It Gets Better

Dear 15 year old me,

By now you've become jaded with everyday life, lost things that you can never have back and basically say the world can go fuck itself because it sucks. I'm supposed to tell you things will get better. Really, though, you're not completely wrong.

10 years have passed and you still lose people and animals who have touched your life. Life isn't fair and you knew it then. What changes is you are able to learn from having them in your life and grow because of them, for them. You've lost your grandmother by now, but the things she taught you have made you into a good person. Take pride in that. There are nowhere near enough of them.

You were right. The world sucks. I don't think I have to tell you that the capitalist system you scoffed at in your teenage angst and pseudo-intellectual discussion with other immature teens has indeed failed up. We're in a recession the likes that haven't been seen since right before the Great Depression. However, people have learned that things aren't the key to happiness. They're taking more interest in the people around them and in essence, becoming better for it. The world sucks just a little less.

You became jaded with life because the only thing you found joy in was writing and learning. Well, that's still true. You are learning to deal with pain like you never had, not even at 14. You are learning that people let you down; you are also learning that trusting people with your real self is fulfilling. You have a man that loves you more than life itself. You have friends who would do anything to see you happy and healthy. You have family, that you didn't know then, who want what's best for you.

You still write too. You wrote out your thoughts because things were bleak. You wrote to keep the darkness away. Now, you also write for the sheer joy of watching a character develop, a story arc coming to a close, or to touch a special someone.

So, in a way, things are the same. You still think for the most part that the world sucks and can fuck itself. You're still jaded, but are slowly learning not to be. You still lose, but you gain so much more. On the whole, it gets better.

First Day, Last Day: Love at First Threat

*Dedicated with love to Dimitri, who always makes my world a wondrous adventure.*

First day:

He was meeting his friend's new girlfriend, a girl that had been described to him as kind and loving, a beautiful soul. What he was not aware of was the danger that lie ahead. The loving girlfriend had the temper from hell and her not so bright boyfriend had annoyed her one too many times that day. 

He said hello and tried the usual small talk. 'Hello, how are you, what are you up to?' She was having none of this. Her missives were short, cold, nothing like how he imagined her to be as she was described. Sarcasm dripped from her every typed word. She aggravated him, setting his own temper on edge. 

Soon, playful jabs at each other turned to barbs of venom. What the hell was her problem? Had someone pissed in her cornflakes? He continued to trade insult for insult, almost in good humor. What happened next surprised everyone there.

"You know what," she wrote, "I'm going to shove an M-1 up your ass if you don't quit." Intriguing. Intensifying his already heated temper. 

He tried to argue the point, "It won't fit," he noted.

She laughed and replied, "Oh, I'd make it fit, and jam it in sideways." Her boyfriend was speechless. His girlfriend was shocked. He just felt that if a person could follow through on a threat like that, she probably would and somehow, he liked that fire in her, even if she was threatening his ass.

Last day:

He rubbed at his face trying to wake himself up. He had always kidded with her that this step would take forever. Oh, how right he was. Looking at his Yankee's watch, he noted that she had been here for almost 15 hours already. He had only left to get some much needed caffeine and get away from the threats.

Never had anyone threatened to not only behead, eviscerate, and castrate him in a five minute period. He took that as his sign to go get some of the disgusting coffee and try to find her nurse to get some ice chips for her. It was the least he could do, considering what she was doing for him.

Before he could find her nurse, she found him and dragged him toward the room. "It's time," she said. "I assume you want to be present for this." All he could do was nod and walk over to the woman of his dreams, the woman glaring daggers at him.

He smiled at her almost in apology and kissed her forehead, taking her hand in his. "Still want to kill me," he asked quietly. She merely nodded and squeezed his hand as another contraction went through her body.

The doctor told her to push and she did, squeezing his hand so hard he almost flinched. That was going to hurt later. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, their first child came into the world. He was invited to cut the little dark haired child's umbilical chord. When the baby was cleaned off, it was presented to her, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

"Love, meet our son," she stated softly, looking into his eyes. "I want to name him after you."

He could only kiss her softly in response. He had the boy he had always wanted with the woman he always dreamed of. She let the kiss linger for a moment before she whispered conspiratorially, "If the next one takes this long, I'm going to shove an M-1 up you ass sideways."

In Flames

*This is dedicated to my little brother, Daniel, who inspires me in fantastical ways everyday. Love you, Squish.*

Flames, hot inviting flames.  They had been all around her ever since she could recall.   

Even as a small auburn headed child, she had been enthralled by their seductive dance,

their bright colors.  Had that led her to the choices that ultimately decided her fate?  Only 

the goddess who took interest in her at an early age would ever know.

Growing up in small Aeternitas City, Desiree was always a quiet girl. She liked it that way.

Soon, Desiree went from a small, meek girl, to a quiet woman with a statuesque figure who

stood head and shoulders above her peers, literally, at five feet nine inches tall.  Her brown

eyes darkened to an almost black that flared and almost scorched when she became angry. 

The only thing that didn’t change about her physical appearance was her auburn hair.  Once 

her tenth year in school arrived, she was known as the girl who would fillet her opponents with

her rapier wit whenever she got the chance, and everyone was a potential opponent.  That was 

until she met Kyle.

Kyle was much like her, quiet and withdrawn from their peers, but something about him always

drew her in.  He introduced her to a whole new world, or rather, a whole new religion.  Kyle

taught her about the Roman pantheon of gods and explained that even their own city was derived

from one of the gods’ own virtues, eternity, timelessness of ideals, truths and realities.  He 

worshiped all of the gods equally because, as he once explained, they all had their value.

Desiree wasn’t convinced however.  One goddess drew her in and kept her soul on lockdown.

Vesta, goddess of home and hearth. Vesta had created the Flame for the Roman Empire, 

warning them that should the flame ever be demolished, so too would Rome.  The rest, as they

say, is history. She smirked to herself as she recalled that particular fact.  There were those 

damn flames again.

Kyle, and the change in her lifestyle, seemed to center her.  She kept her sharp tongue to herself

more often than not, and her classmates were glad for it.  She was glad for it; things were finally

falling into place for her.

That was until the night of her seventeenth birthday.  Kyle was never one for celebrating birthdays.

If he wasn’t going to surprise her, she would surprise him.  They could at least spend time together.

She crept up to his bedroom window and peered in.  She thought her heart would stop beating 

right inside her chest.  There, she saw Kyle, her Kyle, on his bed with his lips attached to the thing 

she despised most, her rival, Lisa Foster.  The breath went right out of her.  How could he do this 

to her?  He told her he loved her, well in his own way.  She would make him pay.

Summoning whatever strength was left in her body, she stood and marched herself back to her house.  

Without a word to her parents, she stomped down the basement stairs and crumpled in front of  her 

small altar. Lavender candles stood unlit in front of a large silver pentacle that hung from the wall.  A 

bundle of lilacs was flanked by those candles, as an offering to Vesta.

Grabbing a lighter, she ignited the candles’ wicks and closed her eyes.  She murmured to herself for 

a moment and then started again in a stronger voice.  “Great goddess Vesta, keeper of Rome’s Eternal 

Flame, keeper of home and hearth, I need you.”  She swallowed thickly and continued.  “I need you to 

make Kyle pay for what he did to me. Take his soul and make him see what his actions do to others.” 

She closed her eyes and before she could continue, she felt a disembodied energy push her back with 

such force that she hit the wall opposite her alter. 

Desiree woke up soon after, though she wasn’t sure how long it had been.  Judging by the look of the 

candles on her altar, she had been out for at least 15 minutes.  She grabbed her head as she sat up and 

looked around.  Why was she down in the basement?  It was only then that she remembered Kyle’s 

betrayal and felt her anger flare once again.  Something was definitely amiss though.  As her anger 

grew, so did the flames atop the lit candles. 

Not wanting to take any chances, she tried to calm herself and watch the flames die down as well.

 Leaning back against the wall, she closed her eyes and willed her soul to slip from her body, 

something she did often.

As her eyes opened, she realized it had worked.  She was now in a field of flowers and in front 

of her was an enraged woman.  “V-Vesta?”

The woman almost snarled with a reply.  “Oh, so at least one part of your brain is working.   

What were you thinking invoking me for your petty revenge?”  She waited as if she wanted 

Desiree to answer but as soon as the girl opened her mouth, she held up her hand causing the 

girl to flinch as if she were struck.  “You weren’t thinking.  You need to be punished.”

Desiree was uncertain on how to reply, so she merely said, “How?”

“You tried to use my gift for harm.  You wanted his soul seared so instead I seared yours.   

You are now my vestale.  You may now create fire and control it.  It is up to you to figure out 

how to use this for the good of mankind.  Please me, and you will be rewarded.  Defy me, and, 

well, I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.  Do I make myself clear?”  Vesta didn’t wait for an 

answer.  She waved her hand and Desiree slammed back into her body.

Desiree looked around and made sure she was back.  She slowly stood and walked back over 

to her altar.  She could control fire according to her goddess.  She looked at the extinguished 

candles and willed them to ignite once again.  Nothing happened.  She demanded they ignite, 

and still nothing.  

Sighing, she was about to  give up in frustration when her younger brother came running past the 

door, shouting to their mother about some new comic book he wanted that Kyle had told him about.

She felt her anger flare and suddenly felt as if something dark was swirling inside of her.  She pointed

to one of the candles and was amazed when it lit itself.  

“Desiree, when did you dye your hair?”  She turned around and was face to face with the last 

person she wanted to see, Kyle.  Her eyes flicked to the side to look at the mirror just over his

right shoulder and noticed that her hair was a vivid blood red.

She studied herself for a moment longer as she fought to control her anger.  Meeting his 

cerulean gaze with her own black one, she replied, “I thought it was time for a change.  A lot 

of things need to change, starting with you.  We’re through.”

That was almost a year ago.  Her brother had given her the inspiration she needed to control

the flame.  She was now Vestale, the reluctant hero.  The seductive dances of the flames that

had enchanted her so long ago now took place to her whim.  She spent her time chasing the 

worst of the worst and never gave up until they were in someone’s custody.  She just hoped 

Vesta would be pleased.

Why this, why now?

So, even though I don't have a large reader base, or really, one at all, I still feel I should come clean about my reasons for this blog.

Obviously, I'm not completely all blocked, but I am in the middle (first 1/3?) of writing a novella and my muse is avoiding me as craftily as it can. Muses are fickle masters. I do, however, have rabid plot bunnies that make me want to so things other than my book. Curses! I just follow the bunnies down the hole and post it here.

So, I finally snagged an idea that might actually help me. I'm a major fan of J.R. Ward and she wrote interviews with each of her main characters. It was wonderful and I read them about 3-4 months ago. Tonight, as I slept, I had a dream that I (myself, the author) encountered one of my characters and they answered my questions without much pain being involved. Always wonderful.

So I'm working on this now. It will be posted here with everything else. Come on, you know you're curious. There will be a total of four interviews (at this point). Each will have it's own post. You'll only be able to see them if you look at my blog...

Readers are also encouraged to send in questions to me. I will do an interview post for myself about my life, and my writing. Let's make it awesome.

Short Story of Random Picture Saturday!

Layla was always the curious type, but she would never disobey an order from her strict parents. The microwave looked intriguing but, "Don't put your brother's hamster in there!" The laundry dryer spun to fry clothes, her mother had told her. She had fun with neighborhood children rolling down green, grassy hills so what if she, "You don't belong in the dryer, you'll break it!" So Layla continued to be the good child.

Though she did what she was told, she could never shake her curiosity when it came to how an electrical socket worked. Why was the hole in the wall called a female end? Does the power come from there or the object plugged into it. She knew mother and father would disapprove, so she tamped down the feelings of a possible discovery and continued to steal glances at the wall socket.

As children are wont to do, Layla grew up. As oppressed children are wont to do, she felt the time had come to see if she could unravel the mystery of the wall socket in her dorm room. Tentatively, she touched it with her index finger. Nothing happened. This was quite anticlimactic. Upping the ante, she pressed her tongue against it. Nothing, but it didn't taste very good. She tried peering inside with a flashlight, but could see nothing but darkness. Finally, she got tired of her experiments and grabbed a butter knife to pry the cover off.

While she was prying, the knife slipped and went into one of the holes. No one knew what happened until the circuit breaker popped and they came in the room to find Layla twitching a bit, sitting at her desk. Once the breaker was reset, Layla decided to write an e-mail.

To: Mom <Mother_May_I@c-mail.net>
From Layla Franklin <Mother_says_never@coldletter.com>
Subject: I finally found out.
Attachment: Layla_success

Hi Mom,

I know you told me not to, but I just had to know what would happen if I played with the electrical socket. Here's my proof.

She attached a picture and sent it off to her mother. Layla logged off with a smile on her pretty face. Tomorrow, she would conquer the dryer.

If I could steal *one* thing from anywhere in the world.

It's no surprise to anyone that watches my craft blog that I love animals, especially horses and dragons. Sadly, dragons do not exist. I shake my fist at you reality! However, those that know what I've been doing with myself in the past year may be surprised at my one item.

Olena Oak. That's right, I'd steal a horse. For those who have no idea who I am talking about, allow me to explain. Olena Oak is a back-to-back world champion cow horse with a lifetime earnings of $198,000. In other words, holy crap Batman! He's got a great pedigree filled with famous horses, and believe me, they're famous for a reason.

Plus I have a soft spot for those red chestnut horses. I wouldn't kick him out of my pasture.

Whee! Blog challenge!

I signed up for a blog challenge. 31 posts in 31 days. They don't all have to be one at a time, but there has to be 31. Piece of cake, right? Oh, and this one doesn't count.