Which, in their book, translated to:




They were going to throw me out. As if I were trash.

As if I weren’t human.

Weren’t alive.

They were going to throw me out because I’d somehow become “incomplete”.

That’s how they saw it.

But, luckily for me, they weren’t the only ones looking. Continue reading “Fixin’”

Kindly Magic

The first night I saw him, I thought he was a possum, staring through my window. With his shiny eyes, and his malicious grin, I thought he was a possum under the porch. Staring through my basement window because he was curious.

I was not entirely wrong.

He was no possum. On that account, I was definitely wrong.


He is infinitely curious. Continue reading “Kindly Magic”

Timeliness, and the Importance of Timing

“At three thirty-seven tomorrow, I’m going to get attacked by a dragon, and I need you to save me.”

The words were so strange that they actually managed to draw me out of my book.

I looked at Cliff and blinked a few times. As if I might wipe away the serious look on his face. As if I might blink, and he’d stop giving me that look that asked for promises.

But it didn’t work.

“What?” I asked.

He nodded, then repeated the statement.

“Tomorrow, at three thirty-seven, I’m going to get attacked by a dragon. I need you to save me.”

“…you’re joking.”

He didn’t have to say it because it was written plainly, all over his face.

He wasn’t. Continue reading “Timeliness, and the Importance of Timing”

Freedom For Space

If there was one thing Lone Island Correctional Facility taught me, it was this:


I won’t go into the details of how I ended up there, I’ll just tell you that they were bogus. My hands were completely clean, but I was mistaken for my brother, who’s hands are bloodier than a butcher’s on half off hamhock Friday’s.

But I digress.

I was imprisoned for a lot of things. In fact, the list was so long that I never got to read all of it. Which meant:

Sentencing was hell.


Lone Island Correctional Facility was the seventh circle. A desolate island on a desolate planet. Made to make inmates feel stranded. Like there was no escape. Like there was nothing they could do. Guards were gods, and the head of the facility was Zeus himself. Disobedience meant punishment.

And punishment.

And more punishment.

Stepping out of line meant not being seen for weeks. And not because you were in solitary. We all wished that was all it was. Solitary would be a great place. A reprieve.

But no.


In a place where even uttering the wrong response, or sneezing at the wrong time, could earn you a lobotomy, it was all you could feel.


The looming knowledge that you were alone. That no one and nothing could save you from the staff. From the facility. From the planet.

Hell was life, and that solid knowledge bred the feeling of helplessness.

But that’s the thing about Lone Island Correctional Facility. It’s all about suppression, all about powerlessness. About feeling like you can’t do anything.

So, what happens when you break free? When you find a way out?

Doesn’t that make you a god, too?


It just makes you human.

Because helplessness is just a state of mind.

Continue reading “Freedom For Space”

I Lived

The pain was pretty bad.


It was horrible. Terrible.


Like sucking shards of glass into my veins. Like my whole body was floating in lava. Like someone was replacing my air with rubbing alcohol.

It was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced.

And still.

It wasn’t over. Continue reading “I Lived”

Disarming Approach

“Disarm me.”

“I’m trying!”

“You should be able to do this already.”

“How can I disarm you when you’re trying your hardest? Can’t you just ease up a little bit? You’re the best fighter in the garrison!”

Exactly. If you can’t disarm me now, how could you stand a chance against me in The Nest? You can’t be my partner if you can’t fight me.”

Which was a bit disheartening.

Because she was right.

If he couldn’t fight her here, where she was only parrying against him, blocking his moves, defending herself, how could he stand a chance in The Nest?

He couldn’t.

If it was hard for him now, it’d be impossible later.

He’d be slaughtered.

And yet…

He held his sword steady.

“Okay, lets go again.”

And she obliged. Continue reading “Disarming Approach”

Tiger Cage

“Look, I just got the nerve to get in the cage, so don’t bite me now. Alright?”

The creature I’m speaking to merely stares. Yellow eyes boring into mine.

A tiger.

I’ve just gotten into a tiger cage.

And I’m terrified. Continue reading “Tiger Cage”

Swept Away

I didn’t trust it at first.

Why would I? It seems rather strange, doesn’t it? For an average woman to be invited down there. Into the ocean.

By the king of the sea, no less.

Yeah, definitely strange.

It took me weeks to finally agree. Weeks.

When I finally did, he looked… happy. Glad. Not like someone who had something up their sleeve, but someone who wanted to share something important with someone else. Like someone who was getting ready to give someone a gift.

Granted, that could mean nothing.

The Sea King was a mythical man. A man that was not quite a man. For all I knew, that was how sea kings looked when they were readying to drown someone.

But still.

I didn’t think that’s where he was taking me.

A watery grave didn’t seem too exciting to either of us.  Continue reading “Swept Away”

From the Ground Up

I can’t do much in this world.

I can’t fight. Can’t scheme. I don’t have money. Don’t really have influence, either. I wasn’t raised to be made of iron, and I wasn’t brought up to be made of stone. My teeth only come out when absolutely necessary, and I get kind of nervous when people raise their voices. But, you know what?

Who cares?

Honesty, what does all that even matter? What can it even amount to?


Not compared to what I can do.

For some reason, what I can do is actually pretty grand.

Continue reading “From the Ground Up”

Across the War

Wars do not have happy endings.

I don’t care if your side won or lost. If your people got what they wanted or not. If you benefitted or not. It doesn’t matter.

For someone, even on the winning side, something was lost.

And that usually means a life.

Regardless of what you won from the war, there were losses. Losses of grand proportions. Losses of life.

And, for some, that’s too much to lose.

War is tragic. War is a divider. War is a killer.

Just because you survive doesn’t mean everything is good.


Things still aren’t good. Continue reading “Across the War”