Almost 200 Followers

One follower away from almost 200 has me thinking.  I should probably make a post with my favorite quotes from all of my current works in progress.  Short and sweet, but fun fun fun.

"My Summer Vacation by Terrance Wade" - Short Story, Humor
My dad always told me, "Terrance, if you see your mom trying to get in through that door, you lock it - you understand?"  So when my mom comes in through the window, I'm thankful it's not that door.

Rioss - YA GBLT Urban Fantasy
He opened his mouth to answer me, but before he could get any words out black and red bile spewed from his mouth.

RUHE - YA Contemporary
Delia threw her arms out in an elaborate gesture.  "My messenger name is Delialovesyou.  I know, super cute, right?  Totally.”

Soul Therapy - YA Paranormal Romance
She never really could get used to the underlying sense of desire he exuded. It oozed out, and he always seemed too eager, which is why Jess hadn’t done anything with him. She hadn’t decided if he was worth it.

2042 - Science Fiction

    "Okay, no, really... who put you up to this?  Albert?"  I hollered down the hallway.  Albert poked his head out of the office.  I got up out of my chair and pointed to the machine thing, it was still reaching for me.  "Did you get this guy?  What is it, a new kind of robot-ogram?" Albert walked towards me and stopped as he saw the clunking machine.  The machine's eye refocused on Albert.

    "Albert Stevenson?"

    "Kayla, I think you should..."  Albert stammered out a few words before the robot interrupted him.

    "Albert Stevenson, you should really return those DVDs."  Its voice boomed.  Albert's face whitened.

Good Criminal Heart - YA GBLT
Blood trickled down the back of my head and my knuckles were dropping blood.  My blood, and Nick’s blood, in one beautiful mess that spread throughout the hallway floor.

Kingdom of Obsession - Contemporary
“But nothing, Cat.  You and David split for the same reason in my ‘dream.’”  I rolled by eyes, “And mom only found her cancer because of the accident that never happened… but did happen.  In my...” Other life, second life, dream, memory, “Whatever, it was as if that accident never happened.”

That's all the teasers I have for today.  Rioss is officially in the hands of an editor!  And yes, it is one that I am paying for, but she's crazy amazing, and I'm excited for her feedback.  I have a good feeling about this one, folks!

Flash Fiction

I've been in a bit of a rut as far as writing has gone.

"My Summer Vacation by Terrance Wade" is sitting at home - too far away for me to work on it on my lunch break.  And Rioss is finished, hopefully getting edited soon.  Rioss II is a project that I don't want to undertake until Rioss is being queried.  I should probably finish my other projects too.

"My Summer Vacation by Terrance Wade" is about Terrance Wade - a precarious little kid that gets kidnapped by his mother over the summer vacation.  He tells an epic tale of adventure, even though he should be scared because he's been kidnapped.  But that's not Terry's style - he likes "seeing the world."  This might end up being my first self-published short story - as I'm aiming for 5-10k, and it sits at 2.5k right now.  A small goal, but I think I need smaller goals right now while Rioss is in the balance.

But, I'm still writing.  Here's my silly little flash fiction piece:

Sometimes the scratching is more than I can bear.  It seeps into my head, swirling around my brain and crawls deep within the recesses of my nervous system. I want to scream.  I want to claw and tear out my own skin, but they tell me that’s crazy.  There’s nothing there, it’s all in my head.

But what you can’t hear, I can.  It sounds like distant clicking of tongues mixed with a small undertone of bee hums.  And they dance around in human flesh, pretending to be normal.  Pretending to be like us.  After a few too many drinks, after they let their guard down, after they overindulge on the fantasies and pleasures earth promised them, you can see it.  Just a flicker, just a moment, but the whites in their eyes flash to black.  And their pupils shrink to the size of a pin.  The color of their eyes turns bright yellow.  

And they say I’m crazy, but the woman who made that decision is one of them.  I’m sure of it.  There’s no such thing as aliens, and they certainly don’t wear human skin.  They are wrong.  So so so wrong.  And as the humming gets closer and threatens to burst my cells from the inside out, I see him.  He’s the one that I’ve been waiting for.  He’s their leader.

He’s beautiful.

He must die.

Matilda

For this month, on the Books that Made Me Love Reading Challenge, I read Matilda by Roald Dahl.

What I thought then:
Matilda was a nerd, just like me.  She was a nerd and was capable of so many good things in the world - that it must mean that being a little bookish is okay.  I wanted to be more like the precarious child, I wanted to read more and emulate who she was.  And I think that really helped me read more often, because she was so enthralled with books.  I said to myself, "I want to do that - I want to read every book on the children's section."  And I remember that I did start picking up library books at random, but I never did get through all of them.

What I think now: 
Matilda is a little bit evil.  She's like a child version of Dexter.  Matilda plays tricks and pranks on people that deserve it - on people that are downright bad people.  Dexter has the same kind of philosophy right?  But the main difference is:  He is 100% a sociopath.  Matilda -- well, she just wants to get people back and live a good life (where other good people also get to live good lives).  But it is vigilantism, right?  I still love Matilda, and I still love her story.  I think it's a great book and speaks a lot about "Good things should go to good people."

Also, the illustrations are still hilarious, I don't care how old you are - that newt is precious!

Next month, I'll be reading Shiloh by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor.

Z is for Zones

As promised, here’s another excerpt.  It is a continuation of Q is for Quarantine.  These are all part of the new novella The Unanswerable.

Tim McGarth, the news anchor, shuffled through his papers.  “This just in, drop zones have been announced.  I repeat, drop zones have been announced.”  Everyone in the cellar cast brief glances around.  A map came on the screen.

The dead center of Manhattan was blood red.  It got lighter as it drifted out from the center.  The camera switched back to Tim.  He gulped audibly.  He was still in the city, just like us.  Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.  “Seems as if the only way to contain the virus is to eradicate it.  Everything, folks.”  He loosened his tie.  “I must say, it has been fun, New York.  You gave me the anchor position, and I tell you, if I didn’t have to step on a few toes to get here, it wouldn’t have been the same.”

He ruffled his hand through his hair, messing up the perfect part.  “I think everyone in the studio agrees with me.  It is now time to go and be with your loved ones.  By this time tomorrow, our fabulous city might not have any survivors.  It has been an honor-" he choked on his words, "and a privilege to work with all of you."  The camera zoomed in on his eyes, “I’ll be home soon, honey.”

Tim got up and walked offstage.  A few people that worked in the studio wandered aimlessly around set before a “technical difficulties” message popped up on the screen.

There was an audible groan inside the cellar.  “They can’t do this,” a man stood up.  “They can’t.  We aren’t sick, none of us are sick!”  He slammed his fist against the wall.

Diane held onto our son with both hands.  He tried to wiggle away, but she wouldn’t let him.  “We have to have some faith, Diane.”  I leaned my forehead against her wet cheek.  “I love you.”

I couldn’t keep my own tears from coming to the surface in my eyes.  I had seen too many people try to escape – too many people gunned down by the hazmat suits.  You would think that eminent doom would make someone risk it all, but I couldn’t.  I was too scared that I would lose them – or that they would lose me. 

She pulled me into her arms along with our son.  “I love you too, Matthew.  I always will.”  Her words escaped her mouth with heavy, thick breaths.  This was the beginning of the end.

Y is for Youth

I’ve always been vastly curious about how old people perceive themselves. My theory is: We all reach a certain age and don’t really “grow” more mentally. Maybe our thought processes change slightly, but there’s a point in time where we all stop aging.

My theory for myself? I think I was nineteen. At that point I had already experienced a lot in my life and no major changes happened. Sure, I’ve grown older and changed slowly over time, but I’m pretty sure that was the year where things really stopped surprising me. In fact, maybe I could push it to 21, but that’s as far as I could go.

I haven’t felt an internal shift really since then. No big “Ah ha!” moments or crazy realizations. It makes me wonder if that’s why everyone around me still seems like they are “my age” even if we are ten years apart? Has youth and age stopped mattering because I’ve reached the point of “no return” where your innocence is truly gone and you are solely responsible for yourself?

Yes, I think I have. And I have another question: Is youth really wasted on the young?

I don’t think so. When I was younger (and didn’t have to worry about pre-cancerous cells, spinal arthritis, or panic attacks), I did gymnastics, I danced my little heart out, and I ran circles around everyone. I pushed my body constantly to prove that I was better than the boys at my school. I was excited, innocent, and perfectly content.

I think I held up my youth pretty well. I think I still hang onto it most days. When someone asks about the scar on my shoulder, I can cheerily reply, “Oh, I totally beat pre-cancer.” I plaster a massive grin on my face. Was it scary? Sure! But no scarier than when I had meningitis in second grade. The difference? I was seven and had no idea what was happening. Now? I can say “I won. I’ve won multiple times.”

I don’t think you can really win life or youth or love. But I think a part of me did each of the times that I’ve come out okay. Who cares if I have spinal arthritis?! I’ll still do cartwheels around you (on my good days). On my bad days? Give me my awesome looking cane that scares the crap out of my cats. I’ll grin at anyone that looks at me funny.

Oh yeah, I have this one fatal flaw: I laugh hysterically when I’m in pain. Honest to goodness, most people don’t believe me when I say I’m in pain because I start laughing.

It’s pretty awesome.

In conclusion: I’m 21… or 19… whichever I feel like at the time. How youthful are you? What battles have you gone through that have tried to make you not youthful?