Purchase: 

Twin-Bred is available in paperback and as an ebook for Nook or Kindle (and soon for other e-readers), at the following websites:

Amazon (paperback):

http://www.amazon.com/Twin-Bred-Karen-Wyle/dp/1463578911/ref=tmm_pap_title_0

Amazon (Kindle edition):

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005VDVHQ2

CreateSpace (paperback): https://www.createspace.com/3541557

Barnes & Noble's Nook Store:

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/twin-bred-karen-wyle/1106674642?ean=2940013311077&itm=1&usri=twin%2Bbred

Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/94490

The Executioner - 2 Haiku - DWP from 5-22-12

High on the platform
Noose wrapped around his neck, She
Kicks out the barrel

<>

A sharp blade slides fast
Pleased, she watches its descent
Heads are gonna roll

The Blend - DWP From 5-21-12

Resting in my shopping cart, it lay carefully placed upon a week’s worth groceries. I wheeled the cart to checkout and placed the beloved carton on the rotating belt.  The cashier grabbed it unceremoniously and dropped it into a plastic bag. I cringed hearing the loud thunk and watched as the container flopped over on its side.  With the cart reloaded, I wheeled it out to the SUV and loaded my packages into the trunk.  A wide variety of lunches, dinners and snacks, slid back and forth as I made the ten mile trip down the bumpy lime-rock roads toward home.  Finally, arriving at my destination, I hurriedly put the frozen food and cold items into the fridge and left the rest upon the table to deal with later.  Lost Girl was due to come on the television in less than five minutes.  I took a spoon from the drawer and carried the bag containing my favored snack over to the recliner, plopping down into its cozy interior.   Pulling the lid from my coveted container, I delved into a pint of Ben and Jerry’s; a perfect blend of cherry ice cream, cherry pieces and chocolate fudge.  Cherry Garcia always makes for a blissful “Midnight Getaway.”

Branching Out - DWP From 5-20-12

Live from W.W. K-8 Elementary School...

<>

RE: Branch Out

Oh no another Facebook app has attacked my page!
I have no time for these requests, so now I’m in a rage!
All this wasted writing time; it must surely be a sin,
Wasn’t it enough for you that we’re connected on LinkedIn?

The Surfer - 4 Line Poem - DWP From 5-19-12

Wearing a name brand swim suit

She lays in wait on a wooden board

Smelling of coconut and tropical fruit

Her glistening golden body adored

Tweak - 4 Lines Prose - DWP from 5-19-12

It happens all the time. You start with a drawing, a painting, maybe even a written work. It’s good, but you think it could be better. So, you take some time to look it over and think of the ways you might be able to improve on its various elements. Then unsatisfied you change, recolor and edit, until the unique creation you had made is barely recognizable.

 It could be that the modifications actually enhance the piece.  However if you weren’t careful and tried to change too much or kept tweaking the same element in an effort to obtain perfection then it’s quite possible that what you’ve actually made is a mess.  Its times like this, you need to learn to leave well enough alone. 

Random CD - 12 Stones Crash - DWP 5/17/12

12 Stones - Crash

As I lie here tossing in my bed
I think of all the things you said
Promises made in a forgotten past
A relationship I thought would last

You went and broke my heart in two
Causing more pain than I ever knew
A fragmented mind shatters within
While thoughts border on mortal sin

Just keep your distance from the house
And do not tempt a deranged spouse
There’s no repairing what you’ve done
But I’m growing fond of this loaded gun.

Linger - DWP From 5-16-12

As I hold it in my hand, this tiny fruit brings back so many memories. The bumpy nature of its peel feels much like the textured walls of my first home.  Its canary yellow exterior calls to mind The Man in the Yellow Hat, one of my favorite characters in the cartoons of Curious George.  The aroma of the slices now hanging from my glass of tea, reminiscent of one of mother’s all day cleaning sprees.  Though sour to the palate, its taste brings a smile to my face as I remember convincing my brother that its flavor was similar to an orange.  Though the events occurred so long ago, they linger on in the minds of those that shared them, stimulated by everyday items, like a simple lemon.

The Billionaire - 2 Haiku - DWP From 5-15-12

Using his money
To aid the homeless
A flawless gesture

<>

Depressed Billionaire
Blessed with material things
Lonely in the heart

The Egg - DWP From 5-14-12

In the shade of a Banyan Tree sat Nathaniel Knox
He made a small campfire surrounded by rocks
Stuffing it chock full of leaves and some twigs
Before running into the woods in search of some pigs

But he found no meat for the fire on that wretched day
For he took the wrong path and was led quite astray
Then the ground gave way and he slid down a slope
Still falling Nathaniel had almost given up hope

His body was launched and flung off in the breeze
Badly battered and scratched by the branches of trees
But finally his aching body did come to rest
When it fell in the confines of a humungous nest

The egg it contained was quite a beautiful sight
He pushed and he pulled with all of his might
As he stole it away he never would have guessed
That the dragon inside would help on his quest

Sloppiness - DWP From 5-13-12

The words had been hastily copied from Milo Macabre’s coveted black book and carried off into the night by pilfering hands. In the wee hours of the very next morning the contents of that same parchment along with the promise of a reanimation ritual were sold to Stella De Marco of Dire Grove for 20 gold pieces.

Never mind that the ink had smudged or that Oliver Bane had no idea how to pronounce the words scribbled upon the page in foreign tongue. The exchange was a good one and one that would keep him fed for weeks. True to his word Oliver intended to fulfill his end of the barter to the best of his ability. No matter how shoddy his skill, it would be done.

Sure he felt poorly about befriending Milo’s apprentice, Nathaniel Knox, with the ultimate intention of betraying him in the end. Nathaniel had been a good friend, a loyal friend, but business was business and being of low moral fiber Oliver had already convinced himself that a full belly and warm hearth were worth any price.

Standing at the foot of Cosmo’s grave a frightened Stella De Marco watched as Oliver yelled into the air commanding an unseen presence, demanding the soul of Cosmo De Marco be released from death. The winds picked up and Oliver held the soiled scroll tighter willing it not to blow away.

Sweat poured down his grimy face as he stumbled over word after spoken word. Finally, he pointed a grubby finger at the shade emerging from the mist. Stella screamed and promptly fainted seeing not the husband she loved but a slovenly dressed rotting corpse traipsing through the muddy grounds of the cemetery.

The Shade - 4 Line Poem - DWP From 5-12-12

She stood at the place where he was laid,
Then out of the mist emerged the shade.
A hollow ghostly image of the former man,
It was then that Stella hatched her plan.

The Widow - 4 Lines Of Prose - DWP From 5-11-12

Stella De Marco just couldn't let go. She started every conversation with “When my Cosmo was alive ...”, “If Cosmo were here ...” and even “I remember when Cosmo and I...” Then misty eyed she would look off into the distance recalling a memory of her past. Cosmo has been her life and she had been his for 62 years. They spent every moment together as husband and wife and the best of friends.

Now he was gone and she was alone. When she woke each morning the right side of the king size bed they once shared remained untouched. At every meal she sat across from an unused place setting and every evening as she sat in her old recliner she’d find herself looking over at its empty twin. It was almost too much to bear.

The people who visited tried their best to ease her mind. They assured her that the emptiness would dissipate over time, but that was just something people said to make themselves feel better about death. Stella doubted they could understand how she was feeling; none of them has experienced life like she did. Defiantly, she resigned herself to a single thought. I will not let this stand! She couldn’t continue on like this, it was time to do something!

The Woman I Was - DWP From 5-10-12

At seventeen she held her first child in her arms. She went on to college, worked and somehow still managed a meager social life. Free-time activities revolved around her daughter’s needs; there was time for little else. Five years later as a college graduate, she married, but now worked more hours. Her family unit changed from two to three persons and the focus of her life moved from her daughter to their new family.

Fast forward, four years later, with her divorce finalized, she and her daughter become part of a new family, “a brady-bunch family.” Her new husband had two children from a previous marriage and the following year they had twins, each suffering from a different form of Autism. For the past 12 years, everything she has done, she has accomplished with the goal of benefiting or the bettering her family or one of its seven members.

Now her oldest daughter is twenty one, and preparing for a life of her own. Her oldest son is eighteen and packing for college with the hopes of continuing on to medical school. Her thirteen year old step-son recently decided to move in with his biological mother. This leaves the eleven year old twins, as the only children remaining in her home.

This void gives way to free time and she often wonders who she was before she started living her life for her family. Trying to remember what she used to do before life got hurried and she started living day to day. You see I can’t tell you about the woman I used to be because she is as much of a mystery to me as she is to you. I never really got the opportunity to know her.

The Offer - DWP From 5-9-12

I shuffled to the bedside table and lowered the wick on a dingy oil lamp before returning to bed. The flame sputtered causing the shadows cast from it to prance along the wall; an ominous face appeared before me and smiled. Pulling the covers up to my neck, I squeezed my eyes tight, and whispered a prayer. Witlessly promising devout servitude to whichever deity might be willing to take pity on me in exchange for protection against my conjured foe.

Nine o’clock came as it always did. Bleary eyed from lack of sleep, I dressed and left the cramped attic, walking down the rickety staircase, out the door, and into the snow. It took only seconds to reach the bookstore, but I had no desire to go in. The heat from the fire inside had begun to melt the frost from the windows and I could just make out the form of Milo Macabre stirring the contents of a cooking cauldron. The smell of rabbit stew wafted through the panes whenever he lifted the lid.

Shifting restlessly from foot to foot I danced about in what was left of the slushy drift, trying to decide if the contents of the pot were worth seeing Milo again. The decision was not mine to make however because just as I had made up my mind to make a hasty departure, the door to the bookshop creaked open. Lost in thought I hadn’t seen Milo leave the fire and now he was standing inches away, watching me, with those, those hypnotic eyes!

“Won’t you come in Master Knox?”

Though the offer was extended, it was only a formality. We both knew I was going inside one way or another. After all I had seen him the previous night, I knew what he was capable of and I could only imagine what he might do to me if I didn’t comply. I’d sealed my own fate and now I had no choice but to come to terms with it. With an audible sigh, I allowed myself be guided into dusty bookstore.

Forgetfulness - 2 Haiku - DWP From 5-8-12

Thoughts clouded by age
Unable to concentrate
Where are my damn keys?

<>

Quite hard to forgive
Impossible to forget
Infidelity

Featuring: Amethyst Eyes by Debbie Brown

Amethyst Eyes

Waking up in the hospital from the car accident that claimed his mother’s life, 15-year-old Tommy is told his father is on his way. Unaware of his father’s true identity or the reason he left so long ago, the teen is unprepared for the reality of the life he must now lead. In the blink of an eye Tommy finds himself on an alien vessel…his father is not from Earth!

    The challenges Tommy face go beyond adapting to a new home and school. But first, he has to survive Jayden…the reluctant, unsympathetic tutor, tasked to help him fit in. When he finally thinks things are getting better, things come crashing down as he learns that being born with amethyst eyes has made him the target of some very unfriendly beings.

 

The Trailer

The Book Trailer for Amethyst Eyes

Purchase

Purchase Amethyst Eyes on Amazon



Debbie Brown

     For as long as she can remember, Debbie has been creating stories in her head. She hated to go anywhere without a pen and paper, just in case. As a graduate of the Institute of Children's literature, while pursuing yet another writing course, she finds herself doing what she loves . . . learning and writing. The course gives her an excuse to just sit down and write. Over the years she has worked as a nurse, a teacher, a martial arts instructor and a CIC officer in the Canadian Forces. Her hobbies have varied from woodworking, to auto-mechanics, with music, painting, karate, holistic medicine, gardening and camping thrown into the mix. Let's not forget reading. Debbie's perfect cure for a long winter's night is curling up in front of a fire with a good book while snowflakes drift slowly past the window. Never having been much of a city girl, she lives with two of her four children, her husband Jean-Pierre and their pets in the Laurentian Mountains of Quebec. She couldn't imagine life without the beauty found in the trees, mountains and lakes that surround her.

Unexpected - DWP From 5-7-12

Instead of stepping across the threshold Milo looked to his right. I followed his gaze as it ventured to the door of the adjacent cottage and scaled the front of the building before finally reaching the attic window, my attic window.

I had meant to close the lacy curtains and retreat into the shadows, but curiosity had gotten the better of me. Now here I was mesmerized by Milo Macabre’s depth-less stare. A silent observer of a magical event I found myself wishing I had never witnessed.

I shuddered and a wry smile crept its way across his face. He looked almost jolly with his cheeks a cold blushing pink and his eyes twinkling in the reflection of the magic blue light. He never spoke, but mouthed the words, tomorrow 9:00 am. As he did I heard them resonating in my mind like an inescapable echo. Unconsciously I nodded once showing my understanding then Milo turned his attention back to the shop and disappeared into its dark interior.

Celebrations - DWP From 5-6-12

Tired from a weeks worth of celebrations Emma crawled into bed and lay her head upon the pillow secretly hoping that the dawn would bring with it a return to normalcy.

The strain of trying to be everything and everywhere her family needed her to be was taking it's toll.

The list of her engagements read like a court docket.

• Wednesday 4:00 pm Graduation.
• Wednesday 7:00 pm Host After Party.
• Saturday 1:00 pm Sermon.
• Saturday 3:00 pm Religious Event.
• Sunday 2:00 pm Host Family Barbecue.
• Monday 6:00  pm Birthday Party.

Any deviation could bring with it any number of punitive measures.

The stress of it all made her stomach turn and although she tried by Monday morning she was out of steam.  Her anxiety sickened her and weakened by lack of sleep exhaustion finally took over. There was no help for it. The party came and went and her seat remained vacant. Now all that remained was to wait for the inevitable .... for it would soon hit the fan.

Sacrifices - 4 Line Poem - DWP From 5-5-12

With quill and ink in hand
For sleepless hours I write
Although it was unplanned
The plot has come to light.

The Salesman - 4 Lines Of Prose - DWP From 5-4-12

He arrived in the dark of night, the snow crunching beneath his feet as he made his way down the narrow lane of deserted shops and sleepy little cottage houses. Awake at this late hour I watched his passing from the attic window, and was intrigued to see him stop in front of the abandoned book store.

He turned into the doorway and stood, feeling around for the metal handle, his frame taking up every inch of the space between the jam. "DRATS! LOCKED! His snake like voiced hissed the words into the night air.

A soft blue light emanated from Milo Macabre left hand illuminating his pasty white skin and sparkling sapphire eyes for mere moments before I heard the gentle click of the lock and the door swung inward. The book seller had returned.


**

More on this at another time.

Voices - DWP From 5-3-12

I'd really like to write
But it's time to say, Good Night.
Because the voices in my head
Are telling me to go to bed.

*Yawn*

The Man Upstairs - DWP From 5-2-12

I have no story for today. I'm not certain if the catalyst was the man upstairs or a member of my writing group but either way the message I received was clear. Krystin, you need a web presence.

I've been putting it off because I'm just learning the "rules" to writing professionally and I didn't want to look foolish. Having taken a few course in web design I know it takes 4-6 months minimum to get in the ranks of major search engines, if you don't want to pay big money to a submission company but I still pushed it off.

One of my fellow writers was just published and now she's struggling to start a blog and build a site. If the man upstairs sees fit to give me that opportunity I want to be ready. So I started building my site this afternoon.

Hearts - 2 Haiku - DWP From 5-1-12

Two hearts beat as one
Testimony to their pledge
In life and in love.

<>

Betrayed hearts, fracture
And splinter into pieces
With the loss, love dies.

The Odds - DWP From 4-30-12

Janie was bouncing on the balls of her feet, overjoyed, and grinning from ear to ear. “Oh Sasha! I can’t believe I’ve run into you half way across the world! What are the odds of both of us being in Palermo for Christmas?”

Staring into her familiar face, Sasha tried to recall the name. But matching a name to the freckled face in front of her proved more difficult than one would expect.

“Who are you?” Sasha blurted out, her voice heavy with a thick Italian accent.

The smile fell from Janie’s face. “Oh come on Sasha, I haven’t changed that much in the last ten years, it’s me, Janie Kennedy, we roomed together at Brown.”

The words resonated in Sasha’s head, Brown, Janie Kennedy, roommate. Images flashed in her mind of a large stone building, young people were running up the stairs, backpacks slung over a shoulder, hurrying to reach their destination.

Sasha shook her head. “I’m sorry, Janie. But I don’t know you. I may have once, but that was a long time ago, another life, long forgotten.” Sasha sighed and turned to leave. “Ciao.” she called out over her shoulder.

Janie stood crest fallen and bewildered. She had watched Sasha walk down the cobbled path and out of sight before realizing this have may have been the only opportunity she would ever have to find out what had happened to her friend. Determined not to let it slip away she raced down the path after Sasha.

Missing - DWP From 4-29-12

Startled Sasha turned in the direction of the yell.

Someone was calling her name, calling out to her from across the court yard.

Sasha scanned the area catching sight of someone she thought she recognized.

Frozen in place, she watched as Janie rushed toward her.

Jaw dropping in disbelief, Sasha stood dumbfounded and unblinking.

As Janie neared Sasha’s mind wrestled with the vision.

At last her lips parted trying to form the words, to ask the questions that demanded answers.

Reaching her destination Janie stopped and looked into the contorted face of her old friend.
“Hi” Janie grabbed hold of Sasha taking her into a warm embrace.

“It’s been years, what are you doing here?”

The questions that poured from Janie’s lips seemed never ending.

“Where have you been?”

“Why did you disappear without telling anyone where you were going”

“Why haven’t you called to let us know you were okay?”

Janie continued on barely pausing to breathe, if she had she might have noticed Sasha never spoke a word.

Something was missing.

Sasha’s intense green eyes had a tale to tell all Janie had to do was shut up and listen.

Names - Four Line Poem - DWP From 4-28-12

The meaning of a name
Calls forth some power.
Chose one to proclaim
Within the birthing hour.

The Favor - 4 Lines of Prose - DWP From 4/27/12

"Aren't you going to invite Lindsay over?" Kelsie asked hoping onto the bed.

Amy scrunched up her nose in disgust.

"Oh no, she wont be coming around here anymore!"

Kelsie raised and eyebrow.

"And what has she done to have fallen out of favor?"

Amy gave a wicked smile and chuckled to herself before answering.

"It's not what she's done that's caused the rift."

Holding out her hand she displayed Brett Oberon's onyx ring.

"It's what she wouldn't do."