Faelynn

As promised in yesterday’s post, for this week’s Transcript Tuesday I have an excerpt from my first completed novel, Faelynn. What’s interesting about the inspiration for this one, is my cousin told me about a story she wanted to create about 4 faerie cousins who have adventures. She told me that she didn’t have the gumption to really write it, and asked if I could try to put it down on paper. As she went to take a shower, I put on my favorite Enya CD and ideas just came pouring out of nowhere. To date, it is the most surreal brainstorming experience I have ever had. I was so excited to show my cousin what I had written, and was quickly crushed when she said that it was nothing like what she had in mind and to not use the title she had in mind for her story.

Instantly, I thought that meant she hated it and here I was still in love with the ideas I had come up with and desiring to expand on them. Her adverse reaction gave me pause. Later on that evening, we were watching a movie and she asked if I was okay. I told her what I had felt about our earlier discourse and she began laughing. She proceeded to tell me that she thought that what I had written was excellent, and she wanted to find out where that story was going to go; it just wasn’t the story she had in mind – she would rather me make my ideas wholly my own story. Thus, I had my very first NaNoWrimo novel ready to go!

The synopsis:

Brucie is a free fairie who has come to live in Faelynn. Like all the other places she’s tried to live in she’s met with hate and prejudice. However, things start to turn around when three lifelong faerie friends take her under their wings. Just when she thought things were beginning to look up, mysterious disappearances threaten her new found home – and she is at the center of the blame! Now she must steel herself against the odds to prove her innocence and find and free the missing fairies.

The excerpt:

“Hey, hey you,” a bright and high-pitched voice said, “yoo-hoo, are you still in there?”

Brucie was slowly coming back to her senses. She could still feel the thick fog swirling around inside of her lungs and throat. Trying to open her eyes and respond to the unfamiliar voice was too much, too soon and she started coughing uncontrollably. “Don’t die on us now! You’re one of the first faerie’s that I’ll get to officially meet in my whole live-long life!”

“I’m not,” Brucie coughed, “dead..I’m very much –“

“ALIVE,” a chorus of voices rang out.

Just as Brucie had started to open up her eyes a rush of bodies flung themselves at her. “Woah, what’s going on?”

“You are okay! You are all right,” cried Nyx, “I thought we had lost you and I would never get the chance to say how sorry I am and how much I am thankful for you and –“

“NYX,” the three faerie friends cried.

As innocent as a newly formed butterfly Nyx replied, “Yes?”

“Anyway, Nyx and I had decided to tail you and Parisa. Well, we couldn’t exactly catch up with you because you had such a head start, but when I saw what direction you were headed. I knew there was only one place that Parisa could be taking you to, because Parisa’s Donna lives in the opposite edge of the forest. By the time we got here the light fog made it a little –“

“Light fog,” Brucie said incredulously.

“Well…by the time we got here it was a light fog. Anyway, Nyx and I saw the strangest outline through the fog. At first Nyx thought it was a floating horny toad, but I told her that was just silly. The closer we got we saw that it was a faerie trying to carry you and Parisa all on her own,” Maruelle explained.

“Maruelle had a fit,” Nyx interjected, “she thought that the other faerie had drugged you and was going to do some sort of unspeakable things to you…but she was wrong! Turns out you guys did yourselves in! Little Miss Merri here was just trying to get you guys inside!”

“Who,” Brucie asked.

“Me,” said the bright and cheery voice from when Brucie first came out of her unconscious state, “I heard all the banging and commotion outside and decided to check. Thankfully I found you guys just in time!”

“Yes, thank you,” Brucie said still stunned, “but how did you see through the fog?”

“Oh that wasn’t fog…that was smoke, but I found you through this!”

Merri grabbed a strange looking contraption off the shelf, and put it on her head. It looked like a garland made out of branches and leaves with a huge flower on each side of her head. After Merri shook her head rapidly from side to side the insides of the flowers lit up brightly. “Yeah,” Merri commented, “there are about 150 fireflies in each flower it is great for seeing at night…or through tons of smoke in this case. Basically, it is very useful when you are the assistant to the great and mighty Elder Barry – not to be confused with Elder Barry wine. After all wine must be fine and aged…and Elder Barry is neither one of those.”

“So what was with all the,” Parisa started.

“Smoke? Oh that was one of his many experiments gone awry. Thank goodness I have good hearing; because there is so much hubbub in here I almost was not sure there really was anything happening outside. That Elder Barry is a genius…but he is not one for cleanliness and quiet. Speaking of Elder Barry, I wonder where he went. He was just here not too long ago checking on Parisa.”

Brucie was about to say something when she felt something tug on her right wing, causing her to jump up and fly straight up to the roof of the house. When she looked down she saw a kindly faerie man with hazel eyes that still held the sparkle of wonder and youth. He was almost completely bald save for tufts of unruly grey and white hair on either side of his head. Looking up at the startled faerie the old male faerie, that could be none other than Elder Barry said to her, “I know where you got your wings.”

Brucie cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow as she looked at him confused while the other faeries in the room half giggled and half groaned.

“Where?”

“On your back.”

The answer was so simple, so obvious, and so unexpected that Brucie could not help but laugh hysterically as she floated back down to the floor. “Finally,” Elder Barry said quite pleased with himself, “some new blood to laugh at my jokes.”

“Don’t get used to it now,” Merri chided jokingly, “it will wear off quickly. After all, you don’t have many jokes and they aren’t that funny.”

Elder Barry glanced back at Brucie who was still in hysterics, “Well…I’m holding out hope for this one anyway.”

What did you think? Let me know in the comments!!

Until the next page…

Danies and the Tree of Eisdan

Danies and the Tree of Eisdan is my second completely written novel. Personally, it is my favorite piece of work – mainly because it is dedicated to the ones I love who have passed on. Every single character in the novel is named after someone I hold dear that have passed on save for three; and those three are still named after loved ones, just ones that are still here.

The premise of the novel is:

Bullies and parents and teachers – oh my! This is pretty much life for Danies Treadell. Her only solace is painting and spending time with her beloved mom-mom, Vera. One night, Vera gives her a necklace for no reason whatsoever, with the cryptic promise that it would somehow help her find who she “truly” is. Before Danies knows it, she is swept up into a brand new world full of strange people who are looking to her, the one whose necklace displays a charm liken to the sacred Tree of Eisdan, to save them all! Now if she could just figure out how to stay in this strange new land (that may or may not be a dream) and stop continually ending up back home where things are steadily getting worse and she is starting to spiral out of control…

Here is an excerpt from the first chapter:

It’s the same old song and dance…I’m not the first and unfortunately I’m not even close to being the last person who will be treated this way.

Then again this position has given me a unique perspective. From what I have observed friendship is not all what it’s cracked up to be either. I can’t begin to count how many times I have seen people gossip about their omigosh besties for life or backstab their bros for the hos they claim they put said bros before. Seriously, groups aren’t even a safe haven. One small slip in wardrobe or if you enjoy something the others do not or even glance in some undesirable’s way for too long and blam you are ostracized.

“Freak.”

Crap I didn’t realize I was zoning out and staring at the queen bee. I really need to knock off the inner monologueing during school hours.

“You should just transfer no one wants you here.”

Just like that there go all my books all over the floor. It’s hard for me not to desire my heart to die as I examine the new bruises that have developed from all the checking into lockers and pushing and tripping that went on today.

As I finally leave this prison I’m reminded of the two things that keep me going.

There is nothing like the feeling of slashing a fresh canvas with the colors of my discontent. While the paintings always represent all my rage and hopelessness I can’t help but smile and feel total peace as I create. Right as I was about to put the final touches on my latest work I smiled even bigger at the presence I felt behind me.

“You’re home early mom-mom.”

“And you are having a worse day than normal it seems.”

“How could ya tell?”

“Well on your especially bad days there seems to be just as much paint on you and the floor as there is on the canvas.”

As I looked down at myself and the area around me I realized she was right. Then again she often was. We both just laughed off the mess and walked out of the room specially designated for me whenever I came over.

“So what is our plan for tonight mom-mom?”

“Well I thought we could run away to Greece tonight!”

“Sweet! We haven’t been there in a while.”

One of my favorite rituals with my mom-mom was her themed nights. Everything from the dinner to the dessert to the movie was all tied in somehow. Tonight we had lamb and potatoes with baklava for dessert and we sat on the couch eating it all while watching My Big Fat Greek Wedding and My Life in Ruins. I think the country themed nights were my favorite because my desire to run away increased.

Mom-mom never said anything but I think she knew what I was doing. Whenever my parents left me money for dinner I pocketed it and ate at mom-moms instead. As soon as I graduate I am going to have enough to travel. See the ruins of the world that made me feel not so damaged. I mean they’re a mess and people flock by the thousands every year to see them. So maybe I’m not so bad after all. Maybe.

By the middle of My Life in Ruins I was starting to fade so I snuggled close to my mom-mom like I used to when I was small. She is the only one in the universe that I will ever let it show how hurt and tired I am of it all.

“Do you want me to call your mom and tell her that you are staying the night here?”

“You mean staying forever?”

She laughed and it warmed my heart. I nodded and curled up in a ball on the couch as she got up to call. I am not sure how much time had passed but I know it was the same night because it was still dark and I was still on the couch when mom-mom gently woke me up.

“I’m sorry I missed watching the end of the movie with you.”

“It’s okay sweetness. Before you go on up to bed I wanted to give you something.”

“Huh? What for?”

“Well I know you are going through a harder time than you are letting on,” she passed me a black velvet drawstring bag before she continued, “and your pop-pop gave this to me. I know this may not make much sense but this right here has the ability to show you, as it did me, the way.”

“The way to what?”

“To find who you truly are.”

I hope you enjoyed the excerpt! I’m still going through my final rounds of editing, and then I hope to officially publish it! Let me now your thoughts in the comments!!

Until the next page…

Digging Deeper

Back in May of this year, a 12 year old girl almost lost her life so that her best friend and another girl could please a fictional character. It’s very difficult for me to wrap my head around the previous sentence. A 12 year old innocent girl almost died at the hands of, NOT JUST two other 12 year old girls, but at the hands of her best friend no less.

When I was 12 years old, me and my best friends’ sleepovers typically included: playing video games and bored games, watching movies, making pancakes, and making us stories. No matter how angry my friends and I got at each other back then (let’s face it girls at 12….okay girls at ANY age can be extremely catty with one another), we were never mad enough to kill. Then again this tragedy has nothing to do with anger and rage; it has to do with obsession.

While a majority of the articles about this case initially delved into the question of who is Slenderman (the object of the pre-teen girls obsession), I’m not going to do so. The most I will say is he is a fictional horror character, that needs not be glorified.

This case has hit my heart in a big way. Perhaps it’s due to the fact that I’m a youth pastor; maybe it’s because of the horrifying nature of the whole ordeal itself. However, I think the main reason for my horror is the lack of reporting on this case. The first time I heard about it was an online article that was shared on my friend Rabecca’s facebook. After that one share, I never heard anything on the news, read anything in the paper, or heard anyone talk about it.

A 12 year old girl almost died at the hands of two other 12 year old girls and no one is talking about it?! Then again, I shouldn’t come off as if no one cares. I have been looking up articles online for those that are still reporting on the case. The victim survivor, whose name is Payton, had received thousands of homemade purple hearts with prayers and words of encouragement while she was in the hospital.

You can even donate here: http://www.gofundme.com/HeartsForHealingWI to help pay for her hospital bills. The fundraiser has raised $78,182 thus far.

Her parents were on 20/20 a couple of nights ago, and the love in their hearts astounded me. They talked about how they think of the other girls’ parents and how they can’t imagine what they are going through. If I was in their shoes, I think that I would be angry. I would ask myself: Why didn’t these parents monitor the things they were looking at online? How could they not see that their child was blurring the lines of fiction and reality?

In truth, I am humbled by Payton’s parents and their outlook. I really can’t imagine how they feel or what they are going through right now. Her father in particular said something really profound. He said that his daughter was meant for something great, and that she is an inspiration; and perhaps through her ordeal it will cause parents to become more involved with their children and to dig a little deeper.

Maybe digging a little deeper is a good idea. I’m not just talking about parents to children, but person to person. We live in a day and age where it’s the norm to be a curmudgeonly voyeur. We blog and we tweet and we creep on Facebook, but if someone makes the “wrong” comment or gets too close and we tell them to mind their own business. Perhaps if we dropped walls and judgements and instead made a conscious decision to unabashedly care for one another, there would be less problems and more solutions in the world.

Until the next page…

Back to the Beginning

Hello all! For this week’s transcript Tuesday I have decided to share with you a few poems. This is actually pretty hard for me, because my poems have always been a form of therapy for me. What makes it more difficult is that none of these are new; other than 1 poem I wrote 2 years ago, I haven’t written any poetry in 5 years.

This first one I wrote in August 2009:

Surrender

I am broken, not shattered,
Blood pours out like wine.
Faint memories of what was,
Still, yet barely, shine.

What caused the wall,
To crumble to the ground?
Why is it that, today,
Pride is no where to be found?

Where did I lose all control,
Who is to blame for this?
Severed hand reaches higher,
Begging for Holy kiss.

Lose focus on yesterday,
It cannot help you now.
Today is a new day,
It’s time to make a new vow.

Scattered to the wind,
All I used to believe.
Separating good from bad,
To Him will I cleave.

There’s nothing else,
But He who doth see.
All that I was,
All that I can be.

For who else could love,
And foresee a work of art.
In a creature so wretched,
Desperately needing a new start?

All good comes together,
But putty in his hands.
Giving up my will to resist,
Now it’s all His plans.

Someone has to do better,
Better than I have done.
I have to be trained,
For the battle to be won.

I can’t do it on my own,
I lose left and right.
I can’t look at myself,
Unless through Your sight.

Sacrificing self,
To You I surrender.
Mind, Body, Soul,
Heart to You render.

Alone I cannot stand,
Alone You cannot fall.
My kingdom lays waste,
While You’re Lord of all.

This second poem, from October 2008, is a lot darker. I used to have this recurring nightmare, which is described in the poem, from age 9 or 10 until…well it stopped after I wrote it down. The odd part is this particular nightmare is the only time (I can recall) that I have ever dreamed in black and white (save for the rose part in the middle).

Recurring

I awaken in a daze,
Unsure and out of sorts.
All color has drained,
People gathered, in cohorts.

Before thinking,
Becomes at all clear.
Plotting turns to decision,
And anger is all I hear.

Bound and led away,
What will end this day?
Stolen in confusion,
Praying for absolution.

Brought on trial,
In total denial.
For what crime,
Did I commit this time?

People I love,
Those held dear.
Are with the accusers,
Not shedding a tear.

Fingers shoved,
In my direction.
Not a kind word,
Hate is their only inflection.

A burst of color,
Seals my fate.
Dark red rose,
Blood lust satiate.

Beaten, spat upon,
They all curse my name.
Leading me to my death,
I hide my face in shame.

No mourners here,
No sympathy.
I want the end,
They wish for me.

Bound hastily,
Thrust forward.
Cheering now,
As I get my just reward.

Hooded figure,
Harbinger of Death.
Cloak and Dagger,
Come to steal my last breath.

Hope here for me,
Would be but a delusion.
So I resign to my wanted demise,
Finally escaping this illusion.

I really don’t want to leave this on a depressing note, so I will share one more. This one is from September 2008, and it’s pretty self-explanatory.

Phoenix Eternal

Despite the claims,
Of it being my time.
Sorry to disappoint,
But higher I will climb.

Kissing the sun,
Above it all I rise.
Not resorting to ashes,
Don’t expect my demise.

I feel free,
Stronger every second.
Brighter than before,
A force to be reckoned.

My feathers spread,
Glorious in conflict.
If you sought my destruction,
I’m afraid you’ve been tricked.
No wounds, no dents,
Not a scratch to my soul.
For my heart is hidden,
In The One who makes me whole.

I hope you all enjoyed these poems, if you did or have any critiques please drop a comment!

Until the next page…

The Best Day of my Life

 

Welcome to my first ever Transcript Tuesday!

 

 

Every Tuesday I will be posting up a piece I have written or an excerpt from something I have done or am working on. I am more than happy to receive and reply to comment of constructive criticism, thoughts, and so on that you may have on what I post. It is my belief that one can only get better if you know what needs work and then work on it!

 

The first piece I would like to share is a completely true story. I wrote this on January 12, 2010. I thought what better way to start off Transcript Tuesday than with something that will give you a better picture of who I am.

 

“It’s odd that the best day of my life relates to a day infamously known for an American tragedy. Nonetheless, December 7th has a different meaning for me – it was the day I gained back all that I had lost.

Growing up was rough for me. The first 13 years of my life was filled with abuse and neglect. To make matters worse, my father was completely unknown to me and no one in my maternal family seemed to know where he was. Although it did not work out between my mother and him, my grandparents (the only safe haven I had growing up) always spoke well of him and prayed alongside me that I would one day meet him. I spent the first few years of my life going back and forth between my maternal grandparents and my mother.

By my thirteenth birthday I had decided to leave my mother and move in permanently with my grandparents. It was then I became truly determined to find out as much as I could about my father, since my grandparents gave me that freedom to do so. I was unsuccessful that year and, as a result, became more discouraged.

When my fourteenth birthday came around, I was in my first year of high school and my mother had come to live with me and my grandparents temporarily. In other words, I felt as if I was in hell; everything was awkward and mixed up to me. However, good came out of my mother’s presence – we began getting her mail. One letter came in particular that announced her and my father had to appear in family court for child support purposes. My grandmother immediately encouraged me to go with them to the courthouse. I remember feeling terrified and excited all at the same time. After all, I had no idea who this man was, but I hoped with all my might that everything would work out.

My grandmother and mother picked me up in the middle of the day from school to go to the courthouse. My mother was steadily cursing under her breath and moving uncomfortably in her seat from the time they had picked me up until we were sitting in the waiting room. After a while I heard my mom snidely say that my father was over by the check in counter. At her words my heart began to pound and my mouth went dry. I had suddenly realized that I had no idea what I was going to say to this guy should he decide to speak to me. When I looked up and didn’t see anyone I became frightened all over again. What if my mom was lying to me? What if he didn’t show up?

As I worried myself into a frenzy I began to pull at my thick black and gray sweater. Shortly after, a man came up to me and introduced himself to me and me alone. He began to tell me one thing that I treasured most: truth. Most of my life people had tried to shelter me from what was really going on, but not him. He told me that he used to be a drug dealer and he even used to use drugs himself, but he had gotten saved seven years ago and had been serving the Lord ever since. My dad told me that he had been praying for a long time to be able to be a part of my life. I got up, legs shaking, to make a step towards him. It was obvious by the looks on the three adults’ faces that they were all wondering whether or not I was going to punch him.

I gave him a hug and told him I forgave him, and we both wept.

I felt a harsh burst of pressure as my mother shoved me out of the way, because she couldn’t stand the sight of us. As my grandmother went after her, I proceeded to tell my dad my entire life story as quickly as I could. I still wasn’t sure how long I would have him for, so I wanted to make the most of it. He had to call my name several times to get me to stop talking, and he hugged me and told me that I had to tell him more about everything soon because he and my mother were being paged.

As they went into the back I buried myself into my grandmother’s arms and cried. I was completely overjoyed; the day I thought would never come was here. I remember telling her that December 7th would live in infamy for another, happier reason from now on, for it was the day that I received my heart’s desire…and then some; for I had finally met my dad and found that he loved me and had been waiting for me just as much as I had him.”

 

Well there you have it! I hope you enjoyed it. While it is not my most technically strong piece of work, it is something that is dear to my heart.

 

Until the next page…

 

Starving for a Friend Request but Too Shy to Reply

Don’t let the title fool you, I’m not desperately begging you to be my friend or follow my blog.

Seriously…although I wouldn’t be be objected to a follow. Okay, enough chasing rabbits and on to the point.

As I scroll through my Facebook mindlessly, I see so many status updates by people I barely know. A good majority of them I can’t even say that we were close at one time, and then reconnected on Facebook and just haven’t actually caught up (you know like normal people do). No, I can’t say that.

I currently have a grand total of 391 friends on Facebook, and  – as Bilbo Baggins so eloquently put it, “I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.”

Honestly, most of these lovely people I know in a 6 degrees of Kevin Bacon sort of way. I went to church with them when I was younger and was too shy to talk to them (but I knew their parents well), we went to the same grade school or high school (but never spoke), extended family I never see, and so on.

I know I can’t be the only one out there with a friend list such as this one. The funny thing is, it doesn’t matter if I was the one that did the friend request and they accepted or vice versa – that is all that it was: just another friend to add to the list. To me this begs to ask the question: do we friend request people we only vaguely know to maximize our friend list (for whatever self-inflating reason) or is there something deeper to it?

There are at least 20 people I can think of, off the top of my head, who fall under this vague category that I would love to talk to and message and even hang out with. However, I can never bring myself to do more than like the occasional witty status and press 1 on my phone when I’m reminded of someone’s birthday to send well wishes.

The whole ordeal seems so menial and over-thought, that I can’t even comprehend my own apprehension. I mean, if said person sent or accepted my friend request that must mean that they want to do more than creep on my pictures or make me feel better by hitting accept instead of ignore, right?

 

Until the next page…