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Monthly Archives: May 2013

Rain to Calm

All of my life, I have heard countless people speak of the spiritual.  Gods, ghosts, nature, energies– the whole nine yards, if you don’t mind the cliche.  I was raised a Christian, and I was converted by my parents from Episcopalian to Baptist, and converted by myself to “curious.”

For Mom, the woman who adopted and raised me, she found her center with the Christian God, and for a long time, she meditated every morning with prayer and her bible.  She only stopped when it came time to support her children monetarily after Dad moved out to get a job in another state.  She remained deeply religious.  She always spoke of how God would provide. Her faith was always strong. Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on May 31, 2013 in Nonfiction

 

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Broken Seer

“I’m hungry.”

I ignored him.

“Hey.  Feed me.”

I rolled over.

“Wake up!” Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on May 29, 2013 in Modern Fiction

 

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An Unhappy Future

A new home. It was so dull, living with a normal family. His foster parents were irritatingly normal, and they could do nothing to enforce their rules. His foster father refused to call him Vinnie, and his foster mother refused to let him skip the piano lessons she required of him. He was good enough, but his teacher refused to let him advance at his own pace, and after a month, he was still doing scales.

The new home was made all the more miserable by a pre-existing basement and an underground lake not far underneath. He had no place to work, and no place to play– especially not with all of the pine trees around, with their long, thick roots. The boy did manage to install a lock on his bedroom door, and that gave him a modicum of the privacy he once had, although it felt like he was always naked. He was told he had to dress normally– leave his goggles and lab coat home when he went anywhere, brush his hair every day, and even more pointless tasks. Humans just didn’t understand. Read the rest of this entry »

 

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My Sister and I (Part II)

Continued from My Brother and I (Part I).

Something about the shape-shifter’s nudity made me laugh.  Her anger seemed less dangerous as I reached into my cape for another book. “Alright, that’s enough playing.” I tried to play off the fight as though I hadn’t been trying at all.  I shifted my staff into the crook of my arm, held my book with my hand, and used my free hand to flip my hair from my face. “Are you attacking because you’re hungry?” I reached into my cape, book at the ready still, and tossed her a bagel.

Fuck, that hurt.  Hiding pain wasn’t hard, but I didn’t like it.  My arm felt like it was on fire, either from some side effect of her bite or perhaps it was simply my body taking the bite on a more positive note.  I forced what I thought was a less shaky smile, and she stared at me like I was crazy. Read the rest of this entry »

 

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Writing Challenge: Character Alignment Horny Evil

Bored.

Zadakh was bored.

That was his only excuse, and he owned up shamelessly to Ciana, who was sent to stop him.  She was armed from the toes all the way up to her deceptively delicate ears, and her keen eyes watched as he leaned to one side and rested his elbow on the arm rest of his grand throne.  He sighed, and the air seemed to come from every corner of his chest, like one who knew only the most profound loneliness. Read the rest of this entry »

 
 

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The History of Lake CLASSIFIED

“I don’t think this is such a good idea.” Vincent frowned as he looked around. “The old quarry is so eerie at night.” His voice trailed off, and he flipped his collar up to protect himself from the light rain that ran down the back of his neck.  It felt like tiny shards of ice.  He looked to one side at his best friend, the younger girl called Melanie. “You should run home, Melanie.”

Melanie shook her head and held his hand, as around them, the six adults kept the two moving inside their circle of bodies. Read the rest of this entry »

 
 

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Vincent Vance (Part II)

Continued from Vincent Vance.

It was two years after the worst year of his life, and the only time he was happy was during the government-required summer camp that lasted all of one month out of twelve.  He had friends there, and he felt that at camp, people approved of him.  He was often quiet and stayed to himself, but one older girl had broken through part of his barriers, and he often refused to leave her side.

He even left his own mother in the dust to be with the girl called Mellie, and at camp, he insisted that his name was not Vincent, but Vinnie– to match his best friend. Read the rest of this entry »

 

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