A Ninja’s Resolve

The sun blared down it’s angered rays of light upon the dull sands of Cairo. It’s unforgiving heat only drew more inhabitants of the city to the shadows for some shelter and the rare chance of a cool breeze. The sight was accompanied by the groans and grumbling of slave and master alike, cursing who or whatever dared to anger Ra on this day. In lue of this, many offered prayers and incense to his shrine before making their way to bustling market. 

However, in the deepest shadows of this ordinary day, there was a stranger. Clocked in the darkness itself, only the stranger’s eyes visible to keenly watch the scene before them unfold, was a young man. He was barely visible if one looked down the side street and up on one of the multi-room houses. He was pressed against the mud brick wall and roof as he searched the street. His clothing was foreign, black as night and tightly covering any recognizable features he had. The man’s black hair neat and long, yet just short enough to be held back by a strip of cloth. The metal plate on his forehead was marked with a strange symbol that spoke of his linage. 

Breathe; I must be cautious. Szeth stilled his breathing as his hands flew to his side. There were slots on his belt that held two sets of shurikens. From his left, Szeth pulled out one to look it over again. It had  four straight points with a subtle green hue to the metal, on each end was stamped a Japanese character (kanji). It was from this set that he had travelled back through the passage of time to this strange place. Perhaps it had been his brash decision that caused his hand to choose the wrong set or merely his emotions that wished for a moment to give him silence from the task ahead of him. 

All he knew was that he had chosen these instead of the other pair. Szeth removed one shrunken from his right side. This one was the same design, same giant green hue, but with a different kanji on the ends. One subtle difference changed his course of direction for the moment. The shrunken were back in their place and as quickly as they had appeared as Szeth refocused his attention to the street. He wasn’t meant to be here but maybe, he’d find some peace of mind before returning to the tiled roofs of his hometown. 

As the ninja staked out this past market out of curiosity, he saw an apprentice, whom was called Aphobis, helping his teacher in setting up their shop on the side of the main street. The young man seemed eager to learn the way of haggling and selling their merchandise to passing shoppers. The jewelry they laid out looked well made for a simple merchant. Szeth found the designs, or what he could see of them, to be quite bizarre. Some kind of bug and hellish birds, the metal looks similar to the craftsmen back in my time. 

Szeth watched as Aphobis cried out in a strange language to a passerby, successfully bring them to their little wayside display. A simple life with no excitement while remaining in one place. The merchant and customer seemed to discuss some of the products which Aphobis displayed for his master. Some others even drew near as the merchant raised his voice to draw customers in. A flash of excitement in Aphobis’s eyes was barely visible to the keen-eyed Szeth. It was picturesque display to the clocked male. A mere dream for Szeth who was raised in the shadowed and bloody ninja arts. 

Yet, this was why he lived, to project the ones who lived simply by the works of their own hands. The ones who supported the town in which they lived, the ones who gave produce and kept the economy running. They were the pillars of society. But, sometimes corruption under the surface threatens that delicate balance and thus, ninjas like him existed in Japan. Szeth had decided. A blink of the eye, he was gone from his hiding place. Across the roofs to the alleyway where he landed without sound, the mice didn’t even flinch upon the stranger’s descent. 

The light from the sun glinted across the shuriken as Szeth whipped it out before him. It spun through the air, the kanji gleamed before a soft humming noise was heard to Szeth’s trained ears. The blades merged together and grew bigger until it formed a wide circle before him. The reflection of the night sky over his hometown was captured within its blades. Szeth jumped through, the ring vanishing with a sharp zing before he caught the shrunken behind him. 

Szeth landed soundlessly on the roof below. It is time for justice. 

Opening the Skies

(For this story, I used a character and world from a book I have saved for later called Hidden Heart. Enjoy and don’t forget to comment! Due to someone’s concern about the email box above the comment box, you don’t need to include your email. Just submit  your comment and WordPress will let me know what you said!)

Mandie sat at the very bottom of the Stocklants Mountain Range. She was just sitting in the silence of the forest around her while waiting for her friend. He had begged and pleaded with both her and her boss, Mr. Cuttle, in order for her to be free this particular day. He did not explain why when she inquired his reasoning, only pacifying her with the reply, “You’ll enjoy it to the fullest, Mandie! I promise.”

“So, he did tell me to wait here, but what are we going to do?” The redheaded girl spoke her thoughts aloud as some birds cried out in the distance. That’s not much of an answer, is it? Mandie turned her attention away from her predicament and gazed around the area. Most called it ‘The Miracle Forest Planet’ given the fact it was hard on some of others planets that had societies full of machinery to keep nature alive. Ronus stood out from others like it in this way. (Ronus was an air planet characterized by it’s floating island upon a giant atmosphere. Deep dives into the skies below the islands revealed a small sphere of water surrounding its core.)

The hiss of steam overheard followed by the cries of sailors drew mandie’s attention upward. A giant air ship brig was passing over heading toward the docks just outside Magehaven. Probably supplies from the construction or just regular imports, Mum probably knows. Mandie sighed before a fit of coughing took over her. Her breaths came out in wheezes, making her chest feel tight like chains were binding her lungs together. Feeling the need for her inhaler, she scrambled inside her side pouch as her body felt the brunt of her fit. Feeling around blindly, her fingers felt the familiar shape of her inhaler. Mandie wasted no time pulling it out and waiting until she could properly take her medicine. 

After a moment, she was able to breathe steadily and processed with her treatment. Inhale, hold, exhale. Inhale, hold, exhale. Finally, she was at peace again and the forest around her seemed to relax as well, as if it had been held up in suspense, due to the rare human who ventured in being in danger. Mandie decided to start braiding her long hair to pass the time although even she was starting to be impatient. “Where is Fowl, anyway?”

“Did someone speak my name?!” “Ahhh!!!” Mandie jumped forward, rolling on the ground before lifting her face toward the source of the voice. A grinning, bright-eyed young man with messy brown hair was standing on the rocky ledge that overhung where Mandie was sitting. “Zebulon Fowl Inchcombe! That was not nice at all!” Mandie tried to stop herself from shaking while Zebulon, commonly known by his middle name, snickered. He saw his friend hug herself to stop her own reaction and felt a little guilty. Mandie was a tender soul so while her reactions to his surprises and scares were entertaining, they weren’t good for her. 

He jumped down with a repentant smile. “Sorry, Mandie. Both for scaring you and for making you wait so long, so come follow me!” He started to walk into the woods so Mandie got in step with him. “Fowl, what do you need to show me that requires us to leave Magehaven? Couldn’t you have just showed me there?” “No, because there’s no space for it!” “For what?” Mandie was even more puzzled but she started to have a feeling for what it was. Fowl stopped right at the edge of a clearing and spread his arms out in a grandiose manner. “For this baby!” 

Mandie looked over his shoulder and finally understood. “Your own air ship schooner?””Yes! So, now that it has been approved for flight and I have my license, why not take the maiden voyage with me? There’s the little island that used for Hukrine ores; I’m sure Mr. Cuttle would like some extras for the shop.”  Fowl nudged Mandie with a wink. He knew that the shop owner especially wouldn’t mind Mandie being absent if it meant they brought back something of value to the The Misty Clock.

Mandie’s facial expression relaxing, Fowl took that as a yes. “Then let’s wait no time!!” Grabbing her hand, he ran up the ramp and quickly pulled the lever for it to retract. “Hoist the main solar sail! Start up the inner engines and let’s go flying!” Mandie had to jump to and fro to avoid the sailor androids which were built to be small and were connected to the ship’s mainframe. I’m not so sure about this. Swallowing her fear, Mandie clutched the side of the shrouds. 

The sound of fabric flapping against the wind filled her ears along with the hum of the material soaking up the sun’s rays. The energy made it’s way through the sails, into the post and down into the ship’s hold. Gravity lost its grip on them as they slowly lifted up. As the schooner picked up speed, turning starboard away from the city, Mandie clutched the shroud and shut her eyes. 

“Mandie,” Fowl’s voice whispered with a hint of a tease. Mandie turned her head away, her chest was feeling tight again. Her knuckles were white from her death grip on the rails. 

“Come on, you’ve been holding the shroud for ten minutes. Open your eyes to see the view, you don’t want to miss it.” 

Shaking, whither from fear or the chilly air she didn’t know, Mandie peeked at her surroundings. 

The endless sea of white and blue laid before her. Clouds wandering across the endless atmosphere, huddling closely to hide its heart below them. The distant cry of the wild Vapras could be heard and the glint of their foamy green and pink scales were flashed from their fluffy playgrounds. Mandie felt a sense of ease wash over her as she aged at the splendor around her. Fowl grinned, happy to see his friend relaxed again. “Now, let’s focus on our adventure!” He held his fist in the air to rally her spirits. Mandie giggled a little before meekly punching the air as well. “Yeah!” 

A Plea from Me to You

Hello! It’s been a while since I’ve done a post as myself. However, I need to say this here since this is the main place in question for my post.

As a writer, I enjoy creating worlds and stories for people to read in their free time. I post them here and on Wattpad and that feels good. Knowing that I accomplish something that I can be proud of. However, another important aspect of being a writer or any kind of creator is what the audience does with what you put out there.

Over the past few days, thanks in part to me promoting the sites I use to write, I’ve seen a couple more viewers to each site. That’s great and I’m happy, it’s the silence is unsettling. I don’t hear what y’all think about my work. I can’t tell if you hate or love it or if you don’t for it at all. It’s discouraging and I believe in part to why I hit a rut in writing for a while.

I’m just starting to get out of that rut but I don’t want to be met with more silence. Please, I implore as a writer, tell me what you think. If it’s correctly my grammar or telling me you enjoyed the story; anything you say back to me is better than saying nothing at all. It’s so important.

So I leave you with this plea, think about it. If you have time in your day to read either site, you can spare another minute to tell me what you thought about it.

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Hebrews 11:1

George the Duck

Here’s another story I had to write for English 4; a children’s story! I rather enjoyed doing a simpler plot but just characters just as lovable as the next. I hope y’all enjoy and don’t forget to let me know what you think. Faith out!

There have been many a tale told to the human world about the everyday life and adventures of animals. It’s no uncommon occurrence that human are just as curious about animals as they can be of us. However, this tale is a simple one of a simple duck who lived in a simple home.

The duck’s name was George. George had pristine white feathers and yellow bill from which would emit his boisterous and cheery voice. He lived with his five siblings, three sisters and two brothers, with their five cat and six dog friends. They all lived with the Hill family in a peaceful community in the suburbs as he heard them describe. Their house was modest with a fairly small backyard which was home to the pond the ducks frequented; well, except George. George had a problem, he was an indoor duck.

It wasn’t he fault, truly it wasn’t. For heaven’s sake, their ‘mother’ Liza (who was a human), often times wished their was a way to help George return to their pond outside. The issue was George was a lame duck who couldn’t walk anymore. When he was born, he struggled to waddle after his siblings so the Hill’s brought him inside their house which smelled liked dog hair and chai tea to live in the Mr and Mrs Hill’s room.

George grew to enjoy these times; he got to wear these straps they called ’suspenders’ to properly hold up a ‘diaper’, took baths in the huge bathtub which George swore was made of marble like the sinks, and he got attentive care from all five Hill children.

Despite this, George wanted to return to the pond outside where the fresh air would ruffle his feathers and he could hear the wild ducks that lived in the lake that resided behind the house. His colorful mind would wander along adventures with his siblings: Snuggles, Pokey, Mirage, Jinxy, and Sputnik.

George was sitting on the windowsill one day, gazing out into empty space as the youngest Hill daughter, Grace, came into the room to keep him company. She had noticed the duck’s sad expression many a time before. His tail would droop and his bright eyes dulled as they stared aimlessly anywhere with vibrant color and steaming with life, a sight not truly found within the concrete walls of the Hill’s residence. George stirred in his spot, desperately trying to move his feet again but failing. Salty water was threatening to become tears as he tried to forced his numb body to respond to his will. Her tender heart, which so adored the pets she took care of, ached while her clever mind began to formulate a plan to get George outside.

Leaving George alone once more, Grace raced downstairs and burst into the sewing room which tripled as a guest room and office for her older brothers (who aspired in filmmaking). Liza and her brothers, Craig and Edgar, looked to see Grace with beaming energy. “I have an idea to help George get together with his siblings outside!”

George was so lost in his wishful musings he hadn’t noticed the change in the air around him. Sure, he could hear the scary dogs downstairs who were probably arguing about nothing again. Two dogs in a particular, NewDog and Buddy, were vicious when it came to arguing and they disliked nay new human who entered the house. They scared George and most of the other ducks, George was happy to remain safe upstairs where they didn’t bother him. The cats were nicer in the sense they didn’t hurt him unless got too close. All in all, most the pets got along especially with the only nice dog, Murphy.

“George?” He turned his head away from the bright window to glance at the opening door. Grace was holding a little chair with wheels and a tube with little palm trees all over it with a huge grin. George was confused. What was so special about them?

“It’s a float and wheelchair, George,” Grace said simply to answer George’s unspoken bafflement. It was then it clicked in his mind. George flapped his wings in excitement before stopping to let Edgar and Craig help into the chair. He would have to use his bill to move, but he didn’t mind. The kids helped him down the stair before letting him move himself to the backdoor. George could hear it now, the sound of the birds and wind rushing past the trees, his siblings chatting about what they could hear the wild ducks say beyond the fence, all the smells of the outdoors waiting for him. Liza opened the door with a soft smile to George. “Welcome outside, George.”

Lessons Spun from Tales

Okay, so this isn’t from a prompt anyone gave me; rather it was an assignment for my English 4 class. It was a Modern Canterbury Tale we had to create ourselves. I used a recent experience as the base and gave it a more, fantastical setting. I hope y’all enjoy it and don’t forget to comment and share! Faith Out!

In the land of Nosmya, Roclu Gangur was a young female dark elf who making a name for herself as an adventurer. She hailed from the mines of midafell where her kin lived in the darkness and low lights of crystals and scattered moonlight from the skies high above. daring and curious, she discovered her thirst for the unknown when one night she ventured above ground and met her future traveling companion whom she named Templeton. Rock held the dignity of the dark elves in her shadowy appearance of grey skin, black short hair, and piercing grey eyes. Now, she sits in a tavern in Stagstrand were a stranger approaches her.
“Come on, Roclu, I want to go see that dragon’s labyrinth already! Why are you taking so long to eat?” Roclu did not reply to her excitable and more than a little impatient friend, but continued to eat her food in peace. It would no doubt be one of many stops along the trail to their destination. Templeton just didn’t like her steady spacing sometimes.
The Dancing Mountain Tavern & Inn was a favorite stop of hers no matter where they were heading. Stagstrand was located right in the middle of Nosmya which made it a perfect cultural hub for the masses traveling about for pleasure or business.

This particular place was her favorite because many visitors requested stories from her travels and she was waiting for that tie to begin. 
 “Peace, dear Templeton,” she said while rubbing his tail. “i do not mean to dawdle, but you know how much I love to spin tales.”
“Hahaha! Come on, fair patrons! I believe our adventurer and bard is ready for tonight!” Ulmug, the orc bartender, shouted passionately. Cheers and whistles echoed and only added the lively atmosphere that existed in the building.
Roclu smiled. She left some coins at her place before swiftly sitting on the bar counter so everyone could see her. Templeton scurried up to sit on her shoulder, not willing to miss out on the spotlight.
Some of the younger children ran up and sat on the floor in front of her. “Miss Gangur! What stories are you going to tell tonight?” “Of noble dragons and their lairs?” “Oh dark beasts that you had to defeat?” “Helping villages with their political issues.” 
 “Peace, peace!, dear listeners. While all those stories hold much value, I have one of a greater moral I must begin.” Roclu’s aura became stronger as she assumed a sort of persona. A grand storyteller that captures hearts and minds in tales that wove truth and fantasy together. She threw her hood back as she opened her mouth to speak. (Poor Templeton was nearly throw off of her as she started. “She should remember where I am, that girl.”)
“As I journey this land seeking new experiences, I also seek new people to meet and befriend. However, as a dark elf with the ability to see through lies, I have learned people can disguise themselves as someone else when their true colors are far more sinister than they lead you to believe.” A shiver ran through the crowd as she spoke.
“When I finished a job a band of kind dwarves offered me, I met a young, male tiger nekojin and a young, female of the bird-folk. They too, were traveling to Baymouth. For a few days, we remained in each others company and they appeared upright to my eyes. They gained my trust within this time and I shared many of my own stories with them in confidence. For a few moons, we became an adventuring group that preformed many jobs and requests together.”
As Roclu continued to tell of these two, Templeton interjected in the story with a scowl. “But they betrayed us! Those scheming monsters got close to her and her brother before showing their true face and stabbing them in the back!”
“Templeton, while I do admire your anger and thirst for justice, let me build up to it.” The children giggled while the adults appeared more concerned for the circumstances. Who would want to betray the brave, yet caring dark elf?
Roclu merely returned to her story without much notice to the change. “I learned that two were lost in their ways of spirituality and as a trusted friend, I sought to guide the young woman while my brother spoke to the tiger. My family, who learned of theirs, did not see much fruit in them and warned me of their true nature. I took caution, but I did not even see the knife they were preparing for me.”
Roclu paused. A cold chill passed over her heart as her mid wandered back to the day that cursed letter arrived at her family’s doorstep. Rage and sadness had tormented her soul as many came to her defense at the lies and slander of those two.
Roclu sighed and Templeton nibbled at his acorn. “Safe to say, they no longer travel with us and any accusation who support adventurers know of them and probably will refuse to be their patron.” The squirrel gave the room a satisfied smile as he fluffed his tail and rubbed Roclu’s ears affectionately. “They tasted defeat and backlash the moment they tried to stab my lovely Roclu.”
Roclu responded by smoothly shoving the rest of his acorn into his mouth. He stumbled and failed about before clinging to her cloak. “Yes, so that is the end of that story. Children, fair patrons, take heed to these words that i have deliver to you. Hold your cards close and reveal them to only those you know for certain you can trust. There are indeed wolves in sheep’s clothing and snakes in the grass who lie in wait for those foolish and blind enough to come close.”
The aura around her disappeared as Roclu concluded her tale. The children gazed up at her in awe while the adults turned to converse amongst themselves on her story. The dark elf herself just smiled. Another night, another tale, another lesson fro everyone to learn. These were her thoughts as she got off the counter before Ulmug stopped her. “No drink, tonight? Sweet Eight is the special tonight.” The orc’s offer of the sweet beverage caused Roclu to consult her squirrel with her eyes.
Templeton groaned before leaping to the counter again. “Hit us with all you got, Ulmug! We’re not leaving till I’ve had every drink on the menu.” “If you can manage to stay awake that is,” Roclu teased as Ulmug eagerly began to prepare their orders. Perhaps Roclu and Templeton would stay for the stay at The Dancing Mountain this time.

The Moment

Disclaimer: I do not struggle with depression or suicidal thoughts. This was merely the prompt I was given and I tried my best to follow it. Forgive me if it was a little inaccurate to any degree, I have no personal expression with the subject. So, if this is a sensitive topic for you, you should probably skip over this. Also, if you do struggle with this, please talk to someone. You matter. Your life matters. Reach out and a hand will take yours. “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10.

It wasn’t overnight, I witnessed this.

Belva was part of a group I had started within our dance troupe. Being homeschooled, dance was one of the social connections I treasured. We would compete on occasion, but our studio mainly did large scale performances for our town. Ballet, hip-hop, contemporary; you name it, we had it.

Now, I was in the upper ranks of the studio and one of the best dancers there. I’m not prideful or constantly boasting, but I knew where my skills were. So, I enjoyed helping out the lower levels with their dances and developing their techniques. Among my friend group, I earned the label ‘Dance Mum’. Of course, in the best manner possible that the term could indicate.

So that’s how I met Belva on one day that a new group of students came in. She was placed in my level where everyone became fascinated with her style. It merged ballet with contemporary and a splash of free-style dance. Belva became a favorite to watch and partner with in the coming weeks. She was lively, funny, and always willing to learn.

A year passed and I was sensing a change in her. Somehow whenever she came into the studio for class or returned from her dorm room, a cloud was covering her expression. Her laughter was bright for a moment, but damp and dull sounding just as her smile seemed made of porcelain.

“Nora,”

“Nora,”

“Nora!”

“Oh! Sorry, Adi. Lost in thought again, I suppose,” I barely recovered from my mental wanderings and distracted myself with taping up my feet. Adi, one of my friends, just quirked a blonde eyebrow at me. “Whatever you say, just please tell me you remember your dance with Jay today. It was odd for you to blank out like you did yesterday.”

“I know. It’s probably just stress, I’ll be okay.” I reassured her with a grin before standing up to begin stretching. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Belva place her bag in the furthest corner of the studio next to the costumes. Day after day, she placed herself further and further away from the group. It baffled me, why was she doing it and why did nobody ask other than me?

I should check on her tonight and make sure she’s okay.

Class seemed to pass over my mind like the wind over a meadow. I could recall dancing with my partner Jay. I saw the room spin before my eyes as I visualized myself flying above them all. Like a firefly, madly floating through the air to find…, something. I wanted to shed my little light upon the path below me for someone to follow. My imagination encouraged my body to move with Jay and the music.

POP!

The sound of the toaster oven finishing dragged my mind back to reality. I was in the dorm’s kitchen, making a midnight snack of buttered toast and warm milk. Simple? Yes, just enough for me. I finished setting up my little tray with flowers from the window plant and started to make my way to my room. Thankfully, I was on the first floor so navigating my way through the darkness was no hard task. My eyes adjusted swiftly to the black abyss as if they were little amber lanterns guiding my way.

I was about pry open my door, which I had left ajar, when I noticed a door down the hall was alight. From my memory of the dorm assignments, it was Belva’s room. The door was shut but her light crept out form under it like a hand reaching out to grasp something it could not see.

A knot formed in my stomach and an unknown sense of urgency quickened my heartbeat. “Belva?” The whisper escaped my lips. Placing my tray down with as little noise as possible, I ran down the hallway. I don’t know why, but I decided to forgo knocking and try opening the door. It was unlocked. In a frenzy of strange peril, I scanned her room for any trace of my dear friend.

I knew thought I’d ever unseen the state her room was in. Marks on the wall like an animal was escaping containment, items scattered and our of place as if a whirlwind had silently invaded her belongings. “Belva?!” I spoke a little louder as dread crawled up my back. My ears, tuned sharply for nightly sounds, caught the final trip of the tap in her bathroom.

I burst inside to find her. Belva was trembling as tears fell down the trail that left behind on her stained cheeks. Her bathtub was a deep pit of water, turned a hideous greenish red from God knows what. Yet my eyes moved to see the most dangerous object in her hand, a plugged-in razor. “Nora,” Her voice echoed from the chasm in my mind. “Will this be my last bath bomb?”

It clicked in my mind. I had to say something, I needed to make my presence a reality to her if her eyes thought she was dreaming. I felt the depths of my soul cry aloud to me for aid. I spoke up;

 

Suicide Prevention Hotline: tel:1-800-273-8255

 

Riddle Me…Whatever

It was one of those sunny days where you don’t feel like doing particularly anything, just laying in the warm light of that glowing orb in the sky was enough. Letting your skin soak up the rays and giving yourself a lovely glow that would cause the envy of others later. That is what Kahula was doing. She was a young Sphinx who lived hidden among the sands of the Sahara, specifically the Atlantic Coastal Desert. The faro echo of the waves lulled the fledgling cub to a comfortable silence of her mind and a relaxed being.
“Kahula!!!!!” Her golden tail flinched in mild annoyance as her state of silence was broken and tumbled like shattered glass at her paws. Kahula refused to move or ope her eyes to acknowledged the voice even as the sound of its feet drew nearer to where she lay. “Kahula!! What goes with a carriage, comes with a carriage, is of no use to a carriage and yet the carriage cannot go without it?”
At the mere mention of a riddle, Kahula’s instincts awoke her mental eye. After all she was a Sphinx; riddles were their life. Turning her head to reveal violet hues alight with fire, she spoke. “The answer is noise. Something I wished to be absent from, Va-ma-ma-lin.”
Vamamalin was a male Sphinx close to her age who enjoyed teasing her with endless riddles, no matter where she happened to be. Her violet eyes filled with vexation met with his grey ones that beamed with delight and mild disappointment at once. “You answer too fast, Kahula. Where’s the fun is that? You’re so icy.”
“How often do you intend to say that?It’s merely because you torment me with these riddles. You surely will be the one Sphinx to get into the history books.” Kahula glared at him before she turned her face back to the direction of the sea. True, she was sharp witted and had a keen mind, yet she preferred to remain within the tribe of Sphinx’s and stay by the sea. Sometimes, she and her friends would imagine the ice from the North came sailing past the coast they lived by.
Vamamalin just huffed at Kahula’s sharp tongue. Unfurling his wings, he removed a small bag from his hip. He placed it between them and let the contents fall out. The clicking of glass caused Kahula’s ears to twitch to better her the sound. “Marbles again? You know how well you fail at this game, Vamamalin. A riddle for a marble, my collection grows immensely thanks to you.” Her own wings spread out in a show of pride as she continued, “You won’t be able to catch any fair lady like this if you can’t beat them.”
“Perhaps I’m not trying yet,” Vamamalin retorted as he circled the marbles in a ring of sand with his talon. “Ladies first,” he said with a toothy grin.
“Though I live beneath a roof, I never seem to dry. If you will only hold me, I swear I will not lie. What am I?” Kahula decided to begin simple. She knew Vamamalin was as clever as she, but for one reason or another, he didn’t try quite as hard with her as he did others. Vamamalin closed his eyes and begin to process the riddle.
As he did so, Kahula watched him carefully, her paws crossed over the other like a regal cat watching a mouse dance before it for its entertainment. She took in his colors, gold and brown fur with wings tanned by the sunlight. His hair was ruffled by the wind and sand, coarse brown hair that roughly framed his face with neat lines that brought attention to his clear eyes.
“My tongue. Is that it?” Kahula frowned, but nodded. “Correct, you take a marble.” A victorious grin beamed from Vamamalin as he lifted a green marble from the ring. “Surprised, Kahula?” “A bit, you didn’t take as long this time. Well done.” A mutual grin was shared as the game continued. Despite his warm demeanor and her, somewhat cold personality when disturbed, these two shared a special bond that created quite the mystery.

fear & memory

Here, in the torn fields of Poland,
Is a wagon on a road, all alone.
Its paint gone and the wood dampened,
Nothing itself it, all picked to the bone.

Further along this lonely place,
Is a house, abandoned and disgraced.
Glass scattered across the floor,
Precious memories are nevermore.

In the distance, the ruins are seen,
Of a town that witty and alive.
Oh, if the townsfolk had been more keen,
Then perhaps the attack that could survive.

Alas, they are gone as the air grows cold,
The hum of the planes and roar of tanks forebode.
The Second War of the Worlds is upon the land,
Perhaps this time, peace shall be able to forever stand.