Fiction Fusion

Dozen (Flash Fiction)

2012-01-27T19:27:00.000-05:00

Found on Google Images

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

A dozen different things ran through my mind when I saw her.

At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me again--the useless old things. But I remembered and I forgot, in the very same instance.

So many different things. So many different times.

So much. So little.

How I miss her. On days like these, I miss her the most.

Because the day I saw her die was the very last day of my life.

At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me--troublesome things--for a dozen different moments ran through my mind when I saw her.

(c) Sara Harricharan

Spring's Arrival [memories] (Friday Fiction)

2012-01-26T23:56:00.000-05:00

This week I have the distinct pleasure of hosting Friday Fiction! So fish out a fun story of yours and join up with the linky gadget below. Don't forget to read and comment on the wonderful stories this week.

Author's Ramblings: This is a bit of a runoff from a short piece I did some time ago, titled "Spring's Arrival" featuring the seasons personified as four unique individuals. If you haven't read it before, click here to see how this story starts and where Kevin--the narrator--begins to find himself slowly caught into this magical world. This week's story is a tale of two of the four arriving at the Season's End B&B and a short memory of young Spring, learning how to use her gifts to coax things out for springtime and not to resort to other methods. Do enjoy!

I don’t remember whenthe others showed up. I know we’d had Spring around for awhile and she waspretty cool even when she didn’t really seem to do much, but I kinda liked herand she was always nice.

Nicer than Mystica, atleast.

My older sister kept a prettyobvious distance from Spring herself and the perpetual warmth that seemed tosurround her. I couldn’t understand what she could possibly have against her.Mom was always careful around her, but she wasn’t like Mystica—she was nice. Ithink Spring liked her a little, because Mom would let her experiment in thekitchen. Mystica rarely set foot in the kitchen. I guess it was another thingthey didn’t have in common.

Girls. I sure couldn’tunderstand them.

“Kevin, want somelunch?” Spring stuck her head through the back door, her hair less tangledtoday, now wrapped in series of loose strands meant to imitate a braid. She hada colorful circlet of flowers, her face was flushed and happy with the effortof her latest creation. “I made sandwiches with cream cheese and spinach, yourMother showed me how to-”

“Spinach, ew!” Mysticarolled her eyes as she edged past Spring to step outside onto the back porch. “Hedoesn’t like spinach and I don’t either. It’s like stewed brains dipped in-”

Something hot rushed tomy head and I shot to my feet. Spring was biting her lip, the happy expressionwavering. It wasn’t her fault that she didn’t know. “I am sorry. I did not knowthat—i-if you’d still like to try it then I shall leave it on the-”

“I’d love to try it!” Iblurted out, surprising myself, Spring and even Mystica who tripped down thelast step onto the back lawn. “The cream cheese probably makes it taste better,right?”

“I do not know.” Springshrugged, her smile returning to full bloom. “I have never had this creamcheese thing before, but it tastes wonderful by itself.” She steepled herfingers together. “I also made some strawberry lemonade, perhaps you would liketo try that as well?”

“Strawberry lemonade?Sure.” I followed her to the kitchen where crustless sandwiches were arrangedon an oval serving tray, with a thin layer of lovely, lime-green fillingbetween them. To the left of the ceramic platter was a fluted glass mug filledto the brim with a cheery pink liquid, various fruit slices trapped beneath thethick layer of ice bobbling on the surface. It looked incredibly inviting. Springretrieved two glasses from the cupboard and began to fill them. I tried to keepmy face straight as I took the first bite of the sandwich.

It was wonderful.

Spring’s face lit upeven brighter as she looked at my face. “Isn’t it wonderful?” She exclaimed. “Ithink it tastes wonderful, spinach and all.” She slid one glass across thecounter towards me. “Try it with this.”

“Tastes gouf.” Imumbled, stuffing my mouth. It didn’t taste like spinach at all. Grabbing theglass, I took a swig of the pink stuff. It was heavenly. I swallowed anotherhalf-sandwich, taking another generous gulp of the strawberry lemonade. “Reallygud.”

Spring merely smiled asshe went about the business of clearing up the kitchen. I was happy to sitthere and watch her work, because she was fast, efficient and very pretty tolook at. Her hair streamed out in shiny waves as she swirled from the counterto the sink. In the time she’d been with us, she’d learned quickly of newthings like appliances and computers, though she viewed the latter astroublesome, I didn’t think much of it at all.

Instead, our littlepatch of the world seemed to a little warmer for all of her presence, eventhough the seasons were about to change. There were still vegetables coming infrom the garden, under Spring’s expert care and flowers to grace the tableevery day.

My dad found more timeto spend with us as a family when he wasn’t out checking fences, balancingcheckbooks and doing other ranch-ly things. My mom thought Spring was ablessing in disguise because she didn’t shirk at the thought of hard labor andworked fairly well at nearly everything she put her hands to. If Spring wasn’toutdoors, then she was in the kitchen.

Her cheerfulness wasinfectious to the point that I started to enjoy our project of restoring thebed and breakfast. Spring just had a way of making it seem like an adventure,rather than an expensive chore that continued endlessly. I waited while shestacked the newly washed dishes in the plastic-coated dishrack.

“Are we paintingtoday?” I took in her paint-covered smock and a borrowed pair of Mom’s oldsneakers. Spring liked to be barefoot, but Mom had convinced her that walkingabout barefoot during construction wasn’t a very good idea. Spring hadreluctantly accepted the sneakers as a temporary thing.

“Painting?” She pausedin mid-rinse. “I don’t think so.” She said, slowly. “It should be all done.Yes, I think it’s all done.”

“But we just startedyesterday.” I wolfed down the last sandwich and carried the plate over to herby the sink. “There was the whole floor left to paint. Here.”

She merely turned withthe sunny smile that always said more than her mouth would have. “You worry toomuch, Kevin. It’s done. I finished it, remember?” She took the plate from myhand and began to scrub it with the soapy sponge.

I didn’t remember, butI couldn’t find the heart to contradict her either. If she said it wasfinished, then the possibility remained that it was indeed finished.

“Go see for yourself.”She nudged me with an elbow. “I can wash dishes by myself, if you don’t believeme.”

I didn’t believe her,but I couldn’t say that aloud. I ducked my head and darted for the stairs. Onthe second floor, the scent of fresh paint greeted me and I checked in thefirst few rooms where we’d started yesterday.

They were complete.

And so were the rest.

That had been far morethan just a week’s worth of work. At this rate, the construction would endearly—as per Spring’s hopes.

I couldn’t believe it. Istood in the middle of one empty room, staring as I turned in a slow circle atthe immaculately painted room, with only the hint of fresh paint smell to showthat it had recently been worked upon. Very, very recently.

The sound of new voicesfloated through the opened window and I hurried over to see. A rush of coolerwind made me wince, but I stuck my head out anyway and squinted down.

It was two men, both incoats, and one laughing and talking, the other one merely nodding. I stared atthem, trying to place them and not doing a very good job. One had snowy whitehair and a long black coat, like something a rich person would wear, while theother had a tanned, leather jacket that hung open around his skinny shoulders,setting off his two-toned hair. It seemed like an odd father-son duo, but whowas I to judge?

They were speakingbetween themselves and neither of them had made an effort to ring the doorbell.I wondered why when the white-haired fellow suddenly looked up, with thebrightest pair of blue eyes I’d ever seen. His face was scowling and I wassuddenly struck by the fact that having such a fierce scowl sent in mydirection didn’t leave a good feeling at all. It made my stomach drop the wayit usually did when my Dad was about to yell at me for something I really shouldn't have done.

“Oi, you up there, whereare your manners, kid? Are you going to keep staring or will you come open thedoor?” His accent was off-key and I couldn't place it outright.

The young man next tohim looked up as well and flashed a smile that seemed rather familiar. “Hello,your family is expecting us.” He gave a slight wave. “Is Spring here already?”

Spring?They know Spring? I ducked back inside the window tryingto process what I’d seen with what I knew.

I didn’t know anythingat all.

I scrambled down fromthe room and flew down the stairs. I nearly crashed into Spring who dodgedbackwards with a bucket of soapy water.

“Kevin!” There was aslight tone of disapproval, but it was said with a smile as she twirled in a quickcircle to keep the water from sloshing out of the bucket without losing herbalance. It was a fun, yet strange sight, but then again, Spring was alwayswhirling and dancing about somewhere. “Please be more careful.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Iskidded to a stop, hesitating between helping her carry the bucket upstairs andthe folks I knew were on the other side of the door. “um, hey, have you seenMom anywhere?”

Spring was alreadyhalfway up the stairs. “Your mother?” She paused. “I think she was in thegarage downstairs, something about a yard sale?” Her forehead puckered inpuzzlement. “I did not think that one could sell a yard without their homeinvolved, but-”

“Ask me later!” Iturned towards the kitchen and the garage door. “Mom!”

“Kevin!” Spring calledafter me, now at the top of the stairs. “Would you please open the front door?”

“Huh?”

She was alreadystarting down the second-floor hallway and her voice was faint. “Let in the onewith the pretty hair and tell the grumpy old man to stay outside until he findshis manners.”

“You know them?”

There was no answer.

Another gust of coldwind swept through the house, enough to raise an army of goosebumps along myarm. I shuffled towards the front door. If Spring knew them, then there wasprobably nothing wrong with letting them in. Then again, the one with thetwo-toned hair had mentioned we were expecting them. I wondered which familymeeting I’d missed with that bit of information.

My hand hesitated onthe doorknob and when I finally turned it, my fingers nearly froze. It was thatcold. I ended up wrapping the end of my sleeve around the knob to turn it. Thatwas odd.

With the door open, Icould now see the newcomers clearly.

The old man reallywasn’t old at all, but he did seem to be very grumpy. His hair was a pure, snowwhite and his eyes were a piercing dark blue. His skin was very white, very paleand very smooth. His scowl hadn’t changed. He wore a cream-coloredturtle-necked sweater under a black, full length wool coat and equally darkjeans. His boots were scuffed and dark shade of brown, the same as his batteredknapsack that accompanied him.

“Looking at something,kid?” He grunted, pushing past without a single nod of acknowledgement.

“Hey!” I turned afterhim, only to feel a new hand on my shoulder.

“Please don’t worryabout Winter, he’s having a bit of a hard time adjusting.” The young man whospoke had a voice and smile vaguely reminiscent of Spring. His hair was two-toned,the shade of auburn with brown and golden tips and streaks throughout. “Hello,you must be-”

“Kevin.” Spring’s voicefloated down the hallway. “Do let the man in. It’s freezing out there orrather, should I say it’s frozen in here?”

It was the first hintof sarcasm I’d ever heard from her.

That’s when Mom’sconversation clicked, the one I shouldn’t have overheard last week in thelaundry room.

Spring. Winter. Thecharming fellow in front of me could only be Autumn.

Oh great. Now therewere three of the four seasons rooming inside our under-construction bed andbreakfast. A shiver nipped through the air and I tried to ignore it. This wascertainly going to be a strange year to remember.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Spring smiled to herself, watching the disgruntled Winter putter about and Autumn's care attention and answers to the questions of their young host. She knew he'd get on well with Kevin, it was just a matter of convincing her favorite brother not to freeze the poor thing solid.

A smile leapt to her face and she found herself remembering an old memory from years before. They had been closer then and the memory had been...interesting.

“You kicked it?” Her father fairly shrieked. “Of all the things on our Good Lord’s green earth, child, whatever possessed you to do that?” He tugged handfuls of his great white hair as his green eyes grew wild with panic. "You're sure they didn't follow you?"

Spring merely shrugged, turning her hands, palm up to the sky. “They were sleeping and all quiet and it’s supposed to be my time. They won't bite.”

"Sting." He corrected, mildly.

"Fine. Sting. They won't. I told 'em not to." She shifted her chubby freckled hands to rest on her hips. “And I was being nice! I wasn’t gonna freeze ‘em like Winter! He would've killed them!" She exclaimed. "I just wanted them to wake up and make the flowers all pretty and everything.”

“I wasn’t gonna freeze ‘em, Spree.” Winter sauntered over, his hands shoved into the pockets of his brown fur vest. He patted her curly head, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “I don't go around killing things, I just put them to sleep for a bit. Your job is to wake them up and you’ve got air for brains, flowerhead. Nobody kicks a beehive and lives to tell it.” His silvery brows knitted together. “You told them you were Spring, didn’t you?”

The guilty child immediately looked away.

"You're not supposed to tell them that!" He exclaimed, exasperated. "Really! Does everything I say go in one ear and right out the other like-"

"If she doesn't want to listen, she isn't going to." Summer chuckled. "Just let her alone for now. Perhaps one of them might be daring enough to sting her."

"After a seasonal declaration?" Winter rolled his eyes. "Hardly." He muttered and stomped off. “A beehive.” He muttered. “Of all the things on…”

(c) Sara Harricharan

Champagne (Flash Fiction)

2012-01-25T19:21:00.000-05:00

Found on Google Images

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

So let's toast, shall we? A glass of champagne to everyone who dares.

To a broken life, shattered dreams and unwistful hopes.

Let's toast.

For all those missed moments, piecrust promises and dark nighted fantasies.

Let's toast.

It's a lovely, wretched mess, isn't it?

Why not celebrate?

Happiness is nothing unless you are sure of it. Elusive as a bird and stolen like life, it is nothing, so we linger over it and sigh.

Ah, but let's toast, shall we? A glass of champagne to everyone who fears.

To new life, new dreams and pledged hopes.

A rousing cheer!

For every captured blessing, sacred vow and sunrise renewal.

Let's toast.

It's a beautiful, delightful mess, isn't it?

Why not celebrate?

Happiness is everything, unless you are sure of it. Elusive as as the tide and stolen like the night, it is something, so we linger over it and cry.

(c) Sara Harricharan

Thorns (Flash Fiction)

2012-01-24T19:15:00.001-05:00

Found on Google Images

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

Thorns.

They blister, they burn, they tear.

I hurt.

Bleed me, break me, tear me.

You hurt.

Piercing the skin, stinging the soul. I am left with nothing, but an empty, ugly hole.

These torns in my side, are nothing.

The scars I bear are nothing.

For on His head, He wore them--in a crown of plain mockery. They meant for it to hurt. For His sake, His pain, and His blood. I am purchased, redeemed and loved.

(c) Sara Harricharan

Hinge (Flash Fiction)

2012-01-23T19:19:00.000-05:00

Found on Google Images

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

The squeaky door hinge was the first warning that set off all occupants in the old wooden cabin. Mutterings, whispers and shufflings filled the air.

The sound of the rasping metal on the backdoor sent them all into a tizzy.

Well, everyone except Anabelle, who didn’t even pause as she hurriedly stuffed her hands into mittens and awkwardly wound a fat scarf ’round her little neck.

“Mummy, c’mon, Daddy’s out there, he's hurt!”

The grown-ups exchanged glances with the little girl of blue eyes and pink lips.

“I guess she’d know.” The old groundskeeper sighed, at last. “Not like I could pick out a frostman from a twitch.”

“Twatch.” The mother corrected and suppressed a shiver. “Twatch.” She reached over and tugged the scarf straight.

(c) Sara Harricharan

~Twatch is what they call the woodsmen in this snippet--folks who brave the ice and snow and usually wear white and light blue to blend with the surroundings. They fight frostmen, which are like the abominable snowman/Yeti.

Fences (Flash Fiction)

2012-01-22T21:39:00.000-05:00

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

“Fences?” The horse snorted. “Do they really think mere fences can keep me in here?” There was a toss of the majestic head, the coppery mane streaming out in the afternoon breeze.

Her handler, the equally redheaded human, merely shrugged. “I don’t know, Fen. You’re lucky they let you have me as it is.” She stroked the sunny muzzle and smiled at the answering whicker. “Besides, you know it’s expensive to have a Horse Whisperer in the first place, you should be glad they scrape enough together to bring me here.”

Fen snorted again, pawing at the ground in agitation. “Why’d you have to be so expensive then? Why can’t you be nicer?”

“Nicer doesn’t get results.” The redhead sighed. “It just gets…fences.”

(c) Sara Harricharan

Scarce (Flash Fiction)

2012-01-21T23:08:00.002-05:00

Found on Google Images

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

“What is it?”

“A daisy, I think.”

“You think? I thought you knew everything.”

“Shut up, you big idiot.” She reached for his shoulder, using him for leverage to stand on her feet. She winced, as her crooked leg wavered beneath her. “Daisies are rare these days. Scarce as an honest heart. It does look white and that is yellow in the middle, isn’t it?”

“Looks like it to me.” He shrugged. “Not that I could tell white and yellow from red and-”

She elbowed him in the stomach.

(c) Sara Harricharan

Runaway (Flash Fiction)

2012-01-20T23:58:00.002-05:00

Found on Google Images

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

Run. Run. Run as fast as you can. Get away.

I felt the air burning through my lungs as if it stripped the very life out of me that I was trying so desperately to save.

I ran until I thought I couldn’t run anymore.

And then I stopped.

Falling to ground, tangled in everything from remorse to regret and the dust and dirt of the world beneath my feet.

I gasped for breath and I cried for release.

I wished that I was anything, anything but what I was right now. I didn’t want to be another runaway.

Not from Him.

Never from Him.

(c) Sara Harricharan

{This is not my Friday Fiction post...I'm still working on it. Cheers!}

Liberty (Flash Fiction)

2012-01-19T23:26:00.002-05:00

Found on Google Images.

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

(Today's prompt is what I'd call pure um, 'crack', meaning that it was written for nothing more than stress relief and a good laugh as it's been one of those days. I figured I'd share though, instead of just tossing it out. Cheers!)

“I’ve taken the liberty-” He began.

My heart leapt through my throat and splattered on the floor.

We stared at each other for longer than was strictly polite.

Then he reached down, picked up the squirming, sputtering organ and handed it back.

I blinked. “Er, that doesn’t really, um-”

“When he said android, I wasn’t really expecting something this fully…functional.” He hid a smile. “Fireproof, waterproof and idiotproof?”

“First two are standard, I guess time will tell with the other, yes?”

“Asking or telling?”

“I think I’m taking the uh, liberty of asking.”

The smile on his face made the sun rise with a halo and two free-range eggs, sunny-side up.

(c) Sara Harricharan

Rendition (Flash Fiction)

2012-01-19T01:00:00.000-05:00

Found on Google Images

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

Rendition.

It was the worst rendition of Peer's Haughe, he'd ever heard.

But the earnestness in which the child was singing simply vanished all purpose and intent to ruin the moment.

His head and ears throbbed for several long moments afterwards and when it was through, the Tester wasn't quite sure how to handle the young couple's expectant faces. He looked from the toddler to the mother, to the father and then back at the little boy.

He closed his eyes, folded his hands and took a deep breath.

When he opened his eyes, the smile was fixed, force and polite. "A banshee." He said, thinly. "I believe you have a banshee."

The happy parents practically danced out of the testing office, squealing over their good fortune as they left.

He sighed at the now empty office and thumped his head on the hardwood desk. "Human parents." He muttered. "Idiotic human parents, the boy can't be a banshee unless his mother is part--" the stack of paperwork slipped off the desk and fell to the floor.

He sighed.

Worst rendition ever.

How could be so hard to sing Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star?

(c) Sara Harricharan

Bellow (Flash Fiction)

2012-01-17T20:17:00.000-05:00

Found on Google Images

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

"Get down from there you idiot!"Grandfather bellowed. "Save a heart!"

I jumped.

The screaming and crying as if everything had finally come down around us had become too much to bear. I hadn't thought twice at inching up to the edge.

But his shout scared us all. My father was whiter than ash in the fireplace after Thanksgiving Pumpkin pie was served a day old. My mother was in hysterics for something that made no sense at all. Grandfather was the worst. He didn’t know how to ask and I didn’t know what to say, but he needed us and we needed him.

Then the world did turn darker when the wooded trail gave way beneath father's feet. I lunged and missed. Grandfather crumpled to his knees, fat tears streaming down his wrinkled face."I hate you." He whispered. His fists clenched tight, then, louder. "I love you."

I never saw my father again.

(c) Sara Harricharan

Crisp (Flash Fiction)

2012-01-17T20:01:00.002-05:00

Found on Google Images

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

Burnt to a crisp.

I supposed it could’ve been worse. I supposed there could’ve been a hundred and one more things that might have gone wrong, but instead, there was simply nothing left.

It was ash. Piles upon piles of black, white and grey in generous quantities of indeterminable shapes and sizes.

Gone. All gone. Burnt to a crisp, as if there were nothing more than a hand that had turned a dial one notch too far.

I stood in the doorway of what could have been for longer than absolutely necessary, because when I saw the blackened hole, I realized your wish had been granted. There was nothing left here for me any more. It was all pointeless.

I was finally, dead.

(c) Sara Harricharan

Below (Flash Fiction)

2012-01-17T19:49:00.003-05:00

Found on Google Images

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

“Look out below!” Johnathan screamed and then of course, he jumped.

I stared after him like the idiot he was and wondered–briefly–if yelling before you jumped actually helped.

Of course, then I yelled the same and jumped after him.

They never told me that the canyon was bottomless. They never told me what I was supposed to do if nothing happened.

I’ve been trapped here between nothing for the past five centuries.

Pity.

I suppose it'd be alright, except for I'm getting a bit bored. I do wonder what they’re doing down there…below.

(c) Sara Harricharan

Accordion (Flash Fiction)

2012-01-17T19:46:00.000-05:00

Found on Google Images

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

Accordion?

I wasn’t even sure what she was talking about, but then suddenly, I had to know. It seemed like it was and then I was sure. It was the missing twist, the final touch, the last key.

I couldn't believe I hadn’t seen it. I’d ignored it and overlooked it because I thought it was olfashioned. In my crazy young mind that ridiculous excuse of a musical instrument didn’t exist.

I’d never considered the ancient energy within would actually prove to be beneficial.

I suppose, that sometimes it helps if you don’t know what will kill you some day.

I can see the headlines for tomorrow.

Death, by accordion.

(c) Sara Harricharan

A/N: I forgot to post the past few snippets--apologies folks! University can be a bear sometimes...

Benched (Friday Fiction)

2012-01-14T23:58:00.002-05:00

This week's Friday Fiction is hosted by the wonderfully talented Rick "Hoomi" Higgenson over at his blog, Pod Tales and Ponderings. Do stop by and check out the awesome stories! Click here to visit.

Author's Ramblings: This is actually a flash fiction prompt for "Bench" That I decided to expand, just because Nella is a fun character, though a bit of a brat. It features an original idea of mine for a sport called Disc, where players have four corners of a large outdoor field to protect and several flying discs to deflect as "Balls". Certain moves can be used with certain powers or simply on the physical endurance of the player. Some moves are outlawed, for certain health reasons, mental, physical, etc. I thought that was a good spot to start off this rambling bit with. Enjoy!

Found on Google Images

“Bench, now!” Shreena bellowed, her dark eyes snapping with anger. “I can’t believe you, Nella.” She growled, her gloved hands fisted and resting on her broad hips. Her glare could’ve melted the protective gear that the lithe redhead before her wore. “That’s an outlawed maneuver and you knew it! I can’t believe it! Are you trying to get us blacklisted? They could kick us out of the tournament for this!”

"They can't ban all of you." Nella rolled her eyes. "And it was a perfectly legal move several decades ago, they just changed the rules for stupid reasons."

"Not stupid reasons!" Shreena struggled to keep her temper from expressing itself in more physical means, a feat visible by the way that her hands were twitching in spite of the stiff dragonhide gloves. "A full bodyslam against a reinforced sidewinder disc is not something to take lightly and you know fully well the reasons why it was outlawed for women to perform such moves! Don't you even care? Do you even know what you did? I can't believe this! I can't believe you!"

“You and me both, coach.” The Halfter frowned, readjusting her wrist guards. “Really, Nell, for shame.” There was a faint quirk of her lips and she turned away with a toss of her head. She'd have to take the redhead's position as a side hitter in left quarter and she was not looking forward to it. Halfter was her pride and joy as far as titles went and this was certainly not something that she would've seen happening in the first half of the Drakken Championships.

Nella shuffled to the bench and dropped down with an audible thunk to show her displeasure. She opted to study the game chart pinned on the corner of the dugout and pretended that nothing else mattered.

They’d never figure it out.

They’d never know.

She’d certainly never tell.

Only a female with Arsonne’s Gift could perform that trick–illegal or not. It would be just the thing to save their little world from the darker days ahead. The games had everyone on edged, but only for the sake of the bet that every world was riding on. Sure, Drakken was in danger, as was every other planet and yes, they might be the only decent team playing to win in hopes of freedom, but still, the villains weren't playing fair, so why should they?

Nella sniffed.

She'd thrown the move in there on spur of the moment when she'd seen the opposing team's Halfter employ an outlawed move of her own. Doing something that obvious would ensure, at the very least, that all referees were on the lookout for moves both above and below the line.

At least, the second half of the game might be fare.

If not, they were doomed.

Though, now that she thought about it, there had to be a way around it.

Her brilliant mind snapped to work and Nella relaxed on the bench. She could trust them to win the game and they could trust her to take care of everything else.

In this case, everything else would be a certain piece of incriminating evidence housed in the Minster's Westbring office and in a difficult spot with certain protections over it that hindered all thoughts of accessibility.

Nella hummed in thought, remembering the feel as she'd performed the necessary twist and tuck of the bodyslam. It had been very satisfying.

And the disc had zoomed away with something she'd never felt before.

I bet it could blast through their securities... She mused. I guess I've done it after all. I'll just have to slip in there and grab it tonight and as long as they win this game, we're good. Scot-free and homebound.

Pity they'd never see what hit them.

Nella smirked.

(C) Sara Harricharan

Conceal (Flash Fiction)

2012-01-12T16:12:00.001-05:00

*Image found on Google.com

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

It was easy to hide.

Somehow, I thought it would be harder. I thought they would care. I thought they were watching. I thought they were looking.

Eyes were everywhere. Mouths and tongues flapping in the blistering cold.

But no one saw and no one spoke.

I didn’t think it’d be this easy. To hide. To run. To conceal the truth from those who desperately need to hear it.

Somehow, I thought it would be harder.

(c) Sara Harricharan ^_^

Sparkling (Flash Fiction)

2012-01-11T18:05:00.003-05:00

Found on Google Images

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

Sparkle, Sparkle, Little heart,
Stand brave and tall without a mark.
Look straight into the bright blue sky
Pretend that you will never ever sigh
Sparkle and dance with all your might
Try and try to reach the light

Her song haunted us all, as we stood at the cliff’s edge staring down in the shadowy chasm. I didn’t know what to say. They didn’t know what to say.

So we all stood there and said nothing and waited for the sparkles to fade away.

Sparkles that still shimmered, sparkling, in the night, the only proof that an angel had been there just seconds before.

(c) Sara Harricharan

Bland (Flash Fiction)

2012-01-10T14:47:00.001-05:00

Found on Google Images. Looks tasty. ^_^

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

Bland. Pointless. Troubling.

I didn’t know what the word meant until I stood in line with the rest of them, hands outstretched, reaching and accepting something I cared naught for. I would take it, because it filled my empty hands, I would hold it, because I had nothing else to hold and when the darkness fell, I would sit in silence and eat it.

Because that was all I had.

Because that was all there was.

Pointless. Meaningless. Bland.

(c) Sara Harricharan

Savage (Flash Fiction)

2012-01-09T23:49:00.002-05:00

Found on Google Images.

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

"Savage and wild, that one is."

That’s what he said when he pointed her out on the cliffside. I kind of thought he was joking. I kind of hoped, anyway.

How does a girl even know what to do with so many blades? She barely looks even half the weight of the broadsword on her back. But from the slit in her left sleeve, I saw the marks when she dropped by the mess tent.

The entire patch of sunburned skin was covered in blue, black and purple dots. Perfect round pinpricks of color.

Every dot represented a dueled match won.

I'd never seen so many on any one person.

The Colonel thumped me on the back with a smirk as I choked on my mashed dinner. “I told you, boy.” He laughed."Savage and wild, that one."

I wondered, if maybe, she’d like to be my friend.

(c) Sara Harricharan

Lilies (Flash Fiction)

2012-01-08T18:08:00.002-05:00

Found on Google Images

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

Lily of the valley.

That was my favorite song for years. Our favorite song. I don’t remember when it changed. I just remember the Sabbath mornings where we’d stand with our faces to the sun, singing songs that seemed so very old, but so very special. I remember your voice. So beautiful.

Lilies.

White. Pure. Simple.

Peace.

How I miss it. How I miss you.

The way things were, the simplicity of the simple.

It’s all a mess these days. Such a horrid, wretched mess. Because somehow in looking for you, I’ve managed to lose myself.

(c) Sara Harricharan

Oil (Flash Fiction)

2012-01-07T20:21:00.002-05:00

Found on Google Images

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

Oil and water.

Water and Oil.

I think we hate each other. Maybe. I don’t know.

Is it the color of my skin? The shade of my hair? The glitter on my eyes? The sound of my sigh?

It’s got to be something. It’s got to be me. I must’ve done something horrible, that’s the only reason you could hate me.

Maybe I’m just ugly, maybe I don’t belong, but I do wish that you could see past it and see that I mean no harm.

I’m just another person, a shadow of a human. I’m just another nobody, just like you.

(c) Sara Harricharan

For Nalia (Friday Fiction

2012-01-06T00:09:00.000-05:00

Hello everyone! Happy New Year! I have the distinct pleasure of hosting Friday Fiction this week, feel free to jump in and join the fun. Just add your name and link to your original fiction piece in the widget below. Don't forget to read and comment on other entries--we all love the feedback. Happy holidays! ^_^

Author's Ramblings: This snippet is part of a character sketch for Eredas, a companion warrior from my 2011 NaNoWriMo, who was charged with protecting his mentor's daughter, a reckless lady knight. This was to help me decide and flesh out exactly what kind of gift or talent I should give to him. It's during a raid on a suspect's estate and Eredas has a bit of a flashback at the worst possible time. It's a bit rough, but fun to write. I do hope you enjoy. Happy weekend!

When I saw it, I thought of her.

The color was too bright and everything else in the room was rather dark and dreary. But the scrap of ruffled yellow brought back a slew of memories that I wasn't prepared to push away. In the moments before the raid ended, I didn't remember it starting.

I remembered everything else instead, even the things I swore I’d forget.

Sirens, screams and glass breaking played a song that I wouldn't soon forget and everything about Griffiths settled south of my stomach.

I remembered her apple pie on Winter Solstice and her smile with a cracked, bleeding lip, after she’d just hit the minister of soulless idiots.Well, minister for something important, I was sure, but a lady knight cares little for those kind of distinctions when she's got the crown's protection riding boldly on her staff in the form of the royal colors.

Something about her fearlessness screamed of strength and courage. The kind of courage I couldn't even summon with a bottle of Bergland's best. Not that I would try, drink doesn't hold well with my kind--not if we want to live to see the next few hundred years. I'm not particuarly fond of dying. I knew it hurt in more ways than one and that this last death would most certainly hurt worse than all the others.

Found on Google Images. Nalia's Standard Symbol

But I did promise him and when the raid began, I could only think of getting to her. She caught my eye halfway across the battlefield. Blood, guts and glory was the warcry, but to her, it was nothing more than duty and necessity. She was the spitting image of her mother, all done over twice, with a cherry and a half on top.

They said that she picked up her new skills in the Western Lands, but all I knew was that the deadly blade in her gauntleted hands had grown darker overnight. Yet, when we crashed though the walls and into the estate, somehow I got tangled all the way to the kitchens.

Somehow she got tangled right along with me. When I saw her beside that chicken yellow apron, I could only see a little girl with her father’s eyes. Eyes that haunted, eyes that hurt and eyes that helped, even when there was no honor to be gained by it.

Everything went wrong in a smattering of seconds. I realized she was outnumbered before I managed to piece together the fact that the had been anticipated. It wold seem that we'd walked straight into a trap of the worst kind.

The kind of trap that would require thinking to get out of the entire mess.

Stupid trap.

Stupid idiots.

Stupid thinking.

Nalia would laugh if she knew what I was thinking. Thankfully she doesn't. But that doesn't help the situation. I'll have to actually think and then follow through. I hate following through. It's always a pain in my head.

"Eredas!" Her scream ripped me from my muddled mind and she flew forward, bringing a momentum that drove us both to the ground. "Now is not the time to get lost in your mind, man!" She panted into my ear and suppressed a wince.

The very fact that she let it show on her face instead of hiding it, spoke volumes more than anything else she could have said. Surprisingly, thinking didn't seem like such a bad thing to do after all. All I'd have to do was calculate the necessary points for--she whimpered.

I nearly died. "Nalia!"

"Lucky blow. That's all it is." She grimaced. "A really lucky blow. Halls are clear. I think there's one left. You handle it, okay? Just get...please, get us out of here!" She coughed and spat blood on the ground near my left ear. "Think!" She pleaded. "Just use your head."

Oh how I hate that phrase.

But I would.

I'd do it for her, if no one else. I owed him--no, her, that much, at least.

There were more ways than one to get her out of there.

There were also two left, not one.

Bother that.

(c) Sara Harricharan

Trunk (Flash Fiction)

2012-01-03T23:40:00.000-05:00

Found on Google Images

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

The trunk was securely fastened with black-chains covered in thick, gunky looking globs of green algae.

At first, I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Usually, mysterious trunks don’t turn up on my doorstep every Thursday morning, but this one had been the third one this month.

I really didn’t know what to make of it.

There were five locks in various places, holding the trunk closed and the chains together. I wondered what on earth could any living being wish to keep inside a trunk that had a mouth.

It had a mouth, you see, because the teeth carved in front would screech, every time I lugged it through the entryway and down to the basement.

As I recall, it was the third one this month. I still didn’t know what to do with it.

(c) Sara Harricharan

Thanks for reading!

Glimmer (Flash Fiction)

2012-01-02T00:07:00.001-05:00

Found on Google Images

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

It was a thread, a shimmering strand, a glimmer of hope, as they all say.

I didn’t really think it was.

Something about the missing reflection haunted me. I thought, perhaps, I might have been seeing things, because I’d always seen things. Sometimes when there are constants around you, a person looks to them, expects them, convinces their mind that such things are natural and necessary.

And when it changes, their world comes crashing down.

I suppose that’s why I didn’t want to believe it.

I didn’t want to think that I could be wrong or right, whichever the case was, because when I looked into the rippling pond, I didn’t see my reflection.

I caught a glimmer of something that might not have been. Shimmering silver and pale limelight.

Now I fear, it shall haunt me.

(c) Sara Harricharan

Estate (Flash Fiction)

2011-12-31T16:21:00.001-05:00

Found through Google Images.

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

It was a large, sprawling estate, almost like something straight out of The Secret Garden.

I busied myself for an entire afternoon, thinking, wondering and imagining what it must’ve been like to be a little girl, exploring through an old forgotten world.

It was beautiful, it was strange.

I found that I liked it very much.

I hoped that they would let me stay with him–even if he was recovering from a nervous breakdown, I didn’t think we could scare each other any more than we already had.

(c) Sara Harricharan

Bridge (Flash Fiction)

2011-12-31T02:27:00.000-05:00

Rainbow Bridge. Found on Google Images.

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

"We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it"

That was what he said. that was what he told me.

That was what I knew we wouldn’t do.

Somehow, it scared me. Frightened me so deeply and throughly, I knew that I would be scarred for life.

Scarred.

Marred.

Marked.

Bridge.

Stupid bridge.

As if there was anything left to be said. How could I not read into that? If he meant it, surely he'd have said so. I guess. I don't know. It won’t matter anymore after today.

(c) Sara Harricharan

Clamp (Flash Fiction)

2011-12-24T22:19:00.001-05:00

found on Google Images

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

His hand clamped down on my shoulder, an iron grip that I didn’t dare shake off. I could feel him, standing beside me, his displeasure a thick, stifling air that brooked no disobedience.

“Sir.” I greeted, barely trusting my voice to be civil. “Is something the matter?”

“Something the-?” He broke off, abruptly, the hand on my shoulder tightening to something almost painful. “Something will be.” He growled, at last. “Don’t you ever do that again, do you hear me?” The squeeze for good measure was painful. Then his regal head lowered a few centimeters and he whispered in my ear. “And if you do, then don’t get caught.”

(c) Sara Harricharan

Flood (Flash Fiction)

2011-12-21T19:52:00.001-05:00

Created by Jake Neal, found on Google Images. Impressive, yes?

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

Flood.

I saw it coming.

The wall of water. The fear. Two things that should never be mixed together.

Then I saw her. She stood tall and strong against everything. I don’t know where she could’ve gotten such strength. But she stood, with her head held high as if there was nothing in the world that could move her.

When I saw that, when I saw her face, then I knew.

Strength isn’t on the outside, but on the inside and only when it is present on the inside, can it show so strongly on the outside.

(c) Sara Harricharan

Sleeve (Friday Fiction)

2011-12-16T01:14:00.002-05:00

Hi everyone! I have the distinct pleasure of hosting Friday Fiction this week. I'm running a snippet of flash fiction as this is finals week at university and I'm still waiting for my brain to check back with me. Anyhow, to join up, just add your name and link to the widget below. Don't forget to read and comment on other entries--we all love the feedback. Happy holidays! ^_^

Author's ramblings: This is one of my flash fiction prompts for the word "Sleeve" and is pretty much a little fiction "scene" in a "scene". I'll be starting up my Christmas fiction next week, so if you have any songs you'd like me to storify, mention them in comments below. Enjoy the weekend!

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

I tugged on her sleeve.

I didn’t know what else to do. I had to do something, but for once in my life, my voice, my mouth, that whole entire bundle that it takes to bring speech into the atmosphere of the living, it was nothing.

I was numb. I was blind and yet, somehow, I had to make myself known.

Her sleeve was soft and silky, as if it were everything that she wasn’t, with the look in her dark eyes and the dusky red lips pursed in thought. I didn’t think she’d even feel it, I thought that perhaps, she wouldn’t even notice me.

I thought she might do it to spite me.

And then she turned and with one simple arch of those dark eyebrows, I knew my fate was sealed.

Perhaps for the worst.

(c) Sara Harricharan

Princess (Flash Fiction)

2011-12-14T21:09:00.000-05:00

Found through Google Images

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

She’s a little princess.
WIth a heart of gold and a silver sigh.
She’s a little princess.
With the weight of the world, she’ll try.
With every breath in her fragile soul, she’ll breathe life into this darkened world, because somewhere in the shadows is a mirror.
And when the face staring back at her smiles
She knows.
Because she’s a little princess and that’s perfectly fine.

~Sara

Return (Flash Fiction)

2011-12-06T23:25:00.001-05:00

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

The place of no return.

How do you know it, if that's where you come back to?

Isn't it usually that spot where you've been before and you came back from the edge, having teetered over and kissed death, deciding that for your newborn arms and legs, it was best to come crawling back to life and resting in the false embrace of half-hearted securities?

It's that place where you can't go, because it hurts too much and only when it hurts can you know that's where you ought to be.

~Sara

Deserve (Flash Fiction)

2011-12-06T00:21:00.001-05:00

Found on Google Images

FLASH FICTION PROMPT

I don’t deserve you.

She looked at me, with the world in her eyes, with tears threatening to fall and spy. I stared back because I could and then because I thought for a moment, that I might actually love her.

Fierce, proud and beautiful, with her head thrown back in the wind, she was every inch the queen that her people demanded her to be. And every inch the angel that I so desperately needed in the darkness.

I don’t deserve you, I almost spoke the forbidden words aloud, but so help me, I need you.

~Sara

Centerpiece (Flash Fiction)

2011-12-04T20:04:00.001-05:00

Found on Google Images, a balloon flowerpot.

FLASH FICTION PROMPT:

It’s in the middle of the table.

It’s the most hideously garish thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.

But she’s sitting across the table from me and as our eyes meet above the neon tangles of it, there’s a challenge in those wickedly dark orbs. She’s daring me, silently, to disapprove of her choice. Daring me to disagree with her. Daring me to prove that I won’t take her and everything that she has to offer.

Begging me, almost, to prove that she is unworthy of the love that I can no longer hold back.

~Sara

Gemfire Excerpt (Friday Fiction)

2011-11-18T12:36:00.001-05:00

This week's Friday Fiction is hosted by the wonderful and talented Joanne "JJ" Sher over @ her blog, An Open Book. Click here to read and share more great fiction. Several of us Wrimos are sharing novel excerpts this week--you'll be in for a real treat! ^_^

Author's Ramblings: And this week is another except for my NaNoWriMo Novel, Gemfire. Still in the extremely rough stage, but featuring the main character, Areya and an old Keeper friend of hers, Thatcher. (Think of Keepers like a cross between Rangers and Guns-for-hire with the protection of the law behind them). This is after Areya and her group of two were lured into a trap by mistake. Thatcher and Areya try to catch up after a few years of being apart. Enjoy! ^_^ (Oh and Spire is the currency in their world).

Areya sipped a small cup of the bitter coffee, herbrow furrowed in thought. “I actually haven’t seen anything, we’ve just comeover from MinderBlu.”

“Speaking of which.” Thatcher frowned. “You caused abit of trouble there and in Meresch, correct?”

“Trouble?” Areya repeated, innocently. “I didn’t doanything. No fights, no citations.” She held up her hand, the coffee cupbalanced on her knees. “Hands are clean, see?”

Straw-blond eyebrows knitted themselves together.“Right. Which is why there were rumors of a girl with dark-hair and weird eyestricking a couple of guards at the entry gate-”

“Hey! I left my toll spire there after I’d earned itand I cleaned all their armor for free! They weren’t even gonna-”

“Sugar?” Lilith took the coffee cup from it’sprecarious position and handed it off to Takera who was busily stirring thepowdered sweetner into the liquid mixture.

“-you stole an heiress from under the eye of herbodyguard, blew up a merchant stall and-”

“She came of her own free will and I didn’t blowthat up, someone else did. Besides, since when can I actually blow things upanyway? If I could, I would, that’d be a really handy skill to have.”

“That’s a skill you won’t be learning.” Thatcher cutin, irritably. “Areya, could you please pay attention when I’m trying to-”

Takera handed the cup over just as Lilith turnedwith another, the two collided and coffee went everywhere.

Areya was on her feet in an instant. “Oops?” Sheoffered, lurching forward and grabbing Thatcher’s arm. “The river’s this way,I’ll help you wash it off.” She tugged, hard. “Come on, please!”

The scowl on his face settled, but he let himself bepulled away.

She threw a worried glance over her shoulder, thencontinued on, pulling the Keeper’s leader further into the clearing to theriver. “It was an accident, they didn’t mean it, honest. They’re just a bitjittery, you guys make them nervous.”

“They should be.” He shrugged out of his overcoatand handed it over.

Areya dunked it in the river and began to swish itaround. “I really wasn’t trying to cause trouble you know.” Her voice wasquiet. “I just couldn’t leave them alone and you all but dared me go intoMeresch.”

“I did no such thing.”

“You did too!”

“Areya!” He exclaimed, exasperated. “Really, what amI going to do with you?”

“Love me, adore me and promise to stop randomlyknocking me out?” She quipped. “When was the last time you washed this thing?It stinks!”

“We don’t exactly have time to spend on washings andit’s been a while since we were able to stop without attracting attention.” Hesighed. “C’mere.”

Areya lifted the soaked vest from the water andmoved closer to him by the bank. She sat, tucking her legs up beside her andleaning against his shoulder, snuggling into the arm that was offered. This was more like the Thatcher she remembered. “Youbeen okay?”

“Just peachy.” He rested his chin on the top of herhead. “We’ve been cleared to go hunting.”

“Hunting?”

“Yes, three names and we’re to see to all of them.We cleared to move until a situation is declared solved in accordance withgeneral guidelines.” He smiled, sadly. “It’s good and bad at the same time.”

“…sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s good money and we all get along, itcould be worse.”

“I doubt it.”

“You been okay?”

“Yeah. The usual.”

“Any news from your mother?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Areya.”

“I heard that someone in MinderBlu had a map forsale.”

“A map?”

“Yeah, for that place.”

“You came all the way back here on the hearsay abouta map?”

“It’s the only lead I’ve got, Thatch. What would youhave me do?”

“Tell me you were in the area for one.” He tweakedher ear, straightening and allowing her to sit up. “It would’ve been nicer thanjust finding out that you were waltzing through the islands and leaving alovely line of terror in your wake.”

“I didn’t leave anything!”

“Relax. I’m not going to scold you for it, thoughyou do deserve it. What part of ‘don’t cause trouble’ is so hard for youunderstand?”

“All of it!”

“I’m speaking in plain Basic.”

“That’s beside the point and I really tried. Ididn’t fight anyone this time.”

“I know. I’m proud of you, even if I did have to fixa few ruffled feathers and smooth out the kind of debts that the empire reallyshouldn’t be paying for.”

“Erm. Sorry.” Areya ducked her head. “But I did try!”

He chuckled, softly, patting her head with one damphand. “Give me that, I’ll rinse it, you don’t need to be wading around in thewater, it tires you doesn’t it? When there isn’t any Mineral present in thestuff?”

“You remembered.” She smiled, handing it over. “Thanks.Make sure you scrub it and wring it well, because you stink like a-”

“Don’t finish that if you know what’s good for you!”

She smirked. “Who are you hunting?”

He shrugged. “Three bandits. The Specter, SunshineReya and Wolfsbane.”

“Wolfsbane?” Areya shuddered, visibly. “No wonderyou all look like that. Isn’t the unit too small?”

“We’ve added a few since you left.”

“I wasn’t one to begin with.” Areya shot back. “Iwas just a cute little stray that was helpful from time to time.”

“You made a good mascot.”

“I can’t be a mascot for the rest of my life.”

“I know, I know, I’m just saying.”

“It’s that bad?”

“Worse. I’ve lost a few of the young ones.”

“He knows you’re hunting?”

“Oh he knows alright. Knows by know which group isdoing the hunting and probably doing all he can to get some inside informationon the troupe.” He shrugged. “Thankfully, we’re so new that the dynamicshaven’t been worked out completely, it gives us the advantage, just a little.”

“So you’re gathering intel? That why you had usgrabbed off a trail for doing nothing?”

“Naturally. You weren’t the original targets though,Orson is good at what he does, but sometimes he can be a little near-sighted.Can’t see past what’s in front of him.”

“Really?”

“The local guards loaned him to us, apparently he’s aconsultant for one of their young generals and is good at tracking and integration. There's an outpost in the nearest city, it's a secret safeground for many of the generals and their favorites to visit. We're lucky to have him.”

Areya snorted. “Not that lucky.”

“Really?”

“Lilith and Takera practically had their hackles upfrom the moment he thought of entering the camp right up until Dekker’s squadjumped us. They didn’t like him at all.”

Thatcher’s bushy eyebrows arched upwards inappreciation. “Really? Impressive.”

“Not really. I think we’re all just a little strungout.”

“What did you think?”

Areya shrugged. “He didn’t smell like danger, so Ididn’t figure he was.”

“He led you right into a trap and from what Iunderstand, you didn’t even try to fight back. Even if you knew it was Keepers,there was no guarantee that this would’ve been our squadron or that a Keeperbrook would’ve even considered your medallion.”

“Did they find it?”

“No.”

“Figured.”

“Are you hiding it somewhere that I don’t want toknow about?”

Areya winked. “Something like that.”

He chuckled. “You’re a real treat, you know that?I’ve missed your chatter. I’ve missed you, kidlet.”

“I didn’t chatter and I’m not a kid!” She pouted. “Well,maybe not all a kid.”

“You know what I mean. My turn now. Have you heardanything?”

“Have you?”

“If I had, I would’ve said so by now, don’t youthink?”

“Just asking.”

“No harm in asking.” He smiled. “I see you’ve gotyourself two interesting travel companions.”

She grinned. “They’re hilarious. I suppose they arereally the only friends I actually have.”

“Really? Congratulations then, though I’m wounded asnot to be included in your precious selection.”

“Ha ha. You’re in the special friend category.” Shesmiled, watching as he wrung out the overcoat and swished it through the wateronce more. “They’re kind of in a different friend category.”

“Really? Am I flattered or insulted?”

“They’re girls! That’s different enough.” Sheprotested, laughing. “and they’ve been extremely kind. I can’t complain.”

“Why’d you pick them up?” He sobered. “The guard sheleft behind, a Ferdinand somebody, he wasn’t too keen on it.”

“He shouldn’t be. He tricked her, the two-timing idiot-.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” Areya huffed. “He was lying throughhis teeth the whole time and he set a pack of thugs on me to explode thatmerchant stall. I had nothing to do with that.”

“I know. The merchant says you were an angel andpulled him to safety at your own risk.”

“Ha. It wasn’t anything that heroic. He was heavy.”

“Must’ve taken a lot of energy.”

“Not really, I was running pretty low, otherwise hewouldn’t have had a scratch on him.”

“ah. I did wonder.”

“I was fine, thanks for asking.”

“I can see that for myself.”

“Lilith picked me up from the streets and took meback to her place. We kind of hit it off from there and she was…nice. Remindedme a little of Melody and the others. Then I really saw what Ferdinand wasdoing and how her whole family treated her and—Thatcher, they really weren’tletting anyone in or out of the city! People died!”

“I know.” He said, quietly.

“You know? How can you just say you know? Peopledied and no one did anything about it!”

“Not all of them died.”

“What?”

“Some of them that made it into the harbor didn’thead for MinderBlu, they went back and spread word. We were traveling throughto check up on it and also because we’d gotten wind that Sunshine Reya had beenactive in that area. Imagine my surprise when we pass through and there are twoguards grumbling about a girl with dark hair and-”

“And weird eyes, I know already.” She glowered athim. “Really, Thatch!”

“Lack of information and miscommunication.” Helisted. “It was a problem that we knew nothing about, so we couldn’t fix it. Butyour stepping in and turning things upside down made it pretty easy to tie uploose ends.”

“You’re welcome.”

He winked. “Thank you, kindly miss.”

Thanks for reading, do let me know what you think! ^_^

Category (BBT)

2011-11-17T18:26:00.001-05:00

Of the books you own, what’s the biggest category/genre?
Is this also the category that you actually read the most?

Mystery books. Light mystery, contemporary mystery and a few coming of age adventures, but mostly just mystery. Yes, this is also the category that I read the most, so I guess it makes sense. It started with a hardcover collection of Nancy Drew Yellowbacks and just kind of grew from there. ^_^ Incidentally, I do not collect softcovers, so all of my mystery books are in pristine, hardcover editions.

Cheers,

Sara

Gemfire (NaNo 2011 Excerpt) (Friday Fiction)

2011-11-12T15:39:00.001-05:00

The talented Hoomi (Rick H.) is hosting Friday Fiction for us this week at his blog, Pod Tales and Ponderings. Click here to read and share more great fiction!

I've finally reached a small snippet that I think I could post as an official excerpt for Gemfire. The writing is coming along well, I'm having fun, so this is just a quick, short post. Enjoy!

GEMFIRE : 2011 NaNoWriMo Novel Excerpt

Lilith saw the hand move two seconds before she realized that she wouldn’t be able to move away from it.

She braced herself, having not more time to do anything else but that. Feeling the first tendrils of fear coiling in her stomach to meet the tangle of dread that had now sprung to life.

She waited, but the hand never connected.

She heard the slap, heard the sound that she’d been dreading and wondered why the sound came a few decibels off.

Lilith opened her eyes to find herself staring at thick, dark hair, blowing freely in the wind. A colorful cloth bandana fluttered in Areya's hand as she stood, her head thrown to the side as if she’d just been struck, a slight dusting of pink on her tanned face.

“Areya!” Lilith gasped. She started forward, a hand on her new friend’s shoulder. “Ferdinand! Why--Areya, why--why did you?”

“You’re too pretty for something like that." Areya turned to smile over her shoulder. “and besides, it wouldn’t be my first time. Things like that shouldn’t happen to people like you." Her head snapped around and she glared at Ferdinand. “And people like you should be careful when they're so lucky.” Her dark eyes flashed dangerously. “You should know that I'm not too fond of you right now and if you try something so stupid again, I’m not going to just stand there. I refuse to be idle when you're fooling someone as innocent and blamess as that girl. She deserves better than you've ever given her."

"Why you-!" Ferdinand glowered. "You're just some-!" The words died in his throat as Areya deliberately turned around to face him, her dark eyes holding a hint of something that made him swallow hard.

"Don't." Was all she said, before turning away.

With squared shoulders, Areya tied the bandana 'round her head and started back towards the skiff. She stepped in, carefully and picked up the pole, preparing to push off. Then, she turned, extending one hand, the expression in those dark eyes softening considerably as they rested on the blue-eyed blonde. “Coming, Lilith?”

(c) Sara Harricharan, All Rights Reserved.

Combinations (Friday Fiction)

2011-11-04T00:18:00.001-04:00

Hi everyone! I have the wonderful pleasure of hosting Friday Fiction this week and it's been a busy week, so I'm keeping this as short as I possibly can. You'll find the linky widget below and my contribution. Don't forget to browse the links, read a few pieces and leave at least one comment. We all love the feedback. Happy reading!

Author's Ramblings. Prompt fiction with a time limit again. This time was five minutes and as much as I could make from the word "Combination" so here we go. Thanks for stopping by, I hope you enjoy the read. This was just a writing exercise piece that I think I might want to expand in the future. ^_^

Five Minute Timed Writing Prompt : Combination

It was a combination of things, actually, not any single onething. I had some clue and inkling that something bad was going to happen andwhen it did, then I realized that something else was going to go wrong.

I had the first feeling after I saw him fall flat on hisface for the second time that day. Knowing Stocker as I did, I thought it wasodd the first time and very wrong the second time. He had a knack for keepinghis cards well hidden and well played. I thought perhaps, that he might haveplayed the wrong card for the first time in his entire life.

The second feeling came when his coffee cup exploded threeseconds before his pudgy fingers were about to reach for it.

I cornered him outside Marcus’s office and pushed himinside, shutting and locking the door, before I closed all the blinds. He staggeredto the desk and braced on the edge, wiping his sweaty face with the shaggy endof his striped tie.

“Stocker.” I acknowledged, turning the last blind flat witha flick of my wrist. “Anything you’d care to share?”

He gulped and gaggled, eyes darting everywhere but on me ashis nervous fingers found more nerves to play with. “I-it’s nothing. Really.”

I folded my arms across my chest and took up a braced stancein front of the door just in case he decided to make a run for it. “Really? Youknow, except for that coffee cup back there?” He winced. “Yeah, that coffeecup, I might’ve believed you.”

Trembling hands clutched at his tie to awkwardly mop his face again. “I-it’s really nothing.” Hetried again. “C-can’t I go now?”

“Can you or can’t you?” I snorted. “Quite frankly, I can’tdecide. I know you’re holding out on me. I’m not stupid Stocker, I know youwish I was, but I’m not.” I sighed, arms falling free to hang at my sides. “Buttell you what, I’ll give you another chance, because my hands are tied.”

“R-really?” He brightened.

I glowered at him. “Don’t. Don’t you dare look so happy,because when my hands are tied, that means I don’t have any obligation to lookafter you and we both know what a bad thing that can be.”

The color drained from his face back to the rather normalpale hue I was accustomed to seeing. A rather sick sense of satisfactionregistered as I realized that I had been the one to flip the trigger back tothe way it was supposed to be. “See? Now we’re on the same page. Good boy. Youcan go now.”

He pushed away from the desk in a hurry and scrambled forthe door.

I dodged neatly out of his way and listened to his clumsyfootsteps tromping down the hallway. “Humans…I can’t believe I’m one of them.”The beeper at my waist clamored for attention and I squinted down at thescreen. It was going to be a really lousy sort of day after all.

Harder (BBT)

2011-11-04T00:12:00.000-04:00

All other thing being equal, would you rather read a book that’s hard/challenging/rewarding or light/enjoyable/easy?

I'd rather read a hard book. I read books to make me think and wonder. When I read for pleasure, I usually read something I can predict, something I've read before or something that's kind of mindless, but I do find that I love to read books that challenge me more than anything.

~Sara

Short-Term Memory (Friday Fiction)

2011-10-28T00:05:00.000-04:00

This week's Friday Fiction is hosted by the talented Karlene Jacobsen over at her blog, Dancin' in the Rain. Click here to join and share more great fiction!

Author's Ramblings: Well, y'all probably know by now that I am addicted to prompt writing, so it won't surprise you much to see that I'm now moving up to the next level. Prompt writing with a timer. A really, really small timer. In which, we have x amount of minutes to write on the given prompt. It's been enlightening. *gulp* Yep. So this week, I'm treating you to my first attempts at flash fiction, because that is exactly what it is. (Yes, yes, I know, it's impossible to think I could possibly write short pieces, but hey, I'm a learning writer, give me a break here!). I hope you enjoy the read and have a great weekend! I'll be hosting my second NaNoWriMo kick-off party and gearing up for the month-long adventure. Stay tuned for updates and if you're participating, I wish you all the best. Look me up, if you feel like it, I'm on there as Scarletfury. Cheers!

Prompt: Still
Title: Short-Term Memory
Time: One Minute
POV: 1st Person

Still.

Be quiet. Be still. Know that I am God.

I love that. That word. That line. That remembrance. It’s like, the perfect reminder in the middle of my most chaotic day. It’s a time where I know that what I’m doing needs a rain-check and that who I am needs to pause for a minute, before I forget who I need to be.

Still. Calm. Quiet.

Yes. That.

That is me. That is a part of me. That is who I am supposed to be. When I remember, I can’t forget and if I don’t forget, well then, I guess I’m one step close to being the me I’m supposed to be.

Thanks for stopping by, have a great weekend!

Sara

Vacation (BBT)

2011-10-20T23:32:00.000-04:00

I’m on vacation this week. I didn’t go anywhere exciting or exotic, I’m just not at work. Spending time puttering around the house, playing with the dog and … oh yeah. Reading. A lot.

Do your reading habits change when you’re on vacation? Do you read more? Do you indulge in lighter, fluffier books than you usually read? Do you save up special books so you’ll be able to spend real vacation time with them? Or do you just read the same old stuff, vacation or not?

They change when I'm on vacation. I tend to read more and perhaps several books at one time if I don't find the light and fluffy read I'm looking for. When I'm on a nice vacation, I want a 'nice' read. Nothing too serious or confusing, no hardcore mysteries or "Real-Life I Have Issues" kind of a story. I want a simple mystery (Think, Laura Childs Tea Shop mysteries!) or something from my tween years like the Saddle Club.

A read where I don't have to think about it, I can just enjoy it and get lost in a good world where my vacation just feels a thousand times better.

~Sara

Her Choice (Friday Fiction)

2011-10-14T20:39:00.001-04:00

This week's Friday Fiction is hosted by the wonderful Julie Arduini over @ her blog, The Surrendered Scribe! Click here to read and share more great fiction.

Author's Ramblings: This week's story is another snippet of prompt fiction and I feel that I ought to warn you it is a little rambly and a "lot" dark. The prompt words used for this are courtesy of Abby W. for "Deodorant, burnt, duct-tape" and my usual prompt machine for spitting out the phrase "nothing matters" with instructions to use it as much as possible. Hmmm. I started thinking about it and somehow it just all went in this direction. LOL. On that note, seventeen days until NaNoWriMo 2011~! WHoo hoo! Hope to see you there. ^_^

Her Choice : Contemporary Fantasy : Prompt Fiction : Dark :

Nothing matters.

How strange.

After all that we've done, everything's that happened,somehow, I knew it would all come down to this. The world is ending. Life isending. Living has become nothing but insane liberty.

How am I supposed to function? Am I even supposed to bealive at this point? It all seems so wrong and I don’t even know where tostart.

Everything’s been coming back in flashes. I guess I hit myhead harder than I thought. Then again, a little dizziness never hurt anyone,right? I guess it could hurt—if you’re standing on the guard rail of the world’stallest bridge looking down into what has to be the worst-looking river.

Then again, molten lava always has a thing to go with thewhole end-of-the-world theme. I guess I was kind of hoping I could somehowavoid it. But that’s impossible after all, isn’t it?

After everything we did.

The world was coming to an end, in fact, it is still orrather it will be until something serious happens. Things are getting worseactually, that’s why I’m on this bridge. Then again, it wasn’t really bychoice.

If you run onto a bridge in the midst of madness and mayhem,you have no one but yourself to blame if both ends of the bridge crash and burnbefore your very eyes. It is no one else’s fault but your own. You should’veknown better.

I should have known better.

But, here I am, standing, stranded quite nicely on this laststanding chunk of bridge that may very well fall at any second now.

I’m not going to be rescued.

I know that much. There’s too many things happening all atonce and I know there is no one who can spare the time to come and fix mystupid little mistake. It is my fault. Just like this wholeworld-coming-to-an-end business. I kind of hate it, you know.

I really do.

It’s freezing up here, even though it’s scorching downthere. I don’t understand how something can go so horribly wrong because thescales have tipped. Then again, I have never been the brightest one in ourgroup.

Brilliance was reserved for Danah and Sten. They will have ahappy life together, I’m sure, if this world doesn’t end on them first.

It’s so sweet to see how they care for each other.Refreshing to see that human life matters again. It’s been almost ten yearssince this chaos has begun. It grates on my nerves to be sane and watching therest of humanity crumbling around me because it’s all gone down for good.

We tried.

Oh, how we tried!

There were so many plans, plots and ideas. So many morethings I wanted to try, and yet, fate has dealt me the hand that my own parentscould not refuse. Their death has saved me, but now I suppose it is time torepay a debt that ought never to be incurred.

I think it’ll hurt.

I think it’ll be fine.

I don’t know what I think anymore.

But I know that I can’t keep on running like this. Runningon empty, like the last bit of goop in a stick of deodorant or runningtwo-inches short on duct-tape. It bites and I can’t get away from it. The moreI run, the harder it comes.

So, that’s it. I’m giving up. It’s over. Nothing mattersnow.

Not trying to save the world sixty-nine and a half times. Notmaking friends who really seem to care. Not asking my parents why they had tomake such a sacrifice.

Not even asking if it was worth it.

Nothing matters.

My frozen fingers are warming on this metal rail. I can hearthe supports creaking and groaning. I don’t have to be a rocket scientist toknow that it’s going to fall. I don’t need to read some prophecy to know that I’mgoing to die.

We all die, sooner or later. Sometimes because we chose toand others because we don’t have a choice.

I think that I would rather chose.

I’d rather keep on living and never die, so that I couldexperience all the things in the world that God created. To know every littleinner working of every creature on planet earth and to understand what it wasmeant to be—I’d live forever, if I could.

Even now, I don’t want to die. My eyes are playing tricks onme, seeing what isn’t there. My ears are hearing things on me, things that can’tbe there. My hands—they are tired and cold. I can’t help thinking how nice itwould be to warm them.

I can’t help thinking that this is all my fault. But I knowit isn’t. Everything happens for a reason. Sometimes they aren’t the reasons Iwant them for. But they happen anyway, without my say-so.

I’m going to miss everyone, I guess, if they don’t hurry upand come rescue me already. They’ve been wonderful to me, even knowing whatthey know of who I am and what I can do.I respect and admire them.

Courage must be something they eat by the barrelfulls. How elsecould they possibly call me their friend in good conscience?

The girl who has the power to stop the world from coming toan end? To keep the very earth and sky from turning in on each other? The girlwho has everything, can only give up one thing.

I guess, nothing matters any more.

~*~*~*~*~

Found through Google Images.

“Did you find her?”

“Nothing, not even a trace.”

“Try again, Danah! She can’t be far, the bridge was rightthere, she must’ve-”

“I tried, Sten, I did! But there isn’t even an afterenergysignature. The support’s still standing, if she was there, I should’ve beenable to-Sten? Hey, are you alright?”

“How could she?”

“What?”

“How could she do that, Danah?”

“Because she cared.” The young woman slowly rose from rolling office chair. She moved away fromthe dusty dashboard of ancient, flickering computer screens and gingerlyapproached the flaming man pacing the length of the control room. “Don’t holdit against her, Sten. We all knew it could happen.”

“Could happen!” He snapped. “Didn’t have to.”

Danah looked away. “Of course.” She murmured. “Of course,how could I think otherwise?”

“Danah!”

“It was her choice, Sten!”

“So? What right did she have to-”

“Haven’t you noticed? Stop playing like you’re the victimhere! You think it was easy for her to choose that? To make the very choice she’sbeen fighting since she read that stupid prophecy?” Danah’s quivering handsclenched into fists. “You know something, Sten? You’re a real piece of work.Can’t you at least let the girl rest in peace and appreciate what she’s done?”

“She hasn’t done a single-”

“The earthquakes stopped!” Danah hissed. “They stopped. Theground is steady under my feet and I don’t know what to make of it. I’m not asold as you, I don’t remember what a perfect world is like, a place where thingsaren’t constantly exploding and killing everything around them, but I knowthis. We couldn’t have gone on like this forever.”

“You couldn’t but I-”

“Listen to me! We couldn’t have gone on like this forever.Something would’ve had to give. Today, something did.” She sucked in a shakybreath. “That something just happened to be the one thing that we weren’tcounting on. Please, Sten. Just leave it alone. I-I-” she burst into tears.

The flaming man paused in his pacing, the angry red flamesfading to a soft blue. He crossed the room to hold her gently in his arms. Whenshe quieted, he pulled away, calling his flames back to the burning red.

She flinched.

He pretended not to notice.

“Where are you going?” She called after him.

“The lava doesn’t always burn everything.” He paused in thedoorway. “And the ground will seal itself together soon. If you’re right, then we should at least respect the dead andbury something.”

She almost smiled.

Author's Closing Disclaimer: This Friday Fiction sample is pure fiction. FICTION. Please read the aforementioned capital letters and know that there is no resemblance to any real persons, events or circumstances, living or otherwise. The sole purpose is for reading entertainment to provide mental stimulation along the lines of a "What if...?" scenario. Thank you for reading, please leave a comment if you like.

Impersonator (Friday Fiction)

2011-10-06T23:59:00.000-04:00

Hi everyone! I have the distinct pleasure of hosting Friday Fiction this week and I'm thrilled to have you. To join in the fun, simply add your name and the link (url) to your contribution in the linky widget below. Remember, keep entries PG-13ish, as these are expected to be family friendly. Don't forget to comment on at least one story, to find out more, check out Friday Fiction on Facebook. Happy reading, enjoy the weekend!

Author's Note: This is a character sketch for one of my current WIP's. I thought it would be fun to share Ithycia's story and I hope you all enjoy her. As you know, my favorite reading genre is mystery and this is one of my attempts to write a world in that line. There's only the faintest hint of 'fantasy' in this one, enjoy! Thanks for stopping by!

General Fiction : Mystery : Light Fantasy

Officer Reeves banged on the front door, the shufflestep-dance on the concrete stoop giving away his unease. “She’s home, why isn’tshe answering the door?” He growled.

“Calm down, Ree.” His partner, Officer Lana, offered asympathetic smile. “She’s under no obligation to do anything and as of rightnow, we have no real reason to hold anything against her.”

“She’s an impersonator.”

“That isn’t a crime.”

“She quit!”

“That isn’t a crime either.”

“Lana!”

The woman hid a smile. “Okay, fine, hold it against her. Butwe don’t have probable cause or even the slightest bit of leverage, so eitherplay it light or let me do the talking.”

“You don't have the leverage. I do. This is as light as it gets and your diplomatic blabbering rarely ever gets the job done when we need results for-”

“Reeves, you’re letting this get to you.”

“So what? So what if I am? She’s a six-year-old girl, Lana.A six-year-old girl! She could be dying somewhere, alone and without any-”

“You think I don’t know that?”

The front door banged open and a scowling, sleepy youngwoman peered through the screen door at the duo. She blinked several times,then leaned against the door. “Whatever it is you’re selling, I can’t affordit.” She yawned. “My apologies and I’m sure it’s all for a good cause.” Sheturned away from the screen door.

Reeves yanked his badge from the clip on his belt. “OfficersReeves and Lana from the-”

“Don’t care. Have a nice day.” The front door clicked shut.

The officers exchanged a glance.

*~*~*~*~*~*~

The young woman sat on the coffee table holding an icepackto her forehead, the scowl growing more pronounced. “I hate you.” She muttered,readjusting the baggie of ice cubes. “And I can’t help you.”

“Why not?”

Lana’s hand moved to rest on her partner’s knee. “Miss McMillian-”The girl snorted. “We’re trying to locate Allison Brenz and I’m sure youunderstand that-”

“She’ll be fine. You don’t need me. Besides, the family’srich enough, what’s a few million for a life? It’s not like it’ll kill them.”

“Ah, well, we’re not so sure it’s a ransom kidnapping.”

“Don’t tell me!” She glared at the duo. “I don’t wanna know.Don’t tell me your little details and don’t treat me like I’m one of you. I’m afree citizen. I’m living a lousy life and I’m happy with it, I don’t need tothrow more trouble into the mix.” She rose from the coffee table. “It’s beenfive minutes. I said five minutes. You know where the door is and how it works-”She adjusted the icepack meaningfully. “Show yourself out, officers.”

Reeves cleared his throat, reaching into his suit jacket fora colored sheet of paper. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to resort to this.” Hebegan, “but, all impersonators are required to spend at least fifteen years orthe equivalent of twenty-five thousand hours of federal assistance dedicated tothe missing persons division.” He unfolded the sheet. “You’ve only filledtwenty-”

“I know how many I filled.” She whirled around, hovering inthe doorway of the cramped living room and kitchen. “I know. That number’salways somewhere in my head.” Her grip on the icepack tightened. “And you can’t lord that over me.”

“Actually, we uh, can.” Lana forced a smile, rising to herfeet. “Miss McMillian, we wouldn’t have come to you if there was another way to-”

“Yes you would have.” The glare darkened. “You would have.You investigators, cops, police, whatever you call yourselves, you’re allalike. You all treat me the same.” The smile grew bitter. “I’m not going backthere. I can’t. I don’t have that gift anymore.”

The officers exchanged a glance. Reeves sighed. “Funny youshould mention that.” He rubbed his nose. “See, the supervising head downtown justreceived an interesting report the other day. A report that would’ve made ourlives a lot easier.”

She stared at him.

“It says that impersonators can’t lose their gift. They canjust choose to ignore it.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“Some have it stronger than others, yours is a little weak.Probably grew rusty from disuse.” Reeves smiled, tightly. “But you’re our onlyoption right now, so you’ll have to do.”

“Look, I’m not-”

“Miss McMillian,” Lana interrupted. “You can come with usnow, or we can do this the hard way.”

“The hard way.” She kicked the doorjamb. “You alreadysmashed my skull in with my own front door!”

The officers exchanged a glance. “We did warn you-” Lanatried.

She turned away, retreating to the kitchen. “Like I said,you know the way out. Nice talkin’ to ya.”

“Ithyica McMillian, you’re und-”

“Marie Langston lives on fifty-three west Sine drive.” Her shoulders hunched upwards. “It’s a shelter for homeless kids—not an orphanage. Shepractically lives there. Was the best interpreter I ever had. If she’s busy,then so am I. Now get out of my house!”

~*~*~*~*~*

“You found Ithyica?” Marie Langston let herself be usheredthrough the downtown police department, leaning forward to hear Officer Lanaover the shouts and bustles around them. “She’s alive?”

“You didn’t know?” Lana’s eyebrows danced upwards. “Sheasked for you by name and even knew where you worked. Gave us your address.”

“Well, I’ll be.” Marie shook her head. “That little vixen.” Afond smile settled on her face. “I thought she was through with theimpersonating though. Really through with it. How’d you get her to come back?”

Reeves swallowed uncomfortably. “We, ah, didn’t.”

They led her through to the private conference room and the Mariebolted forward at once to smother the young woman in a hug. “Ithyica!” Sheexclaimed, holding her tight. “Oh, honey! I thought you were dead.”

“Ow, ow, ow! Stop. Please stop.” Ithyica grimaced, anexpression of distaste registering quite plainly on her face. “Ow. Marie, quitit with the touching already!”

“Still fussy as always, I see.” Marie gently released her,noticing for the first time that the young woman was handcuffed to the headchair of the conference table. She looked from the silver cuff to thegreen-eyed rebel.

Ithyica looked away.

“I thought you said you would stay out of trouble.”

The head whipped around to glare at her, green eyesflashing. “I am staying out of trouble.” Her glare resurfaced. “They’re theones dragging me into it.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Then let’s get started.” Marie closed the case file,turning her chair to face the sulking young woman. “You ready?”

“Tch. Do I look like it?”

“Ithyica-”

“Ithy.”

“…Ithy, please, work with me. It’ll be easier for both ofus.”

“It’d be easier if they’d take this stupid thing off me.”

Marie sucked in a deep breath and summoned a pleasant smileto her face. “Officer Lana?”

“Of course.”

The handcuffs were removed.

Ithy rubbed her wrists, shying away from the hands that hadjust freed her. Lana stiffened at her recoil. “I don’t like people touching me.”

An awkward silence registered.

“Ithy, c’mon.” Marie tapped the table to get her attention. “Ready?”

“No.”

“Good. Here we go, the item?”

Reeves produced a silver chain with a broken ballet-shoependant.

Ithy visibly sank back into her chair, the darkenedexpression from earlier returning.

“Shhh. Easy.” Marie soothed, taking the necklace and placingit on the table in front of her. “No one’s going to force you to do this.” Herdark eyes drilled into frightened green ones. “You only do this if you want to,okay?”

Trembling fingers reached up to snatch the necklace from thetabletop and then Ithy squeezed her eyes shut.

The silence shifted from awkward to tense.

Marie sat still, her head bowed.

Ithy jerked, twitching as her eyes glazed over. For amoment, pure terror showed on her face and then she shrank even further intothe chair, drawing her knees up to her chest, hugging them tight. Her headbegan to shake and she was mumbling to herself over and over. “No, no, no, no,no. I didn’t do it. I don’t know. I don’t know. Please don’t hurt me!”

Marie came to life, grabbing the stylus off the table andbeginning to tap on the tablet in front of her.

“Miss Langston?” Reeves hesitated.

“Shh.” Marie silenced him with a finger, her eyes neverleaving Ithy. “She’s already made contact.”

“So soon?” Lana stared.

“Shh!” Marie snapped. “If you’re going to interrupt then getout.” She reached across the table and tentatively waved a hand in front of Ithy’sface. “Ithy? Ithy, love, it’s Marie. I’m going to hold your hand, okay?” With slow, deliberate movements, Marie took one clenchedhand in her own, her eyes maintaining a steady gaze with the blank look of theyoung woman before her. “Can you give me anything?”

Ithy licked her lips, a shudder passing through them. “Scared.”She whimpered.

“I know, sweetie, I know. Shhh. Come on, come back to me.This is Marie, remember? Good girl. I need you to give me something. Details,conversation, sensations. Whatever you can manage, just give me something towork with.”

“Green.” The voice was flat and emotionless. “Greeneverywhere. Like plants. Stick plants.”

“Green stick plants? Okay.” Marie squeezed her hand. “I gotthat. Stick plants. Like little trees?”

“I don’t know, how would I know? I’m six-years-old. I don’tknow everything.”

“Shhh. Allison, sweetie, I need you to let Ithy talk to me,okay? Ithy? Is it like a decoration? Bamboo, maybe?”

“Everything’s brown.”

“Brown? Okay? Light brown, dark brown, medium brown? Whereis the brown?”

“Everywhere. Light brown.”

“Like Almond? Tan? Sand?”

“Beige.”

“Beige. Got it. Anything else?”

“I hate ruffles.”

“Ruffles?”

“Hate ‘em.”

“Lots of them?”

“Too many of them. Ugh.” Ithy shuddered again. “I can’t dothis, I gotta-” Her head lolled to the side and her body went limp.

Marie dropped her hand at once, on her feet, grabbing Ithy’sshoulders. “Ithy? Ithy, talk to me!”

“What’s going on? What happened?”

“The link was broken.”

“The link? Then fix it, fix the-”

“I can’t fix it, Officer Reeves.” Marie whirled on him. “AndIthy did the best that she could. I won’t have you treating her like some kindof a tool. Get some medical help in here!”

“Paramedic!” Lana stuck her head out into the hallway. “Someoneget a paramedic in here!” She bit her lip, turning back to the trio. “Reeves…”

“Some help.” He snarled. “This little girl could die and-”

“And she helped you plenty. Get over yourself.” Mariesnapped. “I’m starting not to like you very much. You can start checking outsome of the tourist areas at the edge of the city strip.” Her eyes narrowed. “Trysearching ones with artificial beaches, look for a little girl dressed up likea princess.”

“What?”

“I’m her interpreter.” Marie half-smiled. “Bamboo and beige.That means a beach and if she’s wearing ruffles, then it seems that Allisonjust got a new wardrobe. Her kidnappers must have had her change clothes, you’llneed to include that update in your bulletin.”

October 6, 2011 © Sara Harricharan

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the read. If you'd like to see more--comment and let me know what you think! ^_^

Oddest (BBT)

2011-10-06T20:09:00.001-04:00

What’s the oddest book you’ve ever read? Did you like it? Hate it? Did it make you think?

Virtual War by Gloria Skurzynski.

I hated it. It was about a way to avoid the casualties of war by doing it virtually. The premise was pretty interesting, the back cover blurb made me want to read it, but when I was finished, it felt like I'd wasted all my time for such a lousy ending. I made a note to never read anything by her again. I had adored the characters initially, until the ending where it seemed like they all flip-flopped personalities and the storyline went south. A lousy ending and ridiculous characters left me wondering "what on earth?" and reminded me to be sure I'm always careful when crafting my own characters, no matter what I'm writing.

Sara

Misadventures of Tiffany Knotwiler (Friday Fiction)

2011-10-01T20:15:00.000-04:00

This week's Friday Fiction is hosted by the talented Karlene Jacobsen over at her blog, Dancin in the Rain, click here to read and share more great fiction!

Author's Ramblings: I'm terribly late to this meme, but I couldn't let it go. I wanted to write something spectacular, but apparently writing with a head cold doesn't produce the best of scribbles, so here's a super short snippet based off of a three word prompt, for Popcorn, Castles and Porridge, courtesy of Glen H. This is the result. Apologies for the roughness!

“Blech.”

“Blech? Don’t you dare spit that out, Knotwiler!” The scowling guard glared at her. “I mean it.”

“And if I do, oh great and scowling guard of-”

“Shut up, Tiff.” Libby rolled her eyes, scraping thelast spoonful of porridge from the carved wooden bowl. "You're not helping at all.We're supposed to work together." She set the empty dishby her feet and smiled as Jed pounced on the empty dish. The dog happily lickedaway at the salty tracings left behind, ears and tail wagging in happyacknowledgement. “Jed likes it. C’mon, just eat a little and we can get going.Ambraile won’t save itself.”

“Jed is a dog. A dog is an animal. I am a person!”Tiffany’s round face grew red. “I eat people food not this kind of-”

Found through Google Images

“Then turn yourself into a dog and eat it. What's the point of having a transformation amulet if you can't use it!”

“Kyle, that’s not nice.” Libby brushed her copperybangs out of her face. “Harping on each other isn’t going to help anyone. She can use it...but turning herself into a dog really isn't going to solve anything.”

“Oh and like you’re Miss Perfection?” Tiffanysnorted. “In your dreams.”

“Unfortunately, we are in my dreams.” Libby frowned.“Show a little respect, okay?”

“Kind of hard to do that when I'm trying to take him seriously and I just can't-”

"Tiffany! He didn't have to help."

"I'd prefer it if he hadn't."

"Really?"

"Yeah. He's the geekiest guy in Science homeroom, how can I take him seriously just because he's got shiny armor plastered all over him?"

"The same way I'm trying to take you seriously even though you're the second most stuck-up-girl at school?" Libby tossed her head. "Look, the sooner we get this together, the sooner we can leave."

"Says the resident bookworm." Tiffany huffed. "Seriously, I like you better as a bookworm, you're a really creepy heroine in your own dreams."

"I'm not creepy!"

"You're wearing black and you have shiny spiky things."

"Those are not...well...they kind of are...that's beside the point. I need these!"

"Then what exactly are you?"

"I'm a metalworker!"

"Huh?"

"Oh nevermind, Tiffany! I design swords and other...spiky things. Now will you hurry up? Why on earth did they send you two?"

"Beats me." Kyle muttered. "Let's just go before my band practice-"

“I don’t wanna hear it Kyle, I don’t even know whyyou’re here. I just know that this is one dream that wouldn’t go away, so I hadto ask for help.”

“How exactly is she, help?” Kyle gestured towardsthe pouting blonde. “She’s a mess of-”

“She holds the Ambrailean artifact of peace. That’shelp. Might I also remind you it's a transformation tool as well?”

“And what am I, chopped liver?”

“With a line like that, yes.” Libby bent to snag thecleaned bowl from by her feet. She twirled it on her thumb, then dumped it intothe half-filled pot of porridge. “Fine then, don’t eat. But we have to getgoing.” She wrinkled her nose. “Kyle, if we’re not eating, it’s your turn todig and dump. Jed can’t eat all of that.”

“It’s not good to waste food.” Tiffany whined.

“You’re the one wasting it, not me.” Libby dustedoff her jeans and moved towards the trio of horses tethered in the corner ofthe clearing. “I’ll scout ahead. Y'all are getting on my nerves. This is supposed to be a dream. Not some daytime soap opera drama.”

“You can’t go on your own.” Kyle was on his feet inminutes, the earlier guard persona melting away. “That's dangerous. Look, I'm here because I've fought and won my own nightmare, that's one of the requirements for being able to assist in other peoples dreams. I'm sorry that I'm not what you expected, but I am good at what I can do. Don't just ride off and try to solve this on your own."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" Libby snapped.

"Libby!”

“I can and I have. That’s how the dream works. I gooff by myself and stuff happens. We won't get anywhere just sitting around and waiting for the dream to happen on its own.”

“They ordered me to never leave your side!” Kylestreaked forward, catching her mount’s bridle in one gloved hand. “You are notleaving her without me.”

“Without you?”

“Without us.” Tiffany scraped her cold porridge intothe pot and dusted her hands over it. “If Mr. Guard is done playing all worriedand helpful, we need to get going. I’m starving and I can’t fix things on anempty stomach.”

“And whose fault would that be?” Libby sniped.

“Oh be quiet, the whole lot of you.” Tiffany sighed. “Darkmoore Castle doesn’t requirepeasant-strength from peasant food.” She sniffed. “Now if there was somethingedible here in your dream, you know like potato chips or popcorn, I’d be allover it. Let’s go now, okay?”

“Can you even ride?” Kyle retorted. “I’m not ridingdouble with you.”

“Hey!”

"Popcorn?" Libby perked a brow. "Really, Tiffany?"

A/N: And I have no clue where this was going, but I kind of like Tiffany...If you'd like to read more--leave a comment and let me know. ^_^ Have a great weekend!

Loud (BBT)

2011-09-29T18:15:00.002-04:00

1. What do you think of reading aloud/being read to? Does it bring back memories of your childhood? Your children’s childhood?
2. Does this affect the way you feel about audio books?
3. Do you now have times when you read aloud or are read to?

I loved being read to, until I figured out that if I read it on my own...I could read faster. Occasionally, I don't mind being read to, if the person reading is a good reader--pauses in the right places, understands the vocabulary, etc.

Audiobooks are different for me, because the folks reading are generally good readers and sometimes with delightful accents that enhance the story. I read aloud sometimes when I am testing out a character's voice for a story I'm working on, or if I'm babysitting. ~_^

Sadly, I don't have anyone reading to me on a regular basis--lol--so I can't comment on the last part. Fun question!

~Sara

Public (BBT)

2011-09-22T13:15:00.000-04:00

Do you carry books with you when you’re out and about in the world?
And, do you ever try to hide the covers?

I used to take my library books with me (back when I actually went to the library rather obsessively). I don't think I've ever hid a cover of a book I read, except maybe, for the time I read The Girl With Silver Eyes, as I was in the company of certain folks who didn't think people should have silver eyes. I always read mystery books in public--and now my e-reader solves the issue if I worry about covers. Which, actually, I don't anymore, because it doesn't matter to me what folks think about what I read. ^_^

Cheers,

Sara H.

Sheldon's Shield (Fiction)

2011-09-20T00:01:00.000-04:00

Author's Ramblings: I meant to post this for Friday Fiction, but I actually didn't finish it in time. But I had an idea that turned the story around from just a rambly, country drabble, so I went ahead and finished it up. I ought to save it for the weekend, I'm sure, LOL. But knowing me, I'll end up writing something new by then. So here goes! It's a snippet of prompt fiction to the prompt "Purple Ribbons". Meant to be a bit mysterious and happy-sad. Enjoy the read!

Sheldon's Shield.
Prompt Fiction.
Contemporary Fantasy.
724 words.

“Those arebeautiful ribbons, Marie.” Sheldon fingered the strand of purple satin flutteringfrom the twin high-ponytails.

She tilted her head to the side, watching theribbons streaming out to her left. “Thanks, Sheldon. Gipsy gave them to me.”

“Gipsy? Really? I didn’t think ‘Ol Gips had it inhim.”

“Hey! He’s nice.” Marie wrinkled her nose. “Or he’sbeen nice, nicer anyway.” She corrected. “So, are we going?”

“I don’t know.” Sheldon leaned forward on the porchrailing, staring out into the blue-green mountains before them. “I think it’sgetting close to dinnertime.”

“Nuh-uh! We just had lunch.” Marie elbowed him,standing up on tip-toe to try and reach the railing to brace on it too.

“Did we?”

“Sheldon!”

“I don’t want to rush you.”

“I’m bored!”

“You’re nine-years-old, of course you’re bored.” Herolled his eyes. “And I’m serious, Marie.”

“It was just a…a…a that.” Marie waved her bejeweledarms in the air. “What Gips said.”

“A scrape?” Sheldon shook his head. “No, I think itwas a little worse than that.” He patted her head, his lingering fingerstugging on the satiny hair ribbons. “You almost died on me, Marie.”

“It didn’t even hurt.” She ducked away from hishand. “and Gips could’ve fixed me. He’s good like that. I wasn’t broken.”

“You were broken.” Sheldon ‘s hand settled on hershoulder with deliberate firmness. “and that was a stupid and dangerous thingto do.”

Solemn grey eyes fixed on the frustrated soldier. “I’myour shield, Sheldon. That’s what I’m supposed to do.” Her small voice held thefaintest hint of softness. “And I’m really bored, can we go now?”

The front door to the cabin banged open and a huskyfellow stumbled out onto the porch, a stick of jerky in his mouth while tryingto wrestle his foot into one high-laced boot. “Sheldon? Ah, there you are. Wegotta go. On call.”

“Now?” Sheldon straightened, pushing his glasses uphis nose with one crooked middle finger. “They called everyone?”

“They called us.” The fellow said, simply. Heplopped down on a nearby rocking chair and began to lace up the combat boots. “Andwe’re going. Got a problem with that?”

“No sir.”

“Then get moving, soldier!”

Sheldon bobbed his head in reply and extended a handto the now bouncing girl beside him. “Yes, sir.”

“Are we going now?” Marie gave a little jump, her handtightening in his. “I wanna go!”

“Yeah, we’re going.” He squeezed her hand andhurried through the front door. The cabin was a flurry of activity as the restof the extraction group began to suit up. A jumble of chatter filled the air asthe young children running about, came to stand beside their respectivefighters.

Marie let go of his hand to run and join them asthey formed a circle in the center of the room. In a minute, the Captain joinedthem and they formed a second circle around the young children.

“Ready?” Marie called out.

The little heads nodded in answer.

“In the morning, the sun is shining, in thenighttime, the moon sings all the time.” She broke off, humming as the freckle-facedlittle boy beside her picked up the tune and continued on with a new verse.

As Marie joined in the chorus, a faint lilac glowbegan to envelop her.

Sheldon stepped up closer, resting one hand on eachof her shoulders. He closed his eyes as the light grew bright and a suddenflash of warmth washed over him.

When he opened his eyes again, a heavy, flexible armorcovered him from head to toe. A pair of bent, boomerang blades rested in hishands, a decent, light, weight. A familiar shade of purple gleamed in thedaylight streaming through the cabin windows.

Sheldon half-smiled. He threw one hand up in the airto join his fellow soldiers in a victory cheer. He knew the day had just gottenlonger and the danger he’d dive into would be hours in the making.

But the faint tune lingering in the back of his mindwas a perfect reminder that things would turn out alright. They usually did.

Thanks, Marie.

He heard her laugh in his head.

Don’t thank me yet. Just get moving. Did I mentionthat I’m really, really bored?

This time, he laughed.

2011 (c) Sara Harricharan

Ending note: And yes, if you're confused, then Marie=living armor. She's a girl with the talent to shapeshift and one of her shifts is actually a heavy-duty set of armor. She's one of seven kids who can do this and works with Sheldon, her 'fighter'. Snippet of a possible NaNo idea I had this past week. I hope you enjoyed the read! Please leave a comment if you feel so inclined. I love the feedback! ^_^

Replay (BBT)

2011-09-15T19:24:00.000-04:00

Have you ever finished a book and loved it so much you went right back and started re-reading it again?
(And obviously, if so, we want titles!)

Tamora Pierce's "Beka Cooper".

I read it. Reread it and carried it around with me for about a week, before I could stand to stop rereading some of my favorite passages and moments. Beka is my fave literary hero for a strong FMC in a medieval time-setting. (Not to mention she has a cat. A talking cat!) ^_^

~S

Queue (BBT)

2011-09-08T15:24:00.002-04:00

What are you reading now?

Eight Cousins. (Frances H. Burnett.)

Would you recommend it?

Yes! It's a classic as delightful as the Secret Garden, kind of what it would've been if mixed up with Little Women and The Little Princess. It's loads of fun.

And what’s next?

Veins of Gold (Julia Cameron). Can't wait to start on that one. ^_^

~Sara

Tick-Tock (Friday Fiction)

2011-09-01T21:46:00.001-04:00

Hi everyone! I've the pleasure of hosting Friday Fiction this week. To join in the fun, just add your name and link to the Simply Linked Widget below. You don't need a blog to participate, just a story and a place where folks can comment. Feel free to write, read and share! To learn more about this blog meme, visit on facebook.

Author's Ramblings: To all my USA readers, happy holiday weekend. I am looking forward to it as the fall semester has begun and my life flip-flops until I hammer down a solid routine. Due to that, it's prompt fiction again this week. *ducking* I know, I know, but since everyone enjoyed last week's snippet, I thought I'd slip away with it again. ~_^ I'm thrilled that everyone enjoyed Madrisa's story, there's definitely more to her stowed away in my head. Perhaps I'll have a chance to write her out sometime soon. This week features Chimey, a mysterious FMC with issues--such as, she won't stop singing in my head. (which wouldn't be a problem, but it's the theme for that old western show, Rawhide) anyway, enjoy the read and happy weekend!

Tick-Tock : Snapshot : Light Fantasy

Found on Google Images

Tick-tock.

The sound echoed in the empty bedroom. It rattledalong the walls and spilled over at the windows.

Chimey bristled at the whisper of the wind that dancedthrough her precious bedroom. She chewed on the end of her fat pencil and thenstuck it into her messy braid of hair. “I can hear you, you know!” She glared at the ornate wooden clock hangingon the wall before her.

Tick-tock.

She sighed and crumpled the half-written sheet ofparchment before her. The pointlessness of the act mystified her. A realizationmade clear as the magical sheet dissolved to dust in her hands. Picking up thenewly dusted sheet, she blew off the dust to the ground.

In wisps of sparkling gold they fluttered to theground, disappearing almost at once. Chimey rose from the desk, replacing thepaper. She walked to the bowl and washbasin at the far end of the room,snagging her clean shawl from the bed on her way.

Washing her face in slow, deliberate movements,Chimey straightened, cool water dripping down her neck. She breathed for acount of five, then reached for the shawl and swabbed her face.

“Windows, open” she murmured.

The bronzed fasteners on the foggy window clickedopen, swinging out into the night air with a faint sparkle of pink-gold.

Tick-tock.

Tick-Tick…Tock.

Chimey moved to stand by the window. She stuck herhead through the opening, breathing in the night air in great, big gulps. Thecoolness soothed her at once and she withdrew to the room’s warmth when a fewshivers became known.

Tick-tock.

“Yes, yes, I know!” She scowled, returning to thedesk and beginning to scribble once more, the half-damp shawl wrapped aroundher thin shoulders. In a matter of minutes, she finished the document, foldingit neatly before stamping her seal on the front.

Trembling hands held the official missive for a fewsilent moments before she tucked it inside her blouse. This was one messagethat required hand-delivery. There was no way she’d let it fall into any otherhands.

Delivering it herself would also allow no room forerror. If the Empress chose to accept her offer, then she’d be right there.

“It’s quite logical, you know.”

Tock-Tick.

“No, I don’t agree.” She swept from the desk to hercloset in a huff. “Stop talking in riddles.”

Tocker-Tick.

Tick…Tick…Tick.

“Oh be quiet!” Chimey fished out her rich,fur-collared traveling coat from the musty depths of her wardrobe. From thestiff sleeves and thick fluffiness that rose up around her face, she took a fewcautious breaths. The wardrobe hadn’t done much for it, but then again, neitherhad she.

Her traveling boots awaited to the left of her bedand her traveling pack appeared shortly afterwards in a poof of pink sparkles. Chimeygrinned. “Thank you, much appreciated.”

She bustled about shoving her feet into boots andchecking the pack for all of her usual reading and writing materials. Thewell-stocked result was hefted over one arm. A cursory glance swept over theroom and Chimey finished with a raised eyebrow at the accusing clock.

“Well?”

Tock-tocker-tock!

“That’s not the right answer.”

Tocker-tock!

“I’m well aware of that, but I don’t have a choice.You do. I would never make you-”

Tick-tock.

Tocker-tick-tocker.

“I know that, but if I’m going to be used, I’drather chose who uses me.” She sniffed. “Don’t you think that’s a better way tolook at it?”

Ticker-tocker.

“I know.”

Tocker-ticker.

“I know that too. Look, are you going to stay upthere all night?”

Tick-tock.

“Then I’ll leave you behind.”

Tick-tick-tick-tock.

“That went out the window the moment you said-”

A swirl of pink-golden sparkles guided the clockfrom its place on the wall to waist-level before Chimey. It danced about beforethe lights grew bright and she closed her eyes. When it faded, she opened hereyes to stare down at a short, redheaded little boy with accusing green eyes.

He opened his mouth to speak and she clapped a handover it.

“I know, I know…tocker-tick. Do you want anothertime-out? I don’t have all day here. I’d like to get going as soon as possibleand I really don’t want to leave you behind, you have a habit of cleaning thewrong things.”

He bit her hand.

She jumped back, wiping the hand on the richmaterial of her travel coat. He glared at her. She glared back. He sniffed. Sheheld the coat open.

He rushed forward, throwing skinny arms around herwaist. She smiled. “You’re adorable—and you’re the best assistant I’ve ever had." She ruffled his curly red hair. "We’ll be off now, okay? Hold on tight.”

In a wisp of golden sparkles, she blew through thebedroom window. Floating in the air above the castle courtyard, she watched theguards on duty playing cards by candlelight. Her smile wavered as she thoughtof the king and his selfish demands.

Bequeathing her services to the enemy Empress was arisky move at best, betrayal at least.

“Tocker-tick” the voice from around her waist mumbled.

Chimey smiled. “Yes, I’m fine. We’ll be fine. Wealways are. It’s illegal to kill timekeepers, remember?”

“Tocker-tick-tick.”

“Ha. If they forget, then we’ll just time-freezethem too.”

A/N: And the prompt was....Tick-Tock! ^_^ I hope you enjoyed the story. Comment if you feel so inclined. ^_^

Stormy Weather (BBT)

2011-09-01T21:09:00.003-04:00

While my town dries out of record-setting, epic flooding from Hurricane Irene, let me ask you:
What’s your book with weather events? Hurricanes? Tornadoes? Blizzards? Real? Fiction? Doesn’t matter … weather comes up a lot in books, so there’s got to be a favorite somewhere, huh?

I'd say Dee Henderson's novel featuring Stephen O'Malley, The Rescuer. There's plenty of weather-related disasters and such throughout her O'Malley series, but I like Stephen's tale best for that. It's got mystery, jewels and my favorite O'Malley as well--Kate!

~Sara

I Love Him, Not (Friday Fiction)

2011-08-26T13:13:00.002-04:00

This week's Friday Fiction is hosted by the lovely Julie Arduini @ her blog, The Surrendered Scribe. Click here to read and share more great stories!

Author's Ramblings: and it's prompt fiction again. LOL. Sorry guys, just too much going on, but I tried to make this one interesting. Perhaps I'll get Disperse finished up this weekend or so and then onto something new. Anyway, I have royalty on the brain, so these two new characters just kind of stepped out from that happy muddle. Enjoy the read!

I felt fifty years old inside on account of the brown bread I ateevery morning. The voice in my head explained it as changing fiber content in my brain. I can't believe there is fiberin my brain—but that's what the voice is saying. It’s something to the effect of anexplanation for what I do.

I don’t really know what I do that is so amazing it has to make up lies to tell me. I know my head is empty--sort of, and I know that its making fun of me. Maybe it thinks I’m deaf.

Ha. Gareth would have a field day with this--then again, I guess it doesn't matter. Doesn't look like I'm going to get anything done today.

*****

“Madrisa!” Allen scolded, yanking me away from the widewindow opening into the courtyard below. “Don’t stand so close to the window,suppose you fall out?”

“Suppose you fell out trying to grab me?” I countered.

His grip on my arm tightened. “You were supposed to reportto his majesty’s chambers this morning. What has gotten into you, child?”

“He’s not interested in me” I sniffed. “Only in what I cando.”

“You’re his wife-”

“Shut up!” I tried to twist away. “He doesn’t even think ofme that way!”

Bright blue eyes flickered with contempt. “You truly are abrat.” He hissed. “It would’ve been best for all of us if you’d just been leftin the streets and made into a-”

I gave one good jerk and bolted. He shouted a stream ofwords after me, but I didn’t bother to decipher them. I ran down the hallwayand through the maze of corridors. There was only one room where I could besafe in this horrible castle.

The door to the king’s bedchamber came into sight, the fancygolden decorations gleaming in the flickering torchlights. I yanked themedallion out from around my throat and pressed it into the locking mechanismas Allen’s shouts reached my ears again.

As the door opened, I dashed inside, throwing my weight onit to close it tight.

Giddy relief spun through me as I ran for the large,canopied bed at the far left of the room and threw myself onto the silkensheets. A garbled murmur came from somewhere between them, but I didn’t stop topuzzle those out either.

“Gareth? Gareth, wake up!” I tugged at the covers and duckeddown, yanking one embroidered cover over my head.

“Mads?” The sleepy voice answered. “Maddie?”

“Shh!” I countered. “I’m not here.”

Silence reigned for a moment, then the bed shook as theyoung king leapt out from beneath his covers. I held my breath, waiting—for allhis youth, his temper was as quick as mine and his sense of justice rathertwisted in kind.

The chimes to the left of the door sounded, announcingsomeone’s presence in the hallway. With a muttered groan, young King Garethsnatched up a dressing gown from the chair before his dresser, threading hisarms through the sleeves as he went to the door.

“This had better be good.” He warned, using his ownmedallion to open a panel to the left of the door to speak to the interruption.“Allen, good morning.”

“Good morning, your majesty, I’m terribly sorry to have wakened-”

“No, you’re not.” Gareth scowled. “Just say what it is thatyou need and leave me be. It is too early to be up already.”

“An early rising is-”

“Allen!”

“Madrisa-”

“Queen Madrisa, toyou.”

“Queen Madrisa-”Allen growled. “has taken the liberty of-”

“I’ll deal with it.”

“Sire! You haven’t even-”

“Did she give you another headache of sorts?” Garethinquired, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

Allen’s pink face grew quite red. “T-that would not besomething that I would trouble your majesty with at such an hour as-”

“I’ll deal with it, return to your post and be about yourduties. You may leave.” The little panel was shut as Gareth turned back to facethe room.

I shivered beneath the covers, relived to have Allen off mycase and terrified to have Gareth take his place. At fourteen years of age, Garethbelieved his one year over me gave him every right to act as he pleased.

“You can come out now.” He sounded bored, shuffling towardsthe wash table beside the dresser. “The big bad wolf has gone to hunt otherprey.”

“Shut up, Gareth!” I popped out from beneath the covers intime for an entire pitcher of cold water to drench my entire upper half. “Eeee!What’d you do that for?” I sputtered, scrabbling in the newly dampened sheetsfor a dry patch to scrub at my face. “Gareth, you jerk!”

“That was for upsetting my favorite advisor on a day when Ireally need him to be useful.” Gareth said, mildly. He looked at the emptypitcher in his hands and tossed it to the bed beside me. “Don’t just sit there,get up and get moving, we’ve a lot to do today, you're not the only one with voices in your head. We'll hardly have time to pull this off--what took you so long to get here?”

“What happened to it being too early to move?”

“The sight of your bedraggled appearance is amusing enoughthat I am now fully awake.” His mouth twitched. “Morning to you too, Mads.”

I clambered out from the bed, attempting to smooth my wetclothes and hair. “I hate you.”

“and I love you even more.” He recited automatically. “Don’tdrip all over the carpet, you’ll get my socks wet.”

“You deserve worse than wet socks.” I shot back, taking carejust the same. My socks were dry—I didn’t want them wet either.

“Oh ho.” He sang back. “And would you be the brave one totry such-”

“I’m serious, Gareth.” I ducked behind his dressing screen,stripping out of the wet things and helping myself to one of his fancy dressinggowns. “This never feels right.”

“Then think of it as a game.” He tapped on the screen. “MayI?”

“I’m already done.” I stepped out, knotting the silken beltaround my waist. “I’m going to borrow another one of your overtunics. Milo got ahold of the last one.”

“Milo?” Gareth shooed me out as he began to change. “I’llnever get it back then.”

“Sorry. He said it wasn’t ladylike for the Queen of-”

“I don’t care. That’s not everyday armor.”

“I know.” I ducked into his closet, shedding the dressingrobe in favor of the requested item. It didn’t take long to finish dressing—Gareth’swardrobe was always simpler than my own royal fare.

“Need anything else?” Gareth stepped out, freshly dressed incommoner clothing of simple tunics and pants. “Weapons are in the fourthdresser drawer.”

“I know that, I put them there.” I rummaged through thedrawer, retrieving a set of throwing knives. “You replaced these, thanks.”

“Couldn’t let my favorite girl go without her favoriteblades.” He moved to stand beside me, looking over my shoulder as I checkedeach knife.

“Ha. You could’ve saved her the headache by not marrying herin the first place.”

“You could’ve said no.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t haveminded.”

“And let Analise get her paws on you?” I snorted. “As if!”

“I am not a thing to be traded between you girls.” His eyesnarrowed. “How is she?”

“Horrible. She’s been screaming in my head since thismorning—all sorts of nonsense.”

“Nonsense?”

“Something about my brain being filled with fiber.”

Gareth burst into laughter. “Your brain is filled withfiber.” He gasped out. “That’s a good one, give her my thanks.”

“Tell her yourself when you rescue her.” I tucked the knivesinto their respective places. “Are we going?”

“Some king and queen we are.” He chuckled, spinning me ‘roundto face him. “Leaving our kingdom in the hands of greedy advisors and aconfused court to rescue the childhood friend neither of us can stand.”

“She’s useful every once in a while.” I tried to say.

Gareth threaded his arms around me, pulling close so thatour foreheads touched. “Really?”

“Shut up and hold your breath.” I snapped, grabbing hismedallion to touch to my own. A soft golden flash swept through the room andthen it was empty.

P.S. Did you guess the prompt? It was fiber... :P

History (BBT)

2011-08-25T11:52:00.001-04:00

Sometimes I feel like the only person I know who finds reading history fascinating. It’s so full of amazing-yet-true stories of people driven to the edge and how they reacted to it. I keep telling friends that a good history book (as opposed to some of those textbooks in school that are all lists and dates) does everything a good novel does–it grips you with real characters doing amazing things. Am I REALLY the only person who feels this way? When is the last time you read a history book? Historical biography? You know, something that took place in the past but was REAL.

A good history book is really fun to read--I've enjoyed quite a few, most of them about the new first ladies of the USA and some about the Indian heroes of India. I don't like to read them much, because sometimes it's a bit too painful (but in a good way, I suppose.) It bothers me to see the struggles that such good people went through to bring about change for those around them, if not the whole world and yet, today--people are still fighting the change or constructing the same stumbling blocks for the new generation.

I think the last biography I read was Abraham Lincoln about two years ago and it was a wonderful read. I don't quite remember who wrote it, because it was an old, fading hardcover that I'd bargained to get my hands on. Fun! ^_^

~Sara

Endless Reading (Friday Fiction)

2011-08-18T23:50:00.002-04:00

(Apologies for the crazy linky widget. I've fixed it now.) Hi everyone! I'm hosting Friday Fiction this week. Join up by adding your link to the widget below. All you need is a blog or a story/article to share where folks can leave a comment on what they read. If you love to read, then browse through the links to find something that tickles your fancy. (For all participants, don't forget to read and comment on at least one piece, we all love the feedback!)

Author's Ramblings: This is a snippet of prompt fiction, thanks to a certain sibling of mine who provided the prompts of "book, sheep, lock and house." I started with the book and it kind of wanted to runaway on me, so I kept it short. :P Anyway, happy reading to everyone and thanks for stopping by!

“Well, are you going to open it?” Lindsey snappedher chewing gum, her perfectly manicured fingers hovering over the thick,gilt-edged book. “It looks good.”

“It’s a book, how could it possibly be good?” Tasharolled her eyes, fishing inside her shirt to retrieve the necklace key. “I don’tknow, I’ve heard a lot about these books, Gram just said for us to dust themoff and put them back up on the shelf.”

“Uh-huh and that’s exactly why you’re gonna gimmethat.” Lindsey made a swipe for the golden triangle pendant.

“Ow, hey! Watch it!” Tasha jerked backwards. “It’sstill around my neck you know, are you trying to pull my head off?”

“Good grief, like no!” Lindsey sighed, extending herhand in exaggerated politeness. “May I please see that key?”

“And if you open it and something weird jumps out?”Tasha handed over the long golden necklace. “Be careful with that.” Her softbrown eyes narrowed. “And I do mean careful, Lind.”

The blonde rolled her eyes with a particularly loudsnap of her gum. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it all, if I’m not careful, then I’llnever get the chance to do this again and we all know just how hard it was toconvince you to let me help you clean your grandmother’s bookstore.”

“My grandmother’s antique bookstore.” Tashacorrected. “And no one’s twisting your arm.”

“Yeah, but you’re always spending all your free timehere and we never get a chance to hang out anymore.”

Tasha snorted. “You mean we don’t get to waste timeand money by standing in the mall drinking milkshakes and eating pretzels.”

“They’re books!” Lindsey scowled. “Big fat bookswith big fat locks on them and so much dust, I can hardly breathe! You shouldhave a vacuum and a feather duster going in here and—wait, what are you doing?”

“Reading…” Tasha mumbled, having found a seat amidstthe stack of books, another pendant necklace dangling between her fingers,still hanging ‘round her neck.

“You’re reading?” Lindsey sputtered. “Now? How canyou—wait, you have two of these thingys?” She held up the triangle pendant.

“I have more than two.” Tasha turned a page,settling more comfortably in her seat on the floor, her back resting against atall stack of locked, dusty books. “It’s part of my job. I told you thatalready.”

“Part of your job is reading?” Lindsey threaded herway through the stacks of books to look over her best friend’s shoulder. “Yousaid you just had to make sure the books were in good condition and then—what’sgoing on?”

“Shh!” Tasha waved a hand behind her, eyes glued toone colorful page.

“Why?”

“It’s a story about a sheep.”

“A sheep?” Lindsey slowly curled one free hand intoa fist. “You’re reading a story about a sheep?”

Tasha slowly closed the book, turning with anexpression of extreme annoyance written on her freckled face. “Lindsey?” Hersoft voice demanded that her friend listen close.

“What?”

“Sit down and read your own book.” Tasha’s eyesflickered dangerously with a hint of her redheaded temper. “Now, please.”

Lindsey swallowed. She sat. She waited. Nothinghappened.

“Put the necklace in the book.” Tasha murmured,locking and patting the hardcover volume. “Now I have to wait until tomorrow tofinish this one.” She sighed, setting the book down beside her and reaching fora dusty specimen. “Do it like this. Read it all the way through and then lockit back again.”

“But-!”

“It’ll clean itself.” Tasha gestured towards therecently returned book beside her. “See? It’s almost all new and shiny again,but you just had to interrupt.”

“I don’t get it.”

“You don’t have to. The books just work that way.” Tashasmiled, fondly. “Trust me, there’s some adventures in here that you’ll want toread over and over again.”

Lindsey opened her mouth to speak, then shut it.There was something about the smile on her friend’s face, even as Tasha’sattention turned to the book in her lap. She watched her friend use thenecklace to open the complicated golden medallion on the front and run herfingers reverently over the first few pages.

She looked at the necklace in her hand and thenpressed it to the front of her book and twisted, just like she’d seen Tasha do.Within minutes, she found herself caught up in a world where fishes were peopleand aliens lived in stone castle towers.

“Wow.”

“Good story?” Tasha shifted to sit back to back withher. “Mine’s good, it’s about a shadow that sneaks out at night and puts candyin-”

“Shh! Don’t tell me.” Lindsey elbowed her. “I’m donewith this one, that was wild.”

“There’s normal ones in that stack over there.”

“How normal?”

“Houses with happy people kind of normal.” Tashawrinkled her nose. “Very normal.”

“No wonder it takes you forever.” Lindsey set thenewly finished volume on the ground. The book was virtually dust-free andgleaming as if it’d just been printed. “There’s only one of you. Looks like I’llhave to help every afternoon.”

Tasha elbowed her back. “Like I mind.”

Namless, They Call Me (Friday Fiction) [Character Swap]

2011-08-12T01:32:00.046-04:00

This week's special edition of Friday Fiction is hosted by the talented Rick H over at his blog, Pod Tales and Ponderings. The theme of this week's scribbles is "Character Swap" courtesy of Rick's creative imagination, where some of us have written snippets for the swapped characters. Click here to read and share more great fiction!

Author's Ramblings: Hurray for our first ever Character Swap! Kudos to Rick for this wonderful idea. I have the pleasure of writing for a nameless character belonging to Abel Blake from his blog, my sKetchBook, borrowed from the post of I Listen...even when it hurts. Click here to read his original piece and read on to see my 'addition'.

~NAMELESS, THEY CALL ME~

I leave Adelai behind as another visitor graces thisnew grave. I do not know what to say about her, but there is somethingdifferent—something dangerous. The precious daisies that were gifted in memoryof this Lucy seemed to wither beneath the glare bestowed upon them.

I didn’t dare interrupt.

The girl stood there for a very long time. The lightfog turned into thick fog and then the overcast skies grew darker with everybreath. I watched her.

She stared at the gravestone with eyes that sawnothing and something within in her that seemed so tortured and full of painthat I could not bear to watch—nor had the strength to turn from it.

“I hate you, Lucy.” She hissed, at last. “I hateyou!”

The weight of her hatred stabbed through me in thesame wound as Adelai’s raw grief. It hurts. It hurts so bad and I don’t knowwhat to do about it. I feel as if I have been betrayed two times over, becauseI what I have witnessed was never meant to be seen.

Not by my eyes that have no right to judge, not bymy ears that hear everything, especially the nothing. Sometimes I think it’sfine. I let it go. I live my life. I remind myself that there are checks andbalances in the world. For every happy, peaceful moment that some human beingexperiences, there is an equal measure of pain and despair for another.

The pain is fading.

It never lasts long.

Just shows its head to prove to me that I am stillalive, as if to cut deep enough to draw blood—as proof that I am no specter.But I don’t bleed and I don’t cry. Their misery and their mourning is theirown.

I merely see what goes before me.

I observe.

I listen.

I hear when they think no one does.

But what does that make me? No, I don’t want toknow. That can be one of those questions for another day where nothing remainsto amuse me. I feel strange today, like a child whose playtime has been cutshort.

Playtime.

What a strange term to give to these incompletefeelings and rebellious emotions. They betray me. They always do.

The real darkness of night looms widely overhead,beckoning to the ground as it closes in. I watch it approach and I stand there,for I have nothing else to do nor to think. I wish my mind was blank and empty,I almost want to forget, but in my mind’s eye, I still see him.

I see Adelai.

Time passes. I know nothing of it.

The crunch of footsteps on frozen ground draws myconsciousness back to the present. I do not need to look to know who it is thatcomes for me. I feel a faint shuddering of warmth creep over to me, working itsway through my half-frozen self until I am aware that something is beingpressed into my hands.

It is a steaming beverage of some sort, the commonStyrofoam cup design is native to nowhere and promises nothing extraordinary.

It should be safe to drink.

One thick, black-gloved hand rests on my shoulderwith every ounce of deliberation it can hold. There is nothing said. There isnothing that needs to be said.

“Coming?” He ventures, after a moment of silence hasventured on too long for his comfort.

I return the cup.

He looks from the wisps of rising steam to me, hisface barely visible in the first whispers of light about to emerge. “You can’tstay here.”

I cannot leave.

There is a loud sigh and a he stomps his boots, akinto a toddler throwing a tantrum when he cannot get his way. But there issomething softer in his manner as he does it and I know I am pushing my limits.

I am lucky. I am blessed. Were it any other, I knowthat this would never have played out in such simple, painless terms.

Painless. Painful.

Sometimes, I think it makes no difference.

“Well?” He takes the cup back.

I can feel the cold crackling as it leaves my body,my newly warmed fingers able to flex and move. I hate winter. It brings meendless headaches.

“You could’ve frozen to death.” He grumbles,shuffling through the icy dew.

I watch him walk off and somehow, I know that I willfollow in mere seconds. It is taking more than I have to stand here and stareat a lonely gravestone with shrunken daisies and two sets of nearly fadedfootprints.

“Don’t make me drag you to the-” The threat stopswhen I turn to look at him.

Within a minute, he is by my side and stuffing awarmed kerchief into my hand.

“Do you have to turn on the waterworks now?” Hegrowls, but there is the faintest hint of fear behind his angry hazel eyes.“You’re going to freeze your-!”

I didn’t know I was crying. I didn’t feel it. I didn’tthink it hurt that much.

But then, he is pulling me along, forcing me tofollow with a hand on my shoulder and another on my elbow. His grip is strongand practiced, I know well enough by now that I will not be free unless hechooses to release me.

Betrayal. Regret. Grief.

Words to a script that I don’t know how to voice.

He yanks and tugs me through the Old North Cemeterywhere a black SUV awaits us at the curb. I am ushered into the waiting vehicleand the warmth inside nearly smothers me.

In the choking breath I breathe against the closedtinted window, I feel something stirring from deep inside me.

Adelai.

Somehow, it seems as if my body has betrayed me.

~*~*~*~*~

More Ramblings: This snippet was fun to write and I tried to keep it in character by not naming the MC and writing in the same tense/provided POV. I hope it did it justice. This was fun--can we do it again? ^_^

National Book Week (BBT)

2011-08-11T11:25:00.004-04:00

It’s National Book Week. The rules: Grab the closest book to you. Go to page 56. Copy the 5th sentence as your status/post.
(We’ve done something similar to this before, but it’s always fun, so … why not?)

Camille would tell her what was going on.

^_^

Zenda : A New Dimension by Ken Petti and John Amodeo. Happy reading everone!