DR: Daniel's Teaser

Disclaimer: Characters, etc. belong to me. This is narrated to Daniel's POV and slight spoilers are contained, as it takes place AFTER Dark Redemption.

To clarify things. First, I never wanted to save the world. All I wanted was to make things better for those I care about. My family, my friends, even those kids at the Academy who pick on other students.

Second point of clarification. I never once dreamed we'd be in so much danger. It was a harmless simulation, designed to pass away the hours of the afternoon and procrastinate on a pile of homework from Ms. Turner's AP biology class. Maybe if I'd known we were going to almost be killed like that, I wouldn't have dragged Bridget along.

But what does one do when thrust into a situation where the fate of the world is at stake? What if you simply cannot do anything to make things better? At that point, do your choices even matter anymore? Contrary to popular belief, perhaps questions have no easy answers. Maybe the right answer is different from person to person and dependent on the situation.

Yet then again, maybe not. From the very beginning (even though I never read the books written by Ms. Adams), I knew that Synistra had to be evil and we, as the heroes, had to be the good guys. I have always known that the good guys have to win in the end, but when I was younger, I didn't understand why CJ was so hesitant. I think I do know why now; my time in Almendrim has taught me that evil never goes down without a fight. The good guys still win in the end, but it's never easy.

And maybe that's why I did what I did. I chose to do what was necessary to help the good guys defeat the evil guys in the end and no choice comes without sacrifice.

Dark Redemption: Overview

"Jake! Are you sure this is a good idea?" The sound of Alannah's hiss barely made it to the freckled boy's ears. Alannah, better known as Al, frowned and narrowed her eyes as she placed the bracelet around her left wrist.

"Have I ever steered you wrong?"

"This had better work!" She glared over at her best friend, who could only smile. This was the moment he'd been waiting years for, but Al wasn't so sure. Both teenagers closed their eyes and plunged into the darkness. Moments later, Jake opened his eyes and blinked.

"Uhm, Al?" He looked around for any sign of his best friend, but all he saw was a cloaked figure who was quite a bit taller than he was and obviously male. He turned towards the being. "I don't think we're in Gale's Games anymore..."

And so the adventure begins...

As the dynamic duo begins to travel the world of Almendrim, strange things begin to happen. There's a war brewing in Sininen over who's going to be the next ruler of the free world and there have been rumours in the East that an ancient magic is growing more and more powerful. Back in the "real world", things start to go awry and a young mage who possesses the ability to travel between planes tells Al and Jake that the fates of both worlds are intertwined. Even worse, Kwaitkowski's research manager told them that they only have a set amount of time in the virtual world. Can Al, Jake and the others find a way to stop this terrible force from being released and get back to their world before time runs out?

In this epic tale, you'll see a variety of old friends, such as Ashiaro, an experienced ranger; Eirhian, a jaded healer who has her own agenda; Mark, a young bounty hunter; Tem, a snarky mage who can control time; and Synistra, an ancient being with an insatiable desire to unlock the secrets of the past.

You'll also meet new characters, such as Ceryn, a young female assassin who's too pretty for her own good; Rochben, a knight who is committed to upholding justice... and of course Alannah, Jake and the rest of their friends and family.

Stay tuned for more information!

Object Poem: Draft One

We had to write a poem for an English class I am taking this semester and here is my first draft... I kind of like it, actually. The assignment was to write about an object and how it relates to yourself, so I chose my glasses. It was kind of amusing, seeing as how a few days ago, I lost them and I had to spend a day without them, which proved to be more difficult than I thought it would be.

I may or may not be updating this with changes, so we'll see how the editing process goes and I'll see what people have to say about it. There are a few people that I'd like to get critiques from before I do too much editing... but you can read it. Hope you enjoy!

Pieces of glass
surrounded by metal
fit firmly around my face.
They have become
attached, forever a part of
me.

Without them, I
cannot see the world
so clearly. The
light filters through
the optics and I can see.

This piece of metal,
plastic and glass changes
my vision.
Lines are no longer blurry
and colours are no longer
spots. With one addition,
I feel human
again.

I do hope you enjoyed this and I also apologise for not posting in quite awhile. I've been busy with classes and hopefully with this English class I'm taking, I'll actually be writing stuff worth posting and posting it.

Meeting Allison

The young bounty hunter crossed the room. It was rather crowded and he cared little for paying attention to the latest gossip, which Lin seemed to be the center of. Well, Lin and Naomi. Elisha's nose wrinkled slightly; he knew he would never understand the female mind and its need to speak incessently of all the latest happenings, including the arrival of a new informant for the Resistance.

"You ought to go greet her." Mark motioned to where Jordan was speaking to a small girl with short blonde hair. Or Elisha only assumed she was a girl by her unusually petite frame, but really, it was hard to tell from the fifty meters away that the two boys stood, just watching. "Eh, doesn't really matter one way or another. Looks like she's getting the royal treatment from Lin over there." A slight frown crossed Mark's face.

"Aye, maybe I should," Elisha answered, almost the exact same frown crossing his darker face. "Lin really needs to learn to treat newcomers with respect or there'll be no one left to help us." There was a slight pause and the grasp on his quarterstaff tightened until his knuckles were white. "And right now, we need all the good help we can get. There's no way Ran is going to let Lin go out and spy." Using the wooden stick for a bit of extra support, he half-limped to where Jordan was standing, talking to the new arrival. Mark followed partway in silence, then broke off to go talk to Ran.

As Elisha approached, Jordan turned around and nodded towards the shorter youth. "This is Allison, a new recruit," he held his hand out towards the girl. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go speak to Harcourt and Ran and I'll leave the two of you to get acquainted." Without waiting for Elisha to protest, Jordan turned around and let his long legs carry him effortlessly across the room.

The younger bounty hunter frowned to himself and winced slightly, still annoyed with himself for slipping down the riverbank when he, Naomi, Mark and Lin went out for a short excursion the week before. Another few days of limping around like this and then he knew he'd be back to normal before the end of the week, but the fourteen-year-old couldn't help feeling the hairs on the back of his neck prick up when he saw Lin and Mark sparring and he had to sit on the sidelines, just watching.

"What's your name, Darkie?" The girl looked up at him, meeting his dark hazel eyes with her own light brown ones. "I'm Allison, or that's what everyone calls me." She looked him over and he could feel a piercing stare. "You're not a very good fighter, are you?"

The very tips of Elisha's ears heated up and it felt like they were once again subjected to the hot desert summer afternoon. He had only been that far out of the town a few times, even though his ancestors were originally from the desert tribes to the east. "Why should I give you my name?" After a moment, Elisha met her piercing gaze with his own more subtle one. "You obviously haven't given me yours, at least not your real one."

"Then can I call you Darkie?" When Elisha shrugged, the girl perked up and bounced away, leaving the bounty hunter more confused than ever. By the time he turned around, Mark was standing behind him. The taller bounty hunter had picked up the habit of being able to sneak up quietly behind people; it especially annoyed Lin.

"You know I don't like giving out my name," Elisha's voice dropped down to a whisper. "To know another person's name is to hold power over them and it's not something I need to deal with right now, so don't even think about it."

Sigh. I really don't like how that piece turned out, but whatever. I think it would've been better (especially at the end) if it had been a first person narration to Elisha's POV. And just to let you know, "Darkie" is a rather derogative term used to refer to someone from the desert, but Elisha either doesn't know or doesn't care. Meh, I might as well let you read this...

Scene between Elisha and Mark

Okay, wow... it's been over a month and a half since I posted here and I thoroughly blame real life stuff for getting in the way of writing. As a side note, remember some of the characters I mentioned earlier in this post? A brief scene between some of them came to mind earlier today and I just thought I'd share it with you...

Elisha glanced around the room briefly before turning back to Mark. All around them, bounty hunters went on their way, to and from their respective assignments. The sixteen-year-old could easily pick Lin out from the crowd, as well as his sister and Allison, who were both over flirting with some of the boys their age. His lips drew into a frown and he made a note to himself to speak to Naomi about the danger of a man's thoughts later.

"Hey," Mark's voice, as usual, was quiet. "You were thinking 'bout something, weren't you?"

"Yeah," Elisha nodded after a moment. Figuring out how he was going to explain everything to Naomi would have to wait until later. "But honestly, it's Lin I'm more concerned about. She's been acting all... wierd... lately, ever since Jordan left." It had been about two months since one of the most respected bounty hunters had just disappeared, leaving his sword in the hands of Elisha. When the youth had asked his senior where he was going, Jordan simply replied that it was a quest for something he called Veritas and that someday, he'd understand as well. No one had really understood, least of all Elisha and even as he tried to explain it to Lin, the words had refused to come. Jordan had abandoned them.

Mark shrugged and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "I wouldn't expect her to believe that Veritas even exists, you know what I mean?" His own dark eyes drifted over to where Lin was standing, obviously engaged in some sort of argument with Allison.

Elisha paused for a minute, then nodded. "Lin..." he sighed. "Lin's one of those people... she never believes anything that she can't see for herself. She's a good friend and more than a worthy adversary, but she doesn't stop to consider all the possibilities." There was a short pause as he turned to watch Allison flounce away in a huff and Lin smirk, turn the other direction and go about whatever business she had. Elisha didn't wonder for too long what had happened; he was pretty sure he'd hear all about it later, whether he wanted to or not. "Mark." The other youth looked over at Elisha. "Can I ask you a question?" When Mark nodded his approval, Elisha continued. "Do you believe in the existence of a spiritual realm?"

"Yes," the voice that replied was slow to speak. "I believe that I do." Mark removed his right hand from his pocket, revealing the time keeper that Elisha had loaned him earlier that month. "I guess you might call it blind faith 'cause I've never seen anything, but I've heard about it." There was a slight pause. "Remember that old story Ran told us once? The one about Echelon and how everyone banished him to the castle outside of town because they thought he was crazy?" Elisha nodded. "What Ran said makes me think that Echelon might not've been as crazy as they say. If he had actually seen Melekhiel, that would've explained a lot... and it would be a bit more reasonable, I think, to explain why Jordan left."

Elisha frowned slightly. "But you can't even feel it, can you?" At this point, I must pause and give a brief history lesson. In the beginning, there was a spiritual realm and there was a point when everyone could not only feel it, but experience it as one would savour the richness of a barbeque with friends and family on a warm summer afternoon. Over time, people began trying to explain everything and this ability to feel the supernatural was lost to all but a few who are known as the Shiniel, or in their language, the spirit-people.

Mark opened up the timekeeper. "Eh, it's the same thing as this," he answered. "I know that it works and it makes the work I do better and provides a logical explanation as to why I don't run late anymore." He closed the gadget back up and placed it in his pocket once again. "Now, Ran knows that I've always been late and now I'm not. What's the explanation he'll come up with?"

Elisha nodded. "I see," he replied. "Even though he doesn't know that you have my timekeeper, it's most likely he'll assume you've acquired one and learned how to use it properly. I suppose, in a sense, he has faith that you have a timekeeper."

"Maybe I am accepting this on faith, but you can't always know everything, eh?" Mark's gaze trailed off into the distance and for a long couple of minutes, he was staring out the window near the ceiling. "Even Jordan doesn't know everything and I'm pretty sure that's why he went to look for answers." Mark paused and shifted to a more comfortable position, now leaning up against the stone wall of the building. "I guess I can ask you the same thing."

"Sure," the other youth spoke. A quick glance flittered around the room and he turned his back towards the commotion. He lowered his voice to several notches quieter than what it normally was. "You already know that I am a Shiniel." There was a short pause and when Mark nodded, Elisha continued. "For me to deny the existence of a spiritual realm would be worse than Lin not believing in the existence of the physical." He sighed, turned back around so that he was only halfway facing Mark now. Out of the outermost reaches of his peripheral vision, he spotted Lin, who appeared to be arguing now with Ran. "I pity her. She really just doesn't get it, does she?" He forced a weak smile over at the taller youth, who shook his head. Elisha's hand reached down to touch the handle of his sword. "Perhaps it's for the better, then." Without waiting for a reply from Mark, he turned the rest of the way and began walking towards the door.

AN: Elisha and Mark live in a society and they're both bounty hunters. Lin is Elisha's partner and Naomi is Elisha's sister. Ran and Allison are also both part of the coalition of bounty hunters. Ran is a bit older than they are and Allison is a bit younger. She and Naomi are close friends. A bit more can be explained by reading my post about Echelon's Ring, which I linked for you up above.

Fantasy

I recently came across a note that a friend of mine wrote on facebook in the form of a poem, talking about why she writes fantasy. This got me thinking about why I enjoy reading and writing fantasy literature. Since I am not nearly as creative as she is, my reasons will just take the form of a list.

• Guys treat girls with respect. It's something that is surprisingly uncommon these days... the idea of chivalry and honour. But in most, if not all, fantasy stories, the leading guy is a firm believer in and follower of the code of chivalry. Girls are also tend to be less manipulative than they do in today's society.
• A true sense of family and belonging. Even if it's not by birth, characters in fantasy stories generally act like family better than ones in realistic stories do. Take LotR, for example. What holds the fellowship together to the best of its ability is the power of friendship and teamwork. The goal wouldn't have been able to be accomplished by one character alone and each character has a place that they belong.
• Responsibility of powers. Whether this involves magic (as many fantasy stories do) or the ability to kick some serious behind with a sword, fantasy stories explore the balance of having power and being responsible about it. Those who abuse their power get what's coming to them in the end and those who either refuse to be tempted by the power (think Aragorn's reaction to the Ring in LotR here... or Faramir's reaction in the books!) or accept it with responsibility to use it for good (ie, Gandalf or Elrond or Galadriel with their Elven rings) are rewarded.
• Second chances, redemption and self-sacrifice. I don't know if this is true, but fantasy characters seem to mess up more than realistic characters would... or their mistakes hold much graver consequences. Through this, fantasy authors are able to explore themes like second chances (Pippin got at least one in LotR), redemption (Edmund's story in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe) and self-sacrifice for the sake of helping others (when Boromir died at the end of FotR or beginning of Two Towers, depending on whether you're following the movies or the books, respectively). You don't see that as clearly in realistic fiction.
• Beauty of other cultures. Fantasy authors are able to address controversial issues like racism in a much less offensive way than realistic fiction authors would be able to. The deep-seated prejudice between the Elves and the Dwarves in Tolkien's stories could easily be applied to modern prejudices and show readers how foolish it is to judge people solely on an aspect of themselves over which they have no control.
• In a highly materialistic, secular humanistic culture where there is little belief in what cannot be explained by science (or pseudoscience, as the case often is), to jump into a world where elves and dwarves, fauns and satyrs, talking beasts and trees that move exist is rather refreshing. To be able to enjoy a story like that allows for just a little bit of hope that some of it might be true... and thus opens a person up to the possibility of a supernatural.
  
• The end. I have yet to come across a fantasy book where the bad guys win in the end. The bad guys always have to get what they deserve (usually in the form of death or some other humiliating punishment) and the good guys win, but rarely without some large sacrifice on their part (once again, this often involves character death). In the words of a young character of mine whose universe is at war, "we have to win in the end 'cause we're the good guys. And the good guys always win in the end, right?" He's able to sum things up much better than I can. This idea is very Judeo-Christian, as God will have the final victory.
  

And I think that just about wraps things up. These are the main reasons why I enjoy reading and writing fantasy as much as I do. Thanks for reading.

Silver Wings

Just a little short something I wrote... you can make your guesses about who the characters are, if they are actually characters in my stories that you've met. You can also make your guess as to the gender and identity of the narrator. Anyhow, enjoy.

I cannot fly anymore. I used to have wings, but he took them away from me and broke them. I don't even want to think about it right now, but my mind cannot keep itself from thinking of him. I don't know his real name, so I shall just call him Chris. Ironic. I've always liked that name. But not this time. Because it reminds me of him. The man who took my wings away.

These wings were a gift a long time ago and I've just learned how to use them. I guess I was born with them, but I can't know for sure. As I discovered more about myself and the world around me, they just grew until they were large enough to support my weight. I learned how to fly. She was the one who taught me how to fly, to use these wings. It is because of her that I put forth the effort into practicing and it is because of her patience when she taught me and because of her compassionate love for me (even though I assure you I do not deserve it) that I was able to learn.

She was my only true friend when the world was full of enemies and a light to help find my way in the darkness of my mind. Don't assume that we didn't argue because that isn't true; we did argue... we even fought, exchanging bitter words with one another in the irrational heat of anger. But because of that, the bond of our friendship strengthened. She taught me that sometimes a smile can change someone's day for the better and that having words to say isn't really necessary. She instructed me in a different way of viewing the world and that the scientific method doesn't always provide the answer. But most important of all, she taught me how to fly.

But now she is gone. I will never see her again. And because I will never see her again, my wings are broken. As hard as I try, they will not work anymore. So Chris cut them off. It was very painful and I remember screaming. Not so much from the pain, but from realising that they are gon, never to return. I will never be able to fly again.

Perhaps it is possible to fly without wings, but I have been told that will be very difficult, if not impossible. This is what Chris told me. "Have hope," he said. But hope is something that does not exist. Not in a world without her and since she is gone forever, how can the world have hope? No, I do not think I will ever be able to fly again. Especially without my wings. My beautiful silver wings.

I want... no... I need my wings back. Without them, I cannot fly. And without the ability to fly, life is pointless.

Short Scene...

Just a short piece I was thinking of. Maybe I'll write more later, maybe not...

"You can't just keep running away." A hand came to rest on Michael's shoulder and he quickly twisted around, causing Sam's hand and arm to fall to her side once again. He turned away and she took a deep breath and let out a sigh.

"Who's running?" Michael turned back around to face Samantha, his tone of voice rather snappish, especially for him. "I've come to accept things as they are, not look to how they should be." There was another long pause. "This needs to be done and I am the only one who can do it."

"But-" Sam started to say, tears forming in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Samantha," Michael cut her off before she could finish what she was about to say. "I must do it alone this time." Only a few moments later, he was gone; the sound of the door firmly shutting behind him echoed in Sam's ears.

-------

Sam went to the only place she knew of to think: the Reading Tree. The locally owned and operated bookshop had been a favourite place of hers to spend time and often, she would stop for coffee or tea in the little cafe. Zander, the owner, knew just about every customer by name. As soon as he saw Sam walk in, he called out to her.

"Usual for you today?" When Sam nodded, Zander went over to prepare the drink. Only moments later, he handed a steaming cup to Sam. As Sam reached into her wallet to pull out the two dollars and seventy-three cents, Zander shook his head. "Not today. That gentleman over there said he was expecting you to drop by."

Samantha frowned as she followed Zander's line of vision over to the far corner. At one of the other tables, she could see two Japanese girls talking, one of whom she immediately recognised as none other than Emiko Takahashi. What in all of tarnation was that girl doing at a bookshop? Sam wondered to herself. However, she was even more surprised when she saw the person to whom Zander was pointing.

In all honesty, she had expected someone like Hideaki Sato or Tyler Martin or even her brother, all of whom knew which drink she enjoyed, to be sitting at the table. Or Michael. Especially Michael. But she had to remind herself that they were no longer talking.

As she walked over, the man nodded his acknowledgement. "Miss Adams," his voice was slightly more acidic than Sam remembered, but it had been over a year since she'd last seen him. Sam took a deep breath and sat down.

Quick Update

So, I just wanted to let you know where I've been recently. No, I haven't been writing much at all, at least nothing fictional and really not much worth reading. I've just gotten back into working on A Duel of Wits and am probably about a third of the way through part four. This part is far more difficult because at least two characters are in this scene and I'm not used to writing either of them! And Sharpe isn't making anything better, as he is not cooperating very well with me right now.

And as a completely random side-note that has nothing to do with writing, I didn't know that tone of voice could carry over the internet like it does. Actually, that doesn't surprise me too much. When I'm writing (yes, I'm going to tie this in!), characters all have very distinct voices and tones that they use and I can picture them talking when I'm writing things down. So it doesn't surprise me much that I can pick up on vocal intonation of real people in writing~

A Duel of Wits, Part One

I really needed to write something... and preferably a piece when I wasn't being particularly nice to any of my characters. I'm thinking this gets worse before it actually gets better and you get to see a little bit of Michael's interactions with Emiko here. And Sharpe (as always) is awesome.

This takes place a few weeks into their sophomore year of high school (September 2004) because Kiran Shasthri is around and it's specifically stated that this happens in September because it's still warm.

Characters: Sharpe, Michael, Emiko, Samantha, Scott, others by mention
Word Count: 1000
Rating: G
Summary: Michael and Emiko have to figure out a way to resolve their differences.

Sharpe’s lips narrowed as he sneered. One hand was clenched around an Earlenmeyer flask with a pale green liquid filled nearly to the brim and the other hand was loosely fingering a long stick. He whipped the stick up against the chalkboard, scattering chalk dust throughout the classroom. Several students gasped. No one said anything; it was silent with the exception of a beaker full of bubbling liquid in the back fume hood.

Out of everyone in the room, both Emiko Takahashi and Michael Liu seemed to be the only ones who even remained slightly calm after seeing Sharpe’s reaction, and neither of them for a good reason. Kiran Shasthri was sitting in the back corner of the room, her eyes wide with fear; Samantha’s eyes were gently closed, showing a resolved expression on her face. But it was obvious she was angry… and obviously so. Scott gritted his teeth together and clenched his right hand into a tight fist. Whatever was about to happen was not going to be good and he knew it. He had known his best friend long enough to know when something was going on and Emiko was better than just about anyone else at irking any one of them in the homeroom of twenty people. And today, she was at the top of her game.

“Miss Takahashi.” Sharpe’s words were cold as they cut through the air, even amidst the warmth of the air that September morning. Emiko glanced up at him, a nauseating smirk playing on her face. Michael’s steady glance shifted towards Sharpe, then back to Emiko as quickly as it had left. “Mr. Liu.” It was now that the Asian boy frowned slightly. “A word with both of you. Outside. Now.” He motioned to the door that led into the nearest hallway and turned to pace towards it.

Emiko smirked at Michael. “Look who’s in trouble now,” she commented, careful to keep her voice low enough so that Sharpe wouldn’t easily be able to hear. After shooting a feeble smile over at Scott, Michael turned to leave and follow Sharpe. Scott felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. It was not very often he believed in what his sister often called a sixth sense, but the sophomore was sure that this was one of those times he did. And this sixth sense was yelling at him to do something. Because it just wasn’t fair.

It hadn’t been Michael’s fault… nor had it been Emiko’s. It had all happened so fast that even Scott had possessed some difficulty keeping up and knowing exactly what had come to pass. One moment, Michael was swapping history notes and talking about chess strategies with Evan Saunders and the next moment, it was like Michael and Emiko were in some sort of stalemate, Sharpe looking on with a sinister expression of both intrigue and loathing in his eyes. Only one thing had been said and Scott hadn’t been paying enough attention to tell what that something was. And now, all three of them were outside, except for Saunders, who was now passing notes back and forth with Victoria Chapel.

“You think they’ll be okay?” Scott leaned over and placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder. It was rare to see Scott devote even most of his attention to one person or one thing; often Michael had commented that Scott could easily be quite a bit more brilliant if he’d only learn to concentrate on one thing at a time. The younger twin had always brushed his friend’s remark off without even as a second thought.

Sam nodded. “They have to be,” she replied, her rough voice hardly even a whisper. “It’s out of our hands now and the best we can do is trust that Sharpe won’t let either of them react.” There was a short pause and Sam waited for the conversation between Kiran and Tyler to resume before she continued. “And that he won’t bait either of them in the process.” She shifted in her seat so that she could see outside, but Sharpe’s back was turned towards the window; she couldn’t see his face at all.

“Mr. Liu, I have given you plenty of chance to explain yourself, yet you have chosen not to take advantage of this.” Sharpe’s voice was considerably lower in volume, but higher in pitch than was normal for him. “Same for you, Miss Takahashi.” His voice dropped to a hiss as he spoke Emiko’s name. “Perhaps both of you should come up with a way to solve your problems without creating as much of a commotion in my classroom.” One of his eyebrows arched slightly.

Emiko met Sharpe’s steady gaze with a smirk. “How about a duel of wits?” A smile still playing on the corners of her lips, she turned towards Michael. “Well?”

The Asian boy thought for a long moment, then nodded. “Name your terms,” he replied, his voice slightly tentative.

“Ackerman’s classroom, after school.” She glanced up at Sharpe for a moment, but he said nothing. “You bring one of your friends and I’ll bring one of mine. Other than that, we both come alone.” There was the slightest pause. “Agreed?” She stuck her right hand out and twirled a long strand of dark hair around the fingers of her left hand.

Michael reached to shake Emiko’s hand, a showing a slight wince as he made skin contact with her. “Agreed, but we allow Mr. Sharpe to be present, as well.”

The girl smirked. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” She let go of Michael’s hand and dropped her voice to a low whisper. “Four o’clock. See you then.” With that, she turned and flounced back into the classroom, leaving Michael to wonder what he had gotten himself into. But he would have to wait and see. Right now, it was Emiko’s turn and it was little use to predict what she was planning to do next. He’d just have to sit and wait it out.

tbc

A Tale of Two Qs

One of my biggest pet peeves in writing is the idea of a word count. "In order for us to even read what you've written, your piece needs to be a certain length." For some reason, that doesn't seem to cut it. One of the marks of a good writer is being able to balance out quality vs. quantity.

According to Merriam-Webster.com, quantity is defined as the "total amount or number" and originally comes from the Latin quantus, meaning "how much" or "how many". This is a measure of amount and can easily be counted. Quantity talks about word count, page count... how much a person has written. On the other hand, quality is the measurement of how good something is. It is defined as the "degree of excellence" or "superiority of kind" and comes from the Latin qualis, meaning "of what kind".

Imagine these as graphs. Along the y-axis, you have quantity. Along the x-axis, quality is plotted. Find the area under the curve (hoorah for calculus!) and you'll have some measure of how good the piece is, right? Think of that scene in Dead Poet's Society where the teacher is talking about poetry if you don't get what I'm talking about.

Now, some writers have a very high quantity score, but a low quality score. For example, the guy who wrote Moby Dick. A high number multiplied by a low number usually gives a medium number (ie on a 1-10 scale, 2x10=20). For the sake of our purposes, let's make a rule that the factors can't add to more than 12. An author with a higher quality score and a lower quantity score would have a similar result (10x2=20). The best result with the restrictions we've applied is to even out the numbers and make the factors as close to equal as possible, or have 6x6=36. This would seem to imply that a balance between quality and quantity is the most useful.

But is this really the case? To some extent, yes. Both quality and quantity are important, but rather than having them work against each other, it's best to have good quality. Having good quality will undoubtedly lead to some increase in quantity. The point I'm trying to make? That quality >> quantity.

The verdict? Don't worry about how much you write. Instead, pay attention to the details and little gems that make the quality of the writing higher. Usually length will follow, but don't force yourself to write with lots of words unless you have to.

Write more?

I have discovered that I really need to write more, specifically from Snapshots, chapter six. I really need to figure out exactly what happens to Priya Shasthri and how that affects Sharpe and Michael and the conversation they have. I need to figure out if Priya would take Michael home... that is how he would get back home that night because Sharpe doesn't really drive (he doesn't have a car) and it's too late for Michael to walk home (silly thing called curfew that they have).

But it'll have to wait until the end of the chapter to decide because Priya's explanation is going to take awhile. I think I shall go take some time to write now, especially now that I do not have to worry about classes and all of that this week!

Shiny New Character!

Introducing brand-new, shiny character! I got an idea for a story when I was sitting in CORE lecture and this character won't leave, so I figured I should write a little bit down about him.

Tarachand doesn't exactly live in our world. Instead, he lives in Almedrim (Seleweno, Sininen, to be mroe exact) and he's a member of a monastic community. He's about seventeen years of age and has been living there for about a dozen years.

Their culture is very different from ours. They count the years by solstices and the way the twin moons align in the sky. The monastery is dedicated to a monotheistic religion, worshipping Anilfirin (Elven name). The Tamesians are the ethnic people from which the Winged Raiders com.


Character Name: Tarachand Paras (“Tarachand” is Sanskrit for “star”, “Paras” is Sanskrit for “touchstone”.) I do really enjoy using Sanskrit names.

Birth Date: Morning after Winter Solstice. Lunn and Carn were aligned (during Solstice, they are only aligned every third Solstice). He is currently about seventeen.

Place of Birth: Sobotaj, Sininen. This is one of the southeastern most communities and it is under the constant threat of war from the Dark Elves and raids by the Winged Raiders.

Residence: Monastery of Anilfirin in Seleweno, about twenty miles north of Cynelic

Race: Human, possibly tainted by Tamesian blood somewhere up the line.

Height: Five foot, ten inches.

Weight: ~150 pounds

Clothing Sizes / Styles: He tends to wear loose clothing and mostly long robes, which is what everyone wears at the monastery. When he has his choice, he will remove his outer robes, preferring a simple tunic and pants instead. His clothing is well-worn and patched in many places and with all sorts of colours of cloth.

Hair Color: Almost black. He is from the south eastern region of Sininen and they tend to be darker.

Hair Length: Straight and long enough to pull back into a ponytail. He tends to braid it at night so that it will not tangle.

Eye Color: Dark with golden flecks around the rim, signifying that he has Tamesian blood in him and is an outcast because of that.

Handedness: Right-handed. Everyone in their monastery has been forced to be right-handed, at least to write and eat.

Jewelry: None. No jewelry is allowed at the monastery.

General Appearance: Tarachand is of approximately average height, weight and build for a young human male. His dark hair reaches down well past his shoulders and is fairly fine. He often keeps this tied back. His skin is pale compared to his family, but naturally darker than the others at the monastery and it has a slightly jaundiced tint, due to the small bit of Tamesian heritage he has.
The clothing he wears is worn and tattered around the edges. His hands are perpetually covered in ink stains and often, he will walk around the monastery without shoes on, especially during the summer.

Relationship with Family: Tarachand doesn’t really know his real family because he was dropped off at the monastery when he was a small child to be placed under the care of Ahbahs Nirav (the Abbot). He considers Nirav to be a father to him and their relationship is very close.

Key Family / Relatives: Ahbahs Nirav

Relationship with Friends: Jahangir is one of the other members of the monastery. He is almost heretical for his beliefs and enjoys questioning the practices of the others. He is somewhat rash in his ways and stands up for what he thinks is right. One way that he dissents from the main group is that he believes that there is beauty in everything, not just in the culture of the monastery. Seeing truth and beauty in the pagan beliefs is more than enough to put him at odds with Tarachand, who has grown up believing everything that Nirav has told him to be true.
~Ellywn is a female wanderer who has settled down for a short time just outside of the monastery. Originally from Cynelic, she was taken in by Elven adoptive parents (their own children had long since left home) when she was a child after her parents died of the plague (similar to influenza). When she was sixteen, she left home and has been travelling since then. She is fairly caring, though she recognizes that life can be stripped away from people in an instant, so she tends not to form emotional bonds to people easily.
~Ahbahs Nirav, or simply Nirav, is the Abbot of the monastery. He is about eighty-five years of age as humans reckon time and he has cared for Tarachand since the boy was young. As the head of the monastery, he is in-charge of and responsible for everything that goes on there. He adheres strongly to the old traditions, even if they are considered out-of-date by some of the other members. To him, there is no excuse to deviate from the law and if you do, strict punishments are to follow. However, if one follows the law, Nirav is very kind and benevolent. He prefers to teach by example, rather than speaking. There are weeks where he will only speak while in prayer to Anilfirin.

Key Friends: Jahangir, Nirav, Ellwyn

Educational History: Tarachand was schooled at the monastery since he was a young boy. He learned to read and write and the basics of mathematics. When he was twelve, he began his training as a scribe. Because he is a scribe, he has learned how to read Common and Elven, the two main written languages of Almendrim.

Work History: Scribe training from the time he was twelve until he turned fifteen. He has been a scribe at the monastery since then.

Skills: Cooking, planting, harvesting, mending, transcribing the ancient manuscripts

Bad Habits / Vices: Vanity. Despite not being able to own very much (monastery rules), he really cares about how he looks... most of the time. He is very proud of his hair, but hates his eyes.

Quirks: He tends to bite his lips together when he’s focusing really hard on something or occasionally when he is working.

Best Qualities: Follows the rules, contemplative, emotionally and mentally stable, a good worker

Worst Qualities: People pleaser, vain

Key Childhood Experiences: Not remembering his family and being dropped off at the monastery when he was about five-years-old.

Key Teenage Experiences: Meeting Ellwyn, scribe training.

Sexual Background: Everyone entering the monastery has to take a vow of celibacy, which may only be broken if said person leaves the monastery.

Personal Goals: To be able to belong somewhere and be accepted by people. Because of this, he is a people-pleaser.

Morality / Ethics: Tarachand is legalistic about following the rules of the monastery, as he was raised there. When he meets Ellwyn and begins wondering if the solitary life is right for him, he feels bad for questioning what he’s been taught all his life. Tarachand is religious and worships Anilfirin.

Style of Speech: Not as formal as Nirav, but more formal than an average human of Almendrim would speak and quite a bit more formal than a human of the Shadowlands (ie, our world) would normally talk.

Other Important Details: Other than the fact he’s a brand-new fantasy character? Really nothing.

Slightly OT: Words and their Meanings

It just came to mind that so many of our English words come from other languages and if we took time to learn bits and pieces of these other languages, how much would our vocabulary (and grammar) increase and become improved?

Through studying Latin last year, I have come to know more about the English language, including the proper uses of who and whom. (The words that I still get confused are affect and effect...) My vocabulary has also increased, though I'm not sure if that's always so readily apparent. But one thing that I've realized about myself is that I learn words by their roots in other languages, most obviously Latin and Greek.

Recently, I've had at least two duh moments when I've come to realize definitions of words and how they're connected. Allow me to explain. Firstly was the word diagnosis. Pretty easy, right? Did you know that it's Greek origin and comes from the same root that the word agnostic comes from? The root gnosis means knowledge, making agnostic to mean without knowledge. This would make sense because agnostics believe that we cannot know for sure about whether or not God is out there. Second duh moment was being told that confidence comes from the Latin roots for con (with) and fidere (to trust). Having studied some Latin, I probably should've realized that.

But what does this have to do with writing? Nothing much in particular, other than noting the fact that some of my characters are bilingual and some of them would pick up on meanings of words like that. I know Sharpe definitely would and possibly characters like Donovan Isaacs or Aislynn Celeste, both of whom speak English and at least one other language fluently (Donovan's fluent in English, Spanish and knows a few words and phrases in French and Aislynn's more than fluent in French).

That is all for now, as I need to go eat breakfast before the day really gets started.

Joint Story Characters

So, one of my friends and I decided that we should write a story together and we were each pulling characters from other things we'd written. I haven't actually written a lot of these characters very much or recently, but it should be interesting.

Lucius is from a piece that never really got off the ground. We needed a captain for the ship and he'd make a good one. Original character concept for him was medical, but I think captain fits him better... honestly. Janus is... uhm, interesting, to say the least. His real name isn't widely known, so he's usually called Janus by everyone else. I've written Kiran before quite a bit and I'm getting comfortable with her. Nate hasn't been around much recently, but he's an old character of mine and was originally in a fantasy story. Aislynn is orginally from the alternate universe... and she was originally Canadian. And Seven... well, Seven is just plain wierd. He comes from Seattle, Washington, but about 100-200 years into the future.

Lucius Touchstone

Lucius is the captain of the ship. He appears to be of northern European descent, of medium height and have rather paled features. He prefers to dress in casual clothing instead of the uniform and he holds a special hatred for dress clothing. He has an athletic build.
He is usually patient with the other members of the crew and is easy-going, but he does have his limits. There are a few rules that are his pet peeves around the ship and if you follow those, you’re good. He is celibate, but enjoys flirting. He also enjoys having a drink every now and then, though (according to Janus) he drinks too much.
Lucius possesses the ability to pass through solid objects. In other words, he can walk through walls and whatever else pleases his fancy. Since he has the tendency to run late for meetings, this can come in extremely handy at times. Originally, he was trained at helm/navigation controls.

Touchstone squirmed as he tried to sit patiently in the dress uniform. Whoever had made these things must have wanted the officers to be as uncomfortable as possible. His hair was neatly combed back and everything looked nice. He glanced at the time-keeper in the room on the star base. It read 2103 STT, which meant it was approximately 9:00 PM, standard Terran (Earth) time. He sighed; the dinner had started four hours ago. Even his patience was starting to run low and the Admiral had not yet given her speech.
“Hey, light beam,” a voice whispered over towards him. Only one person would have called him that: Lucius turned to see Maria Hernandez, the head of the science team on the SS Dreamer – the ship that had been forced to retire from service – lean over towards where he was sitting. He nodded a quick acknowledgement. “Just thought I’d let you know that it was fun serving with you. Ana’s going to miss seeing you.”
Lucius smiled as he thought of Maria’s four-year-old daughter. He had taken a liking to the little girl during their two year mission. Things would not be the same on the new ship he was going to be assigned to. For one thing, the SS Dreamer had primarily been a science research vessel, so most of the crew members aboard were devoted to the sciences, with minimal staffing in other areas. He had been the chief medical officer and the third officer – the person who usually commanded when both the captain and the first officer were detained.
The new assignment would be on the SS Veritas, which was an investigation ship. Touchstone would have frowned, but didn’t want to give Admiral Preston – Junior Admiral as though she may be – even the slightest hint that he was frowning at her speech.
“And, lastly,” Lucius breathed a sigh of relief; the Admiral was almost finished with her long-winded speech, “I would like to congratulate Commander Lucius Touchstone, who will be the First Officer of the SS Veritas.” There was applause coming from all over the room. Lucius gasped, completely shocked that he had been named as the first officer. Surely there were others with more experience than he had. “Congratulations, Commander.”
It was a full hour later when Lucius finally arrived back at the quarters he was staying in at the star base. He had started to undress when he heard a buzz that indicated someone was outside his door, waiting to see him. He slipped a grey t-shirt over his bare chest. “Come in.”
The admiral entered, still dressed as formally as ever. “I just wanted to offer my congrats, Luc,” she said with a smile. “There’s a full report coming later, but you won’t be leaving for another week. Perhaps we can get together for some coffee and chat for awhile?” The admiral’s overall demeanour had changed drastically from her formal self.
Lucius thought for a moment and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, suddenly thinking it odd that he had so many nicknames. “How about tomorrow, Sarah?” He returned the first name address just as Admiral Preston had given it, though there was a sudden clip to the tone that was unusual for him. Admiral Sarah Preston agreed. The two would meet the next day. They had so much to talk about; the cousins hadn’t seen each other since before Lucius had begun medical school. But talking could wait until later; right now, all Lucius wanted to do was catch up on some well-needed sleep.

Ophiuchus “Janus” Dylan

Orphiuchus Dylan is much better known as Janus around the crew. This is because no one knew his real name for the longest time. Occasionally, he will be called by his surname, Dylan. As an inhabitant of the desert planet, Janus’ darker skin tone helps protect him from the sun. He also has dark hair and dark eyes and is taller and thinner than an average human. He is never seen in anything not covering his arms and legs; even when he does medical exams, he usually leaves his sleeves pulled down all the way. He is used to a warmer, drier climate and gets chilled easily on the ship.
Janus is fairly anti-social and has a rather snappish bedside manner. He is easily annoyed, but slow to anger. He believes that knowing is better than not knowing and will tell his patients exactly what is going on, even if they do not want to hear. When annoyed, he gets very blunt in his mannerisms. He keeps most of his personal life hidden from the other crew members. He is a brilliant man, but difficult to work with for most people. Despite being a doctor, he tends to neglect his own physical and mental health at times.
On the ship, Janus is basically in charge of everything medical-related. He is not the ship’s counselor (that job falls to Danielle, as she is empathetic). He performs check-ups and has the power to authorize incompetence for medical reasons. He doesn’t usually fight physically, but rather chooses to heal or use his powers for defense. He is telekinetic, meaning he can move objects with his mind. He is also weakly telepathic, but he hates using this unless it’s necessary.

Janus frowned to himself, making a careful note of where each object had been laid out by the previous chief medical officer on board the ship. Whoever it had been obviously lacked any apparent reason for arranging the instruments as such. Gritting his teeth together in annoyance, he set to work, arranging things as he saw fit. With a wave of one hand – this was unnecessary – he moved the main computer monitor over to the opposite side of the room. A good doctor should be able to operate without all this fancy equipment; people from the city were ridiculously spoiled.
Just as he was finishing up, the door leading to sickbay from the main corridor opened up with a whoosh and Janus turned around. He still had not figured out how to lock the doors around here. In walked Seneca Argentium, one of the young science trainees who worked under Tiffany Aigel, one of the crew members for whom Janus held a decent amount of respect.
“Ensign.” Janus’ greeting was curt and he stood up in a less-than-graceful motion. He locked eyes with Seneca for a moment. She had absolutely no ability to hide her thoughts; even a weak telepath could easily pick up on what she was about to say. “Aigel sent you down here. Tell her things are all working.” Likely Aigel would come down later and check things out for herself... or Touchstone would. Or he might send Seylem or McAllistair. The lab tech was about to protest, but she left the room and Janus was left to his own company again. This was just how he liked it. So why had he signed up for this, again?

Kiran Shasthri

Kiran is on the shorter side of average, but still within normal height and weight range for a human. She has very dark hair, dark skin and eyes that look almost black. Her hair reaches down just past her shoulders and she usually ties it back with a bright hair tie. When not in uniform, she can be seen wearing brightly colored clothing. She also has her ears pierced.
Kiran is emotional, caring and fairly confident most of the time. She loves her friends and family more than anything else in the world. Amongst the members of the Squad, she’s fairly talkative and good at offering ideas... and asking them if they’re sure something will work. She has a fairly scientific mind and she would have gone into medical training, were it not for the discrimination on her home planet against elementalists becoming doctors. She is also known for her occasional sarcastic humor that creeps into the conversation at unexpected moments and for carrying her flute around almost everywhere with her.
As a member of the Investigation Squad, Kiran works to help uncover the mysteries of anything that might have gone wrong on the planets they visit and help fix things. She is also a dual elementalist, controlling light and dark. Light is more dominant and takes the form of a light ray radiating from her left hand and occasionally a sphere floating in mid-air. She can also bend light rays. Darkness is harder for her to control and it manifests itself in a shadow cloud coming from her right hand. She cannot create light or dark.

Fifteen-year-old Kiran Shasthri awoke with a start to the sound of her bedroom door opening. She blinked a few times and pulled a few strands of dark hair out of her face before sitting up. Much to her chagrin, it was Ming-yue Tam, her best friend and roommate, who had woken her – and Shelby and Monica, the two other girls in their room – up.
“You’ll never guess!” Ming grinned, plopping down on her bed. Kiran rolled her eyes and jumped off the top bunk, landing on her feet with a soft thud.
“What happened this time?” Kiran groaned. Leave it to Ming to be awake at this unearthly hour. Granted, Kiran knew that her best friend didn’t sleep; it was part of her mutation. The two girls had met when Kiran first started attending Melanthios Academy about a year and a half ago.
“You got a letter,” Ming replied, handing Kiran an envelope. It was addressed in perfect script and old-fashioned lettering, complete with a seal and a mysterious logo.
Kiran pulled her dark hair back and arched an eyebrow, taking the envelope from her friend. After examining it carefully for a trap, as they had been taught to do, she opened it carefully. “Our esteemed science professor is going to have my corpse as the next anatomy specimen,” she muttered under her breath.
Dear Kiran “Yin-Yang” Shasthri,
Your presence has been requested at a celebration. Please come to my house on December the second. The address is enclosed.
Sincerely,
Mr. W
Ming snatched the letter from Kiran’s head and skimmed it quickly. “So?” she asked, the pitch of her voice rising nearly an octave. “You going or not?”
Kiran frowned. She hadn’t been away from the Academy since she came, with the exception of going home briefly last Christmas. She was one of the fortunate ones. Most of the students were run-aways and outcasts from their own families. At least she still had a family who cared about her enough to want to do what was best for her. And as much as she fought with her older brother, Ekram, they were still close.
“We have a biology exam later today,” Kiran pointed out. “And band rehearsal after that.” She was one of the flutists in the band at their school. “And like I said, I’ll probably be the next cadaver if I leave.”
Ming shook her head. “So, if anything happens, just use your powers. How bad can it be?”
Kiran sighed. “Ming,” she began, carefully considering what she was going to say. Her best friend was one of the few recipients of her outbursts; she was usually pretty calm, but this was something she felt strongly about. “I believe that we were given our powers to help other people, not to make personal gains and certainly not to hurt other people. It’s what Dad was always trying to tell us when we were younger, but before I came here, I never really heard what he was saying.”
Kiran paused for a minute to observe Ming’s reaction. “It’s one of the things I’ve learned since coming here,” she continued. “Not only from the professors, but from you and George as well. I used to always be afraid of what my powers would do, but now I’m not, thanks to you guys.” George was a friend of theirs at school. She smiled slightly. Her power to turn herself and whatever she was touching invisible or into a shadow or beam of light had manifested itself when she was at school one day, nearly hurting one of her classmates. “I can’t go.”
Ming groaned. “Aww,” she pleaded. “That’s just the reason why you have to!” A sly smile crossed her face. “Or I’ll ask the Professor to use an alternate means of convincing you.” She grinned. “Sheesh, take your flute and books with you. Study while you’re there and you can’t miss anything too important here!”
Kiran arched her eyebrows as she stood up, put on a comfortable shirt and leggings and wrapped her blue and purple sari around her. She knew that she shouldn’t be leaving – not with the biology lab later that afternoon – but her curiosity wouldn’t leave. She just had to know who this mysterious Mr. W was and what he wanted.

Nathaniel “Nate” Winters

Nate has bright red hair, pale skin and freckles all over his face and body. He’s a little taller than average in height and the only thing that stands out significantly is his bright hair. He also has green eyes. When not dressed in uniform, Nate often wears jeans and a solid colored t-shirt.
In personality, Nate is very quick to react to anything and everything. He’s generally good around people and well-liked by his peers, though he does have a temper. He can be incredibly charming one moment, but yelling at the other members of the Squad the next. He is – and always has been – fascinated by all things technological.
Nate is also a member of the Investigation Squad and has the ability to control fire. He cannot create fire, so he must have a constant source of flame with him (usually in the form of an old lighter he carries around with him).

“That’s the last time you’re put in charge of the computer club, young sir!” An angry voice pierced through the disgustingly wet air of New York City. Nate could feel his freckled skin grow nearly the same color as his red-orange hair and he sank into his chair.
“Sorry, sir,” Nate muttered under his breath. So far, this was the second time during this summer that his foolishness had caused trouble, but who was counting? The first time was creating a computer program that was able to solve math and science problems by simply being told. This time was for creating a program that judged art and had poorly judged the skills of their school art teacher.
“Now, kindly take your things and go home,” the supervising teacher ordered, pointing a long, bony finger towards the door.
Nate picked up his backpack and could feel his heart sinking further and further down. Frances, a close friend of his, excused herself, telling the teacher that she needed to go home to take care of her baby brother. She met up with Nate in the halls outside.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, shifting her books to a more comfortable position as they walked through the streets of NYC together. She and Nate lived in the same apartment building and always walked to and from school together.
“Nothing,” Nate said, narrowing his eyes. He could still feel that envelope in his pocket. Frances frowned and Nate regretted that they were such close friends.
“Okay.” He dug the envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Frances. She read the writing on the paper inside and smiled.
Attention: Nathaniel Winters
Your attendance has been requested at Camp Aestas. You will leave tomorrow morning from the New York airport. Please see the list of items to bring.
Cordially,
Mr. Docens
“Isn’t that good? At least you won’t have Mr. Frost mad at you for the rest of the summer,” she offered.
“Whatev,” he muttered. But he knew he had to go, partially because only ten people had been accepted. It wasn’t like there were going to be a hundred kids and he wouldn’t be missed; he had the odd feeling that this was something important, unlike all those e-mails he’d received in his inbox before he finished writing the program to weed out spam messages and installed it.

Aislynn Celeste

Aislynn is a shapeshifter, so her appearance tends to vary based on whatever mood she finds herself in. She’s slightly less than five feet tall and naturally has blonde hair that’s short and blue eyes and light skin with a few freckles. She likes to dress in casual clothing whenever she has the chance, which consists of skirts and blouses. She has a tattoo on her shoulder, but often uses her powers to disguise this into her skin.
At a first glance, Aislynn is fairly happy-go-lucky. She often smiles when she works and spends time getting to know her fellow crew members. She is incredibly talkative and enjoys discussing various subjects, whether they be personal or academic in matter. Speaking of academics, her favourite subject in school was mathematics. On a closer examination, one will find out that Aislynn has always hid the deepest of her emotions from other people and she will often go into her room and start crying for no apparent reason.
Aislynn is fresh out of the academy and works at the helm and navigation controls.

It had been the first time Aislynn stepped into the Dance Hall since she had taken waltz lessons when she was in her fourth year as a student here. Having declined Justin's invitation to go during their final year, she had not come here at all that fall, winter or spring and the young professor sighed. Around her were beautiful pictures and the ceiling had been painted to look like a faerie tale castle. Like she was home once again where she truly belonged.
She laced up her dance shoes moved out onto the hardwood floor. As she closed her eyes, she felt like she was her father’s little girl once again, that her dad would come home after a long day of work and ask her how her dance lessons with Madame Barnes went. She would smile, giggle and show him how they learned to point their toes or spin around in circles. Her mother would not smile, but Demetry... Demetry would pick her up and twirl her around in his arms, lifting her high enough to touch the sky. She was his little princess.
And then it all changed when Demetry didn’t come home from work one night. Aislynn could barely remember, but she remembered Clarissa screaming at the government official who came around to their house... then her mother started crying, objects started getting thrown and eventually things got so bad she went to live with her grandparents. She was no longer her daddy’s little princess. Aislynn spun into a pirouette and as she made her second revolution, she spotted someone standing in the doorway out of the fleeting glance of her peripheral vision.
As soon as she could get both feet back on the ground, she turned to see who had been lurking in the doorway. The professor turned and could feel her cheeks glowing red as she found herself looking into the face of Nicholas Gunner. “Oh!” She glanced around, hoping that the other professor wasn’t taken aback by her horrible dance skills. “I’m sorry about that... did you want to come in and dance?” There was a short pause as she looked at him, still unsure of what to say.

Septimus “Seven” McAllistair

In appearance, Seven is of average height and average build. Nothing seems atypical about him at a first glance. He has pale skin that often carries a jaundiced tinge and non-descript brown hair. Glasses cover his orange-grey eyes. He often wears clothing that does not appear to be well-kept, a result of growing up in a lower-class family and getting used to dressing as he does. He cares little about his appearance or how he comes off to people.
Seven is probably one of the most awkward, unemotional people you would ever meet. This is largely due to the fact that he has a computer chip implanted in his brain and has since he was a young child, the result of a scientific experiment. He is naturally good with facts and uncomfortable with what he doesn’t know. He is also uncomfortable around people and their emotions.
He possesses a naturally photographic memory, but due to scientific research when he was younger, he has a computer chip implanted in his brain, which allows him to control computers with a single thought or to teleport himself (and occasionally others) through a computer network. Seven works tactical on the ship, but can also help out in engineering if need be.

He logged off of his computer and told it to shut down. Normal people would have needed to push buttons on their computers to do such a thing or at least speak to the machine, as technology had advanced enough for the newest computers to take verbal commands, but all he needed to do was think at the machine and it would do his will. The adolescent’s grey eyes stared at the blank screen curiously, as if he wished he would have persevered at that last project he was working on; he needed to crack that code.
With a slight frown on his face, he ordered his computer back on. This particular code was much trickier than any of the ones he had worked with before and the fourteen-year-old’s lips thinned in sheer determination, the one human emotion he could still feel thoroughly and with the intensity of any normal person. Septimus was well aware that he could be over-analyzing the situation, but perhaps he was wrong.
The boy flexed his hands and pulled the knitted fingerless gloves back onto his wrists. These blue garments had been his latest project, along with perfecting the latest violin piece his mother had chosen for him to learn. His glasses reflected the rows and rows of letters, numbers and various colors that littered the screen of the computers. With one thought, all the numbers were put in bold font and the letters in italics.
Seven stroked the side of his head. Brilliant. With another thought, the numbers had disappeared and the letters rearranged themselves to reveal the message, which read McAllistair: Meet me at the South End of the computer labs at the University tomorrow at precisely 17:45. I have something to give you. If you are not there at the designated time, you will not see me. He had solved the code; now all he had to do was find out the identity of the mysterious sender.

NB: Neither Justin nor Nicholas Gunner belong to me. Danielle also does not belong to me, nor does Aigel or Seylem. All the other characters do. This list of characters is for a story that one of my friends and I are writing together, so it should be interesting.

Writing and Life

I am just writing because I think I will go crazy if I don't. I have been forced to go be social for the past few days rather than sitting in my room and knitting and watching movies and doing homework, so last night, I spent quite a bit of time talking to one of my friends who also writes. It always makes me really happy whenever I meet someone else who enjoys writing.

It's interesting that I write more characters who are guys. I think I'm more comfortable writing guys than girls to be honest. Not that I don't have female characters, but they just aren't as well developed or prominent. My friend (who is a guy) writes way more female characters. And then I suggested we should write together sometime. It's very different writing with another person compared to writing with only yourself. I doubt I'd be writing Sharpe in such a situation - haha. No really. He's difficult enough to write in a normal situation and he still has a strong enough personality that I can't always write him well (which is frustrating). I need to learn to be more consistent with such an awesome character like Sharpe.

Now that I've written a little bit, I should really get going on my paper (which HAS to be typed). That'll be interesting. Well, and the fact I'm supposed to work on my chemistry lab during the time that I have small group tonight. Bleh.

Brief Comments on Previous Piece

I noticed a few things when I was writing the piece I shared. These are in no particular order.

• Sharpe clips the end of his sentences short when he's annoyed. Michael also does this on a number of occasions, particularly with the twins.
• Sharpe breaks the promise he made to himself. Not just once, but twice. In canon. The first time is in A Christmas to Remember. Second time is when the fellowship et al is all grown up... well, they're in university.
• The Altons live on Chestnut Avenue, which is the same street that the Liu family, the Adams family and the Johnsons live on.
• Sharpe dislikes his middle name, but he hates his first name.
• I kind of skipped through most of Sharpe's background in an attempt to get the story idea finished.
• There seems to be a common idea of "explaining things" in what I write.
• I really like naming my fictional characters after people... well sometimes. A lot of them share names with other literary characters (I should make an entry about names sometime).
• I don't edit for continuity or making sense when I write things late at night.
• I also noticed I listen to certain music when I am writing different characters.
  

But yeah. Now I need to go back and edit that piece for continuity and stylistics. Bleh. And work on chapter six of Snapshots, which has been started. I ended up deciding to go watch Star Wars last night with friends instead of writing (and then I came back and wrote half a page), so it was all good.

Seven Secret Statements

So, Rae had a journal entry up on DA, which made me think about my characters a little bit... what would they say about each other if they knew no one would find out? Wanting to put my signature twist on one of the tagged things (even though I wasn't one of the ones tagged), I have decided to do it to the POV of one of my characters, circa 2010. Yes, this is in the future.

Feel free to guess who is saying these or about whom these statements are made. They are fictional characters, not real people. These statements are all made by the same character, just to let you know. I'm only doing seven of them because I intend to take another character and do several later on (when I have more time and a brain that's actually thinking straight).

1. I used to really not know what you were thinking. Ever... but over time, we've grown closer. You're my best man and I can't count all the times we've spent talking. We would always get into trouble together... you and I. I still don't know what you're thinking half the time and whenever I do, I don't think I want to know.

2. The first time we met, you started talking so fast that I could hardly keep up with what you were saying. We've had some interesting times together and I've come to love you like a sister. All those times I've yelled at you and you at me, well... let's just leave that behind us now. You're such a caring person and it's evident to me that you do mean well.

3. I'm not sure there's much to say, other than the fact that you really hurt us. Especially the others and you know who I'm talking about. Why'd you have to go and betray us like that? I can't really hate you, but I'm sorry... you are no longer a friend of mine.

4. I guess this is it, old friend. There are times you've been a jerk, but you're a good guy. I'll miss all those chess games and having to drag you and Quincy out of trouble. You have been and always will be my friend.

5. For the first six years of knowing you, I wanted you dead. But now, I'm not so sure. I've seen a miraculous change in you and I like what I've been seeing. You've grown into a beautiful woman and it's such a change from that insecure puppet you once were. Face it, anyone who makes fun of a teacher like that is insecure. I still don't like you and it's pretty obvious you don't like me, but who are we to argue with ambar bringing two people together? (ambar = Elvish word for fate)

6. Words cannot express what our friendship has meant to me all these years. We've been close friends since I can remember and we've talked about things ranging from what actually incited the debate that ended Forum Philosophorum to what Bilbo meant when he gave the line of "liking you less than half as well as you deserve" in Lord of the Rings and everything in-between. You are very much like a dear sister to me... and much more.

7. I still don't know what to think of you. You've been nothing short of a conundrum since we met and you've only explained yourself a few times... and that's always made more riddles. You've proven yourself time and time again, but I still can't help but question your loyalty. Maybe it's just me, though; the others don't seem to wonder too much. Even through everything, I've always felt like you were watching out for other people. I would like to know if you are, but I don't think you'll tell me. Truth is a double-edged sword and I do hope you are careful of that.

Most of these should be pretty easy, provided that you know my characters.

Slightly OT: New Website!

So, this is slightly off-topic, but I'm going to write it here anyways because it pertains to writing. I just got a new website! Originally, I was only looking for somewhere to link to longer works or works that had more mature ratings, but I like the way it looks. I have a few of my older pieces up, as well as chapters one through five of Snapshots. I'll still be writing here regularly, but that'll be the place where I post finished, longer works... and I'll post a summary and link over here when those get done.

Good times, eh?

Substitute Teacher, Part I

In Snapshots (chapter one), I make the reference that Sharpe was out of school and missed a staff meeting. Here's what happened on the day he was sick...

MPAA Rating: Mild PG for language
Characters: Sharpe, Alton, later on this will include the usual culprits surrounding RHS including staff and students alike...
Word Count: 699
Summary: Right before Snapshots Through Time, Sharpe is forced to stay home sick and chaos ensues as there is a different substitute for each class. There's also the issue of the staff meeting after school...

Sharpe tried to stand up but only a moment later he was sitting back down, the tips of his fingers resting gently on the side of his head. The side of his head was throbbing and if he did not lie down, it would only get worse. He should be leaving for school in less than ten minutes, but the thirty-some-odd-year-old man sincerely doubted he would make it in today. He bit his tongue slightly in an attempt to concentrate better and figure out the last time he had been absent from classes. It had only happened a few times since his university days; the chemistry teacher did not get sick easily and nor was he one to stay home if he knew he was not contagious.

“Damn.” Sharpe leaned back and fell onto the bed, letting his head hit the mound of floppy pillows he had set up. He had no choice other than to call Josiah Alton and request a substitute teacher be sent in. In all the years he had been teaching at the school, he had only been absent a grand total of twice. Once was an incident involving a close acquaintance from high school and the other time, Josiah Alton had insisted upon him staying home. Unless he was contagious or somehow a danger to other people, Sharpe adamantly refused to get someone else to teach his classes.

In his mind, few people were competent enough. Surely Josiah Alton would be able to handle the material, as would Laura Clarkson, but could either of them keep his classes in order the way he did? Likewise, Hugh Avery had a firm grasp on the thermodynamic principles he was covering in his sophomore chemistry class... and he could supervise the AP lab. The few people who Sharpe viewed as able to discipline his classes would likely not understand the subject material; he put some level of trust in Shaun Ackerman to keep classes in order. There was a strong doubt in Sharpe’s mind that the history teacher knew about enthaply and entropy and how to explain that to a bunch of sophomores and juniors.

He managed to sit up enough to reach for the phone and dialed the Josiah Alton’s cell phone number. When he placed the phone within a few inches of his ear, he was greeted with Josiah’s warm, but level voice. “What’s going on?” Josiah seemed surprised to be receiving a call from Sharpe.

“Could you find a substitute for me?” Sharpe would have spoken more formally and completed his thought, but he was having a hard enough time thinking right then; he did not see it necessary to maintain his usual sense of dignity. Around him, the dim lights in his apartment flickered a couple of times and he made a mental note to have them fixed as soon as he could manage to climb up on the ladder. As if that would be happening any time soon.

“Sure. Everything alright over there?” There was a certain pause in Josiah’s voice that conveyed his concern. He knew it was unlike Sharpe to miss school for anything; the current chemistry teacher had been like that even as a teenager.

“Fine.” Sharpe clipped his answer into a one-word response; to anyone who had met him before, it would be blatantly obvious he was lying, but right now, he could hardly care.

On the other side of the line, Josiah scribbled a quick note down on a piece of paper and frowned. “If you’re sure...” With his other hand, he stroked his salt-and-pepper colored beard a few times. He knew Jedediah wasn’t likely to take care of himself very well; after all, he and Sherry had raised Sharpe from the time he was fourteen onwards. “If you need anything, call Sherry. And I mean it.” Alton found that his sentences were truncated also. After that thought, Alton hung up the phone.

Sharpe set the phone down on the receiver and climbed back into bed, rubbing his left temple. It would be best if he could rest; he could already tell that today would be a very long day.