Finding Something Called Christmas

This little writing exercise came up as published on this day (here’s the original post)…and I wanted to share again, to celebrate the time of year!

🎄❄️🎅✨🎁🎄❄️🎅✨🎁🎄

She had never felt so frustrated or lost in her entire life. She was supposed to find something called “Christmas” and the wizard had failed to give her a map, or any sort of reliable directions, or even a well-worded hint or two.

Now, she was stuck in this frigid land, where everything was white, except the sky, that was black, all the time, with no idea where to go from here. She had been wandering for a while now, and she didn’t know how much more she could take. Just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, she tripped on something, and went flying face first into the ground. If it hadn’t been so cold, she would have lay there for a good long time, thinking about her miserable existence, and the worth of her life.

Instead, she sprung up, spat out a mouthful of snow, and because she had nothing better to do, she looked around to see what had attacked her. Something poked out of the white mound, not enough to distinguish what it was, just enough to show there was something more than just snow there.

She bent down, and dug around it. It took quite a while, for more of it kept appearing as she shoveled with her hands, but eventually, she had it laid bare. In the eternal starlight of the far north, it had a sort of forlorn, haunting aspect. It was a large sleigh, or had been in its former life. Now, it was missing a runner, and the front looked like crumpled aluminum foil. Hanging over the bent bar in the front, was a gruesomely grinning skeleton in a red suit.

🎄❄️🎅✨🎁🎄❄️🎅✨🎁🎄

I hope everyone is having a delightful holiday season!

❤ DragonBeck

The Forest Prince

This one is actually a continuation of the previous writing exercise:

Secret, beer, flimsy, alien,

“What do you want?” she said, the kettle still screaming behind her.

“Are you not afraid of me?” His voice was smooth and warm, and the animal sense of self-preservation in her mind quaked at it.

“No,” she said, and was pleased that her voice did not waver.

She turned and moved the kettle off the stove, and a quiet descended on the kitchen. She poured tea, two cups because to do otherwise would have been impolite, and wondered at the workings of gods and fate. When she decided that something had to be done about this, she didn’t actually mean right this second. She turned around, and found him standing right behind her. He had moved so silently. He looked down at her with large green eyes, his alien features warning her something dangerous lurked behind his pointed face and gleaming hair. A wreath of metal and jewels graced his brow, and he smelled like fresh dirt and beer and an evening breeze on sun-warmed stones.

“Strange,” she murmured to herself.

“What is?” he asked, tilting his head.

“You smell different than I would have thought,” she said, and handed him a cup of tea.

He took it, and took a sip without moving his gaze from her. The drink should have scalded his tongue, but he made no sign that he felt anything.

“Do you want to know why I am here?” he asked.

“Because you are following your brother,” she said, and felt frail and flimsy under his penetrating gaze.

“You are smart, for a mortal,” he said.

“And you are not as dumb as most gods,” she retorted, then her eyes widened in shock. She had not thought that through, but when he smiled, a wide, radiant expression of joy and humor, she relaxed.

“So you know my secret,” he said.

“One of them,” she answered, and he looked at her sharply.

She lowered her eyes. I have to be careful, she thought, or I will have two fey creatures who want something I cannot give them.

 

❤ DragonBeck

The Visitor

So it’s been a little while since I’ve posted my flash fiction writers’ meeting exercises, but I’m going to start that up again!

The story (or excuse, if you prefer) is that my little baby, my acer netbook, which has stood by me for almost 1,000,000 words (yes, that’s 1 million words) no longer connects to the wifi (for some reason I am not knowledgeable enough to guess at, but it probably has something to do with dark magic). And because I’m terribly lazy, I just haven’t taken the time to get a thumbdrive, and transfer them that way.

Anyway…moving right along…

I do not recall the date of this exercise, nor do I recall which word belonged to whom, but I hope you enjoy!

cramp, chaos, consternation, evergreen

The room was the embodiment of chaos, cupboard doors hanging open, things spilling off the shelves, the covers of the bed over the floor, and clothes falling out of drawers. The widow was smashed in, and the cold scent of ice and evergreen made Cindy shiver. He had been back, but he hadn’t found what he was looking for, and for this small favor from the remaining gods, she was thankful.

Cindy crossed the room, and drew the curtains to shut out some of the chill, then looked around the room. She couldn’t seem to muster the interest in cleaning up, it all seemed so pointless. She kept her eyes firmly away from the false brick in the wall, until it felt like they would cramp up with tension and strain. He could be watching, or one of his spies, the woodland creatures he bespelled.

Cindy went into the kitchen and stoked the fire in the oven, the warmth dispelling some of her consternation. She put the teapot on, and stared into space as she thought. Something had to be done about this. She could not keep returning to a ransacked and ruined home, but how could she defy such a powerful deity as he who haunted these woods?

The piercing shriek of the kettle startled her out of her thoughts, and that was when she noticed the figure standing in the doorway.

❤ DragonBeck

Needful Things meets Rumpelstiltskin

This is the second writing exercise from the last meeting. The title was suggested by Brandon, and I don’t know what “Needful Things” refers to, but I like it! I am thinking this little piece could go somewhere magical if it were expanded a bit – Enjoy!!

Trip, boat, kettle, goddess (I honestly forget which word was mine)

Brin wandered through the store, her eyes gazing about at the myriad wares offered for sale. Each was graced with a gold tag, tied with gold twine, and on the paper in graceful letters were written things like “your second kiss” and “an afternoon in the sun”. Brin passed a giant cast iron kettle that sang though no fire was lit under it, a tiny boat in a tiny jar that sailed in fair waters, but as Brin passed the sky within the glass clouded and the water grew choppy, and a hundred other things that she couldn’t see.
“Can I help you?” a smooth voice issued from the shadows at the back of the shop.
Brin stopped and peered closer, trying to see the owner of the voice. She took a few steps forward and made out a wrinkled old man with copious amounts of curly silver hair and a large smile.
“I’m looking for a token for my aunt,” Brin said. “She said something about a goddess stone that she saw in the window?”
“Ah, yes!” the old man said. “Just in from Ireland this morning.”
He jumped off the stack of books he was using to come up to eye height, and trotted through the store with confident steps. He came back bearing a stunning jewel in a green velvet box, and Brin’s eyes widened.
“It’s a beauty isn’t it?” the man agreed.
“It doesn’t have a price tag on it,” Brin noticed.
“You’re right,” the man replied, and tapped his nose.
From a drawer, he pulled out gold twine and scissors, and wrote on a tag “A trip you’ll never take” before tying it around the jewel’s case. “What do you say? I daresay your aunt will look stunning wearing this.”
“She would,” Brin murmured, reaching out to touch the gem. “How do I pay?”
“You don’t,” the man assured her. “Just take the tag, and present it to your aunt, and all will be well.”
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❤ DragonBeck

Just a Feeling

Hello all!

Work is progressing on Wasteland (Guardians of the Path book 5) very well – I hope to have it to the editor within a week *fingers crossed*. In the meantime, please enjoy this little writing exercise from the last Ink Slingers Guild meeting of July 2018 (where did the year go?):

resume (my word), force, honey (Lisa’s word, but it was going to be mine!), sound

“That’s not how you spell it,” she told him, peering over his shoulder.
He tried to shrug her away, covering the top half of the paper with his hand, but she lifted it up and pointed. “You need an accent on the end, other wise it’s resume, not resume’.”
“Don’t you have something better to do?” he asked, trying to force some honey into his voice so he didn’t sound like a pouting child.
She sat on the edge of the table beside him, swinging her legs. She still wore the peppermint striped tights she had worn the day they met.
“Not really,” she said, and her big green eyes followed the strokes of his pen. “You didn’t put the accent.”
He threw down the writing implement and ran a hand through his hair.
“I can do this later,” he said. “I’m going for a walk.”
“I’ll join you,” she said brightly, hopping down and scurrying after him.
She only came up to his elbow, and he was sure that the neighbors thought he had adopted a young girl. He had adopted her, in a sense, but she wasn’t young and she wasn’t a girl.
“Have you thought about it?” she asked as she danced among the brown autumn leaves covering the sidewalk.
“Of course I’ve thought about it,” he answered in a gruff voice. It was hard not to think about it, when every day she grew paler and more translucent. Her wasting didn’t seem to bother her, she was always so cheerful, but he wondered what would happen to her if she faded completely. This world wasn’t good for her.
“And have you had any ideas?” she stopped and turned her abnormally colored eyes on him, hope making them shine brighter than usual.
He sighed. “Not yet.”
“You will,” she said with supreme confidence.
“How do you know that?” he asked, following her as she continued down the pathway.
“Just a feeling,” she sang over her shoulder.
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❤ DragonBeck

Tutor and Student

I really liked this writing exercise – it could go places. Enjoy!

miniature, tutor, cap, puddle,

The governess glided into the library, her thin nose in the air and her thin lips pursed suspiciously. Her eyes narrowed when she saw Daved sitting alone in front of the fire, his nose buried in a huge tome with colored illustrations.

“Where is the tutor?” the governess demanded, making Daved start, and stare around with a guilty look.

He quickly closed the book and shoved it between the sofa and the wall, and snatched up his cap, which was lying on the sofa seat beside him, and jammed it on his head. “He left for the day, ma’am,” Daved mumbled, staring at his shoes.

“Speak up, young man,” the governess instructed. “No nobleman speaks as though his face were in a puddle.”

“He left for the day, ma’am,” Daved spoke up, looking somewhere over the governess’s shoulder.

She sniffed. “He will have to be informed that is not acceptable. What are you reading?”

Daved blinked, and answered very clearly. “History of the Twelve Realms by the Honorable Tracey Michelson.”

The governess frowned. “Why were there pictures?”

“There were no pictures,” Daved countered. “Perhaps you saw maps.”

The governess’s eyes narrowed further. “Let me see the book.”

Daved dug it out of the crack and clutched it tight. He whispered something to it, and handed it to the stern woman with a subdued look. She opened it, turned several pages, and several more, looking at him in disbelief. “I saw pictures, in color. They looked cheerful and frivolous, nothing that would be in a serious book of history,” she said, and flipped through more pages.

Daved shrugged. “There’s a map,” he said helpfully.

The governess put the book down on the coffee table, and gestured for the boy to sit back down. “As your lesson was cut short, I’ll bring tea early.”

Daved nodded and watched her leave the room, before he sat back down, pulled the book back onto his lap, and opened it to the page with the bright pictures of dragons and brave knights. On the mantle, the miniature man trapped under the crystal glass glared down at Daved, shouting inaudible words at the boy engrossed in the novel.

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❤ DragonBeck

Fate

This is an Ink Slingers Guild writing exercise, brought to you by me. Enjoy!

sabotage, flabbergasted, saturate, lime,

The woman came down from the dais, her sleeveless lime green dress flowing behind her like sea foam. Natan’s eyes followed her, never blinking to make sure he didn’t miss some trick or sleight of hand. Wonder saturated the gazes of all others, and made him nauseous. He was trying to discover a way to sabotage her plan, but she had sunk her fangs into the hearts of all the king’s subjects, they would no more deny her than they would deny their own need to breathe. Natan tried to see what she carried in her hands, but people shifted and pushed, trying to get closer to the witch woman they idolized. He pushed too, and was rewarded with a clear view of the woman. She was beautiful, with golden skin and dark eyes, but her smile was cruel. He was flabbergasted when he saw what she carried – a child, no more than a year or two old, sucking on its fist. It – for he couldn’t tell whether the child was male or female – had pale blond hair and eyes like sapphires, and shining on its forehead was the mark of seven stars, pale silver against the child’s skin. Shock rocked Natan back on his heels, and he tried to wrap his mind around the impossibility. That woman should be screaming in pain where her flesh met the child’s, yet her look was as serene and cold as ever, not a hint of pain or even mild discomfort as she carried the child out the wide door and into the sunlit square, where more of the adoring citizens awaited their fate with joyous oblivion.
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❤ DragonBeck

“The universes are a strange place” – a writing exercise

Greetings beautiful people!

It has been quite a while since we’ve gotten together for a nice little interweb coffee and a chat to catch up. I’ve been busy – work on “Wasteland” is coming along slowly but surely. I promise to have it out by the end of the year, so help me all that is good in this world, or I might have to do something drastic like give up chocolate until it’s done (gasp!).

I held a Lord of the Rings marathon, and re-watched all the extended versions of the films (yes, all 14 hours of them), and am currently re-reading the books. I am almost done with the Two Towers, and enjoying it more than when I first read it, if that is possible.

The Ink Slingers were represented at Orlando Megacon in May, thanks to the lovely Erika and Alanna.

I submitted a little Guardians of the Path novella to Tor, and was rejected in just 3 days, which must be a record of some kind. I think these authors would tell me to keep calm and carry on, and that is what I intend to do!

I ran my books through the Kindle Unlimited program, but have yet to tabulate the results. If anyone has any information regarding the program and its success or impact, I would be most interested in hearing it!

I am almost done with my submission for the Ink Slingers’ annual anthology – we’re doing a science fiction themed anthology this year, so we’ll see how mine turns out. There are dragons and elves, but there are also flying vehicles and medical scanners, so I’m pretty sure that counts.

And finally, these are my writing exercises from the last Ink Slingers Guild meeting – a little bit darker than usual, but I hope you enjoy!

Relationship, shun, gun, practice.

Brin aimed the gun, closing one eye to bring the target into sharper focus, and breathed out slowly. It took many days of practice to be able to use this other-world weapon, but the fabric of the universe doesn’t allow elemental magic to pass through, so Brin didn’t have much choice. He squeezed the trigger, and rolled back with the recoil. The target dropped, a small black dot against the beige desert sand.

Brin took his time coming down from his rocky perch, and making his way to the dot, which grew larger, and resolved into something that looked like a man but wasn’t. Its face was pressed into the ground as if to shun the world, and the arms were bent at odd angles.

“The universes are a strange place,” Brin said aloud, standing over the dead body. “The relationship between life and fate, or love and nothing, or peace and death, cannot be understood from within, only by someone looking in from the outside.”

The dead body on the ground twitched, and Brin steeled himself, reaching inside for the magic that was no longer there, and hadn’t been for some years. For once that was a blessing and a curse. The creature would have found him much sooner, and Brin’s chance at returning to the plane of existence he should be in would have been lost. The body twitched again, and the head turned upwards.
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Cannibal, spoon, beach, display

“Do you think a cannibal got her?” Harry asked, unable to keep the excitement from his voice.

He clutched the tree branch with his legs so he didn’t fall off and waved his hands at her, fingers curled into claws.

Rissa rolled her eyes. “You don’t really believe in that sort of thing, do you? It’s more likely a werewolf.”

Harry pouted, and crossed his arms. “It’s not a full moon, and besides, werewolves don’t eat with spoons.”

Rissa didn’t have a reply for that. They had both seen the picture in the newspaper, the body on the beach, displayed like a sacrifice to a god, its innards gone, along with its tongue and most of its face. The spoon stuck in the sand marked the spot like a tombstone.

“So if it wasn’t a cannibal, and it wasn’t a werewolf, what was it?” a third voice chirped up.

Harry and Rissa looked up. Hidden in the foliage above them, a small face peeped out, eyes bright. Harry winced, and Rissa sighed.

“Marr, you can’t follow us around like this, we’re not friends anymore,” Rissa said, putting her nose in the air.

The effect was lost as she had to look up at Marr anyway. The small boy scampered down, agile as a squirrel, and looked at her hopefully. “I thought maybe you guys had forgiven me by now.”

“No, we’re never going to forgive you,” Harry spoke up.

Rissa nodded. Harry had gotten the worst of that, and Marr knew it. His little face fell, but then a calculating gleam came into his eyes.

“I know where we can find out what really ate the lady on the beach,” he said.

Harry and Rissa were silent, looking at each other with doubtful expressions.

“Do you really?” Rissa asked at last.

Marr nodded eagerly, and shimmied down the tree. “Come on! I’ll show you!”
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❤ DragonBeck

Bite-Sized Reading

I can’t believe that I forgot to post this – I may have lied (or just been chronologically challenged) when I said I blogged twice last fortnight – oh, well, that’s a writer’s life for you. I hope you enjoy these!

Sugar (my word), incongruous, plague,

She walked into the old shop, assaulted by the smells of dust and mould and time. A bell chimed, but it sounded far away, and she didn’t think the store was that big. “Hello?” she called out, her voice tiny in the dim space. This was the right place, she had stood outside and checked the address written on the scrap of paper a half dozen times before working up the courage to come inside. She didn’t know what she was afraid of. It wasn’t as if she were going to catch the plague or anything horrible like that. “Hello?” she called out again. This time her voice bounced back to her from several different corners, making the hair stand up on her arms. She wished she had brought a jacket. As she kept walking through the shop, her eyes taking in the myriad of objects and furniture on display to the non-existent customers to keep her mind off why she was here, she noticed something that made her stop in her tracks. At first she thought it was the incongruous nature of the object – a shiny and immaculate tea set complete with sugar tongs and silver tray, sitting among such dusty and forgotten objects, but that wasn’t it. She stepped closer, and saw clearly what it was that had caught her attention from the corner of her eye. The pattern along the dishes was a repetition of the same symbol on the paper that had brought her here.
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shocked, fallow, wordy,

“The sad part of the whole tale was that the finest mind in all the realms was sentenced to lay fallow and go to ruin and waste, locked in a tower until the man died or the world ended,” James finished, only slurring a little, pointing dramatically at the ceiling of the pub. Trema leaned close to Halfard. “Does he always get this wordy when he’s drunk?” Halfard looked shocked. “Lass, he isn’t even close to being drunk.” Trema frowned, doubting the large man’s perception, but then she spied James collecting the coins from the other habitants of the pub with a hand that was steady and eyes that were clear and sharp. He looked up, caught her staring, and winked. She turned away, warmth infusing her cheeks, and didn’t look up until a thump and the protest of the chair announced that James had returned to the table. “Dinner’s on me,” he announced grandly. Halfard grunted, and took another chunk of bread. Trema nodded in thanks. “What was all that?” she asked. “All what?” James replied. “On the stage? Nothing. Remnants of a life best forgotten, my dear. By me, you, and everyone else.” He smiled brightly at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
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disagreement, phallic, board

The huge stones were arranged in a series of circles around the largest one, sitting in the center of the formation, casting a vaguely phallic shape against the darkening sky. “So, what do we have to do?” Lily asked, a nervous tremor in her voice. “We have to wait until the first star appears, and then it will lead us through the stones, into another realm,” Maria answered with infinite patience. The place had been boarded up and signs warning of imminent death or fines tried to scare would-be trespassers away. Maria ducked under one such, but Lily remained outside, shifting her weight from one foot to the next. Maria sighed. She couldn’t believe they were still having this disagreement, and when they were so close. “Look, do you want to find out what happened to Billy and the others or not?” she called out, all patience gone from her tone. “Yes, but,” Lily faltered. “Look, we don’t have time for this,” Maria called back as she stood and looked up at the sky. “I’m going to look for them. You can come if you want, or not.” She found the first faint glimmer of a star, and followed it into the dark, disappearing from view. “Maria?” Lily called, more agitated than ever. “Maria?” When Lily ducked under the forbidding sign, she looked up to find a million stars glittering in the sky and no trace of her friend.
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If you’re looking for more free reading, check out Stories My Friends Started – super cool short stories started with a line from a friend. You can give us a story starter here!

❤ DragonBeck

Silent Stranger

And the final Ink Slingers Guild exercise from the last meeting (published just in time for the meeting tonight): Hoodie, green, sight

A figure came into sight over the crest of the hill, a green hoodie obscuring their features. Berryl waited, leaning against the tree and taking small sips from the waterskin, waiting for the stranger to come to her. When the person got closer, she raised her hand in greeting, but the figure did not return the gesture, and simply continued down the road at a fast clip. Berryl blinked, her hand still in the air, and then hastily lowered it. She had been on this road for two weeks, and had encountered three people coming from the opposite direction before this fellow. They had been amiable enough travelers, and had stopped to talk and give news of the road conditions ahead. One had even offered her an apple they had pilfered from an orchard several days ahead. Berryl shrugged, picked up her pack, and set off down the road. She crested the hill the stranger had just come over, and surveyed the land on the other side, which looked much like the land she had just traversed, farmland interspersed with woodland. In the distance, a faint smudge suggested a larger forest, or perhaps mountains. Just as she proceeded to take her next step, a knife came from behind, and pressed against the tender flesh under her chin.

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More coming soon!

❤ DragonBeck