Wording Wednesday - a Blue Moon Series story - White Stone

She wipes her hand across the mirror, which is spotted and blackened with age. The dust coating it comes off on her hand.

If anyone finds out just how far her family fell from grace, they'd say things that shouldn't be said by heretics and heathens. She has to keep this quiet. She has to silence anyone who dares to speak ill against her family. She has to change the story, no matter what the cost.

Snow tilts her head to the side, gazing at her reflection with her last good eye. Trading sight for sight. Eye for an eye. It's an old saying, but the meaning remains the same. Squaring her shoulders, she observes as the last blue color in her iris fades into a milky fog. On one side of her vision, she sees everything. Through the fog, it becomes shapes without definition or color, a world seemingly devoid of meaning.

Her father had traded the witch for what exactly? These powers? For her?

She stands, flattens her hands against her skirts, and marches to the window. Pushing open the wooden frame, she gazes out into the darkened sky. One eye sees the bright illumination of colors, blues ranging from turquoise to midnight, stars as far as she can see. Her other side shows dark splotches along the horizon.

"Come," she says, keeping her voice low.

"With this," her father had told her, "we will be able to rule the world."

"We already rule, Papa."

"No, Snow. No one believes a woman able to lead. You, you are the key to changing all of that. I have given my sight for you, and soon, you will give yours too."

She had been too young to understand then, but now in her blossoming years, with her breasts just starting to peek along her skin, her father had made the fourth trade—her first eye.

From the shadowing darkness ahead of her, a single crow soars in gracefully. When it gets close to the window frame, it flaps its wings, causing her newly whitened hair to shift in the breeze. It caws at her, a cackling sound that she had never heard up close before. It's piercing, and there's something devastatingly beautiful about it.

She gained emotional fortitude for her father's eyes, wolves for her hair, crows for one eye. When the witch comes for the other, she'll have unimaginable powers.

Snow had asked, "Why crows for an eye? Aren't wolves more dangerous? Shouldn't they be worth more than hair?"

Her father touched the tip of her nose. "Wolves are dangerous, but crows have sight. And with sight, comes power. We are trading for power, Snow."

Reaching out her delicate fingers, Snow strokes the crow down its back. The outline of it resembles a cat in her bad vision, and she's not sure if she'll ever be ready to give up her other eye. Sight is power, after all.

The crow caws again.

"I want to see what you see," she whispers, sorrow filling her voice as she realized she would never see the same again.

The crow launches itself into the air. Snow blinks and rubs her eyes, but still, there's another side to her vision. Out of the milky fog, she is soaring alongside the crow. No, that's not right. She is the crow, seeing the world below. All the thick outlines of buildings, the trees cropped out of the forest, and she realizes that she has sight without sight. She's given up one experience for another.

She waves the vision away and sits in front of the mirror, looking at her reflection for a long time. What will they say when they see her? What will they think and say? Everyone will know what happened with the witch. They'll know.

As if answering her sorrow, a howl sounds in the distance. Snow clenches her fits and sits up straight. No, they won't know how she became. She will not allow it. She simply is and always will be the Queen.

- - - - -

This is a spin off from the Blue Moon series (In a Blue Moon already released, Bolt from the Blue coming soon, Greener on the Other Side coming sooner). All titles will be based on color idioms, and I do plan on giving Snow her own story one of these days.

Story prompt from the Wording Wednesday group on MeWe. Based on the art in the link below:

https://fineartamerica.com/featured/prayer-amanda-clark.html

January 2017 Book Wrap Up and Giveaway

At the end of every month, I wanted to do a vlog with a wrap up of what I've read, or more specifically, what titles I recommend reading and why. However, I have found myself continuing to read books that I feel "meh" about. Despite knowing that I should put them down and move onto a different read, I still finish the title despite knowing I'll probably never really enjoy it.

Thus comes the idea that perplexes me. I can go months and years without finishing a writing project, but I can't seem to permanently walk away from an already written book. There have been very few exceptions to this rule. Very few. If I reach fifty pages in, I can't stop.

I tend to research books before I read them. I check out reviews from people I trust, because books are a huge commitment for me. A recent book I read had a huge red flag review, but I still started it anyway. I continued to think, "I should just walk away" until the very last page,

I did read a book in January that I'd like to recommend. At first, I was upset by one YA Trope used toward the end of the book (perhaps I'll make a YA Gets Real post out of it). But as time goes on, I find myself remembering the description, the characters, and the writing, because it was all really strong. The dialect was hard to get used to, but Orleans by Sherri L. Smith is a fast-paced book that starts slow and then becomes chaotic, much like her depiction of Orleans itself.

When I finished reading it, I wasn't as big of a fan as I am now. The trope almost killed it for me, but perspective has made me appreciate it more.

I also wanted to provide a few more recommendations based on the books I read last year. You can click on any of the photos for a link to amazon.

Beauty Queens by Libba Bray
Silly somewhat dystopian Lord of the Flies take on a beauty pageant. When I started reading this book, I thought, "Man, this is going to be a trip." It was, but in the best way possible. These girls learn to kick butt. Who cares if it might be a totally outlandish plot, I adored every single ridiculous second of it.





Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock by Matthew Quick
A disturbing and psychological look at a boy who needs the most amount of help possible. Intense and gripping toward the end when it all slams together in a fast-paced near nightmare.






The Rest of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness
You know how all those supernatural stories have other people in them that never get talked about? The ordinary people who somehow manage to still have a normal high school experience despite the insanity going on around them? In this quirky and lovely book, Patrick Ness explores the lives of those people, creating an extraordinary story out of the ordinary.




If you are looking for indie authors to read, I've enjoyed books by all of my fellow Scriptors. I cannot recommend any of their titles enough.

That's it for January. Hopefully February will have several more titles to recommend and more current reads. I'm hoping to break the streak of mediocre books with some amazing titles in the future. Also, YA recommendations are welcome! Leave a comment! a Rafflecopter giveaway

Day Three Teaser

Safely settled at just over 10k words, I would say that this has been a very successful three days.  I completely a few word wars tonight with some good friends on G+.  I must say that G+ has probably changed the face of writing for me forever.  It is still a solitary act that happens entirely within me, but I can challenge myself and boost my creativity by enjoying the conversations with others that are like-minded and competing toward a similar goal.  Not to mention getting and giving advice has never felt so nice.  It's a great community, and I'm very happy to consider myself not only a writer, but a NaNo participant.

With that being said, here's the teaser from earlier today.  It's a dream sequence:

His mouth morphed, skin flicking off of it. His tongue rolled out from inside, and his jaw snapped as it dislocated. Teeth stretched out of his bloodied gums, growing into sharp knives and his eyes turned to blood lust. He growled at Jess and took a step forward, claws growing out of his shoes, his clothes disintegrated as he grew fur and grew twice the size. He took another step and reared back on his legs. Kroags launched himself at Jess, and she could almost hear the tearing of her own flesh over her high pitched scream.

Real Faces of Evil

          Twigs cracked underneath my feet, I could swear I was going fast enough to fly.  My heartbeat swelled in my head and drowned out my heavy breathing.  If I gasped any more, my chest would explode.  My pants ripped on the underbrush.  I could smell him, he was getting closer.  Fuck.

          I pulled a branch back and snapped it behind me.  I heard some indistinct yelling so close, but it felt so far away.  He really was that close to me.  The lake house was about a half a mile away.  I had no idea if my body was going to let me continue at this pace, but I had to try.  I had to get there.

          The wind had picked up and my eyes started watering down my cheeks.  I didn’t have time in my frantic haze to tell if I was actually crying, or if it really was just the wind.  My shoe got caught on something and flipped off into the dark.  The next step down had my leg jolt with a searing pain, something had lodged itself in between my toes.  I looked down just long enough to see blood pooling around the stick that was protruding out.  I wanted to vomit, but shook the image out of my head.  I continued to run, as fast as my limp filled run would take me. 

          “Erica!”

          “Shut up!”

          “Just freaking stop!”

          “No!”

          I looked behind me to see if I could make him out.  He might even be up in the trees, I had no idea.  I just wanted to get out of the forest.  My head was pounding from the last two mile run, I could barely make out anything in the dark.  I saw the lake house up ahead, it wasn’t that much farther.

          “Erica, don’t you dare!”

          “Just stay away from me!”

          The pain was getting increasingly worse, and the limp was ruining my pace even more.  He was going to catch me, this much I was sure of.  Though, every time I looked for him, he wasn’t anywhere.  It seemed like his voice was coming from all over the woods, and I couldn’t pinpoint the sound.  I couldn’t shake the picture out of my head.  Those dark eyes, the deafening silence after he changed.  The anger the loomed behind every sense of his being.  The romantic side of me thought that maybe this was just the mysterious part that ever girl dreamed of.  But I quickly reminded myself that this wasn’t a blockbuster movie, this was my life – and this wasn’t a mystery.  It was as clear as day, but as dark as night.

          I pounded my feet up the porch steps and reached to open the door – we never kept the porch door locked, but now there was good reason to.  I gasped as gnarled hands curled around mine and I was face to face with Victor.

          “Get. Your. Hands. Off. Me.”  I tried to shake him off, but it was useless.

          “It took you long enough to get here.”

          “Well, if you don’t mind, you can just go home, okay?  Just get out.”

          “You know,” he leaned into me.  I could smell that musky smell, the smell I never was able to place before now.  “I’m not like them, I don’t need an invitation inside.”  I shifted under him.

          “Look,” he released my hand.  “Can we just talk?”  I shook my head, speechless.  I couldn’t take my eyes off of his.  The darkness, the emptiness, all of it I had never seen in true color before tonight.  His quickness to get angry with me, I thought we were just going to another one of those semi-abusive couples that really do love each other.  But no, nope.  I had to go and fall in love with a stupid freaking… do I dare even say it?  Do I dare even admit to myself how deeply in danger I am?

          I winced.  The pain in my foot was finally catching up to me and I leaned on the glass door for support.

          “Erica…”  He looked at my foot and to the look at my face.  His hands melded back into their regular form, the still rough looking, but ever so much more pleasant to look at hands that I had held many nights before.  I started crying.  He lifted my foot up, and I bit my lip, instinctively pulling away from him.  “What on earth did you do?”

          “I don’t…”  I lost my footing and slumped over on Vincent.  “This doesn’t mean…”

          “I know, love, I know.”  He lifted me up and carried me into the lake house.  “But right now, we need to get this stick out of your toe.  I mean, this is really disgusting.”

          “Says the guy that looks gross thirty percent of his life.”

          “More like twenty, and I don’t think it’s that gross.  Is it?”

          “It’s fowl.”  I nuzzled my head into his shoulder.  “It’s disgusting, it’s horrific, it’s horrible, and I can’t believe I’m still in love with you.”  This was me, and my boyfriend.  My disgusting werewolf of a boyfriend.  Oh, I know that you’ve seen on those movies – the nice fur, the warmth.  But no, this was some horrible half-man, lanky kind of creature with gnarled, worn limps that looked so ferocious that you wanted to run the opposite direction.  There was nothing romantic about his shape shifting.  It was scary.  And that’s why I ran blindly into the night – I was terrified of him.  And I wasn’t sure that anything would be the same, but I was sure happy to not be stepping on my foot anymore.

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I don't typically write science fiction - I always find that most of those stories fall flat after a point.  Not other authors, I think some people have done a great job at creative fantasy works - but I don't have that kind of skill in my writer's box.  But it's fun to experiment with shorts every once and awhile.  If you're looking for a great Science Fiction read, check out Brom's The Child Thief.  It is the evil side of Peter Pan - and yes, it's wicked cool.