Distractions

They get in the way. They always get in the way.

My last couple days have been nothing but distractions, half of them the pleasant kind and the other half the by-the-Gods-I’m-going-to-flip-the-hell-out kind.

Have you ever realized that when you tell yourself you’re going to sit down and write, and then you do sit down, you end up finding a million other things you could be doing? Then they nag and nag until you end up wandering off to one of them and totally forget about writing?

That was me pretty much all day yesterday. I knew I had to get through blog hops and try to set up PayPal again, then I’d be free to write I thought. Right? Wrong.

I got through the blog hops, and I tried PayPal for the third or fourth time in the past two weeks, and then I find out it still won’t flipping work. Eventually I got to the point in which I said “screw it” and once more emailed customer support of PayPal none too nicely. The reply message back I got today hasn’t made me any happier. I’m an introvert, I do not like talking on the phone, I do not want to have to call to sort this mess out, but I’m being told it’s the only way.

So, that soured my mood to begin with.

By that point I knew I should have started writing but instead I had the urge to work on revamping this blog, doing some more of the drafts for pages. Then I had the urge to ask my anthology coordinator from VTP if I could publish part of Embermyst to Wattpad since I hadn’t last year with everything going on at the time.

Needless to say I ended up asking that question and then went off searching the Wattpad threads for a cover artist for Embermyst. I filled out a form to someone to start the ball rolling and thought, “Great! Now I can go write!”

Did that happen?

Of flipping course not.

Instead, I found myself setting up part of the story so I can post it to Wattpad as soon as I got a cover. (And now that I’m talking about it, I find myself drawn back to finding other cover artists. *Sigh*)

After that I began thinking about revamping some of my blog again, then I thought about revamping my Wattpad profile, and then some of my Wattpad stories, and then and then… Then it hit me and suddenly I’m just like, “Wait… Am I only doing this to put off writing?”

Honestly, that seems to be part of the reason why I’m getting so off track. Wanna know how I know that? Because I no longer have a deadline on Clockwork Heart to be pushing myself to write, because I want to start working on Fated to Darkness again, but also because working on Fated to Darkness requires some reading to get back into it and remember where I’m at. Soooo….

Yeah, I seem to be putting off the reading, and I also seem to be sidling away from Clockwork Heart work. Which is dumb. It’s all dumb. I should be writing regardless.

Somehow I need to kick my ass into gear and start writing. I’ve got three days off coming up after tomorrow — thank the Gods because today has been absolute hell and tomorrow isn’t going to be any better. (Damn you mother nature for shaking the snow globe, and damn you technology at work. *Shakes fist at the world*) If I don’t get any writing done in those three days someone better dangle my ass over the pits of Hell until I start writing feverishly again. I need words on a page, and the blog page doesn’t count for this.

Be Strong (Snippet Sunday 1.29.17)

Welcome to Snippet Sunday on Darkling Dreams!

Where writers come together to share a few sentences (8-10) of their current project — whether it’s a recently released novel, a WIP (work in progress), or an older manuscript that’s being revived. Intended to hook readers, gather feedback and build an author’s fan base, Snippet Sunday is the FB group that does all three.

2017 is upon us which means its time for a new set of resolutions and new set of writing goals. Unfortunately, I didn’t finish Fated to Darkness as I had hoped to in December but I’m still plugging away at it. Since I’m not quite sure of my writing goals for the new year just yet, I’m going to continue sharing from Fated to Darkness this month. In February I believe I will be switching to something else brand spanking new. (This is still unedited, other than the look over editing I do before hitting post. Please excuse some errors, and suggestions are welcome.)

This week’s excerpt picks up right where we left off in last week’s snippet. It’s time to see if that threatening vision did the trick, or not. We last left off with these parting words of Ciara’s: “That is what will happen if you continue to defy me, Heir. All those you know and care for will suffer your consequences too. They will die one by one unless you be a good little Heir and do as I say. Is that what you really wish?”

And now for the final installment of Chapter 8: Shifting Fear…

~*~*~*~

Ciara’s harsh whisper echoed around her, eyes still glued upon the image of her dog lying still in the bright sunshine. Until it faded away before her eyes like the picture on a television screen when a VHS caught and unwound in the VCR, finally leaving her able to see what was really in front of her. Not that that particular scene was any better. Her whole body shook from the terror racking down to her core, tears streaming down pale cheeks flecked with blood. She could feel her insides breaking, a buzzing of angry bees swarming in her ears.

For a moment, the cold of the room no longer seeped into her bones. The dampness didn’t cling to her skin. All thoughts ceased to exist while she stared right through the girl in chains. It felt as if she was suddenly suspended in the air, floating on the edge of an abyssal brink that was creeping upwards to swallow her whole. Sounds, sensations, voices…they were all…detached suddenly.

“No… No, no no no.” The words started as a whisper slipping from her lips, then they started to grow into a panicked chant, tumbling over themselves. She began to shake her head, slowly at first, then faster. Her heart skipped into double time, triple.

“Torture her.”

Heather hardly even heard Ciara’s voice through the buzzing in her ears. Fear was suffocating her senses; the fear of losing someone so dear to her simply because she knew right from wrong and refused to do the wrong. It clouded all coherent thought for all she could focus on was her dog’s lifeless body in the grass. The image was burned into her mind.

“Torture her.” The words came firmer now, cutting through time’s stand still like a hot knife.

The insistent buzzing in her head lessened though her shaking did not. Waterworks would not stop staining her face and blurring her vision. Her eyes remained locked forward and glassy to the world around her. Dulled senses faintly caught a breeze of movement to her side, then the swish of fabric. Rough hands suddenly clasped over her wrists as a darkened shape bent into her line of sight.

Reality crashed back around her like a rubber band snapped on skin, all senses suddenly heightening beyond comprehension.

Ciara’s annoyed growl grated on her nerves and made her heart skip a beat, finally forced to focus on the present as her eyes fell on a murder-filled dark green gaze. A gasp spilled from her lips as she was yanked forcefully off the floor and dragged for the door, kicking and squirming the whole way in vain against a grip too tight.

“No!” she screeched on instinct. “Mommy! Daddy!”

“Shut up.” The Dark One banged the door back open without even touching it, pulling Heather outside. “You will learn, and you will learn now.”

Terrified eyes locked with the girl’s horrified and saddened ones again, her own pleading look in them now that mirrored the girl’s only a short time ago.

“Be strong,” she whispered, reaching a weak hand toward Heather before the door slammed shut in her face.

~*~*~*~

And that is where I’m going to leave you folks for a little while, on another cliffhanger. I love my cliffhangers. *Runs* Next month I’m going to pick up with something brand new that I’ve been working on.

Blurb:
Three year old Heather Fraeis is like every other normal toddler. With a loving family, a family dog, and a little bit spoiled.

But fate can be a twisted and cruel friend.

Kidnapped on the night of her fourth birthday by a woman clad in black, Heather is whisked away to a realm that has never been known to exist. Forced into a life she doesn’t want as her kidnapper’s Heir, she comes to find that monsters do in fact exist, nightmares are more than bad dreams, and magic is more than just the thing of fairy tales.

Lies, fear, secrets, and pain await her around every corner. Swallowed whole by the dark path laid out before her, she is forced to fall with no light at the end of the tunnel to give her hope. Until she meets a young boy that may change everything once more for her…

Can Heather defy all the odds and overcome who is she forced to become? Or will it be too late for her to rise above the fate laid before her?

---

This story is not yet on Wattpad because it is my baby that I hope to publish one day, and if no one will publish me, I am self publishing. But it’s also not on Wattpad because it’s in first draft phases yet. So there will be no “if you wish to read more…”

However! If you wish to read anything else that I have out for free, you can hop on over to  my profile on Wattpad and check out what I have to offer. Or if you wish to read my debut release, Embermyst, you can find out more about that in the tabs above. (I’m working on the tabs, bare with me.) I love to hear any and all feedback on my work as well. Comments are greatly appreciated, as are the reads. You can also find me on my Facebook author page to keep up to date with all that’s going on in my writing.

And if you’re looking for some other great snippets of fellow authors,
hop on over to Facebook and check out Snippet Sunday!

Freedom To Write

I’m finally freeeee!

And by free I mean the Hell Seasons of work are finally over! Hooray!

Well, the worst of the Hell Seasons are over — Black Friday/Christmas and inventory — there’s still one other Hell Season left: Easter. And from there everything just kind of starts rolling like a snowball down a giant hill until before you know it it’s freaking Black Friday again and you want to tear your hair out once more. So the next two months-ish are my only downtime in retail.

Which means lots and lots of time to write, right?

Hopefully.

I have begun working out drafts for redoing my blog tabs and information, and I know I said I wanted (wow that’s a tongue twister, too many I’s) to have that completed by the end of January, but, well, we’ll see how it goes. I’m starting a bit late on it.

A lot of things got messed up this month already so I’m not quite sure what is happening. I’m still working on Clockwork Heart some, and I meant to pull up Fated to Darkness today but haven’t gotten to that just yet.

On Wednesday I did finish up the first Chapter of Clockwork Heart, for the most part. It may end up expanding a bit when it comes down to editing yet now that I don’t have  definite word limit, but for rough draft sakes it’s completed. I’m also trying to not leave myself a billion notes in this story as I’ve been doing in FtD so it won’t take me as horribly long and so much of a headache to edit. That is slowing me down a bit in writing, but ought to be worth it, right?

Unfortunately, I sort of wasted my two days off a little in accomplishing any writing. Yesterday was pretty much a lazy me day, because I really needed one of them. I even took a nice hot shower by candlelight with some music. (I wanted it to be a bath, but my tub is not clean enough for that right now.) I’m not regretting the laziness for a change, but I wish I would have at least done some writing yesterday.

Today I was a little more productive. Though it was mostly playing catch up on a few little things than it was doing any writing. I was going to start the writing after this blog post, which has taken me much longer than it should have. (Someone almost forgot Sleepy Hollow was on tonight, and someone also got distracted with some fun RPing events. Whoops…)

BUT! Now that the blog post is out of the way and I have nothing else to catch up on, I can head off to do some writing or draft some more on the re-working of this blog!

This is what freedom must feel like for a writer, I can’t believe I’m actually caught up to things. It’s amazing!

Before I dive into that freedom and swim around in it with a smile, I think I better find some food first. Because, you know, writers tend to forget to eat when working on things. We’re weird like that.

Rebellious Jade (Wednesday Words 1.25.17)

Welcome to a piece of Wednesday Word’s flash fiction on Darkling Dreams!

A good friend of mine, P.T. Wyant, is doing a blog post every Wednesday called Wednesday Words with a new prompt for a bit of flash fiction writing, just to get in the habit of writing something, anything. (Even if said flash fiction is complete garbage at the time. Garbage is better than nothing though, right?) If you’re looking for some inspiration yourself or just something to aimlessly write, then go check out her blog for this week’s prompt!

With that being said, I am going to share what I came up with for this week’s flash fiction Shard based off a three word combination prompt. So here is my very rough around the edges minute of inspiration based off her prompt. I’d love to hear what you guys think of it!

(Please excuse any errors you may see, I said it was rough around the edges.)

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

Rebellious Jade

“Now where the devil did I put that…?” Paige’s mumbling trailed off as she rifled through a stack of growing papers upon the table. “Jade!” she called, tilting her head up toward the stairs for a brief second. “Are you ready yet?”

“Oh I’m ready,” her daughter replied as she meandered down the stairs with a backpack slung over one shoulder. “The better question is, are you ready?”

Paige huffed, frantically sorting through more papers while Jade joined her in the kitchen and leaned back against the brick-oven stove, one hand shoved in the pocket of her black skinny jeans. Her eyes flickered up and over her daughter’s choice of clothes, biting her tongue from saying anything to her all black attire, or the numerous wrist bands, couple rings, and the necklace adorning her. Not to mention the makeup and green-tipped black hair…

Why couldn’t her daughter just be normal and proper like the rest of the family? Not this rebellious, punk rock phase.

“Have you seen my list of possible donors to call? I was working on it last night and I know I left it on the table here somewhere…” She paused, glancing up. “Today is Tuesday, is it not? I didn’t miss the meeting, did I?”

Jade rolled her eyes a little more dramatically than her mother cared for and looked to the hand-picked, hand-made family portrait calendar hanging on the wall. “Yes, mom, it’s Tuesday. You’re meeting is at ten. Dad’s meeting with a possible resale client is at one. You’re having dinner with your boss at five to go over logistics, and dad is going to pick up Billy on the way home from school while I head off to my study group for biology. And your carefully crafted list is on the dining room table, not this one. You’re at the wrong table, and room.”

She blinked once, twice, just staring at her daughter. Sometimes she honestly believed Jade had it more together in life than this whole family put together. Heck, she could probably run this family more efficiently than her and John. Without a response though she hurried off to the dining room. Sure enough, laying upon the table was her list and with a whisper of gratitude she picked it up and shoved it into her portfolio.

An action she probably shouldn’t have done for she’d probably spend the half hour before the meeting searching frantically and panicking once more.

Paige rushed back out to the kitchen to grab her coat and eyes, kissing her daughter on the forehead despite her disgruntlement as she passed by. “You’re a lifesaver, hun. What would this family do without you?”

“You’d probably all lose your heads,” Jade replied calmly, pushing off the stove to walk past her mother who was now looking for her keys shoulder deep in her purse. She scooped them off the hook on the wall and dangled them in the air. “Looking for these?”

She looked up and smiled lightly, stopping her search to pull on her coat. “We truly would lose our heads. Let’s get going before we’re late.” Ignoring the subtle amazed shake of her head her daughter gave, she hurried past with Jade in tow to the garage.

“Yeah, we know, mom.”

---

 Now you can find this flash fiction work and others on my profile on Wattpad! Click here for my profile and go dive into a sea of Shards of Imagination!

Indecisiveness

What do you do when you have a topic(s) to talk about but you have no idea how to start? Do you just start rambling and hope it brings you along to tie everything together? Or do you hit the ground running and see how much it may or may not suck, and/or work out?

That’s my dilemma.

Both for this blog — as I have a topic, or two, to talk of — and for some other news I received a week ago but only pieced together a couple days ago.

Remember me talking about the new short story I was working on, Clockwork Heart? And remember me saying it was going to turn into another submission for VTP’s spring anthology?

Yeah… About that…

There’s no more spring anthology to submit it to.

Turns out, VTP is switching up their submission and anthology releases this year. Instead of doing four separate themed anthologies, they’re trying their hand at a boxed set of stories centralized around a specific setting. In other words, you write a short story in that specific setting regarding this specific place, and your story may tie into another author’s story a little bit. It’s like trying to intertwine the characters and plot lines of four, or more, different books and to me that sounds like a headache and a half to try to get right.

Not at all something I’m interested in. I like being able to control and create my worlds and settings considering I love fantasy and paranormal, and with it being a specific place I have to include, it limits what kind of characters I can create as well.

So, Morgana is out of an anthology she was going to submit to. Which both irks and disappoints me. I was looking forward to completing the story and sending it in for another chance.

Of course, this doesn’t mean I can’t complete the story. I’m still going to write it and there is an option for me to submit it to PbRJV or someone else as a stand alone story, but now I don’t have the same motivation to work on it. Now there’s no deadline looming over me pushing me to work.

Granted, that’s both a blessing and a curse.

In some ways it’s a blessing. I don’t have to worry about my word count anymore which means I could even expand on the story a bit more than I anticipated — which means I also need to do more playing around with it. Since I’m not worrying about a deadline I don’t have to rush or stress over completing it in time. That also means I can pick up on working on Fated to Darkness as well and sort of hop between stories instead of focusing solely on Clockwork Heart.

However, it also sucks because without that deadline, as I said, I’m less motivated. I do still want to finish the story, and while this messes with planning my goals for the year, I think I want to finish it and submit it to something before a certain time. I’m just not sure if that something is going to be PbRJV or a different company. I’m also not sure of that time frame now. I guess I’m going to be doing some researching, though right now I’m not sure of much regarding the story and how I’m going to change course now.

As long as I keep myself writing somehow…

Speaking of which, a new idea for a plot bunny popped into my head today thanks for a coworker. Well, it’s not a fully developed bunny in any way, more of just a really cool idea I could use in some mystery or secret adventure/action kind of scene.

Did you know that if you draw on yourself with a fluorescent highlighter and wash it off, you can still see the residue of it under a black light because it will glow, even if it’s no longer visible?

I did not know this and I’m suddenly fascinated by it! Imagine writing a message on a wall in highlighter, and then washing it off because it must remain secret. However, your partner could come and hold a UV black light over it and read what you wrote yet. Or you could write something on your hand, like a ticket into a secret night club that no one could see. Or a tattoo for the same purpose or for a secret organization or gang that you can only see with that kind of light.

It has so many possibilities! My brain is running wild with ideas!

I’m rather sure my face lit up like a Christmas tree in excitement when my coworker showed and told me about the trick.

So, yeah, now my brain is running wild with ideas for this awesome little fact. I also now want to write a story in which I can use this. In fact, I might have one I can use it in already from a dream I had awhile ago. Or maybe even that new Halloween plot bunny that’s kicking around my head…

Hmmm… So many decisions to make for so many things.

And certainly not enough made-up-my-mind answers to them yet.

Be A Good Little Heir (Snippet Sunday 1.22.17)

Welcome to Snippet Sunday on Darkling Dreams!

Where writers come together to share a few sentences (8-10) of their current project — whether it’s a recently released novel, a WIP (work in progress), or an older manuscript that’s being revived. Intended to hook readers, gather feedback and build an author’s fan base, Snippet Sunday is the FB group that does all three.

Happy New Year, folks! 2017 is upon us which means its time for a new set of resolutions and new set of writing goals. Unfortunately, I didn’t finish Fated to Darkness as I had hoped to in December but I’m still plugging away at it. Since I’m not quite sure of my writing goals for the new year just yet, I’m going to continue sharing from Fated to Darkness this month. In February I believe I will be switching to something else brand spanking new. (This is still unedited, other than the look over editing I do before hitting post. Please excuse some errors, and suggestions are welcome.)

This week’s excerpt picks up a few pages after last week’s snippet. Heather openly defied Ciara in doing what was wanted of her — torturing the girl in front of her. For that, we all know Ciara is about to teach her a lesson.

~*~*~*~

“Fine,” she hissed, her voice slithering against Heather’s ears like death’s cold fingers. “You wish not to harm such a weakling? Then you will learn the next set of consequences for defiance. You wish to lose something precious to you?”

Heather actually glared defiantly yet, but that last question struck a chord in her that both scared her and made her glare waver. Her heartbeat quickened. What did she mean by “lose something precious to her”? She absolutely did not want to find out, but she had a bad gut feeling in her again that she was going to find out after all.

Out of nowhere her mind felt like it was splitting open again and she gasped, curling over on herself. Her hands flew to her head, pressing against her temples in a vain attempt to hold together what she was sure was being ripped to shreds. Her vision started to sway, darkness creeping in and she thought for sure she was going to pass out from the intense pressure building in her head. Moments after it became unbearable it burst and gave way to a flurry of images, before finally settling on one single scene.

Her body stilled, frozen in time. She was trapped within her own head at Ciara’s mercy, forced to watch the scene play out in her mind’s eye like a vivid dream. Wide eyes stared blankly ahead from what she was being shown, no longer seeing her surroundings, mouth agape slightly in fear and shock.

The images started to move like a flip book gaining speed until they were a flawless movie in front of her eyes. She thought it was real, watching it. She could have sworn it was happening right in front of her for all the senses slamming into her. A warm breeze caressing her skin, grass and cool earth squishing between her bare toes, sun shining down on her, the scent of fresh clipped grass tickling her nose, and the sound of singing birds filling the air. 

Tangible terror and horror sprang up in her though, clashing with the serene peace to the scene as she followed her dog running around their backyard, barking and chasing a squirrel up a tree.

She could do nothing more than watch as her dog tumbled along before planting front paws on the tree trunk and barking up its limbs where the squirrel disappeared within. Then she suddenly froze and whined in distress, tail tucking and backing away.

Magic. Heather felt prickling magic trailing across her skin with an icy finger, suffocating the area and snuffing out the serenity.

Jazy began to cry in panic. The sound tore at Heather’s ears, causing her heart to skip and she found herself trying to plead with Ciara but no words came out. She tried to move, to reach toward her dog when her screams and yelps of pain made Jazy wither and fall to the ground. She convulsed for a moment before her eyes rolled back in her head and she jerked harshly, taking her last breath and going still, tongue lolling out of her mouth.

Heather tried to scream from the sight in front of her, but only painful silence met her eyes. Hot tears fell down her cheeks. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak, she couldn’t stop what she was seeing! She was a prisoner to it. Her breathing came quicker, shallower now in hyperventilation.

“Jazy…” she whispered, finally hearing herself speak the name out loud though it echoed as if down a long tunnel.

“That is what will happen if you continue to defy me, Heir. All those you know and care for will suffer your consequences too. They will die one by one unless you be a good little Heir and do as I say. Is that what you really wish?”

~*~*~*~

Now that is one vivid dream-like image I would never wish to see or experience. I will be sharing one more excerpt from FtD next week and then moving onto something brand-spanking new for February!

Blurb:
Three year old Heather Fraeis is like every other normal toddler. With a loving family, a family dog, and a little bit spoiled.

But fate can be a twisted and cruel friend.

Kidnapped on the night of her fourth birthday by a woman clad in black, Heather is whisked away to a realm that has never been known to exist. Forced into a life she doesn’t want as her kidnapper’s Heir, she comes to find that monsters do in fact exist, nightmares are more than bad dreams, and magic is more than just the thing of fairy tales.

Lies, fear, secrets, and pain await her around every corner. Swallowed whole by the dark path laid out before her, she is forced to fall with no light at the end of the tunnel to give her hope. Until she meets a young boy that may change everything once more for her…

Can Heather defy all the odds and overcome who is she forced to become? Or will it be too late for her to rise above the fate laid before her?

---

This story is not yet on Wattpad because it is my baby that I hope to publish one day, and if no one will publish me, I am self publishing. But it’s also not on Wattpad because it’s in first draft phases yet. So there will be no “if you wish to read more…”

However! If you wish to read anything else that I have out for free, you can hop on over to  my profile on Wattpad and check out what I have to offer. Or if you wish to read my debut release, Embermyst, you can find out more about that in the tabs above. (I’m working on the tabs, bare with me.) I love to hear any and all feedback on my work as well. Comments are greatly appreciated, as are the reads. You can also find me on my Facebook author page to keep up to date with all that’s going on in my writing.

And if you’re looking for some other great snippets of fellow authors,
hop on over to Facebook and check out Snippet Sunday!

Pranks Vs. Harassment

(Warning: Some strong language ahead.)

Everyone loves a good prank, right? They can be quite a laugh sometimes and all in good fun. I mean, that’s what April Fool’s is all about! (Well, other than the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and the sneaky leprechaun you can try to catch.)

But when does a prank go too far? When does a prank constitute as harassment?

That was my issue today, and it’s been one hell of a day.

I’m sure the majority of you have done a prank call at least once in your life. Maybe it was to someone you knew or maybe it was just a random call asking someone if their refrigerator was running and that they should go catch it. All in good fun then, right?

For the most part.

But what about when it interferes with someone’s job? What about when you waste their time by acting as a disgruntled and angry customer, before ending on brash questions that are a slap in the face?

That I consider harassment.

So it was fun to you. You thought it’d be a good laugh to call my place of work and fabricate stories regarding my product that had me repeating myself for five minutes on policy and possibly solutions, scream at me for “not listening” to the point I can’t even understand you, demand to speak to the manager when I have told you six times I am the manager on duty, laugh hysterically in the background with your little group of teenage girl friends because I’m trying to appease who I believe is a disgruntled customer that I don’t want giving us a complaint because that is part of my job, and then decide the game is up once I realize it’s a prank call by asking me “do you like dicks?”.

You know what, fuck you. You just wasted ten minutes of my time when I was supposed to be clocking out and ending my shift.

So you’re proud of yourself for tripping me up that long, well good for you. But you know what else? In the end, your little group of friends was nothing more than a bunch of little bitches who obviously aren’t going anywhere in life. You are part of the problem of every generation coming after me, a world where no one respects anything or anyone. And it disgusts me.

So go right ahead at the expense of me and give yourself a high five with your friends. Go ahead and laugh over the clueless manager you fooled and upset. But I don’t care now, I’m letting it roll off me, and you know why? Because in the end I realized you don’t matter, you little attention seeking twat, and I was the adult. I didn’t scream back at you, I didn’t curse, I stayed level headed even if I was mentally throttling you, and I didn’t hang up like I had wanted to a couple minutes into the so-called conversation until you blatantly asked your rude question.

I only have a few words for you now: Grow up, get a life, and actually strive to achieve something. Learn to be the bigger person for once instead of the bully, because the day you find the shoe on the other foot, I will be the one laughing while you are sorely surprised to find you’re on your own and the world is cruel. The jokes on you in the end.

Just remember, next time the person you prank may not be as strong and dismissive of your hurtful nature. And don’t forget, we can get your number and call the police on you for harassment.

So to whichever group of dumb teenage girls that decided to prank call my place of work today… *Sweet smile* Have a nice life, bitches. Karma is an even bigger bitch in the end, and I’m done being a victim because of your insecurities. You aren’t tearing me down this time.

A Moonlit Find (Wednesday Words 1.18.17)

Welcome to a piece of Wednesday Word’s flash fiction on Darkling Dreams!

A good friend of mine, P.T. Wyant, is doing a blog post every Wednesday called Wednesday Words with a new prompt for a bit of flash fiction writing, just to get in the habit of writing something, anything. (Even if said flash fiction is complete garbage at the time. Garbage is better than nothing though, right?) If you’re looking for some inspiration yourself or just something to aimlessly write, then go check out her blog for this week’s prompt!

With that being said, I am going to share what I came up with for this week’s flash fiction Shard based off a photo prompt. So here is my very rough around the edges minute of inspiration based off her prompt. I’d love to hear what you guys think of it!

(Please excuse any errors you may see, I said it was rough around the edges.)

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

A Moonlit Find

Justin sat within the only patch of moonlight flitting down through the high windows, legs pulled up Indian style underneath him upon the hard wooden chair he sat on. Various notebooks and old, dusty textbooks were strewn about the table he leaned over. Shadows cast long and eerie depictions over everything by the moonlight.

He tapped the nub of his pencil on his open notebook, one hand propping his head up as he stared down at the musty smelling history book. A yawn threatened to pull him further into the throes of exhaustion but he stifled it. Hours had gone by with almost nothing to show for it but more scratched out notes than helpful ones written down.

It was late into the early hours of the night’s prime and he was ready to call it quits.

With a weary sigh he dropped his pencil and sank back in the chair heavily, rubbing at his face. “This is impossible,” he muttered. The sound of his hands slapping his thighs rang out in the still silence of the archives when he dropped his arms. “No textbook is going to give me the answers to finding some ancient rift from colonial times that sealed up and blocked off the damned of the supernatural from infesting our world hundreds upon hundreds of years ago. I’m looking for something that probably doesn’t even exist and was but mere myth.”

Even as he said it he knew he was wrong. His eyes drifted lazily to the brass talisman sitting on the table. Or, at least he was half wrong. Such a rift existed, or did at one point. He had the proof of it in his possession, along with the journal of a three-hundred year old vampire bent on preserving the race deemed evil and needing eradicated.

It was fascinating in a way, to read of supernatural races living right alongside humans for so long and no one ever having noticed. Of course, some did notice when the it came to the formation of myths, legends, and unexplainable instances, but most never had any idea the person walking down the street next to them could be a werewolf, or a vampire, or even a banshee.

Justin knew it was going to be a long shot to find anything regarding that rift in regular old history books. That was why he traveled from archive to archive of the some of the oldest, most prominent supernatural cities in the world, searching for answers.

He had spent months, years, tracking down dead ends, new leads, bits of facts that weren’t always fact. It was a whole new level of a treasure hunt, one that wasn’t turning up much gold and jewels.

With another sigh he decided to call it a night and started gathering up his materials. Perhaps a fresh start in the morning after some sleep and a cup of coffee would freshen up his mind to find the answers he sought, most of which always happened to be well hidden within the words of the text like a code he had to break. As he was putting his things away exhaustion made him slip and drop one of the history books. It fell open onto the floor with a dull resounding thud.

A curse slipped from his lips as he bent over to pick it up, one hand extended. Then he paused, his eyes catching upon a yellowed envelope falling out of its pages. With a new spark of adrenaline and excitement, he scooped it all up and set it back on the table, abandoning the rest of his things to pull out the envelope.

In the shaft of a full moon’s light he examined the envelope, fragile with age. Careful hands turned it over and over, holding it up to try to look through the thinning parchment to see what lay inside it. He could just barely make out scrawled writing inside. When he finally looked to see if there was an address to the envelope he found two sets of words that sent a thrill of excitement down his spine.

The words were in Latin but he understood them perfectly, and recognized them as the same set of words written within the vampire’s journal. A set of words that were the key to creating and maintaining the rift. With careful quickness, he unsealed the wax symbol using the tip of a pocket knife, then fished out the letter that lay within to read it.

Justin unfolded the weathered parchment on the table, eyes scanning over the words and not even reading full sentences just yet. His lips began to part the further he skimmed the text, eyes widening fraction at a time. Finally he began to re-read it, slowly, carefully this time while he picked apart its meaning.

This was it. This was every answer he was ever looking for.

He had found his gold and jewels.

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Now you can find this flash fiction work and others on my profile on Wattpad! Click here for my profile and go dive into a sea of Shards of Imagination!

Searching Her Soul (Snippet Sunday 1.15.17)

Welcome to Snippet Sunday on Darkling Dreams!

Where writers come together to share a few sentences (8-10) of their current project — whether it’s a recently released novel, a WIP (work in progress), or an older manuscript that’s being revived. Intended to hook readers, gather feedback and build an author’s fan base, Snippet Sunday is the FB group that does all three.

Happy New Year, folks! 2017 is upon us which means its time for a new set of resolutions and new set of writing goals. Unfortunately, I didn’t finish Fated to Darkness as I had hoped to in December but I’m still plugging away at it. Since I’m not quite sure of my writing goals for the new year just yet, I’m going to continue sharing from Fated to Darkness this month. In February I believe I will be switching to something else brand spanking new. (This is still unedited, other than the look over editing I do before hitting post. Please excuse some errors.)

I’m skipping ahead a bit from last week’s snippet. For any that actually read last week to see Ciara’s ominous final words, it turned out the Dark One wanted Heather to pick up where she left off with the prisoner. This week picks up right at the start of that.

~*~*~*~

Tears brimmed her eyes and her hand shook as she lifted the knife, holding it in an awkward fist. Her arm raised higher to bring it down upon the prisoner in a slash, not knowing how else to torture the girl. Yes, she hadn’t been able to tear her eyes away from how Ciara went about harming her at first, but that didn’t mean she took note of any technique to know what to do. She hadn’t wanted to take note of it, and she certainly didn’t want to hurt her now. It wasn’t as if she even knew how to begin to physically harm somewhere with a weapon, therefore causing her movements to be unsure and clumsy.

The prickling of her magic was stirring at the prospect, temptation luring her ever so slightly toward the first action of the deed, but she couldn’t even think straight to fall to that dark, wicked lure. The only things running through her mind were her own pains and horrors in the form of memories, and the echoing screams of the beaten girl in front of her from just moments ago.

The girl slowly picked her head up to look at her. Pale blue-grey eyes full of defeat and acceptance that she would never make it out of here alive met Heather’s wavering bright green ones. Their gazes locked and Heather’s world froze in place.

It was almost like the girl was pleading with her to either end her quickly, or to take the chance to run from Ciara while she still could. To not give up fighting against this evil woman like she was about to by following Ciara’s demand. Despite the fear glimmering over them, Heather found peace in those blue-grey eyes. A peace to know it that one day it would all end, that it couldn’t go on forever no matter how bad it got. Nothing lasted forever, right?

She felt like those eyes were searching her soul, sensing the innocence that still laid within her, though tarnished slightly. Perhaps seeing the purity in her that could still be saved if only action was taken quickly enough.

Those eyes saw everything about her in that single instant they shared. Her fears, joys, hopes, dreams, worries…

All of it.

“You can still run,” the girl whispered hoarsely, her voice cracking under all the screaming she had been doing. Blood stained her pale features, fragile frame shaking under all the pain that still racked her battered form. “Run and don’t look back, little girl. Far and fast from here, from that woman. Don’t let her destroy you too.”

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Do you think she’ll take her advice and try to run? Only one way to find out: stop back next week. I do have one other serious question, unrelated to the snippet in a sense. What makes you decide if you’re going to leave a comment in regards to the snippet? Or why don’t you leave a comment if you read?

Blurb:
Three year old Heather Fraeis is like every other normal toddler. With a loving family, a family dog, and a little bit spoiled.

But fate can be a twisted and cruel friend.

Kidnapped on the night of her fourth birthday by a woman clad in black, Heather is whisked away to a realm that has never been known to exist. Forced into a life she doesn’t want as her kidnapper’s Heir, she comes to find that monsters do in fact exist, nightmares are more than bad dreams, and magic is more than just the thing of fairy tales.

Lies, fear, secrets, and pain await her around every corner. Swallowed whole by the dark path laid out before her, she is forced to fall with no light at the end of the tunnel to give her hope. Until she meets a young boy that may change everything once more for her…

Can Heather defy all the odds and overcome who is she forced to become? Or will it be too late for her to rise above the fate laid before her?

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This story is not yet on Wattpad because it is my baby that I hope to publish one day, and if no one will publish me, I am self publishing. But it’s also not on Wattpad because it’s in first draft phases yet. So there will be no “if you wish to read more…”

However! If you wish to read anything else that I have out for free, you can hop on over to  my profile on Wattpad and check out what I have to offer. Or if you wish to read my debut release, Embermyst, you can find out more about that in the tabs above. (I’m working on the tabs, bare with me.) I love to hear any and all feedback on my work as well. Comments are greatly appreciated, as are the reads. You can also find me on my Facebook author page to keep up to date with all that’s going on in my writing.

And if you’re looking for some other great snippets of fellow authors,
hop on over to Facebook and check out Snippet Sunday!

Patterns, Sanity, and an Author’s Mind

So, guess who forgot that they needed a blog post until an hour before midnight again?

*Raises hand*

Yep, me. I’m such a ditz when it comes to remembering these things anymore. Or, rather, I remember I need a post for all of five minutes and then POOF! Suddenly the thought is gone and the next thing I know I’ve either missed it or I’m scrambling to get one in on time.

Didn’t I say “later” was a word I wanted to stop using, too?

Part of my problem is work, of course. The other part of the forgetfulness is the fact I hardly ever know what the hell I’m writing about until it becomes another rambling post, such as this one is turning out to be, because I’m running out of time to think of something concrete to talk about.

Are you seeing a pattern in this? Because I am.

Hmm… Patterns…

Maybe that’s my issue, and also my solution.

Perhaps my problem of never knowing what to write about stems from the fact I have no patterns to work off of. And by patterns I mean the struggle of getting myself moving on the things I want to do so I can create a habit or pattern. If I was more consistent in my work and writing and all that good stuff, I bet I would be stumbling across all sorts of topics I could talk about and I wouldn’t have this issue.

So perhaps my problem — a lack of patterns — is also my solution:

Finding a pattern that works for me and sticking to it.

Easier said than done, I know, but hey, it’s a start at least.

In other news, I did get my butt moving some more the past two days and managed to write. I think I’ve added about 1.8k to Clockwork Heart over the last two days. I was hoping for a LOT more — considering I was off yesterday — but I just kept getting really distracted in completely odd ways.

(I’m quite sure on a scale of 1 to 10 in hyperness — 1 being completely meh and 10 being a puppy on speed — I was probably a 20. I’m also quite sure my friends thought I was a lunatic yesterday for the fact I was laughing hysterically over saying one simple word, or one simple thought, or even just one simple look, or even over nothing. Hell, I was seriously questioning my own sanity for a good couple hours, and I’m an author! I know I have very little sanity to begin with!)

So I didn’t manage to get to the end of Chapter 2 on the story like I had hoped for, and I’m not even done with Chapter 1 — though I’m close. On the bright side, I had two little bits of scenes yesterday that had me laughing my ass off for a good five minutes each. (I hope they weren’t just funny because I was cuckoo crazy off life at the time.)

Picture this: a character who can’t feel or understand any kind of emotion and who is pretty much just robotic in the terms of living because they aren’t human trying to explain the “death” of their kind like it is simply taking a walk in the park.

It came out both eerily disturbing and completely hilarious in my opinion. I’m not going to spoil how though, and I’m not going to spoil the other bit that had me laughing. Wait, the other two bits that had me laughing. I forgot about one.

I’m thinking this story is going to shape up quite interestingly, and it’s turning into a lot of fun, which makes me want to write more. And more. Then work gets in the way, and GAH!

I’ll figure it out, as long as I can fend off the new idea jumping around my head from a description a Sleepy Hollow character gave me tonight.

Seriously, is there ever an off switch for the writer’s mind?