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Monthly Archives: June 2013

The Frozen Arena (Part III)

Continued from The Frozen Arena (Part II).

Our exploration continued for a week before the unknown change in two frozen figures at the center of the arena began to wear at me.  Each day, it seemed the two were different than the day before.  I began to photograph them extensively, and always from the same locations.  Comparing photos yielded no results, but the nagging feeling of something different kept me going back for several photos each day.

My colleagues began to worry, especially Nancy, who noticed that even when everyone else began to become affected by the cold after a few hours, I seemed always ready to explore more.  When she mentioned it, her tone sounded very accusatory, and I tried to avoid becoming defensive.  I did snap at her, but I quickly gave an  apology, and although the gaze she directed at me was doubtful. Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on June 28, 2013 in Modern Fiction

 

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The Sand Flea (Part VIII)

The nights were growing cooler, and Ask’s back almost didn’t hurt at all anymore.  Despite his recovery, Korenila insisted he should stay, and he couldn’t help but wonder why he didn’t mind taking orders from her.  She was kind.  That must have been why, he was sure.  He was given his freedom to wander the barnyard, however, and wander he did.

Horse was never far behind, and nobody seemed worried about Ask’s presence.  He expected people to avoid him, or to be rude to him.  Instead, the stable hands were polite and helpful, and several offered to help him saddle Horse.  He declined in the most polite way he knew, and a few laughed good-naturedly, while others frowned at him for his poor word choice. Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on June 27, 2013 in Semihistorical Fiction

 

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Horny Hooves

My travels led me through regions that grew more and more familiar, the farther I walked from home.  The pristine, primeval forest, with its high trees and unfrightened wildlife faded slowly over the miles into first forests that were far far from grand, and then to plains that smelled of smoke, and finally into blasted wastes.

The first gust of air that met me carried the scent of unbridled death– of burn, of flesh rotten, of blood and gore, and the unmistakable, overpowering scent of brim.  Demons roamed in the barren and charred lands before me, and for the first time in my life, I felt fear. Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on June 25, 2013 in Semihistorical Fiction

 

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The Sand Flea (Part VII)

They called it ‘physical therapy’.  Ask called it stupid.  Korenila came into his room every day and oversaw him walking around the room.  She made him bend his body in weird ways that made the flesh on his back feel strange.  Under her instruction, he moved his arms, squatted, and moved side to side.  His cheeks burned each time, but she never gave him a day’s respite from those hour periods of ‘therapy’ unless the pain was too strong for him, which it was only rarely of late.

His back did stop hurting so much when he moved around or tried his secret exercises to try to lose his additional weight he’d picked up during his long period of bedrest.  He felt fat, like a human. Read the rest of this entry »

 
 

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That’s Soooooo Meta

I stared at my blog’s new post page.  It was often open for days on end, and seemed to be always empty– just like my mind.  I wracked my brain for new ideas, but none could fly, save one, and it was starting to struggle.  Write about Ask again?  His story wasn’t finished.  I needed to finish it– wanted to, also.  It was slowing dangerously.  A break from his story would help, I was sure.  Time to gather new ideas.  Only one friend read all six parts, and she wasn’t online to bounce ideas off of and give input.

She was curious about Horse, though.

That was something. Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on June 21, 2013 in Nonfiction

 

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Updates from the Author

Well, the last while has been rough for me– a new schedule of childcare, a bout of depression that my writing has not yet recovered from, and more chaos as all three children enter summer vacation.  I have every intention of catching up, even though it’s hard.  My mind feels like it’s extremely drained.

I made a realization and a decision that will lighten my load and give me some time every week to recharge.  I’ve realized that, even in my own eyes, my writing has improved significantly.  This was one of my goals, and I have decided that I want to keep going, but I will eliminate weekends from my challenge.  Certainly, I’m more busy during the week, but my busy mornings help me write more than my empty weekends, and I can use that time to delve into movies, games, time with friends, and essentially ‘recharge’.  The only writing I want to do then, once I’m caught up, are stories I’ve missed throughout the week.

Regardless of the logic behind this, I feel as though I’m cheating myself, but also relieved.  I love my blog, and I love writing.  I love each unsolicited view I get, as well as those I ask for, because they mean somewhere in the world, someone was willing to spend a minute or two here.

This blog will not be stopped, rest assured.  The progress I’ve made will not be stopped.

I will still live by ‘a person must write each day in order to call himself a writer’.  It might not be a lot, but I will write, and my words will not fail me.

 
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Posted by on June 20, 2013 in Announcements

 

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The Sand Flea (Part VI)

Continued from The Sand Flea (Part V).

The weeks passed by as Ask slowly recovered.  His blackouts happened less frequently, replaced instead by restful sleep, and his mind recovered quickly.  He spent much of his time either in bed, or restlessly wandering while his body refused to let him go far.  Horse often escaped her stall to spend time with him– typically with uncanny timing.

Ask tossed and turned during one night as he had one of his uncommon nightmares.  He tossed onto his side as he watched a fire.  His next shift brought him across his belly, and onto his other side as he tried to flee from the images of that monochrome, heat-less fire that plagued his mind. Read the rest of this entry »

 
 

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