Have you ever broken a bone? Sometimes, if it doesn’t heal just right, it will ache when it rains. Hearts are the same way. They break, they heal, but every now and then, you meet someone who reminds you of someone else, and they make it rain.

Friend Fiction: Number One, Part Four

Their footsteps echoed softly on the worn floor stones. "This is incredible!" Katy said, eyes wide, taking in the ruins. Jaspers padded past her and hoped up onto the alter next to Patrick. Amanda studied the carvings as they passed them. "I wonder who they worshiped here." Patrick mused, plucking a few staccato chords. "Ehlonna," Amanda replied, approaching the alter. "See there?" She pointed to a scene of a rearing unicorn in a field of flowers etched into the side of the alter. "That's her sigil." She peered closely at the carving, tracing the lines with her fingers. Katy examined the alter too. She could see the faint glimmer of decaying spells within the carvings. The whole place still hummed with soft, ancient magic. "The temple was probably built on a leyline. It's naturally full of magic. Any spells done here would be extra effective." Patrick paused his strumming. "Explains a lot." He nodded and continued playing and sang yet another hymn to Pelor softly. Katy glanced at him, worried. "Maybe you shouldn't sing songs to Pelor in a temple to Ehlonna." She said. Amanda circled the oak. "I don't think she's here." She sighed and came to stand next to Patrick. "The oak. It's the sigil of Obad-Hai. His followers could have sacked the place and planted the oak on her alter out of spite." Katy frowned. "That explains why this place is abandoned." Jaspers plurped at her to sheer her up some. Patrick paused his playing again. "So, followers of an evil god wrecked this place?" He grew concerned at the prospect. Amanda's mouth twitched downwards as she thought of what to say. "Obad-Hai isn't necessarily evil. He's considered more neutral than good, but he and Ehlonna share the same sort of dominions; woodlands, the hunt, nature..." She tried imagining what the temple had looked like in all it's glory. "Ehlonna represents more of nature as beauty and purity, while Obad-Hai represents more of the power of nature, and how nature isn't inherently good or evil and will eventually reclaim everything we build." She gestured widely to indicate the ruins. Katy nodded in understanding.

Friend Fiction: Number One, Part Three

The wooded hallow was nothing if not completely peaceful. Amanda noted that the birds sang only relaxed songs of joy. Katy smiled and drank in the sunlight as Jaspers wandered off through the flowers. "Pretty cool, huh?" Patrick laughed. Amanda and Katy nodded in astonished agreement. "But wait! There's more!" He laughed  and strode off through the trees singing at the top of his lungs. The girls followed, entranced. Katy recognized the soft pulse of magic as they neared the opposite end of the little glen. Amanda noticed that some of the mossy trunks were actually mossy pillars of the same grey worked stone. The trees broke, opening into a wide clearing. Katy and Amanda stopped and stared.
Broken, weathered arches soared into the clear spring sky. Grasses grew tall between floor stones. A carpet of the small white flowers, like the brush stroke of an artist, curved off to their left. Part of the structure still stood; part of the ancient wooden roof, and most of the walls. It appeared to be the ruins of a long forgotten temple.
"Wow..." Katy whispered in amazement. "Yeah..." Amanda whispered back.
They could hear Patrick singing somewhere deeper in the ruins. The two approached in the temple in awe. The construction was elvish. It wasn't ancient, as the wooden beams were still mostly intact. Every pillar was covered in elaborate depictions of the forest, flowers and a few of wild hunts. This seemed to have been the main worship area. The far end was raised up two or three steps, but it was hard to tell how many. An oak tree grew straight up through the ceiling. It's growth had pushed aside a simple, but elegant alter. Patrick leaned on the alter, plucking out a tune on his mandolin. 

Friend Fiction: Number One, Part Two

Patrick lead them down the path a way along a ridge. The three companions chatted and joked as they made their way through the trees. "We're almost there," Patrick chirped, ten minutes later. "Are you sure?" Amanda asked. "You said we were close a while ago." Patrick pointed to a rock at the edge of the path, smiling. "Pretty sure." He said. It must have been one of his landmarks. It made sense. The rock was a warm, weathered grey, unlike the tawny limestone many of the hills and cliffs in the area were made of. Jaspers hopped up onto it, sniffing at the edges. "You're right, it is a bit weird," Katy said to Jaspers. She crouched next to the rock, brushing fallen leaves away from the base. "Looks like this rock was worked by tools". Amanda crouched next to her. "I think you're right." Patrick smiled again "Nah, she's right. Just wait." The girls exchanged curious glances.  They straightened, Katy brushing twigs from the hem of her robe. They continued on. Shortly the ridge dropped away steeply to their left, into a shallow bowl in the earth. "Here we are!" Patrick exclaimed, gesturing widely with the spear. Amanda frowned, glancing around. There were just trees and rocks. Jaspers chirruped at Katy. "He said there's something nearby." Patrick began walking again, signing a hymn to Pelor softly. Just a few paces down the ridge Patrick handed the spear back to Amanda. She passed him to take the lead, but stopped short in amazement. In the steep side of the ridge were craved steps leading down into the depression in the forest. She glanced back at Patrick in disbelief, but he just continued to sing peacefully. Amanda started down the steps. More of the grey stones lay here and there among the trees.  She waited at the bottom of the stairs for her friends, trying to see through the trunks and brush. The tiny white flowers grew in even greater numbers here. Yellow butterflies flitted here and there in the shafts of sunlight.

Friend Fiction: Number One, Part One

I promised my friend Katy I'd dabble in writing a story featuring my squad. Here's my first attempt. Hope it's not too horrible and that my friends like it. I'm gonna use traditional Dungeons and Dragons mythology today, because I'm too lazy to come up with my own right now. 

They came to a fork in the path. 'Path' was a bit of a stretch. It was more of a clear space between the trees that the deer walked enough to wear a thin ribbon of dirt through the underbrush. "Which way are we going?" Amanda asked, glancing over her shoulder at Patrick. "That way," he replied, pointing down the path to the right, up the hill. She nodded, shifted the shield on her back and parted the foliage with her spear. She brought it just in case, but it worked just as well as a walking stick. The late spring day was bright and warm with the promise of summer. "Are you sure it's up here?" Katy asked as they started up the hill, her familiar, Jaspers, padding along beside her on silent paws. Patrick nodded "I found it a few days ago. It's not too much further."
Earlier, Patrick had mentioned some ruins he had found on one of his many wanderings through the forest surrounding the University.
Amanda paused at the top of the hill and unslung her shield and waterskin. She took a drink, then passed it to Katy. Katy drank and poured out a little water into her hand for Jaspers. Patrick hummed a merry tune, adjusting his mandolin to sit snugger on his back. "Chain mail was definitely not the best choice today" Amanda said. She was getting very hot. The under-tunic was light enough but the mail was beginning to get very warm under the sun. Tiny white flowers bobbed in the soft breeze, Jaspers batted at one of the blooms. Katy handed Patrick the water, he drank and gave it back to Amanda. She looped it over her shoulder "Alright, lets get moving". She handed the spear to Patrick, indicating that he should lead the way. Katy plucked one of the little white flowers and tucked it under Jaspers's collar. They all set off again. 

Here's the skinny, you one person who reads everything. I've got research papers due on top of my regular assignments. I really want to keep this blog going but for right now, until the panic storm passes, I gotta hunker down and slam out the last three weeks of college. It's gonna suck, and I may tear my hair out in huge chunks, but I'm gonna get it done, and I'm gonna graduate! Then I'll have lots and lots of free time to blog away in. So for now, I'll try to post again in a week or so, but it is not to priority. Thank you, one person who reads my blog. I'll see you again soon.

Honored Foe 3

Saul remembered everywhere he had been. He had visited Boston many times over the centuries. But this time, he remembered clearly.
"Ah, yes. I shall never forget. Jack and the Marauder had me rather roughed up, if I remember correctly."
Medea nodded, looking almost sad.
"Yeah, they got you pretty good. But you got them pretty good, too. They had to send me after you, because neither of them could do it. I was still an apprentice. But I found you. I followed you all the way out to that abandoned manor near Concord. You know, that was the first time I had chased down a quarry on my own."
Saul, lost in memory, gazed at her. He remembered the scrawny thing, jumping at every sound, with holes in her jeans, and fondness for plaids. Nothing like the capable, refined woman that sat across from him now. In another life, perhaps they would have been close friends, maybe lovers, but speculations do nothing but distract for what is.
"I had no idea that I was your first. You found me handily. It was very impressive."
Medea's blush deepened.
"Thank you." She smiled again.
"Tell, me, my dear, why did you not finish me then? I was in the palm of your hand. You could have destroyed me. Why hesitate?"
Medea brushed her hair back, and thought for a moment.
"It wouldn't have been right." She said finally. She remembered finding him under the rotting floorboards in the carriage house. In retrospect, it was a cunning move on his part. Most others of his kind were still vain enough to believe that they needed a house at day. But any hidden place in which one could be buried would suffice. When she had dragged him out of his grave, just before dawn, and looked into those endless eyes she knew this wouldn't be a fair kill.  He had been so weak, and frail. Killing an infirmed old man would have been harder. She had let him go, and told him to tell no one that she had found him.
"It just wasn't right. It wouldn't have been honorable. I knew that if I were going to be the one to finish you, it was going to be me, and me alone."
Saul and Medea sat in silence for moment. Saul could feel himself weakening. He remembered what death felt like. The first time was swift and bloody and horrible. This was taking its time. It was peaceful, in a way.
"I'm sure you will dispose of my remains with dignity."
"Of course."
"To be honest, my dear. I have had many wives and lovers over the centuries, and even though I have trusted them all to some degree or another, I would never have trusted any of them with my final wishes."
Medea bowed her head in respect.
"That means a lot. Thank you."
"I have made up a will. Its a few decades old, but it is still valid. Be sure my attorneys get it."
"Absolutely."
Saul nodded. He couldn't think of anything else to say.
Medea cleared her throat.
"Would you like me to stay with you until its over? Or would you like privacy?"
Saul had never thought of that before. He never figured he would die so comfortably.
He took her hand gently.
"Yes, please stay."

Honored Foe 2

"I call it Arsil. The chemical name is too hard to pronounce. Go ahead, examine it, if you'd like."
Saul hesitated for a fraction of a second, confused. He picked it up, gently, with one elegantly manicured hand. He gave it a sniff.
"This smells almost exactly like water." His eyes narrowed. Almost. It almost smelled like water, but there was something else. "What are you playing at? What is this?"
"Arsil." She smiled still. Saul frowned
"Go on."
"Arsil. It's my own invention. Modern science is a wondrous thing. It's a compound of silver, dissolved in my own special chemical solution. It is then processed, seven times, in a solar still. The liquid, not only absorbs the power of the sun, and the potency of silver, but I have each batch blessed by the leader of every church in the city. Protestant, Catholic, Jewish, even Muslim holy men. Colorless, odorless, completely undetectable.  We make them in huge batches now. Its available at the local pharmacy. Only $8.95 a gallon."
Saul shook his head in disbelief and handed back the vial.
"Clever. Almost ingenious." He knew very well that it was, in fact genius. He almost felt a twinge of pride in her accomplishment.
"Did I mention it is also painless?" She tucked away the vial.
"How kind. But poison? I always expected that our last encounter would be a messy, bloody affair, with both of us desperately trying to end the other. Why something so.... pleasant?"
Medea sighed.
"It is your time to go, Saul. Violent deaths are for those who deserve them. You, though, have always done well to ensure that those you feed on are well taken care of. You've always treated those who have hunted you with respect. Even me. You deserve peace, Saul. You are a worthy adversary, and you deserve to go kindly."
"Yes. I suppose so. There are many of my kind that rely on savagery to meet their needs. To what purpose? To be feared?" He scoffed in disgust. "You have been my shadow for many years, Medea. I was beginning to wonder if perhaps we had become friends."
Medea blushed slightly and smiled shyly.
"We were always enemies. I'm sure you remember Boston."

Ok, so I guess this is a dream diary now.

I'm so proud of my unconscious mind. It's been cranking out the coolest dreams the last few days.

First, the BF, Nolt and I had gotten a new apartment. We hadn't really had time to clean everything up after unpacking but his grandparents insisted on coming over. Turns out, his grandma really likes wine. She drank up the stuff I already had, so I went digging through the pantry and found a bunch of abandoned booze form the previous tenets. Opening the bottles set of tiny little holographic music videos, but a lot of it had gone bad. Just as Nolt was getting antsy because there were too many people in our dinky apartment, I got called into work. I gave him a kiss, helped his grandparents to their car and scooted.
Me and my good friend, Patrick, worked in DC. He was some sort of diplomat and I was his assistant. At least I'm pretty sure that was going on, because I kept following him around and carried a bunch of papers. We were in this really lovely hotel lobby. He was on the phone babbling away in French, while I got coffee. He was getting agitated and said he needed to go see his friend. I was like, "sure thing, lets go". On the way there he told off some crazy protesters for not being caring people, threw out the first pitch at some sporting event, before we came to this convention center where the president was scheduled to speak. I could tell he was about to sneak in and chit chat with the president. No, Patrick, stahp. Wut r u doing? Patrick no... PATRICK YES! He squeezed behind a barricade and past the guard to pop into a room down the way and talk to the president. Well, fine. I'm just going to sit over here with your papers until you're done screwing around. As I'm waiting, some lady comes up and starts insisting that I come with her. Uh, ok? Their singer canceled because she didn't get white towels in her dressing room. Quelle horreur....
But I guess I was the only person in the building dressed nicely and or looked like a student, so they can pass me off as a teenager. So I sang the national anthem before the president, (and presumably Patrick) took the stage to speak. As I'm leaving the stage all these middle aged moms tried to give me money and offer Facebook-inspirational-quote level advice. K thenks. Backstage, the person who was supposed to sing was this vaguely Lady Gaga pop diva. She said something like "not bad, but don't ever steal my gigs again." 

Honored Foe

Just to head this off, I can't stand those idiot Tyler Perry movies. I just like the name Medea. So shush. 


Medea Waited. Soon she could hear the nearly silent footfalls of the one she waited for. Saul stood framed in the doorway, every bit a handsome as the day he died. He kept his hair short yet sophisticated, dark and greying at the temples. His eyes, black and endless, like the rest of his kind, but still full of wisdom.
"You found me at last. Congratulations." His low voice resonated through the room, as if he had yelled, but it as nearly a whisper.
"That I have." Medea gestured to the seat across from her. "Please, sit."
Saul nodded politely and joined her.
"Would you like some wine?" She asked, indicating the decanter by her elbow.
"Yes, thank you." He replied. She filled a crystal goblet and handed it to him, then poured one for herself. He raised his glass in a toast.
"To honored foes."
Medea smiled politely and tipped her cup toward him. They both drank deeply.
"What is the occasion?" Saul asked her, setting his goblet aside "it isn't often that I get visitors here." He smiled slyly at her, knowing that it would have taken extraordinary effort to, not only uncover the location of his hideaway, but an even more Herculean effort to actually get here.
"I've come to see you off, Saul." She said. Saul chuckled softly.
"I'm not going anywhere, as well you know. Has Mad Jack concocted another new half-brained story about me rising up, defeating you, taking over the world?" He scoffed "Hardly."
Saul shook his head and smiled wryly.
Medea matched his smile and replied slowly.
"You are inded leaving, Saul. You see, you're dying, right now, as we speak."
Saul's smile slipped a bit, turning into, almost, a snarl.
"The wine? Really? You tried to poison me? Please. Have you suffered a head injury? You very well that poison cannot kill me."
Medea continued to smile placidly.
"Oh, yes. I know. It is no ordinary poison though."
She produced a tiny vial, unstopped it and placed it on the table between them.

more dreams

This one was super vivid. I really liked it.

The first thing I could remember was this little girls bound to a stake. A bunch of people were standing around debating on the best way to set her on fire without her suffering too much, because even though she was little, she was still a witch. Someone in the crowd was like "what are we doing? There's more important things to do". The girl got loose and fled. Meanwhile, there was a city. A huge floating city, that from a distance looked like an egg, but was really just level after level of of city. At the top lived a witch queen. She was nuts. Apparently all the people of the city were like "well, yeah. It's how it's always been. Just kinda deal with it, folks". The queen heard about the little girl and goes and rescues her. Turns out, the girl has whatever special mark it takes to be the next queen. But the girl is super chill and the people all really like her. They threw a parade for the new princess in the canal district. Just a bunch of canals winding through like three of four different levels. The queen and the princess rode this little boat. They were both decked out in red, yellow, black and white, like characters on playing cards, but they were seated like the Madonna and Holy Child. The queen got pissed that the citizens liked the princess more than her and tried to throw the princess off the side of the city into the lake like 500 feet below. But she lost her balance and fell. So the princess became the queen, but was too young to actually take the throne. It was a very colorful dream.

The Mossy Shack

Not gonna lie, I started this as a favor to a friend.... an erotic favor....
It was started as an attempt at a, erm, romance narrative. I will not name names, nor will I allude to the original context of the story.
I'm so so sorry..... 

Rain dripped from the leaves of the trees outside. It was letting up, but it didn't matter. Mags was completely lost. She had found this half-rotted shack by happy accident. She had decided to take a walk when the storm had blown up. Lightning flashed and the rain had poured down on her from every side. Her cloak hardly kept off the rain. Had the wind and rain not nearly blinded her, she would be safe and warm at home right now. Her knee stung where she had tripped, skinning it a bit, and her dress was muddy and damp. She had literally stumbled into the shack, tripping and fumbling her way through the wind and rain. She picked at a splinter in her finger she had gotten prying open the ancient mossy door. It was getting colder. She shivered and wondered how she was going to find the road. Mags tucked her feet in closer and wrapped her arms around them to her to try to stay warm. Maybe I could get a fire started, she thought to herself. If I can get dry, I could sleep here if I had to. She looked around for dry wood, or anything else she could build a fire with.

  ~~~

  Celeidan should never have left the road. He thought he could easily pick his way through the forest as a shortcut. He had wanted to make it to Heraldt by nightfall, but didn’t seem likely now. The sky had been threatening all day, but he had hoped it would hold off until he had made it to that blasted town, Heraldt. He was soaked,head to toe, all the way through his usually sleek and well kept jacket to the skin. He shivered. The sun was setting. He needed to get warm before he caught his death of cold. He hiked his pack up and tugged his sodden cloak closer to shield his sword from the rain. Through the trees he caught the flickering light of a fire and the soft scent of distant smoke caught his nostrils. It might have been a will-o-wisp, but he decided to follow it anyway. Shortly, he came upon a rotting shack. It looked like it may tumble in on itself at any time. From the rusted long forgotten tools scattered about the overgrown area around the hut, it seemed to have been a woodcutter’s lodge at one time. It made little difference. Someone was inside, and they had a small but cheery fire dancing merrily within. He approached the door. Whoever was inside was humming softly to themselves. He knocked on the door. The humming stopped, abruptly. 

Rain Dropped

The rain, drowned the world in sleep and sorrow, while all the people vainly ran for cover. I heaved a sigh heavier than a mountain as despair settled on my shoulders, like the globe on Atlas's back.

Holmes, River Holmes.

Apparently, I just absolutely had to write this down immediately after waking up because it was just so fricken important:

"My name is River Holmes."


That was it. It was time stamped at 7:35am
What the fuck...

Weekly posts

At the moment, I am trying to finish my degree. I think, until that's resolved, and while time is at a premium, I'm going to back my posts off to once a week. Scheduled posts will post as scheduled, but new posts will only arrive once a week or so, until time becomes more abundant. Thank you for your patience, dear reader!

More Shitty Poetry!!!

You thought I had run out of awful teenaged emo poetry? THINK AGAIN MOTHERFUCKER! The party has only just begone! Let  me tell you something. I have no fewer than a dozen different journals and diaries full of God awful angsty bull shit. So enjoy another gem from the annuls of my history:

My soul weeps for you
in sullen stillnesss
I reach for you in darkness
I call your name
but you'll give your heart to another
who owns the souls of many others
and will break you in your name

she'll never love you the way I do
it's poisonous secrets are mine alone
what can I do? What can I say?
to remind you to look my way?

Dramatic Actions!!!!!!

Sometimes your just need a little excitement in your life. I day dream a lot, and I think this might have been one of those little day dreams. I don't remember the exact context of the day dream, but apparently I was imagining some cool shit. 


"Beryl! Take my hand!" He shouted over the roaring wind.
"No! I can't!" I screamed, clutching the cold steel. The steel was safe.
"Take my hand!" He repeated
"NO!"
"DO IT!!"
I shook and extended one frightened hand. He grasped it with his huge, strong fingers. He yanked me down and held me to his chest with his warm, comforting arms. 



My my my.... what kind of daydream was I having?!?