“It’s falling apart.”
“It’s always been falling apart.” As I walk away from the glass dome, I poke him in the head, doing my best to smile as I call him, “silly goose.”
And then, I feel it.
The ship gets rocked with the blast. With fire cracking tectonic plates to bits. Crumbling lives, calling for rescue. A million things left behind.
I feel the shockwave. Tremors of love and loss. Of desperation and pain. Of joy.
Beneath the glass dome of the ship, he stands and watches as it happens, and I can’t blame him for not looking away.
The world beneath us burns. Continue reading “When We Fall Apart”
When the cat split—it’s head growing, morphing, slowly tripling all of its features—that’s when I realized:
It probably wasn’t a cat. Continue reading “Splitting the Difference”
Because it’s no longer just on Inkitt.
It’s on amazon, too
The cover is not what I wanted it to be, but, I figure for the e-book, it doesn’t matter so much, since you won’t be seeing it all the time. It’s not too awful, it just isn’t what I wanted.
There it is! Self-published since Inkitt has been ignoring me! I’m working on making a paperback copy available too, but I need to wait for my next paycheck to buy proofs. Once I do that and approve of the proofs, I’ll go ahead and publish it in physical form as well.
That took forever and was waaaaaaay more complicated than I expected it to be. Which, honestly, was my bad. I shouldn’t have expected it to be easy.
But there she is! In all her self-published glory! I’m still earning reads on Inkitt, of course, and I won’t take the book down from there because that just feels mean to do to my Inkitt readers, but this is a good way to expand a little bit, and to—maybe—start earning something for the weirdnesss that I put into words. That said, I’m still going to be doing my best to write short stories daily, and I’ll still be working on writing the second book as well (and working full-time, woohoo!). Though I wouldn’t expect that second book to happen anytime soon, just because the editing process takes me a while.
A long, long time, actually.
But I’d also like to thank everyone here for their support. You guys are incredible and amazing! My writing blog has been an excellent experience for me, and something that I definitely cherish, and that’s really thanks to you all. Thank you for your support, for taking the time to read this nonsense that I write, and for encouraging me.
You guys are a blessing.
There is a root to selfishness.
It’s a knowledge. A knowing. When you reach out and push away, or grab at, or break. Looking at something and thinking to yourself “I want that” or “I want that away from me” or “I want to destroy that” and for no other reason than simply because you want to. Selfishness is being fully in the know about what you’re doing. Yes, you might deny it to yourself, but you know.
That’s selfishness. True and unfiltered selfishness, cut down to its root.
Knowing what you’re doing is wrong, and doing it anyway.
Knowing that getting what you want will hurt someone, put them at a disadvantage.
And doing anyway.
That’s why I can’t forgive them. Ignorant as some may be, they’re not all that way.
Some of them know. Continue reading “Magic Is Not “Mine””
So, good news everyone:
I have moved into my new house and did not die.
Other goods news:
I finally—finally—have internet again.
And, even more goods news:
My book… Continue reading “BOOK UPDATE!!!!!!!!!!!”
Being a hero was no easy job.
That’s why I never really wanted it in the first place.
Fighting crime? I was okay with that. Getting shot at? Again, not something that really concerned me. Running into dangerous situations? Fiery buildings? Crumbling structures? Yeah, I can do that. I can do all that, no sweat. Easy as pie.
This part of the job?
This was why I was so reluctant. Why I, in part, kind of hated being a hero.
Because heroes do all the dirty work. Continue reading “A Hero’s Mercy”
The sound blasts through the sky. It makes the birds stop and blocks out the sound of any semblance of sense. Those in the immediate area lose it, while those far enough away run for their lives. Uncertainty fills the air.
It’s a command.
It doesn’t come from above, nor does it come from below. It’s a call. A demand. Something that can’t be ignored because it isn’t a phone ringing, and it isn’t a dog singing. It’s not loud, and it’s not soft. It is what it is.
It comes from within.
So I do.
I take my cues from myself, and I turn, and I run.
I endure. Continue reading “Selfless Instinct”
A wonderful man named George reminded me that I ought to do a book update, so you can all thank George for this one.
And I can, too:
Thanks George! Continue reading “BOOK UPDATE”
Pantings are so easily accepted. The marring of canvas so readily displayed as art. Reds and blues and purples and blacks. Hundreds of colors, mimicking life. All of it considered a masterpiece.
Why is the scarring of a canvas so readily accept, yet we reject our owns scars as art? Continue reading “Scar Marks”