This may be the only place I post for a while...feel free to join me there.

7:35 PM Edit This 0 Comments »
It's prettier and more user friendly than ... other places (-_-;)
I will be writing under a pen name for a bit to see if the lack of attachment frees my thoughts and fingertips.
I also exist on Twitter under the same pen. Cheers!

Taking leave...

4:51 PM Edit This 0 Comments »
...of my senses!
Nah, but I will be seriously neglecting my blogs (yes, all three) until after finals.

Same game

11:52 PM Edit This 0 Comments »
Page 17, line 12, The Flying Flea, Callie, and Me by: Carol and Bill Wallace
“’Grey! Yuck! Good kitty! Yuck! Take that…’”
Page 17, line 12, Evermore by: Alyson Noel
“The second time she appeared, I was just so grateful to see…”

Grey! Yuck! Good kitty! Yuck! Take that disease-ridden, saggy-skinned, smutz-bag of a bog-wallop outside and drop it back into the lake. Yeah, that’s a good kitty. Good Grey.” I waited for her to pick the thing up and head through the cat flap before I jumped back down from the chair.

So, I had a nifty idea.....I shall call it: "The One Line Theft Game"..........

7:21 PM Edit This 0 Comments »
To play I will choose a single random line from two different works. One line will become the first line in my short tale, and the other will be made the last line of it. The entire tale must make some sort of sense and must be at least 100 words, but less than 300. So, let's give her a go.....

page 47, line 8, The Merry Wives of Windsor by: William Shakespeare
"To shallow rivers, to whose falls-"
page 47, line 8, The Age Of Cathedrals by: Georges Duby
"The eleventh-century god was not very different from the leaders of the men who hid in the marshes"

7:59 PM Edit This 0 Comments »
            A huge wolf crashed through the window, its glowing eyes scanning our little group. Its nostrils flared and twitched as it issued a low growl between its bared teeth. The beast’s broad head suddenly jerked toward Ian and it snarled. I heard a collective gasp behind me and felt Josh's fingers wrap around my wrist ready to yank me away. "Uh, guys," I whispered quickly, "remember those dreams I was having? Well, Ian is the". Before I could finish my pathetic warning the wolf lunged and Ian’s flesh began to slither into its truest form. Then the screams started.

11:59 PM Edit This 1 Comment »
“I remembered the night the stars fell from the sky. I remembered the pillars of grey smoke that blotted out the silvery sliver of the goddess lamp. The reflected light of the flaming trees bounced from one cloud-like pillar to another. It lit my village with a warm glow reminiscent of a darkened room lit by a birthday cake for one of the great-grans. I remember thinking it had smelled good as it all burned. Then, the screaming started.

what is 100 words

11:38 PM Edit This 2 Comments »
So, the question is how much is 100 words really? Well, outside of the obvious answer of 100, it would be four times this amount. Not so very dreadfully bad really. I’m at 33 already. BTW, I’ve decided to create this blog in the hopes that it will motivate daily bouts of creativity… who knows, it could work….right? I’m at 58 now. 63. Well, I suppose I may as well pretend to be an actual writer since I have about 16 words left now.
The actual writing follows:

The blue winter moon cried into the shadow of a tall cedar. The tall cedar swayed (100!) and stretched her heavy boughs toward her beloved moon. One bound to the heavens, the other to earth, the tears of their torment frozen in time. Thick flakes of soft snow light upon my brow. Another all too brief reminder of what will never be.