Fantasy Revealed, part 3

Since I was unable to give you the next installment of "Fantasy Revealed" yesterday, I am quite proud to submit it today for your enjoyment.

Fantasy Revealed, Part 3
By H.A. Handy
Copyright (c) 2005 by H.A. Handy


-III-

My breath caught in my chest. Avalon, THE Avalon was where King Arthur was taken. They were all talking now, suddenly alarmed and I was having something pushed into my hands and I drank again that oddly sweet liquid and found myself sitting on the ground with my back against the log I had recently been sitting on. Ella and Enyo were at my side looking just as concerned, their hackles half-risen, and were looking suspiciously from one person to the next. Cappa was purring on my shoulder as she usually did when I was sick with the flu.

“It’s all a bit much,” I said, looking from one worried face to the next, animal faces included. Dremor gave me a half smile and nodded.

“I suppose it would be,” he said. “This is our world, our life, and you have just been thrust into its very depths without any warning. Still, Fredrik said you would be brave and up to the challenge.”

“That’s good to know. When do I get to meet this Fredrik?” Dremor smiled down at me then and rubbed my shoulders. His touch helped relieve some of the tenseness that was beginning to build there.

“Soon, I promise. You stay here and protect the entry way. If someone is following us, or tried to follow us, they will attempt to come through the pass at Willow Bend.” The others nodded. Dremor whistled, a high pitched sound that almost made my ears ache, and horses came galloping up.

They were beyond beautiful. In fact, they looked like something from a fantasy novel’s cover art with their long flowing manes and the richly decorated bridles and saddles. There were six in all – a white one, a black one, a red one, and a brown one. Dremor went directly to the black one who nuzzled Dremor’s hand and made those soft horsy sounds of endearment. Dremor stroked the long mane and patted the broad neck lovingly. He led the horse close and introduced him, literally, to the dogs, the cat, and to me. The horse’s name, as far as I could make out, was Wellborn. In greeting me, the horse bent his neck close and nuzzled my hair and made those same grunting gruffling sounds horses make. The horsy smell was wonderful and brought back memories of when I was a little girl and used to ride almost every day on the farm. It had been years since I had ridden a horse.

Dremor helped me to stand unceremoniously then, with strength I’ve only read about in novels and seen on movie screens, he lifted me easily into his arms and then stepped into the saddle. It all happened so fast I felt my heart beat hard and the world seem to flash by. I was seated across his lap and Wellborn’s saddle. Cappa was handed up and she nested herself quite serenely in my lap. Ella and Enyo, uncertain about the new animal, barked a few worried barks before dancing on the front feet. How horribly they must have been feeling! They were in the wilds and their mom and their cat were being taken away on some huge beast with someone they didn’t know.

Dremor touched the flanks of the horse with his heels and we were off like a literal shot. I glanced back and saw the dogs following at full speed. I just hoped they could keep up!

We went through a valley in no time, up a small hill and through another valley, across a stream and then into the deepest woods I’ve ever seen. There was a path before us weaving in and out of the trees and Wellborn and Dremor navigated it with seeming ease. I would have closed my eyes had I not been afraid of slipping off or becoming violently ill. The breakneck ride gave me the will I needed to ask for my own mount the next time, I decided. I believe I would have felt more in control in riding a horse alone, than in being the passenger as I currently was.

The forest ended suddenly and I saw we were on the crest of a hill. The path opened up into a broad road which led to a blue and green city of dazzling color and beauty. I can’t say it was a ‘fairy tale’ city, because I didn’t really see so many towers, but there was a tower, set at the main rear of the walled city. It glistened in the sunlight like a magnificent green gem with a gray-black roof.

The city was huge, walled, and there were people moving about at the outskirts of the wall in a make-shift town of its own. Horses, animals, people and smoke all seemed to merge and mix together there.

Ella and Enyo came up beside us, panting hard. Dremor slid off of the horse with me in his arms, and sat me simply upon my feet. Cappa sniffed the air curiously, as did the dogs. I knelt, just as much to get my legs back under me fully as anything else, and patted the dogs. They were proud of themselves, and tired. It was so easy to see it in their eyes. Even Cappa sniffed at their noses and didn’t try to smack them.

With the reins in his hand, Dremor reached out to me and I took his hand and stood. Slowly, in silence, we began to walk toward the city. Ella and Enyo followed after, probably glad at the slower pace we now had. As we walked down the hill the gates of the city were filled with horses and riders heading our way at full speed, flags of blue and green stripes in several hands. They were already upon us when I squeaked and hid behind Dremor.

For his own part, Dremor didn’t seem to be too happy. His brow furrowed and he looked up at the elves on horseback with distaste, or perhaps distrust.

“Is this her? Is this the keeper?” asked one of them, standing in his stirrups to get a better look at me. Dremor slid a protective arm around me and pulled me close against him.

“She is,” he said. His voice held something akin to malice. “Where is the normal guard?”

“We’ve replaced them for a bit. Lord English thought the wizard was getting too upity so our band took over the guard. It isn’t right for a human to tell an elf what to do,” he sneered.

“This human has been helping us elves for centuries, why should now be any different?” Dremor demanded.

“Lord English says....”

“I don’t care what Lord English says!” Dremor snapped. “When the proper guard is prepared, we will enter the city, but not before.”

“We ARE the proper guard, Lord of Drem.” The leader made a circling motion with his hand and the riders encircled us.

“This is not how I wanted your entrance into Avalon to be,” Dremor said to me softly. “Come.” Together we began walking. The mounted guard kept us directly in the center and walked with us. I suddenly felt more like a prisoner than anything else, and I didn’t like the feeling. I wished the horses would all just spook and run into the forest!

As if I had commanded it, the horses began bucking, kicking, rearing and headed into the forest. Some riders were dismounted, others were holding on desperately. A branch took out the leader of the guard who ended up lying on his back.

Dremor looked down at me curiously, and then he smiled, “Shall we?”

“What just happened?” I asked when we had not gone very far.

“I’m not sure. Wellborn said you had a wish, and since you are who you are, the mounts obeyed.”

“Who am I?”

“The keeper of ... something important,” he said, “I wish I had more of an answer than that.” A heavy sigh escaped Dremor as he looked to the city that was becoming enormous the closer we came to it. “It appears things have changed since I came to get you,” he said. “Lord English has long wanted to push Fredrik into the shadows. He believes an elven kingdom should only have elven ministers.”

“Do only elves live in the kingdom?”

“No, there are many humans, some dwarves, and even a few giants. The fairy queendom is to the south and some trolls live in the farthest reaches of the north, but they don’t have any say in matters of government because of their history and their very natures.”

“So, it doesn’t make sense to have only a majority without the rest of the populace being represented.”

Dremor chuckled and took my hand. “We are not a representative government. We have a king. A very good king at that, but he is growing weary and Lord English fancies himself as the regent of King Arthur’s son, should something happen to King Arthur.”

“King Arthur? THE King Arthur?” Dremor smiled at the city that seemed to be made of glistening gems and living wood.

“Welcome, to Avalon my lady,” he said, bowing low to me.

Hello All

And once again, from the not so frozen north (come on, it’s 86 degrees outside), it’s Cheyenne.

And like most of my visits to the hallowed halls of the news, I bear unfortunate tidings – the Editor has called to inform me that she is laid up in bed with very bad headaches. I’ve not seen or felt anything like her very bad headaches. I’ve had headaches that I thought were very bad, but in comparison to her very bads, they seemed weak by comparison.

They rarely last more than a day or so for her, except in the most rare of cases, so I imagine she’ll be back to her chipper self tomorrow morning – or by Thursday at the latest. I can report that she has begun working on the second draft of WHRTTT as of this week, and is hopeful to have it winging it’s way to some lucky publisher in a short time.

If I return tomorrow, I shall do so with some form of prose or poetical musing. In the meantime, please direct any extra good thoughts the Editor’s way, won’t you?

Bruce Campbell in My Town!

Bruce Campbell is going to be in Lexington at Joseph-Beth Booksellers on August 4th, at 6PM to sign copies of his newest book, Make Love the Bruce Campbell Way and then trek over to the Kentucky Theater to held premiere his new movie, The Man With The Screaming Brain.

Wow, Bruce Campbell, this is very cool indeed! I wish I wasn't as shy as I feel because then I would actually end up at Joseph-Beth's and actually meet the man and discuss screamplays with him (no, that was not a typo). Maybe he would be receptive, maybe not. I'm just not all that good with this sort of thing. If I could interview him over the phone I bet I'd be great!

Yeah, I'm a chicken fan girl sometimes.

A Happy Fundom Morning To You Too!

Was tooling around different web sites and checking out little pieces of fandom here and there and came across something I felt somewhat curious about.

The TV schedule for this fall has three science fiction shows running. On ABC we have Invasion about a possible alien invasion; on on NBC we have Surface about a possible alien invasion; and on CBS we have Threshold which is about a possible alien invasion. Part of me wonders if copying is a really cool thing because you admire something someone else is doing, which one of these shows is the really cool show and which ones are the copies? Also, there is another part of me that wonders, what do they know that we, the rest of the world, don't?

***

They are remaking The Fog from 1979 fame. It is going to be starring our dear Smallville superguy, Tom Welling.

***

Currently Jessica Simpson's "These Boots" is my favorite video. I have SO fought trying to like Jessica Simpson because of that stupid show she and her husband were on when they got married, but this video is simply too much fun to ignore.

***

The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction is a magazine I am determined to be published in one day.

He Grew Up!

I was tooling around www.scifi.com recently and came across something that made me stop and read twice what I had just read. Shaun Cassidy is now a writer and producer and doing well at it. I remember Shaun Cassidy as a teen singer whom I absolutely adored when I was younger. He did a remake of "Da Doo Run Run" and everyone was talking about how he and his older brother David were too hot! It was something of a shock to realize he had grown up, too, because in my memory he was still just as young and handsome as he was in my own youth.

Seeing that he grew up, changed and became a success in the entertainment world, although not the singing world, was good. It gave validation to something I can't quite put a name to. It was good, it is good to know he has succeeded. It's almost like running up on an old friend you haven't seen since high school and discovered they have done well for themselves, especially when you have wished nothing but goodness for them all along.



Shaun Cassidy as I remember him.

To check out more about his current life if you have a mind to, go to www.shauncassidy.net and www.scifi.com - he has played MAJOR roles in getting Lost on the aire and many more shows, shows I actually like. I can't wait to tell B he had a hand in ROAR!

A New Magazine of Interest

I was reading another journal and the writer of said journal mentioned a new magazine she loved, The Black Gate. After going to the website and checking it out, I must admit my curiosity has been pricked. I believe I may subscribe to this magazine and I may actually submit something to it. Has anyone out there read this particular magazine? If so, what did you think of it?

Since most writers are in search of places to send their material, I thought I would list this here because when it really comes down to it, I view The News as a place for writers to explore the written word and give new writers a break on having something published. If you have a magazine open to new writers, I would appreciate knowing about it.

You can check out The Black Gate at www.blackgate.com or just click on the heading of this article - it will take you right to it.

A Video Game Has Been Outlawed

According to the AP Wire, Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas has been outlawed in Australia because with certain downloads there are very explicit sex scenes in the game.

The game involves a main character seeking bloody vengeance on gang-filled streets, firing automatic weapons and picking up women along the way.

After downloading and installing a modification to the game — one of many "mods" available on Web sites maintained by video game enthusiasts — a new world opens up in which the girlfriends appear nude and engage in explicit sex acts, according to thmodifications's author.

I've seen Grand Theft Auto and heard about what happens through a friend of a friend of an enthusiast and I don't see why it isn't banned in more places. That Australia is the first has been a surprise, but only because it is Australia and not the US or Britain. There is something inherently wrong about a game where a man can blow away a prostitute just to get extra money and power-ups. Supposedly only people age 15 and over can purchase this game, but we all know how that goes in the real world. At 15 young men are trying to decide on how to act in so many different situations (and older), so why feed the fantasy of destroying people to get what you want?

I don't believe video games "cause" people to commit crimes, they are extensions of fantasies, and I love them, but there are some games that need to have a little more of a handle on life than they do, especially the ones with real time mods, such as Grand Theft Auto because it is supposedly happening now, not in some future (and this in no way says furturistic extreme violence like this is correct or acceptable at all either). I'm not a prude by any means, but it does make sense there would be just a bit more of a guideline when it comes to violence against women and children and animals.

e.e. cummings and growing up

"It takes courage to grow up and turn out to be who you really are."

E. E. Cummings

This leaves me with a question: How do we start the entire process, or is this something that just happens along the way? Maybe the courage comes in when we see what is happening and let it keep going without trying to halt it or change it to suite some warped image we have of ourselves in our heads.

Fantasy Revealed, Part 2

Fantasy Revealed, Part 2
By H.A. Handy
Copyright (c) 2005 by H.A. Handy

-II-

Dremor led me to the fire and had me sit beside him on a log. He motioned to one of the others who handed him a flask, drank from it, and then gave it to me. It smelled alcoholic in nature, but when it touched my lips I found it sweet and tasting like nothing I had ever had before. It refreshed me, as well as made my head spin a little. Dremor took the flask back and set it upon the ground. Cappa padded in circles on the grass, and finally came to lie down between Dremor’s feet.

“She loves you,” Dremor said happily. “I am but a mere curiosity for her at the moment.” I nodded.

“You asked why you – I will try and answer you the best I can, but Fredrik will be the one to explain everything.” Dremor inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. His eyes had a distant look to them. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was remembering or creating. What was it one of the crime shows had said? A person who is creating looks to the left and someone who is remembering looks to the right? Or was it the other way around? I couldn’t remember.

“Long ago, when we Elven race left the plane of your world, there were some Humans and some Elves who remained behind. They helped to look after some of the greatest treasures we could not bring with us. Through the years, centuries, they have guarded these treasures in case they were needed again to fight a great and powerful darkness. Some of the Elves mingled with the Humans and halflings were born. Then the halflings married Humans and most of their elvish traits were buried deep, though they had elven blood in them. You are the descendant of ours, though you are fully human.” Dremor looked at me and smiled gently, almost shyly. “And I was sent to find you, because we need the treasure you have been guarding.”

“But I don’t know of any treasure. I certainly haven’t been guarding anything.”

“Perhaps your mother knows of it. The treasure is passed from one lady to the next.”

“No, really I don’t know. My Mom died two years ago.” Dremor smiled and placed a comforting hand on my arm.

“I’m sorry. It’s all right. Fredrik will help you locate it.”

“Who is Fredrik?” The others snickered at my question, but soon sobered once Dremor had cast them a disquieting look.

“Fredrick is a human wizard who helps to look after our world and keep us safe from the arkin.” Seeing my questioning eyes, the elf with the hair for a crown smiled.

“The arkin is a name we call a great darkness that tries to over-take our world with war and destruction. It hasn’t presented itself in thousands of years, so we have had peace, but now the dark stain of it is building to the west and we need the leengolet to help drive it away.”

“The arkin rises at the call of a powerful wizard,” the blond one said joining the discussion. “We do not know the identity of the wizard yet, but with your assistance we should be able to unmask him and stop the arkin from rising.”

“Is the arkin a thing or....” I couldn’t finish my question. I didn’t know how to ask what I wanted.

“The arkin is a dark cloud, a literal substance; it corrupts people and creatures, changing them from peacefulness to aggressive things that only want to hurt and maim. It can only be summoned by magic and very powerful dark magic at that. The last time it came,” Dremor continued, “was when Merlin took the Sword, Excalibur, from its true resting place. The arkin swept over our world and nearly destroyed it. Only Avalon was untouched by the time Excalibur returned. Only the strength of Excalibur gave us the necessary force we needed to defeat the dark wizard, Huel.”

“Can’t you just destroy this arkin so it will never threaten you again?” I was enthralled by the story, especially since Merlin and Excalibur had been mentioned so easily and factually.

Dremor shook his head, “No, the arkin is a natural substance. It is in everything. It is in each person, each creature. We have a choice of being good or being evil. When the arkin is in balance we are who we are supposed to be. When the arkin is out of balance, it overtakes everything good and corrupts it, even the thoughts, into evil. We cannot destroy what is a natural part of ourselves, but neither can we let it grow by the use of evil, dark magic and let it over-take our world...our home.”

“So, where will you be taking me?”

“To Avalon, of course,” said the fellow with the ornate hair.

Buddha says...

If we could see the miracle of a single flower clearly, our whole life would change.

Buddha

Fiction and Tuesday

It is Tuesday. Not much happens on Tuesdays. It is the day after Monday. Tuesdays are the days when you try really hard to tell yourself you are acclamated back to the work week and Friday really isn't that far away. So, in honor of Tuesday, and because I simply think it's a good idea - here is the beginning of a story for you. Look for updates on it on Tuesdays (of course) and Thursdays.


Fantasy Revealed
By H.A. Handy
Copyright (c) 2005 by H.A. Handy


There are many things in life and history, myth and legend no one can be certain of – When was the beginning of time? Does God really exist? Is there any such thing as magic in the world currently or through history? – no one can know if strange creatures ever lived or if there are untold prophecies of the end of the world (although I am sure there are of these). Who is to say what is right or wrong? That is what I used to think. I thought that all the way up to my thirtieth year of living when Dremor came into my life and changed it forever.

Who is Dremor? Dremor is an Elf. No, really, he is an Elf warrior who absolutely detests being called a “Ranger.” Why? I don’t know. He has such vehemence against it I have dared not question him further on it. Who am I? No one important, I assure you. Merely a human woman from the Twenty First Century living quietly alone with two dogs and a cat in a house my parents left me in the wilds of Lexington, Kentucky. I scrape and scrounge for every penny I get, just as you, at a job I absolutely loathe as a secretary for a small ad agency, Duncan and Moles.

Dremor literally popped into my life one evening as I was preparing myself some supper. I was tired of take out and wanted something fresh, good, and comforting. Enyo and Ella were laying by the stove and washing machine respectively, there big black bodies peaceful and content. Cappa, the true princess of the house and owner of us all if the truth be told, was lounging in her chair by the kitchen table.

Enyo was the first to raise alarm then Ella followed. They are quite protective of their mommy and of the house. We function quite well as a pack really. Cappa swished her tail then bowed and hissed at the doorway between the kitchen and living room. I went to see what was causing all of the ruckus. There was nothing there. Really, there wasn’t anything at all. Not even the television was on.

A sizzling, like bacon frying or electricity ready to pop something sounded, and there he appeared in Elven robes of green and silver. He was tall, muscular, and beautiful with long flowing black hair. A single braid with a silver bead was dangling over his right eye as if he had just landed from a relatively tall jump.

Dremor spoke first in Elvish. It wasn’t like Tolkien’s Elvish, but it was close, flowing, and sexual. His lavender eyes looked down at me as if waiting for a response, but, of course, I didn’t have one. Finally he smiled, and with the most elegant of accents bowed and said, “Greetings to you my lady.”

Enyo and Ella came to stand on either side of me. They weren’t barking any more. They were turning their head this way and that observing one of the greatest curiosities they had ever seen by their actions. Dremor knelt and they went straight to him as if he was a long lost friend they hadn’t seen in ages. This made me uncomfortable, so I called them back to me.

“I am Dremor,” he said. “I am come from Elweisfen to call you to the Great Council.” He bowed again. My heart raced in my chest. Had I fallen and was in the process of dying? Had I gone insane? Dremor strode to me, slipped an arm around me and led me into the center of my very own living room. Perhaps I was simply too stunned to resist, but I really didn’t feel anything threatening from him. He was too handsome, too gentle, too strong to cause me harm, I hoped.

Dremor carried swords at his back I noticed, and scepter in his right hand. “It won’t hurt,” he said softly, bending down close with a reassuring smile, “I promise.” Enyo and Ella trotted to us and sat looking up at us expectantly. “Of course you can come!” he said to them. “You must protect her after all, don’t you?” Enyo grumbled in her playful way of ‘talk’ and wagged her tail furiously. Cappa appeared swishing her tail and looking quite out of sorts. “And you, of course, what would any of them do without you?!” Dremor inclined his head to Cappa who stretched luxuriously before trotting forward to rub between Dremor’s legs affectionately.

Dremor was raising the scepter above his head and looking at a glowing lavender crystal. I felt something like stinging ants all over my body.

“Why me?” I asked suddenly. Of course, I should have asked that earlier, but I didn’t. Would you? Perhaps some of you would, but I don’t know many.

Dremor looked down at me and the crystal fell silent and dim. His brow furrowed slightly. “Are you not Marjorie Film of Hallowed Wood?” My parents and sisters and I had moved from Hallowed Wood to Lexington not long before Daddy got sick and had to be hospitalized. I nodded. The furrow vanished and he smiled again, the sort of dazzling smiles women only dream about directed at them. “Then you are the one I was sent for.” Dremor slipped his arm around me tighter and pulled me closer to him. Raising the scepter again, he kept his eyes on me, smiling reassuringly. “Thieln,” he almost whispered.

The feeling of ants on my body was almost more than I could take! It was almost painful, but not quite. The house began to shimmer as if I was looking at it through a watery reflection. Slowly it was being replaced by woods, blue sky, mountains in the distance and the gurgling of a stream. My feet were no longer on the old brown carpet, but on thick green grass.

Odd, I know, but it was at that precise moment I knew I had left the stove on and my house, would it be there when I got back, if I was able to go back?

Dremor released me and I felt cold and frightened without his touch. Enyo and Ella went cavorting off to bother the horses while Cappa was quite amused by a butterfly. She had always freaked out when I had taken her outside before, but here she was perfectly all right and kittenish again. Dremor bent and picked her up. Cappa purred loudly with pleasure, almost glee, and her eyes closed several times in happiness as she looked at Dremor. He ha mesmerized us all.

Another voice was speaking quickly and excitedly. I turned to see several more Elves in different shades of green and silver, some purple and gold, all of them quite handsome. Their eyes roamed over me appreciatively as well as nearly awed. Dremor said something back, his face firm and unyielding, but still, somehow, kind.

“Forgive us, my lady,” said one of them who bowed. He had long flowing blond hair and looked less substantial than Dremor in physical stature. “We were quite worried whether or not you would come to help us or that Dremor would be able to find you.”

“Yes,” said a third who had long brown hair and it was braided on each side in intricate plats and ties so that he looked almost as if he were wearing a crown of his very own hair. “We have been waiting here a very long time.”

“How long?” Dremor asked as he stroked Cappa’s head absently, though her purring grew even louder.

“Ten days.” Dremor relaxed a little.

“We have plenty of time to return to the Great Council then.” Cappa was placed gently on the ground and she followed after Dremor more like a puppy than a cat. Enyo and Ella came bounding over to me, wrestling as they came. Their tails were wagging so hard and fast it was amazing they were still on their bodies!

I stood there with the dogs and felt very lost, as well as excited. IF this was really happening, then I really was in the presence of Elves.

Dremor reached out to me. I took his hand and was surprised to find the fingertips were calloused and the palm was rough, but his touch was so gentle and strong.

Ancient phallus unearthed in cave

I read this and couldn't help but cackle. According to the scientist

Its life size suggests it may well have been used as a sex aid by its Ice Age makers, scientists report.

Even 28,000 years ago women were having to have help with a few things. What does this say, as a whole, about humanity? It doesn't seem to be saying anything all that great about us does it.

Click on the heading to read the entire article.

Desiring Expansion

Lately I have been a pure bitch (the weekend especially). Since finishing the first draft of WHRTTT it seems my brain cannot find anything useful to put itself towards and is driving everyone insane by just not wanting to do anything useful. Is this an excuse? No, I don't think so, I hope not. So, I have been seriously considering taking myself to the movies once a week.

You see the Kentucky Theatre offers all kinds of old movies, European movies, and sometimes just really strange affairs through the week, and I would really like to start going there. Once a week is feasible, and I believe I can actually afford it. After all, there is only so much I can take being in the house with the heat so excessive outside.

This week they are playing a movie that has caught my interest, it is called Ladies in Lavender. This isn't the sort of movie B would like to see, so why not simply take myself to see it? The only bad thing is that I haven't found a showtime I can get to because there aren't any in the afternoon for this movie. Today it was being shown at 9:40AM and, well, can't make that one.

The Kentucky Theatre is something I really need to keep my eye on and explore.

Happiness

"If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion."

– Dalai Lama

Love Is Like The Weather, Poem

Love Is Like The Weather
By H.A. Handy
Copyright (c) 2005 by H.A. Handy


Love exists in the mind as well as heart
It is thought and felt
Lived and feared
Wanted and denied
Like the weather –
In the summer we wish it was cooler
In the winter we look forward to warm weather
Then, surprisingly, it happens –
The perfect moment when all things touch
Colliding with peace and harmony
Urgency and joy
The perfect instant...
The perfect day.

Accomplishment and Futures

WHRTTT is finished!

OK, the first draft is finished which means the story, so far, is told! The word count is a little on the downside 33,000+ but this gives me ample space to work with it and if I need to add sections I can. At this point I haven't begun the second draft - I need to just rest from it a bit and relax, then put on the editor/writer cap and dive in.

Surprisingly, the only thing that has me nervous now is writing the query letter for it. I mean, let's face it, it has been a long time since I've had to do this. My confidence is returning in leaps and bounds now, but has it returned enough to write an adequate query letter? My hope is yes, my answer will have to be proven rather than seen.

Since WHRTTT is finished I can turn more of my attention to The News and relax with it. Because I was working on WHRTTT, short stories filled the space of writing long projects, so I will be placing a couple of stories up here for perusal an sending off several.

The publishing schedule will hopefully go like this:

Monday - Tuesday - Writings, observations and tid bits.

Wednesday - Fiction or poetry from outside sources

Thursday - Fiction and poetry from yours truly.

Friday - Rambles, observations, tid bits and more fiction and poetry from yours truly while the time lasts.

Saturday - As I can fit in something

Sunday - Probably nothing because I am at Church all day and getting ready for the following week.

Nothing has really changed as far as scheduling goes, except for a few more additions of poetry and fiction by yours truly. Sometimes I think I just need to put it down to remind myself as well as anyone else who may just be interested in it.

Most of the success I have had recently has been encouraged by having The News and the bet with B. I need deadlines and challenges, and I have both with The News and with the novel (*squeeeee*).

21 Uses for Vodka

~*~*~ 21 Uses for Vodka ~*~*~

1. To remove a bandage painlessly, saturate the bandage with vodka. The solvent dissolves the adhesive.

2. To clean the caulking around bathtubs and showers, fill a trigger-spray bottle with vodka, spray the caulking, let set 5 minutes and wash clean. The alcohol in the vodka kills mold and mildew.

3. To clean your eyeglasses, simply wipe the lenses with a soft, clean cloth dampened with vodka. The alcohol in the vodka cleans the glass and kills germs.

4. Prolong the life of razors by filling a cup with vodka and letting your safety razor blade soak in the alcohol after shaving. The vodka disinfects the blade and prevents rusting.

5. Spray vodka on vomit stains, scrub with a brush, then blot dry.

6. Using a cotton ball, apply vodka to your face as an astringent to cleanse the skin and tighten pores. (Maybe this will help me to cut down on some of my beauty products!)

7. Add a splash of vodka to a 12-ounce bottle of shampoo. The alcohol cleanses the scalp, removes toxins from hair and stimulates the growth of healthy hair.

8. Fill a 16-ounce trigger-spray bottle and spray bees or wasps to kill them.

9. Pour 1/2 cup vodka and 1/2 cup water in a freezer bag and freeze for a slushy, reusable ice pack for aches, pain or black eyes...

10. Fill a clean, empty jar with freshly packed lavender flowers. Fill the jar with vodka, seal the lid tightly, and set it in the sun for 3 days. Strain liquid, then apply the tincture to aches and pains.

11. Make your own mouth wash by mixing 9 tablespoons powered cinnamon with 1 cup vodka. Seal in an airtight container for 2 weeks. Strain through a coffee filter. Mix with warm water and rinse your mouth. (DON'T SWALLOW!) (Why NOT swallow?)

12. Using a cotton swab, apply vodka to a cold sore to help it dry out.

13. If blister opens, pour vodka over the raw skin as a local anesthetic that also disinfects the exposed dermis.

14. To treat dandruff, mix 1 cup vodka with 2 teaspoons crushed rosemary. Let sit 2 days, strain through a coffee filter, massage into your scalp and dry.

15. To treat an earache, put a few drops of vodka in your ear. Let sit for a few minutes, then drain. Vodka will kill the bacteria causing pain in your ear.

16. To relieve a fever, use a washcloth to rub vodka on your chest and back as a liniment.

17. To cure foot odor, wash your feet with vodka.

18. Vodka will disinfect and alleviate a jellyfish sting.

19. Pour vodka over an area affected with poison ivy to remove the urushiol oil from your skin.

20. Swish a shot of vodka over an aching tooth. Allow your gums to absorb some of the alcohol to numb the pain.

21. If all else fails, just turn the bottle upside-down and drink it. Then nothing else will matter anyway!

Bugs, a Short Story, by Eric S. Brown and Steven Lloyd

Bugs
By Eric S. Brown and Steven Lloyd

The forest was alive with gunfire. Bullets zipped by Danny’s face as he hurled himself behind the cover of a thick tree. He heard the impacts as rounds struck and shattered its bark on the opposite side. Danny watched Brent, his platoon leader, get caught in the stream of an enemy flamethrower as the Viet-Cong pushed forward on their position. Brent’s flesh bubbled and turned black as he howled, yet somehow, Brent remained standing, firing into the advancing enemy ranks. Finally, Brent’s bald and charred form toppled to the wet mud with a splash.

Things were not going well. Danny knew his platoon was badly outnumbered. His mind raced. He had to do something, get the hell out of here, or he’d end up as dead as his commanding officer. Danny broke from the cover of the tree, his legs pumping, as he ran without looking back. A round caught him in his right leg and sent him rolling down the bank of the river he’d been running towards. Blackness took him as his body struck the water and was swept up in its currents.
When Danny opened his eyes, the sun was gone. He lay washed up on the river bank miles from where the firefight had taken place. He turned on to his side, coughing, and vomited into the dirt. A twinge of pain ripped through his body from the wound on his thigh as he jarred it. The world seemed to swirl around him. It was hard to focus. He imagined he’d lost a lot of blood. He collapsed back onto the shore and looked up at the stars above the jungle. He hadn’t signed on for any of this. He had been drafted. His only desire was to make it home alive. Danny didn’t give a crap which side won or lost the war, none of that mattered to him.

Something moved in the jungle on the opposite shore. Danny filled with panic as he realized he’d lost his weapon. He thought about reaching for the handgun still holstered to his belt but thought better of it. He lay perfectly still, barely daring to breathe. He hoped he was covered in enough mud to blend into the river bank in the dim light of the stars and that whatever was out there would over look him and move on.

Voices came out of the darkness. At least he thought they were voices but the language was not Vietnamese and it certainly wasn’t English. The words sounded more like clicking noise than actual speech. Yet there was no doubt in his mind that the sounds were indeed some sort of conversation. He could tell from the rhythm in which they flowed and the pause in-between them that they were some sort of speech.

The oddness of it overpowered him and gave him the nerve to open his eyes and ever so slightly turn his head towards the noise. He could barely make out two shapes on the opposite bank. One seemed to be squatting beside the water while the other stood over it. As his eyes adjusted once more to the low light and could see them more clearly, Danny almost screamed. The two shapes were not men at all though they were bipedal. They looked like giant cockroaches. Between their main arms and legs a second set of miniature limbs protruded from their shell-encased torsos which looked like an extra set of tiny arms. Their eyes were large bulbous mounds that rested on the sides of their heads and the clicking noises came not from their mouths but rather from pairs of large, razor like mandibles extending from their faces like an ant’s.

One of the things held a glowing round object in its second set of hands and both of the creatures seemed to be studying it. Danny wondered if he was simply dying and delusional but the pain in his leg reminded him sharply that he was alive and awake.
Being shot was the least of his worries. Oblivious to Danny, the 70-foot drop had broken both legs, forcing the bones upward through soft bruised tissues. Plummeting in a mess of limbs, the last things he recalled was free falling, the birth of his son, and his wedding day to Nicole. Everything there after went black.

Alone on the riverbank his midsection felt as though it had been packed with rocks, and the ever-unpleasant taste of copper plagued the interior of his mouth. At first the pain came in irregular stabs, and then searing as it cloaked him like clawed hands raking its nine-inch nails down his mangled legs.
Any other night the river was teaming with patrol crafts, but not tonight. Tonight the river was silent. Looking at the immense size of the creatures, he knew this couldn’t be right. At that instant Danny prayed for an enemy patrol craft to veer around the bend. This didn’t happen. Instead, the clicking sounds amplified, as the two glooming figures studied the disc in heated discussion.

Time seemed to ice over. The jungle began to animate and Danny rested in complete silence not sure what to do. A fish unexpectedly tore through the murky surface of the river, causing the shell-backed creatures to act in response. In that moment, Danny locked eyes with them, their clicking conversation long forgotten.

As Danny became more alert he realized that the trees around him were charred, and that this was some sort of crash site. Buried deep within the jungle reaching two hundred feet in length, he saw something unexplainable, something aglow and smoldering among shattered overgrowth and foliage. He could feel the thudding of his heart, and the panic rising to a new untouchable level.
The things began their advance toward him.

CLICKCLICKCLICKCKICK!

His place of solitude known, he rose up to run, but was forced down by the pain. “Sweet Jesus!” He struggled with his holstered pistol as he watched the mammoth sized roaches break the waters surface.

Danny could see their hard-shelled backs as they proceeded in his direction until they vanished below the waters surface. Pain in his legs forgotten, Danny scrambled backward fearing to see just how close they were. The gap, he knew, was closing fast.

Freeing his pistol, his mud-encrusted hands griped the metallic stock. With his other hand he pulled the chamber back.

Nearly to the point of loosing it all together, he tired climbing the steep embankment on his belly using only his arms. I’ll not die here! Not like this. He heard the splashing from behind, and dug his free hand into the moist soil, but to no avail. The sludge consumed his hand and sent him sliding several inches downward.

His mind pleaded for him to scream for help, but who would possibly hear his cries. The Viet-Cong? Would his death be lesser than what awaited him at the bottom of the embankment?

With his last attempt for survival, Danny rotated onto his back, leveled his weapon, and fired continually at the things coming for him. The shots rang out in the night, as the bullets sparked like fireworks, ricocheting off the creatures. Everything seemed to be in slow motion to him, but what he saw before landing at the base of the embankment was more horrifying than anything of war.

Despite their hard-shelled backs, there flesh was black as night and bubbling, and their bodies, no matter how unbelievable, opened with human sized mouths with rows upon rows of sharp teeth.

Danny muffled a cry, empting the pistol, as their mouths opened and sucked them in with wet smacking sounds.

The roach like creatures fell on him quickly reaping and tearing. The pain so intense, Danny felt and heard their mouths opening and closing over his weak and battered tissue. No time to scream. No time to reload, he welcomed his death and closed his eyes.

The creatures removed themselves from the strange organism. With their ship useless, the creatures returned to their damaged craft where twelve more identical beings waited. This deed would not go unpunished.
Assembling in a mass about the craft, they knew reaching home was without a solution. In addition to five gapping cavities in the belly, and rifled with holes from Danny’s primitive projectile weapon, anger blistered inside of them, a rage unknown to man began to open.

The round circular disk they had been holding and inspecting all along was discarded. The beckon was their last hope for signaling home. It was no use to them. Destroyed in the crash, they clicking sounds grew in maddening frenzy.
All fourteen creatures sidestepped out of the way of each other, giving way for sufficient room in support for what was about to ensue. Standing virtually eight feet tall, their thick-shelled backs flourished into immense wings extending nearly six feet in length.

A maddening hum vibrated through the untamed jungle as their wings stirred the earth. They took to the dark sky as a black cloud.

A new enemy was joining the battle. The Vietnam war was about to become bloodier.





Eric S. Brown is the author of the paperback collections Dying Days, Portals of Terror, Madmen's Dreams, and Space Stations and Graveyards. His fifith collection Waking Nightmares will be released later this year and his first novel is due out in Oct. from Mundania Books. His books are available from places like http://www.amazon.com/ or http://www.shocklines.com/.

This story was previously published in Seasons in the Night #3.

Making Plans for Getting There

I sat quietly today in my writing room as it began to get cooler from the installation of the air conditioning unit so recently put into the window. I looked around and I nodded because I was thinking, I don't have to worry about how this looks to most of the world, just to me. Then it hit me, it hit me hard: I want my writing room to be as pretty as possible, as well as organized. It isn't as organized as I would like it to be. In fact, it isn't organized at all. Still, life looks good again without feeling sick and the novel will progress forward tomorrow. Sometimes I like sitting and just planning what course I am going to take next. I think everyone does really at some point or another - because at some point or another you need to know where you're going just to make sure you know when you get there.

Time in the Writing Life

For the past several days, OK, maybe a week, I have been so filled up with the story of WHRTTT (current working abbreviated title) that I realized today I haven't done much of anything except write and research. I haven't cooked a full meal since I've been Working, and it doesn't look as if I will be doing that until this book gets finished. When will that be? I'd say within the next couple of weeks if I can keep it moving the way it currently is. There is definitely light at the end of the tunnel.

On contemplating leaving these people behind and starting up another, new story, isn't as depressing or sad as it may have been for me. In fact, I feel as if this is one of the better beginnings in my writing life. The characters are solid. They speak humor and truth and they act, well, they act the way they are supposed to, except for the occasional bout of trying to get ahead of my fingers and brain, of course. Still, I consider this par for the course.

The next story is there, too. It is simmering. Sometimes a large bubble will burst with that thick blub sound and a new piece of the expected puzzle, as yet unseen, falls into place. And, I believe WHRTTT has a sequel, or the potentials of a sequel.

So, to let all of you know - No, I am not bored with The News or you my dear Readers in any fashion, I have just had far too much on my creative plate to speak, which is wrong. I shall try and correct this problem in myself soon. Tomorrow we have a new fiction piece by Eric S. Brown. So, I have not forgotten you, nor will I, just, please, be patient, and if I have been absent of attention for this long again will someone please yell at me to get my attention focused again? Thanks.

According to Gandhi I'm Happy

"Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony."

– Mahatma Gandhi

I read this today and it made me just stop and think. Has there ever been a point in my life where what I'm thinking, saying, and doing are all in harmony? I was shocked to discover the answer was yes. Much of the time all of this is occurring. So, by Gandhi I am a happy person. I rather like that.

People In Our Lives

People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. When you figure out which it is, you'll know exactly what to do.


Michelle Ventor

Time's Escape, A Poem

Time Escapes
By H. A. Handy
Copyright (c) 2005 by H. A. Handy


Time escapes
Second by second
Minute by minute and hour by hour
We expect to learn so much from "tomorrow"
We expect to look back at "yesterday"
What if tomorrow never comes, and we cannot see yesterday?

Doesn't This Make Sense?

In order to be a realist, you must believe in miracles.

Henry Christopher Bailey


I am having one of those mornings where everything falls into place and this little miraculous saying is absolutely true for me this morning.

Wheelchair, a poem by Melissa Sartori

Wheelchair
By Melissa Sartori
Copyright (c) 2005 by Melissa Sartori

She can captivate any room in an instant.
When she enters the room, with a grace that
makes it seems as though she is gliding,
glinting in the dim blinking lights of the bar
all eyes fall on her. Drinking her in, everyone
wonders what she is doing in a place like this. A mostly empty
dive on the corner. Perhaps they expect her to be less
bold, hiding somewhere in the corner, a pillar of shyness
trying to maintain some quiet dignity, as the eyes of
both men and women bore into her.
Then the music starts, and she floats onto the dance floor
suddenly she is moving fast
causing the room to become a blur as she spins, endlessly
never exhausted. And those eyes can no longer focus
on her. For the first time they all must admit, that she
can do something that they cannot.

One of *Those* Days and Milestones

Sometimes it feels as if I have more irons in the fire than I can handle, and today has been one of them, mostly because I haven't felt well. Still, I have managed to organize The Project, make some calls for The Project and have also managed to figure out the website for said Project. Besides that I have actually managed to make myself eat thanks to B and Cheyenne who kept telling me I should eat, even though I didn't want to. However, the writing front is somewhat bare for today. I haven't even opened up WHRTTT's file at all today! Shame on me!

It isn't horrible of me, but it feels that way. Not writing has made me feel as if I have totally let myself down, so, before going to bed tonight, before working on anything else for The Project, I will write and let the feelings of creativity fill me and ease the physical pain I've been experiencing today. Life isn't bad for me right now, and I am going to work diligently to keep it that way, even if it means working on myself.

We have somewhat of a milestone today in our household. B finally has his reflexology certificate (as of this weekend) and he has his first appointment today, which he is currently gone to. Our friend Bob is a taylor and his hands are in a great deal of pain, so B has gone to see if he can help him feel better. I hope he can. We love Bob dearly and helping him to feel better would just be icing on B's cake today.

Some Words From Leonard Nimoy

The miracle is this--the more we share, the more we have.

Leonard Nimoy

Creeters Are Interesting

I have the most beautiful cat in the world (at least to me). When I am down she tries her best to love me back into that 'happy place' she likes to see me in. However, recently, my lovely Cappa has gotten it into her head head I am fully and only her's and she will eat for no one else.

See, it started a few weeks ago. Cappa, like most cats, started to be all finicky and didn't want to eat. My B said, "She'll starve to the food I buy for her!" See, B doesn't understand the intricacies of catdom: A cat will indeed starve itself sick, not like a dog who will eat almost anything, even if they don't like it. Cats, well, won't.

So, Cappa hadn't eaten for about three days (but she did drink plenty of water) so I got her bowl, put it in my lap an she jumped into my lap also. Together we wheeled into the kitchen where I placed her bowl in a chair that was practically level with my lap and Cappa ate heartily! Half of her was in the chair and the other half of her was on me. It was good seeing her eat.

Now, when Cappa wants to take a bite she comes and gets me.

That's right. She comes and gets me, to jump up into my lap so I can chauffeur her to her bowl and sit there quietly while she eats in blissful peace, purring the entire time like an old-fashioned washing machine. She is absolutely spoiled, and has me trained quite well.

Yep, creeters are funny.

Chosing Between Two Courses

When you cannot make up your mind between two evenly balanced courses of action, choose the bolder.


W.J. Slim

Neanderthal, A Book Review

Neanderthal by John Darnton isn't a bad read. It is roughly 395 pages of adventure with a theory for a possible explanation as to what happened to the Neanderthal species and if they still existed the possible explanation of why and if they were friendly or not.

I wish I could say I enjoyed this story, but I can't. The first half was wonderful. The action and science blended perfectly, but then the heavy-handed government angel just bogged everything down. Of course I could see the premise Darnton puts forth actually happening, it just seemed a little heavy handed. I found myself skipping, or wanting to skip, through the 'government' sections.

The latter half of the book, without the 'government' sections, was actually enjoyable. The quiet evil of the government almost seemed like a filler to just pull out the words. I believe it would have been a much better book without it, or so much of it.

I suggest you check it out, read it for yourself, and tell me what you think about it. I'd just grab it from the library if you can find it, don't go paying for it.

Humanity Is Better Than This, God Bless You London, England!

Since 9/11 America, and the world, have been more cautious about going about, but they have still gone. Defied the threat of violence and have been determined to live their lives as they always should - free and determinedly. As everyone in the blogosphere knows, London, England was attacked today by terrorists and lives have been changed.

I was not in New York when the events of 9/11 transpired, and I was not in London today, but I feel the same: shock, sorrow, anger, and shame - shame humanity can behave so horribly barbaric towards one another under the guise of anything, most of all religion. Yes, I know this has been a favorite theme in history - God is on our side so we are right and can afflict damage and mayhem on anyone in order to make it right with God. The Christians have done it, the Muslims have done it, and how many other religions have reached out, under the guise of making a better world, and attacked the innocent? One time is far too many.

For argument's sake, lets assume God is real. God exists regardless of what you believe. If God exists and is a kind and loving God, then what do you suppose He is experiencing right now?

Growing up in the hills of Kentucky I was always taught to live honorably and be who I am and proud of that. I was taught to never be a coward, because cowards did things to other people behind their backs. If you have a beef with someone, go to that person, don't hurt their dog or make their kids cry. Be a person, stand up and do what you need to do! This act in London is a cowardly one. What honor is there? OK, so someone might be ready to die for their cause - they why not stand up, point blank before destroying anything, state it, and give the people a chance to fight back. Are you so afraid of dying that you won't dare to be truly honorable?

These terrorists are a frightened faction who wish to cause people to fear more than do, because if that happens, then there will be someone lower than them.

Let us not fear.

Let us be free, and in our freedom take responsibility for what we do.

http://www.madmusingsof.me.uk/archives/2005/07/this_morning_on.php#003787

Some Words on Perspective

Climb up on some hill at sunrise. Everybody needs perspective once in a while, and you'll find it there.


Robb Sagendorph

G-8 Faces U.S. Pressure to Downsize Goals

I am concerned by this. According to this article (which you can read totally when you click the title), the U.S. has been lobbying for the world to reduce their assistance to Africa and to the world AIDS epidemic! Why would the U.S. do such a thing? What does Bush know that we don't know?

Sure, he is the President of the United States, but has he been all that effective as a leader? Sometimes I do wonder. This is a great nation, but not all leaders can be good ones for every era.

GLENEAGLES, Scotland (AP) -- World leaders faced pressure from the United States to scale back goals for relieving African poverty and combating global AIDS, but British Prime Minister Tony Blair said Wednesday he planned to keep campaigning for his ambitious objectives with other world leaders.

The article goes on to say -

When asked about reports that Britain is preparing to scale back its demands on support for Africa and climate change in the face of U.S. opposition, Blair said he is "prepared to hold out for what is right."

This is good form and I hope Blair can do something with helping the world, especially the climate change and greenhouse issues. After all, Bush has done so much against the environment, someone needs to actually step up and tell him he has done something wrong. Or, at least this is my way of seeing it.

The differences were even starker on global warming. Blair wanted a plan to curb emissions of carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gases. But U.S. officials lobbied to prevent the inclusion in the G-8 communique of any specific reduction targets as called for in the 1997 Kyoto Protocol. The United States is the only G-8 country that has refused to ratify the Kyoto treaty, with Bush saying that doing so would have "wrecked" the U.S. economy.

Something is amiss here. How can keeping the planet livable wreck anything? Have we become such a totally selfish nation?

Please, I encourage everyone to read the article. Tell me what you think. Even if you don't tell me what you think, do think about what the article is saying. It makes my hair stand on end.

A Novel Report

I tried very seriously to sleep late today, and if I didn't sleep I was going to make sure and lay there and relax. I really tried. What got me up and going? The novel, affectionately called WHRTTT (because the working title is a little long and I don't want to have to type it out all the time). The characters were there giving me glimpses of what they 'may' do when I get back to them. As it stands, this is the longest story I've written in ages with any hopes of completing it. So far to date there are 20,116 words total. Some writers love the tick of daily totals and over-all totals, I prefer just over-all totals, it makes me feel productive and I can see a good movement of words in comparison to the story.

Sometimes it would be nice, I think, to be able to just spit out the story whole. Sometimes I think it would be nice to be a composer or painter, but when it really comes down to it, this is what I genuinely love to do - tell stories. I am a story teller with the possibility of millions of stories inside me. There is a good chance I won't get all of them out, but why not get out the ones I can as inspiration strikes? Ideas are inspirations, so why let the inspirations die? True, sometimes we have to work on other things just to give our creative soul a break, and sometimes the weight of the world requires a nine-to-five job, but if you don't follow your calling while you are fulfilling your monetary requirement, what good do you have in the life you live?

OK, enough soap-boxing.

Total words as of last night 20,116.

Pray it finishes nicely. :)

Isabelle's Sorrow, Poem

Isabelle's Sorrow
By H. A. Handy
Copyright 2005 by H. A. Handy


mangled, marred and murderous,
Isabelle sought a husband and mate,
but no one was good enough
in dear ol' daddy's eyes
so each met a sorrowful fate

as time went by
Isabelle grew
people betrayed her trust
and trusting betrayed her
so life grew old and slew

how sad a life Isabelle lived
knowing nothing but perfection
seeing none of it or love
moving from one age to the next
knowing life did not match its reflection

Catching Up On The Weekend

I hope everyone who celebrated The Fourth had an awesome and wonderful time. B and I actually relaxed for the first time in days it seemed. Maybe our bodies and brains were to the point to where it didn't matter what we did because our bodies and brains were simply going to rest despite what we may have planned. About the other thing of interest we truly did was to go to Richmond, Kentucky to visit his parents and be fed a wonderful July Fourth meal of hamburgers, hotdogs, ribs, and all the fixin's. It was great. We got back home about 11:30 last night and had a good relaxing moment before we went to bed. I must say, we slept soundly, at least I did, until my feet started hurting. B thinks it could be because it rained at some point after we were back home. It could be - having arthritis means never knowing when there will be a good day or a bad day or how quickly a good day can turn into a bad day, or a bad day into good. No wonder so many people who have arthritis are on antidepressants! It's enough to make you depressed!

The quiet peacefulness of the weekend and Fourth has given me the time I needed to refresh the writing batteries. You will begin seeing more poetry here on the site. Why? Because I am tired of writing poetry and it never being seen by other people. This is a new poetry book really, so it will appear in its first context and content here for all of you. When it is finished, I will collect all of the poems and place them in a book format somewhere and send them off to do their thing. This idea feels most right at the moment. All I can do is pray and hope everything comes out the way it is supposed to. One poem has already been presented here, so I will be working on more through the weeks and days to come. And, for those who are interested, no, I haven't finished the current novel, but poetry and novel writing seem to work well side-by-side.

Ohhhhhhhh say can you see.....!

Happy 4th of July everyone! Happy Independence Day! Please don't forget to pray for our soldiers!

Pondering.

When a man is wrapped up in himself he makes a pretty small package.


--John Ruskin

Just Ran Across This And Thought I Would Share

We cannot hold a torch to light another person's path without brightening our own.


Ben Sweetland

Doctors May Have Aided Tortures?

Please, give me a break!

The Brightest of Us All?

From: Darwin Awards Darwin Awards ......2005

Yes, it's that magical time of the year againwhen the Darwin Awards are bestowed, honoring the least evolved amongus.
Here then, are the glorious winners:

I feel so guilty for laughing at this one, but it just is so...smart, you know?

1. When his 38-caliber revolver failed to fire at his intended victim during a hold-up in Long Beach, California, would-be robber James Elliot did something that can only inspire wonder. He peered down the barrel and tried the trigger again. This time it worked.....

And now, the honorable mentions:

2. The chef at a hotel in Switzerland lost a finger in a meat-cutting machine and, after a little hopping around, submitted a claim to his insurance company. The company expecting negligence sent out one of its men to have a look for himself. He tried the machine and lost a finger. The chef's claim was approved.

3. A man who shoveled snow for an hour to clear a space for his car during a blizzard in Chicago returned with his vehicle to find a woman had taken the space. Understandably, he shot her.

4. After stopping for drinks at an illegal bar, a Zimbabwean bus driver found that the 20 mental patients he was supposed to be transporting from Harare to Bulawayo had escaped. Not wanting to admit his incompetence, the driver went to a nearby bus stop and offered everyone waiting there a free ride. He then delivered the passengers to the mental hospital, telling the staff that the patients were very excitable and prone to bizarre fantasies. The deception wasn't discovered for 3 days.

5. An American teenager was in the hospital recovering from serious head wounds received from an oncoming train. When asked how he received the injuries, the lad told police that he was simply trying to see how close he could get his head to a moving train before he was hit.

6. A man walked into a Louisiana Circle-K, put a $20 bill on the counter, and asked for change. When the clerk opened the cash drawer, the man pulled a gun and asked for all the cash in the register, which the clerk promptly provided. The man took the cash from the clerk and fled, leaving the $20 bill on the counter. The total amount of cash he got from the drawer...$15. (If someone points a gun at you and gives you money, is a crime committed?)

7. Seems an Arkansas guy wanted some beer pretty badly. He decided that he'd just throw a cinderblock through a liquor store window, grab some booze, and run. So he lifted the cinderblock and heaved it over his head at the window. The cinderblock bounced back and hit the would-be thief on the head, knocking him unconscious. The liquor store window was made of Plexiglas. The whole event was caught on videotape.

8. As a female shopper exited a New York convenience store, a man grabbed her purse and ran. The clerk called 911 immediately, and the woman was able to give them a detailed description of the snatcher. Within minutes, the police apprehended the snatcher. They put him in the car and drove back to the store. The thief was then taken out of the car and told to stand there for a positive ID. To which he replied, "Yes,officer, that's her. That's the lady I stole the purse from."

9. The Ann Arbor News crime column reported that a man walked into a Burger King in Ypsilanti, Michigan, at 5 a.m., flashed a gun, and demanded cash. The clerk turned him down because he said he couldn't open the cash register without a food order. When the man ordered onion rings, the clerk said they weren't available for breakfast. The man, frustrated,walked away.

A 5-STAR STUPIDITY AWARD WINNER!

10. When a man attempted to siphon gasoline from a motor home parked on a Seattle street, he got much more than he bargained for. Police arrived at the scene to find a very sick man curled up next to a motor home near spilled sewage. A police spokesman said that the man admitted to trying to steal gasoline and plugged his siphon hose into the motor home's sewage tank by mistake. The owner of the vehicle declined to press charges,saying that it was the best laugh he'd ever had.

The Butterfly Within, a Poem

The Butterfly Within
By H. Asher Handy
Copyright 2005 by H. Asher Handy

the butterfly trapped within
a cocoon of warped flesh and bone
finally struggles to break free

frightened to remain hidden, feeling
the need to become what it was meant to be
hearing the voices of encouragement and peace

how will it all end?

how will it all begin?

in order to break free
the cocoon's weaknesses
must be found, then changed
to purest strength

the butterfly is trapped within
but the cocoon is the clay
waiting to be molded
filled with the ultimate essence of
the butterfly

God created all things to be perfect -
it is up to us to remain so

Finally to be free

Is This True???

Growth in wisdom may be exactly measured by decrease in bitterness.


Friedrich Nietzsche


Is this true? If we have wisdom is there a decrease in bitterness? Sometimes when I've learned things I've felt more for the knowledge I've learned, such as how the outside world and people usually view the beautiful mountains and their people. Many people still look at the Appalachians and their people as hicks and stupid, when, in reality, the per capata for high IQs are in this particular area. And what of how big business really views the natural resources around us and would much rather prefer getting to the oil than protecting the flora and fauna of an area? This knowledge makes me bitter towards them. So, does knowledge REALLY decrease bitterness?

A Painted Woman I Am

When I was growing up in the hills, if someone was called "a painted woman" they were little more (or less) than a hooker. We knew that by the gaudy make-up the person wore, which was usually very blue eyeshadow laid on quite heavily and bright red lipstick, the tacky color of red that looks like wet wax on the lips, whether or not it looked good or not. Even if the woman had on wonderful perfume, it always seemed to smell cheap on her because, I think, that's what it was supposed to smell like.

I have known this person growing up and she didn't make it to my adult hood, most of them never really do. It is sad really, because now I can look back and see a person who was struggling to make it in the world and fit in, just as they were, instead of trying to be a cheap "painted woman", because most of them aren't (although some of them are).

This was on my mind as I was lying on the bed letting the henna dry on my body. B had put all kinds of cool designs on me. It is an awesome experience. When henna dries it leaves behind a dye on the skin which you can make designs out of. It is a big Indian art form, and well, it is very sexy and quite feminine in the experience of having it applied to you.

So, as I was lying there, just relaxing, dozing, and feeling pampered and loved, I thought I'm a real painted woman right now! Of course, I then dissolved into mighty fits of silent giggles, because this was something I didn't want to have to try and explain to B just yet. I'm glad I don't think of myself the other way. Some women back home think of having make-up on makes you "a painted woman" and this makes me sad. Maybe they should try having henna put on their naked bodies and enjoying it for the pure fun of it!

Three Points For Happiness, Just A Little Early

Yes, it is late, or early depending upon how you look at it. I am going to be ever so grumpy upon waking up to get to the gym tomorrow! Still, I wanted to make sure there was a post up for Saturday (now today) since I am not at all certain I'll get to do anything major. Hopefully, though, I will have a wonderful report to post about the gym and the new trainer. B will inadvertently be getting a work out as well, so, it should be an interesting thing. So, I leave you with these words -

Three grand essentials to happiness in this life are something to do, something to love, and something to hope for.

Jose Addison

Mary Poole's Idea

He who laughs, lasts.

Mary Poole

If anyone has any information about who Mary Pettibone Poole is or did, please send me the information. I am having a terrible time trying to find out anything about her other than she has give us lots of quotes and a book title A Glass Eye at a Keyhole This has me extremely curious. She is obviously well-known, so why haven't I read something by her? Please, share any information you have.

Thanks.

Proof of Strength

Currently I am going through a phase I like to call "Getting Into Shape Or Else." There is a serious feeling for me that if I don't get in shape now while I can, there might not come another chance for me to do so. It just feels right - now is the time to become the person, physically as well as writerly, I've always wanted to become. So, for the past week B and I have trekked to the gym to work out. B doesn't work out all that much it seems, but he helps me work out without a problem. We are even talking with a trainer, and when we can get the money up, we're getting this one guy to help me train because he is positive, strong, and I sort of trust him. I have determined to get in shape and now I am going to do my best.

Yesterday I was brave and got on a machine I've been afraid of for centuries it feels like - the leg curl machine. For those of you unfamiliar with this, let me describe it for your amusement. It is a bench that is wider at the base than what would be considered its "top" and in the center, or just a little lower, it is raised, like a cat does when it stretches. You lay on your stomach on this machine and weights are put on your legs for you to lift. I have been terrified of this machine for ages because I couldn't figure out how I would get onto it.

Much to my surprise, getting onto it wasn't as bad an ordeal as I had imagined it would be. In fact, it was much easier. I lifted very little weight, but did three sets of 12 reps which I was impressed with. When all was done and I was sweating, it was time to get up. Terror hit. Up. Down hadn't been that much of a problem. When you think of it, "down" is never really that hard a problem. You can walk "down" a river bank much easier, on the whole, than you can back up the thing, and falling "down" was never that hard, but getting back up, well that takes a while for me, or not at all.

OK, the damage was done and I had to get up off the machine. B was being more supportive than he has ever been, and was right there beside me the entire time with my crutches in easy reach.

I backed off the machine, pressed up, and felt my lower back tighten and then, Wow! I was standing up! I had done it without worry, without struggle and I felt good! Of course I quickly reached for my crutches because the floor seemed to be calling my body and the crutches keeps he floor at bay, if you get my meaning. But, I'd done it! Not B helping me up, but ME, I'd done it on my own! Do you know what this means? It means I am really getting stronger!

I was so enthused I even got on the scales to see how much I weigh. I'm not going to spread what the number is, not until it is a lower figure, and will only share it with B and the trainer. So, there is much to work toward.

You want to know the really surprising thing?

I think I'm going to do it this time!

The Night Listener, A Review

http://www.fantasticfiction.co.uk/authors/Armistead_Maupin.htm

I've just finished reading Armistead Maupin's The Night Listener and found myself disturbed by the open, common view of a homosexual man and relationship in the background of a story that continued to keep me reading and keep me interested from page 1 to the very last page. The twists and turns of the plot or plots made me re-read several pages once the book was finished and I had the leisure to go back and say, "Oh, so that's where that happened! Nicely placed!"

I have been a fan of Tales of the City and was truly looking forward to reading this book. I am not a prude, but there were areas Maupin took me I was unprepared for. Then, as the analysis of the relationship between the main character and his partner began, I found myself looking at other people I know and going, "I can see that in them." It suddenly didn't matter the gender of the couples or the hetero-homo-sexual basis of the couple. This is good fiction and good reading.

It is a good 342 pages in hardback.

Maupin weaves words expertly and gives the reader images both poignant and wonderful. He causes his readers to think, which isn't a bad thing at all.

As with all of Maupin's works, I won't dive into another Maupin novel for a while. I will mull and chew this one over subconsciously and fill my mind with some fluff for a while.

If you want a good book for the summer, I highly suggest The Night Listener. It even brings a tear to the eye as well as chuckles from the belly.

Tick Tock Goes the Clock and My Eyelids Droopy Down

Today has been a remarkably good day. I woke up a little sore, but after just relaxing a little more, the soreness eased away and I was able to go work out. Then I was able to meet with Sister2 and her husband for a short, but lovely, visit. Then I was left alone at Barnes and Noble by B while he ran a few errands. Of course, being alone for a few hours in a bookstore does encourage one to read and look at different books, so there is little reason to report that I read more of The Night Listener by Maupin. Little by little it is winning me over and I am really filled with all of the possibilities the current place in the story has - Is Pete real or not?! - and the words Maupin uses and the tale he weaves is unbelievably believable.

I am excessively tired, but I do have more notes to post, a poem to let you all read, and, of course, some insights into myself and working-out I have found quite surprising. However, all of that is going to have to wait until in the morning.

Night all.

I Have Often Heard This Said, But Not Quite Like This

Depend on the rabbit's foot if you will, but remember it didn't work for the rabbit.


R.E. Shay

Heartfelt Change

There are moments in life when you know things are changing. You can feel it, experience it in a distant manner, but you know it's happening. This is happening for me right now. Things are changing and it can be good. It can also be bad. Still, I am being optimistic - this is a good change.

What is changing?

Me.

I am becoming the person I've always thought I could be. It is a little frightening of course, changing the person you were with all of those faults and trying to make them change and different. Sometimes it looks like an impossible task, and then, when you least expect it, you see how you have changed and are changing and it is an amazing thing.

One area of my life that has changed has to do with my writing, of course. I am working at it seriously and feeling a pleasure in it I haven't felt for a long time. It is hard work and I end up tired at the end of every successful day of writing as if I have indeed accomplished something. It doesn't seem to matter if someone is going to read what I've written or not. It doesn't matter how many times the piece is rejected - in my heart of hearts I know this is a good piece and the time and effort I have placed in it so far, and all of the time and effort I will continue to put into it until it is finished, is definitely not something that is wasted.

There is a pleasure also in this Blog I didn't fully appreciate until recently when the novel started taking off with all of its successfulness in words. This little Blog has helped to give back my confidence I used to have, because you out there are reading it. It doesn't matter if anyone comments, I know someone is looking at The News and hopefully enjoying what is present. That is absolutely beyond wonderful!

So, thank you all for being out there and reading along with this silliness of mine as well as the seriousness of it.

7,684

So far the word count for the novel is 7,684 words and still growing. Why this seems so important to me is a mystery. I don't have an idea as to how long this work will be, should be, or could be, but I'm looking for a 200+ page book and estimating that should probably be about 50,000 words, or more. So, everything is working quite well in getting it to advance.

Today I have not had an opportunity to work on it, but I have had a great chance to get some research done in between looking things up for B in his job search (he has a job interview at 3PM today, so we have our fingers crossed). Now, just as I am preparing to sit down and do some major writing for the day, I am feeling pumped, alive, and ready to experiment with words, ideas and the story itself!

By the time I am finished for the day I am expecting to be as tired as a worn out pup who has played all day, and quite ready for sleep and bed just like I was last night.

If all goes well, tomorrow you will have a new word count, and it will be larger than what it is now!

Returnings

Today I was thinking about all of the friends I truly have around me. I mean, I have some really good friends out there. Some friends I haven't been able to talk to for a while, but, because it is nice and warm, I am able to talk to them because they have health problems as well, and it feels wonderful to touch base with them. I feel as if I have renewed something very important for me, and to me.

Blissfully Tired

I know I should have posted this earlier, but I have been trying to catch up on the writing pretty much all day. B wanted to do other things than let me write, such as go to the gym, but we both ended up having a good time there. I am actually beginning to look forward to going to the gym. Still, I have managed to get some work done on the novel and can say, with some relief, Chapter Three is now completed.

It isn't perfect. Chapter Three that is. It isn't what I want, but I just can't keep going back over it and working on it until I'm satisfied with it. If I do that then I'm not going to go on and actually begin the next chapter. Still, Chapter Three is close to what I want, so I have let it be where it is with firm convictions and plans on making it perfect when the book is completed for the first draft. Not everything can be perfect the first time 'round, but it can be dang close.

Also, if all goes well, there will be a book review up from yours truly before the week is out. For some reason the writing process has brought out that ravenous hunger for the written word. It feels good, too. It feels as if I'm working as a writer is supposed to work.

Some Interesting Words from Sandra Carey

Never mistake knowledge for wisdom. One helps you make a living, the other helps you make a life.

-- Sandra Carey

A New Day

Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Novel Update

*sigh*

I must admit I haven't written anything on the novel in the past day-and-a-half. Not because of not wanting to, but because typing has been somewhat painful due to an injury at the gym trying to get my hands stronger.

I am in Chapter Three after making the previous Chapter Three into Chapter Two and Chapter Two into Chapter One, and Chapter One into the Prologue. For some reason this chapter is giving me fits and pains. I have finally figured out what I need to do with it, however, so, as soon as can type relatively quickly and well, I will be hitting it again and at least finishing Chapter Three.

This time 'round the chapters actually have titles. I don't usually write titles, but since I don't usually write this sort of stuff it doesn't really surprise me how much stuff has been popping up and things changing. It is a grand adventure I'm on with my brain, and I am sincerely enjoying it! (I just hope major mood swings and depression don't hit now. I am out of my medication and we simply don't have enough money to purchase the refill. Medicines are SO expensive any more!)

I may break down next week and give you a glimpse of at least one chapter. Then again I may not. I don't usually do that either!

Approval

Yesterday I was out-and-about. My second oldest sister and her husband were up in Lexington and each time they are up here we try and get together. Since our parents are no longer living, we are finding it harder and harder to get together because our separate lives keep building up and keeping us "separate" in more than just physical means in some ways, but not emotionally. It seems emotionally we are growing together than further apart, and it would really be nice to see each other more. Instead of being daughters and children, we appear to be developing even deeper bonds as "sisters" which I find absolutely amazing.

Sister2 has always been the sister I have most wanted to be like. She has a Rank One in English and Teaching and writes wonderfully, beautiful poetry. She has always encouraged me and never pulled any punches with me. When I was younger, her not pulling punches made me sad, angry, annoyed, all the things a young person would feel, but I listened to her, even when I didn't want to. I've always felt a need for her to approve of my writing more than any other person, and I have it, which brings me to my next point.

I have her approval of my writing, of how well I put words together and describe descriptions, and suddenly I realized - I have to live up to that now. There is this place in my head that says I should feel a tremendous weight on my shoulders because she approves, but, in reality, I have a freedom I never expected. I have the most loved peer of my life approving of me and what I do. If she approves, why should I care about what anyone else thinks, because, believe me, if things aren't right she tells me. I trust her to do that. But when Sister2 tells me things about my writing, she does it in a way in which I learn. This is part of her talent as a person. And, I am blessed by having her also be my sister and my best friend.

Sir Thomas Browne

Think it more satisfactory to live richly than die rich.

Sir Thomas Browne

This Makes Me Nervous

OK, an outsider is going to help the FBI choose its head. Doesn't that sound a little disturbing to anyone else? It made me think of Nazi Germany actually. Then again, sometimes I'm a little paranoid like that. With everything that is happening in the world, I really believe we need to protect all of our freedoms. This could be a necessary thing. Still, it makes me nervous.

Man With Bloody Chain Saw Enters U.S. Unchallenged?

OK, this is a bit much. I actually thought this was an urban legend until B sent me this!

A Psychological Observation

I noticed something today: When I am writing, really writing, I take better care of myself. It almost feels as if I subconsciously understand, or feel, I am doing something important and it makes me feel good. It makes me feel good I am writing. It makes me feel good about myself. I had never noticed that before. Does this make me truly weird? I'm sure people far more into pscyhology can look at this and say, "Oh, that's because you have this and this going on in your psyche." For myself, I am just glad I noticed it because it confirms deep down I am doing what I was meant to do - write and tell stories.

Otherwise on the writing front, I am seriously considering getting myself a journal to keep down notes and changes I'm making in the novel/story as well as the hours I put into it just so I can see everything that transpires. Perhaps, if it is published, it will help me with my taxes in the up-coming year. I tried a working journal once before, but that was a long time ago and I was a child. Could this be a viable thing to do? I'm thinking....

Today B (new name for Hubby) was working on the computer a little and so I just grabbed my notebook and began jotting down things that needed to happen for the story. It made me feel as if I was actually doing well on the process and am just going to transcribe what I have now onto the computer just as soon as possible. I need to do a little more research, hopefully today, and then I will delve back into writing just as soon as I can, which may be in just a few minutes or tomorrow. I'm thinking....

Composing

I've noticed something about myself since I've begun the current creative project - I'm happy.

I mean, I'm happy down into the deepest part of my core. I have a reason for getting up in the mornings and for going to bed tired at night.

My head is filled to over-flowing with words and phrases and ideas, yet it hasn't felt more clear in years, forget months!

Everything feels fresh and new, even though very little has indeed changed in my life.

Nothing has changed except the fact I am writing again; writing with a ferocity and joy I had almost forgotten.

Stand Up And Be Counted!

True patriotism hates injustice in its own land more than anywhere else.
-- Clarence Darrow

Returning?

There was a point once when writing was simply what I lived for. It was the outlet for all of the creativity I had inside and it got me away from where I was. It let me experience love, danger, excitement and heroism in its purist most entertaining forms. Today, I felt that excitement and love again! Chapter two is now finished!

Creative

I hate to say it, but "An Adventure" may be dead, as in, no more continuances of the story. The current work has taken over. Yesterday I did research for the new story and it felt wonderful! The things I discovered about my own city were absolutely great! It really surprised me how things change when you look at things differently, even the ordinary things we take for granted.

Still, I hate leaving "An Adventure" undone here on The News. I'm sorry about that. If this piece wasn't so involving I would have time to split creative energy between the two, but, right now I just don't.

On that note, I can say there will be more writerly stuff popping up on The News through this creation, as well as who-knows-what. As always, The News is open to submission and if you're tired of my rambles, why not send me some of your own?

One of Those Moments

There comes a point in writing, for me any way, when three things seem to be happening simultaneously:

1) The words seem to appear on the screen as if by magic and it's as if you're reading what it popping up on the screen instead of writing it.
2) The imagination is fluid and active, of which you are aware of consciously and subconsciously.
3) Everything is coming together to where you "see" and almost experience what is happening and your hands move over the keyboard as if you are playing an instrument.

Is this what composers go through? Hearing the melody and trying very hard to capture it all for merely instruments?

And We Go Rolling Merrily Along

Today, when I was working on The Wager-story, I felt the scenes beginning to open up and the people becoming more realistic. The main character is giving me a few fits. He is not forth-coming with information prior to the moment it is written.

Since I have begun to Seriously write again, the words are flowing fast and hard in so many different directions! The absence of a printer is beginning to drive me into the "worry" mode, but I've decided to not let it be a problem: I am going to transfer the files I need to have printed off onto a CD and take this to Kinko's and have Kinko's print off what I need. It is going to be a little difficult and somewhat more expensive than just having a printer at my beck and call, but the stories and poems will get printed off and I can get the stories out that need to be out by their deadlines.

There is something I have written I am seriously considering submitting to the Church bulletin for printing in the next month's newsletter. This is one of the things I need printed off.

Suddenly I am juggling deadlines, writing, and needing a printer to actually get things printed off for submission and sharing, plus being a housewife with all of those particular duties involved.

I feel like a real human being!

Some Words From Albert Einstein

There are two ways to look at life. One is as though nothing is a miracle; the other is as though everything is.

-- Albert Einstein

Encouraged

It is never too late to be what you might have been.

-- George Eliot

There is more I would like to write about this statement, but, for now, I am glad merely to put it forth for your ruminations.

Val Kilmer On Stage In UK

Can you believe it? Val Kilmer is still doing something! It was quite a shock.




Is it just me, or does he look odd in this photo? And, if this is his co-star, she doesn't look very happy with him does she.

Coming 'Round

Things are beginning to be on a roll 'round here recently in the creative department. The story for the wager Hubby and I made has turned into my solace and my salvation for having a husband and not liking him at the current moment. Oh, I still love him, to be sure, I just . . . don't like him all that much at the current moment. Will it pass? I can only hope.

With all of this drama roiling and boiling in the house - don't want to go into too much detail here - working on the novel and bringing the character of William to life has filled me with a pleasure I find nostalgic and at the same time something I've missed.

I have genuinely missed turning my talent, energy, and determination toward a story and its completion. Hubby is sometimes convinced I "run away" into the story, to writing, to escape my problems, and he is partially correct because I tend to do most of my writing in moods of greatest happiness or greatest darkness. Most writers do I think. Yet it goes so much more deeper into the psyche than merely running away from a problem, or problems: it is something I'm called to do and I have been ignoring that call for the past little while. I mean, I haven't been seriously serious in the writing process as I should have been.

Recently Hubby said I was not having anything published because I didn't want to succeed. Maybe part of me really doesn't want to be published because that would mean people would expect to read more of my work and I would have to take it all quite seriously, quite professionally.

(See, I have thought about things.)

Now, through all of the Nasty which is happening, I see where I belong more clearly than I've seen it in a while.

An Adventure, Part 2

Being of the Kilk Clan meant they stayed in the lush forests of Avinar year round. The spring and summer were filled with warmth, and autumn didn't get cold until just before Harvest Festival. After Harvest Festival, however, the cold winds whipped down from Ice Peak and brought the snows with it. Tym shivered at the memory of the recent winter months, then smiled up into the sky. It was over. Winter wouldn't be peeking its head around the corner any time soon and he could look forward to warm days and nights to his soul's content, until winter, of course.

Something moved in the bush to Tym's left. Oh no! It's Mara! She's found me! was his first thought. Mara was his older sister and was in charge of the younger ones, even though Tym was a man now as far as the any of the elders were concerned. He towered over Mara just like their father did, but there was something frightening about Mara. She didn't often snap and snarl, but when she did there was a reason behind it and you'd better listen. It didn't help matters that she was a far better hunter than most men and had a quiet way with animals all admired. What no one knew, except for perhaps him, was that Mara would have preferred to live in the forests alone with her animals than with people. It wasn't that people were bad or evil to her, she just didn't always understand them.

Sure enough, Mara stepped from the bush, her bow in hand and a full quiver of arrows on her back. Her long flaxen hair hung well below her waist, even in the braid she currently had it in. There was no denying she was a girl even though she wore the hunting breeches of the men and a halter she had made herself.

Mara smiled at him and came to lie beside him.

"You know, Tym, sometimes you have the best ideas," she said, closing her eyes and basking in the warmth of the sun. Tym relaxed and smiled as he secured his place back upon the grass.

"I thought you were hunting?"

"I thought we were hunting?" Mara said with a happy lilt in her voice.

"Um, yeah."

"I just didn't feel like it today. This is the first day we've been able to get into the deep forest and I . . . I just wanted to enjoy it."

"Me, too."

Tym watched the very tops of the trees wave in the slight breeze that was blowing. Mara was his older sister by four years, but she was also his best friend in many ways. It felt good to just lie there and not worry about hunting or anything else. It was a perfect day after all.

A horn sounded in the distance. Mara sat bolt upright. Tym followed a little slower.

"The village needs help!" Mara was on her feet and heading back into the forest before Tym could make it to his feet. Suddenly his heart was pounding in his chest. Raiders? They hadn't been attacked since Tym had been alive!

As he followed after Mara, Tym Warden couldn't know his life had just changed forever.