8 January 2023

I was really tired and struggled to think of what to write about when I wrote this. It’s not factually accurate to real mining projects, especially the comments about the backup lights, but eh. That wasn’t the point.

It’s easy to say, out in the light, that darkness isn’t a thing. And they’re right; it’s not. It’s the absence of a thing, the absence of light. But when you’re trapped hundreds of feet down without any light, the darkness has got weight to it. If you’re not careful, it’ll crush you just as surely as any cave-in.

Such were my thoughts down in the mine when the power cut out. Whatever happened must have been catastrophic, because even the back-up lights never came on. For better or worse, most everyone else had already left by that time, so it was just me. Alone in the dark. With none of the lifts working.

The only way I could go forward, then, was the backup path. It was a narrow set of tunnels that curled around on itself to wind its way back up to the surface. A hefty iron chain had been bolted in, so we’d have something to follow even in the dark. I held onto that desperately. Sure, I had the weak little light from my headlamp–most of the time, anyway–but that only got me so far. I had to hold onto that chain like my life depended on it… because in a way, it did.

5 January 2023

This was fun. I was dead tired, and I had my online class soon, so I pulled something random, and decided to write an explorer’s impressions if he (or she) had run into the pop-tart people that show up in the comics on the boxes. I might be conflating them with the minions from the Despicable Me series in some ways, but eh. Short little nonsense piece. I think that’s important sometimes, too.

I’ve been many a strange place, and met many a strange people in my time. A regular Gulliver in my travels, if you will. But none were so odd as these folks. They were some sort of living pastry, by all appearances, with a large, rectangular body or head and stubby little arms and legs.

That, in itself, was strange enough, though not the oddest or most terrifying thing I’d seen. No, what was strange to me was the creatures’ utter lack of survival instinct.

I witnessed far too many instances where one pulled a prank on another that resulted in one or both of them literally breaking into pieces. They would climb, jum, and fall without any thought of future consequences. And even odder, many of them begged me to eat them, assuming I’m interpreting them correctly.

I can only conclude that some being, somewhere, was continuously making more of these creatures, either through scientific or mystical means. To what ends, I know not, but it is the only explanation I have for why the race as a whole hasn’t driven itself to extinction.

1 January 2023

I wanted to do something for New Year’s, and I didn’t feel like working on any of my usual stories, so I came up with this little feel-good one shot. It gave me a chance to practice my descriptive writing, which I want to improve, and let me just chill for a bit.

Some of my inspirations are probably pretty obvious. New Year’s led to Chinese New Year’s, despite being a couple months before that, and that led my to Eastern dragons. And once I connected the kid and the dragon, I couldn’t help but think of that scene in the Never-ending Story. It’s been ages since I watched it, but that scene is a bit iconic.

When Xiang had decided to watch the New Year’s fireworks from the top of the mountain, he hadn’t expected to find it already occupied. And certainly not by one of the legendary dragons.

The dragon was a great, long thing, that curled around the hilltop like a [noodle strand]. He had sky blue scales and a bushy white mustache, and a pair of antlers sprouted from his head. Below them, the dragon watched Xiang with a pair of golden eyes that seemed full of wisdom.

For a moment, the two just stared at each other. Then Xiang asked, “Are you here to watch the fireworks, too?”

The dragon slowly blinked, then turned to look down at the town. “Is it that time of year again already?”

Xiang nodded. “Do you want to watch them with me?”

The dragon regarded Xiang for a moment, then his eye twinkled. “Would you kike an even better view?”

Xiang’s eyes went wide, and the dragon chuckled. He stretched himself out, and invited Xiang to climb on.

No sooner had Xiang gotten himself situated when the dragon took off, swimming through the air, almost like a kite in the wind.

Xiang looked down in wonder as his village shrank beneath them. Then the fireworks started, lighting up the air all around them with every color imaginable.

The dragon grinned and sped up, dancing among the fireworks, adding an extra layer of beauty to the show for those below. Xiang laughed and whooped in joy, reveling in all the light and color.

Soon enough, though, it ended, and the dragon brought Xiang back to the mountain so he could go home. Xiang bowed and thanked the dragon. “I’ll come back and see you again!”

The dragon dipped his head, and Xiang hurried off, eager to tell all of his friends and family about his grand adventure.

26 December 2022 part 2

Surprise! I actually got two writing sessions in that Monday. I wanted to catch up a bit, I guess, and I had work off, which made it easier.

This one was fun. When I was younger, sometimes I would entertain my little brothers by having each of them give me a word (kind of like mad-libs), and then I’d make up a story or something that used all the words they gave me. Most of them were pretty corny, but it was fun. So I kind of went and tried it again with the family we had over. One of them gave me the word cheese, another birds, and the my Mom gave me the word, “Why?”. Then I cam up with this.

The pigeon carefully looked around from his perch on the branch. There was a pizza with a beautiful, golden crust the humans had thrown out for whatever reason, and the pigeon wanted to grab what he could of that crust and carry it home to his family. However… This was the Cat’s territory. And if the Cat was around… Well, it wasn’t worth risking his neck for.

Once he’d watched and waited long enough to feel safe, the pigeon flew down to the pizza, only to come face to face with a mouse.

Both of them shrieked and jumped back. They slowly circled each other, the pizza between them. Finally, the pigeon asked, “You’re… not with the Cat, are you?”

“What? Never!” the mouse exclaimed. “The Cat would sooner eat me ask for help. WHat about you?”

The pigeon shook his head and heaved a sigh of relief. Then he had a though, and gave the mouse a sidelong glance. “Are you here for the crust, then?”

The mouse narrowed his eyes. “And what if I was?”

The pigeon ruffled his feathers, and got ready to fight. The mouse settle back on his haunches, ready to spring forward, and asked, “What about the cheese? Are you after that, too?”

“What? No! What would I even do with the cheese?”

Surprised, the mouse relaxed. “Well, maybe we can come to an agreement, then. I leave you the crust, and you leave me the cheese?”

He extended a paw, and the pigeon hesitated only a moment before he took it in his talon. “Agreed.”

For the next several minutes, the odd pair worked to harvest the pizza, each keeping a wary eye out for the Cat. As they worked, the pigeon said, “I haven’t seen you around these parts. Are you new here?”

“Oh, no,” the mouse replied. “I’ve lived here my whole life.” With his tail, he pointed to a small drain. “My wife and I live down there with our children. Out of sight. Not seen, not heard. That’s the best way to avoid the Cat.”

The pigeon cocked his head and ruffled his feathers. “Is it? That’s not what I’d learned.”

“Oh?”

“No. My pappy always taught us to fly high and free, out where the Cat can’t reach us.” The pigeon flapped a wing into the forest. “That’s where my family lives; high up in a tree, out where the Cat isn’t.”

“Hm? Out in the sky? Where the Cat can see you all the time?” The mouse shuddered. “I couldn’t do that. Way too scary. What if he watches you land?”

The pigeon scoffed. “Better than you. You practically live in the Cat’s lap! If some accident reveals you to it, then there’s nowhere to go, nothing to do. And you have to come out sometime to gather food and such, don’t you?”

The two stared at each other for a long time, then finally just shook their heads, took their piece of the pizza, and left, the mouse to his hole and the pigeon to his tree. Each was so certain the other was the greatest fool he’d ever meet.

25 December 2022

So, it was Christmas. A couple of my brothers came over, so it’s been hit or miss this whole week (from the 25th through the 30th) how much I was able to write or not. That’s not a bad thing; I really enjoyed the visit, and we had a lot of fun. But it did make me a little sad. That said, I did write every day - and even got 2 sessions in one day, to catch up a bit - so there will always be something here.

This time, I went to the Writer’s Block, and kept getting words like “Lust”, “Fertility”, or “Flirting”. I also found a random statistic that over 100 people have registered on a waiting list to see an execution live. After I quit fighting it, that kind of percolated in my brain, and merged with the stories I’ve heard about people writing and randomly falling for random prison inmates. No idea where I was going to go with it, and probably won’t ever come back to it; it’s pretty short.

Marlene wasn’t a looker. She knew it, and she knew everyone else knew it. Still, even she wanted something more in life.

She wasn’t expecting to get it like this, though. A few years back, on a whim, she and a couple of her friends had thrown their names on a list to watch a real-life execution. Something like needing to have civilian witnesses? Honestly, Marlene had forgotten all about it, and likely would’ve removed her name from the list if she’d thought of it.

20 December 2022

For my birthday a few weeks ago, my family got me a little 3-4 inch cube book called The Writer’s Block. It’s full of a bunch of different writing prompts and idea generators, and I decided to take a break from my usual stuff and try it out. The first page I flipped to was only a single word; “Gossip”. By itself, that didn’t appeal to me. But I randomly turned to a few other pages, and got one with “Superstitious”; the two started fermenting in my brain, and I had a thought. Superstitious/supernatural entities that are likely to gossip or be affected by rumors… why not vampires?

Most modern media depict vampire society as being focused around the “elite”, of it being a branch of high society. Makes sense; it’s quite the wonderful metaphor, isn’t it? But while considering that, I was thinking about what they might gossip about, and I had a question. How would they react to some unrefined country bumpkin joining their society?

If I ever do more with this - and I’m not sure I will - I’d want to pull in more of the characters vampiric nature. What I’ve got written here could just as well be some ordinary rich girl dating a farm boy. Also, Alucard would only be a stand-in surname.

“Have you heard about the young heiress of the Alucard family, Druscilla?” The speaker was a short, plump woman named Edith. If I hadn’t already known it, I’d never have believed she was a vampire.

“Oh, yes. What a scandal! Not only did she run of with some mortal and turn him, she didn’t even have the decency to choose one of the wealthy, well-groomed ones. Instead, it was some boy from the countryside.” Druscilla herself had a thin face, in sharp contrast to her talking companion. If you told me she’d never smiled in her life, even before her Change, I’d believe you.

“What was his name again? Spencer?”

“No, no. It was Shawn, I believe.”

That’s me. Shawn. Fresh from Burhill, Idaho, and fiancee to Leah Alucard. Also a freshly-minted vampire. Still kinda on the fence how I feel about that. Unless Leah’s around; then I remember what a no-brainer the decision was.

I approached the two women. “Did you need me for something?”

Both women seemed shocked at the sudden intrusion. “No, we’re fine, thank you.”

I tipped my hat to them–an old baseball cap from the mill I worked at during my high school days–and said, “Best be careful what you say, ma’am. Prob’ly best not to offend the lady of the house, especially if she’s invited you as a guest.”

For a moment, both just stared at me. Then Druscilla said, “Indeed.”

I tipped my hat again and walked away. Behind me, I heard them debating who I was, which was curious as they’d been talking about me just moments before. Not that I felt like going back and introducing myself.

I passed by a few more groups of people, each one twittering away, mostly about my engagement with Leah, or about the way she changed me without some big boss’s approval. Made me wonder what I was doing there and how I was going to deal with this mess.

Before long, too much was too much and I retreated upstairs. Didn’t really want to spend time with the in-laws; my first meeting with Leah’s dad had just about come to blows. So I headed up to the attic and looked out the window over their massive backyard.

A little while later, Leah came up and joined me. “Figured I’d find you here, once I realized you’d left the party.”

I gave her a wry smile. “It’s pretty nice up here. Got quite the view.”

“Hmm.’ She came and sat down next to me, then leaned her head on my shoulder. “So what’s really going on? And don’t try to tell me everything’s fine. I know you well enough to know something’s up.”

I grabbed herr hand. “It’s really not much. Just… Been hearing a lotta people talking. Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“Of course!” She raised her head and looked me in the eye. “Are you? Do you regret it?”

I laughed and shook my head. “Nah.” I glanced out the window. “It’s just… I’m a farm boy from Idaho. What the heck do I know about fancy parties or things like that?” I turned back to Leah as I said, “Guess I’m just worried I’m gonna make things harder for you with everyone else, since I don’t know how to look presentable to all the snooty-tooty folks downstairs.”

Leah snorted with laughter, then shook her head. “Don’t worry about them or what they think. And if they’ve got a problem with you, they can go through me.” She kissed my cheek. ‘You’re worth dealing with all that crap for, I hope you know.”

I grinned. “You are, too.” I tickled her side a bit, making her squeal, then stood up. “C’mon. Probably ought to head back downstairs before someone wonders where we scurried off to.”

5 October 2022

I think in addition to the slump I mentioned in the previous post, I also was really exhausted this day. Barely wrote 20 minutes. I also had no idea what to write about, so I pulled a random prompt from online; it talked about walking Cerberus. I thought it was fun. I didn’t finish, and I’m not sure I ever will, but it was a fun one to write.

After getting the letter, Rachel had half-expected to wind up just off the island at som massive, hidden mansion in the Jersey woods, but the address actually brought her to a very sleek, modern high-rise. The security guard let her in, and she was not surprised to see her client lived on the top floor. Most of these types tended to; Rachel wondered if they enjoyed looking down on the masses below them.

Soon enough, the elevator arrived and Rachel knocked on the door to the penthouse. “Hello? It’s Rachel Durmont, for Ms. Hecate le Fay. You asked me to walk your dog?”

“Oh, thank the Fates,” a woman’s voice cried out. The door opened to reveal a thirty-something woman with short, dark hair. Based on the bags under her eyes, it’d been ages since she’d gotten any sleep.

And it wasn’t hard to see why; behind her, a dog was tearing into a very expensive-looking throw pillow. That, Rachel could handle; she’d seen worse since she started this business. No, the problem she had was the two extra heads the dog had, all fighting for the pillow. She peered in, half awe-struck and half terrified. “Is that…”

“A puppy Cerberus? Yes, yes it is. And it’s just as horrible as that sounds.”

Rachel absently felt for the gloves in her coat pocket. She had a feeling they weren’t going to be enough this time.

Ms. le Fay continued, “Yeah… The big girl downstairs finally settled down and had a litter. Perse loves the lot, but even she has limits, so they foisted one off onto me. What gives? Anyway, I don’t really care what you do with it, just give me two – no, even one hour would be heavenly, where I don’t have to worry about it. That’d be a huge help.”

The gears in Rachel’s head struggled to click into place. “You want me to take that,” she pointed at the puppy, “and go out in public for an hour or two. Is that right?”

4 October 2022

It was hard to write over the 4th and the 5th. I think I was in a slump because of how frustrated I was with the last chapter of Ella and Kal’s story. I still had Cinderella on my mind, though, so I wrote up a quick one shot detailing another way I thought to break it. Why is Cinderella one of the easiest fairy tales to twist, I wonder? Or does it just seem that way because it’s the most common one to get twisted?

“Hm? But I don’t want to marry the prince.”

Marge, freshly-minted fairy godmother, couldn’t believe her ears. “You don’t want the prince?” She didn’t know what to do; the manual hadn’t covered something like this!

“No way. I’ve never met the man; why would I want to marry him? No, I’m after Thomas, the baker’s son from two streets over.”

Marge knew that bakery. Their jelly tarts were divine. But this wasn’t the time for that. “I… I… I don’t know what to do about that.”

Cinderella cocked her head to the side. “You’re my fairy godmother, right?”

“Of course!” Marge squared her shoulders.

“Then, it’s your job to help me find happiness, right?”

“Yes…”

“So if my happiness is going to be with a baker’s son instead of a prince, you should help me achieve that, right?”

That made sense. “So how do I do that? The manual focused almost exclusively on princes.”

Cinderella rubbed her chin. “Well, the baker’s son isn’t the problem; I’ve got that covered.” She beamed in joy, then glared in the direction of her step-mother’s room. “No, if there’s a problem… Could you get me away from the witch and her two daughters?”

“Witch!?” Marge had heard about those; nasty business. Sleeping curses, transforming into dragons… Marge might need to get help if there was a witch involved.

Cinderella rolled her eyes. “I just mean my step-mom.” Under her breath, she added, “At least, I don’t think she’s actually a witch. Wouldn’t surprise me, though…”

Fortunately, Marge hadn’t heard that, and breathed a sigh of relief. Then she thought for a moment. “Erm, maybe I could make you a carriage? I noticed a lovely pumpkin I could use growing out in the garden. The two of you could elope. That’d be so romantic!”

Cinderella wavered a bit, then finally said, “It’s an option. I’d like to leave it as a last resort, though; I don’t want to take him away from his family and his bakery if I don’t have to.”

“Oh.” Marge hemmed and hawed for a bit, but she couldn’t come up with anything. “I’m sorry. In most cases, once Cinderella marries the prince, he takes care of the step-mother for her.”

“Say, there’s an idea,” Cinderella said. “What if I got the prince to just owe me, instead? Then he can cut my ties with the old hag, and I’m good to go!”

“What kind of favor?” Marge asked.

Cinderella pondered for a moment. “Is the prince in love with anyone?”

Marge cocked her head. “Isn’t he in love with you?”

Cinderella groaned and facepalmed. “Like I said, we’ve never even met, so I certainly hope not.” She eyed the glass slippers. “You said they change size so they won’t fit anyone but me?”

“That’s right.”

“Go take them to the prince and find out if he’s fallen in love with someone. If he has, make the shoes fit that person instead, and offer them to the prince in exchange for his help with my step-mother. Sound good?”

Marge didn’t think it sounded good at all. It sounded like a lot of trouble, and who knows what could happen? But she didn’t have any better ideas, so she took the shoes and headed for the prince.

25 September 2022

This one also got a little dark. I really like the idea that Hansel and Gretel grew up to be badass, and they took something from the witch when they escaped. From their, it made sense they would pay dear old step-mother a visit, but… Yeah, as much as I enjoy darker stories like Arcane, I don’t think I have the right mentality to write them.

Also, I had that stupid song stuck in my head all day at work one day, and this was how I put a spin on it to keep my brain occupied.

“The cat came back, the very next day.

The cat came back; she thought he was a goner.

But the cat came back; he just wouldn’t stay away.”

The older woman seated on the couch stood and whirled to look at the man who’d been singing. He leaned against the doorframe, one arm folded, while in his other hand he juggled a single knife. He had dark hair and wore a black duster over a similarly dark outfit.

“Who, who are you?” the woman squeaked.

“Ah, you do not remember me? My heart is wounded!” The man clutched his chest, but his mouth slipped into a smile that never reached his eyes. “Did you hear that, dear sister? She does not remember us!”

From across the room, in the hall beyond the doorway, a young woman’s voice lilted through. 

“Oh, the cat came back, the very next day.

The cat came back; she thought she was a goner.

But the cat came back; she just wouldn’t stay away.”

As the chorus finished, a woman in her mid- to early-twenties, same as the dark-clothed man, entered the room. She, too, was dressed all in black, save for some dark red accents. She wore pants, which would have made the older woman aghast were she not so terrified. Her long, dark hair was tied back in a braid, and she wore a feathered tricorn hat. Strange, arcane accouterments hung from her belt.

She smiled cruelly. “And after you tried so hard to kill us all those years ago? You’re going to break my heart, mother dearest!”

The older woman’s eyes went wide. “That’s not possible!”

“Hm. You would think so. Yet here we are, aren’t we, Gretel?” The man slowly began to walk towards the older woman.

“But, you were both dead!” The woman backed away from the two, and her eyes darted for some way out of the room. Unfortunately, the only two doors were the ones the siblings had used to enter.

Gretel stepped closer. “No, though the old witch certainly gave it her best shot, didn’t she, Hansel? Still…” She raised her hand, and a ball of ghostflame flickered into existence. “I did manage to pick up a few of her tricks, so I should thank you for that I suppose.”

The old woman had backed herself into the corner by this point. “No! Please! I, I’ll do anything!”

“Anything?” Hansel asked, one eyebrow raised.

“So, if, for example,” Gretel asked, and traced a finger down the old woman’s face. “If I said I felt peckish, and that I’d always wondered why that old witch was so eager to eat children…”

The blood drained from the old woman’s face. “No, please! They’re only children! I beg of you!”

Hansel’s eyes flashed. “What were we, then, when you sent us to the witch?”

“You should have seen her salivating,” Gretel added. “Children must be quite tasty.”

The woman wailed and fainted. Both of the twins looked down on her in disgust. Gretel almost went to kick her, then thought better of it. Instead, she crouched next to the woman and held a hand over her head as she recited words from an unknowable language.

“And what will that do?” Hansel asked.

“Nightmares,” Gretel said, “every night, for the rest of her days. She will watch her children being eaten by monsters over and over again. I felt she should get to see for herself what she put us through.”

He nodded once, and the two left, with no trace they’d ever been there except for the unconscious woman in the corner.