Left Behind

What good’s a life that leaves nothing behind, not a thought or a dream that might echo in time?
— Trans-Siberian Orchestra

We build our legacy piece by piece, and maybe the whole world will remember you or maybe just a couple of people, but you do what you can to make sure you're still around after you're gone.
— David Lowery

My legacy is that I stayed on course... from the beginning to the end, because I believed in something inside of me.
— Tina Turner

What will you leave behind when you’re gone?

The hubby and I had our wills finalized recently, and it’s a real process, I tell you what. Amongst a lot of crap we had to deal with was the creation of our bequest lists. These were the lists of items we want to go to specific people.

I have a lot of stuff, and I love my stuff. And I really hate the thought that no one else is going to care about my stuff like I do. That when I’m gone all this stuff I’ve lovingly collected over the years will just be disposed of without a thought to how much it meant to me.

But it’s also unreasonable to expect someone else to takeover everything. I remember when we had to go through my aunt’s house – she collected antiques, but I only saved things that had sentimental value for me. As much as I would have liked to save more, the things that meant a great deal to her, I just didn’t have the space.

So I spent a lot of time thinking about my various collections – dragons, teapots, books – and picked out a couple of items from each collection that meant the most to me. Then I thought about who might appreciate these things the most and bequeathed the items to them in my will. Now maybe this will make the beneficiaries happy, and maybe it won’t. But I’ll be dead and if they want to donate/sell their bequests that’s fine by me.

My books are still an ongoing process. I’d like the various collections to be kept together, but a lot of my books are out of date or have a limited audience. Like my reference books – I have several sets of reference books that I bought through Time/Life Books – Time Frame series (history), the Enchanted World, Mysteries of the Unknown, Planet Earth – and a couple of sets I bought at book sales. While I still find them useful – the Planet Earth series was especially helpful with my Elemental book series – most people prefer looking stuff up on the internet.

Which brings me to my writing files. My vast array of writing files, both paper and electronic. My great body of ideas and unfinished stories/novels. My unpublished works that, if printed out, could probably paper the earth. Or at least the moon. Not to brag, but a lot of this stuff shows promise and it would be a shame to let this promise go to waste. On the other hand, who’s going to finish all this if not me?

And there’s my motivation to get off my lazy butt and taking my writing seriously again. If I don’t do it, who will?

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

Yes, that’s right. I skipped my Monday post again. Quite frankly, I don’t do that much (besides grocery shop) outside of the house, and my life can be somewhat uneventful. I had a bunch of routine medical appointments and no one really wants to hear about that.

As for other writing . . . it appears I’m still in my slump. I’m getting my ten-minute words done, but that’s pretty much it. I keep hoping that will change, but really, nothing’s going to change unless I just suck it up and change it.

NEW WORDS:
Blog Posts – 1104+841= 1,945

Total words: 1,945 words

Three minute words – 102+113+78+77+93+92+93=648

Goals For Next Week:
Finish the Christmas story.

EDITING:
I actually did take a fresh look at Magickal Mayhem. Or maybe that’s going to be Magic and Mayhem. I haven’t decided yet. But in any case, in an effort to pare down the wordage, I cut a whole bunch of description and now it looks like I need to put at least some of it back in. It’s times like these that makes me wonder if I know what I’m doing in the first place

Goal For Next Week:
Edit Magickal Mayhem.

MARKETING MONDAY:
There are a lot of markets for flash fiction out there. And a lot of contests. And the one thing they usually have in common is they have a specific theme they’re looking for. And while it’s all well and good to have my stories categorized by length, it would be more helpful to have them categorized by subject, i.e. horror, fantasy, mythology, etc. So that’s what I’m doing

The poem I sent in last week was returned with the request for a really minor edit, which I agreed to and as far as I know it will be included in this really cool local project that I shouldn’t really talk about until it’s a done deal. And then it might be worth a post all on its own. :-)

Goal For Next Week:
Submit two stories and one poem.

TECHNO TUESDAY:
So far I have not been doing well on Techno Tuesdays. This time I had a zoom meeting with my stitchery group in the morning, and then in the afternoon I was inspired to work on my stitchery.

Goal For Next Week:
Set up Paperwhite

CRAFTING:
I am waiting for some embroidery transfers I ordered to arrive, so I’ve put the granddaughter’s dress on hold until they get here. Hopefully this week. And hopefully they’ll have something in the package that I can use on it.

When I haven’t been hitting the dollar stories and craft stores for more crafting supplies, and then organizing them so my hoard doesn’t get away from me again, I’ve been working on embroidered squares for a baby quilt.

Goal For Next Week:
Finish baby quilt. Start the embroidery on granddaughter’s dress. Figure out how to finish embroidered tote bag (that I started many years ago).

WHAT I’M READING:
I’m still reading Where the Crawdads Sing, by Delia Owens and I’ll probably stick with it until I’m done. And I confess, I read Whiskey Beach by Nora Roberts last week, but I made it last the whole week instead of a single day. So I guess that’s progress.

On the Kindle. I finished The Merman’s Kiss by Tamsin Ley and really liked it. These characters had a lot of issues to overcome, and you’re kept wondering if they’d be able to be together at all. Plus I really like the author’s take on merfolk. Now I’m working on Curse of Christmas: A Collection of Paranormal Holiday Stories, by assorted authors.

Goal For Next Week:
Finish “Crawdads” so I can pass it on, and otherwise keep taking it easy on the reading so it doesn’t take over my life.

GOAL REVIEW:
My goals always seem so reasonable, I don’t know why I have such trouble sticking to them. At least as far as the writing goals go. The crafting and reading goals seem to be doing okay, although I do spend more time on my crafting compared to anything else. But then again, I do most of my crafting (needlework mostly) in front of the TV at night. At least it keeps me away from the games.

Happy writing.

The Cave – Part Eleven

To quickly recap: Friends Eve and Sara were rock climbing and stumbled across a large cave with primitive drawings on its walls. A rock slide traps them inside. Having little choice, they go deeper into the cave, hoping to find another exit. The cave system seems to be a mixture of natural and man-made and the further into it they go, the stranger Eve starts acting. Just as Sara thinks they’re getting close to a way out, Eve shoves her off of a ledge into a chasm. Now they must each find their way. But there's something else going on as well . . .

The trembling of the earth woke Eve from the trance she’d been in. How long had she been standing in front of the mural, hours? Days?

The quake didn’t last long, and the rumbling was no worse than the sound of a mild thunder storm. Eve felt like she’d could have stood there forever if she hadn’t been jarred back to her senses. She was no longer thirsty, but hunger ate away at her.

Her back pack was at her feet, rocks spilling out of it. Why had she picked up so many rocks? It didn’t make any sense. Nothing was making any sense. Eve rubbed her forehead, swaying on her feet. She was so confused. She needed something to eat.

Maybe there was something they’d overlooked in the first cave. They? What was she thinking. There was no “they,” there was only her. Leaving her back pack behind, Eve retraced her steps back to the cave with the paintings.

She’d only taken a few steps down the passage when she stopped. There was a large crack in the wall. Funny, she didn’t remember there being a crack here before. Maybe there had been but they were just too focused on their footing to notice it.

There was that “they” again. What was the matter with her?

Not being able to help herself, Eve raised her light to better examine the crack. It was bigger than she realized, more fissure than crack. Big enough for a person to slip through.

Curiosity getting the better of her, she squeezed through the crack, finding herself in a narrow corridor. It was a tight fit, but not too tight to deter her. It was a good thing she wasn’t claustrophobic.

She followed it for several uncomfortable yards before it widened up. The air grew damp and dank, and what was that smell?

The corridor came to an abrupt end in a cul-de-sac. No, not quite a cul-de-sac she realized, raising the light. The corridor continued on the other side, but the opening was too small even for her.

Despite the dampness, the little chamber wasn’t cool, like she would expect it to be. In fact, it was rather warm, which didn’t make any sense. Caves generally stayed the same temperature the further in you went, they didn’t usually get warmer or colder.

With a shrug, she turned to go back the way she’d come, and spotted the source of the odor.

There was fungus growing on either side of the walls framing the entrance to the chamber. But why here and nowhere else?

It probably had something to do with the damp heat. She knew it was possible for certain types of fungi or plants to grow underground. But was it safe to eat?

Eat.

Eve looked at the pale white fungus growing on the wall and along the edges of the floor. She went hiking with a group once that was big on foraging for their meals, and those meals had included a variety of edible mushrooms and fungi. Too bad she hadn’t paid attention to which ones were safe.

Eve looked at the fungus, all but salivating. It would solve a lot of her problems, keep her from starving to death. Reaching out, she stroked the smooth, white flesh.

Eat.

On the other hand, it could be poisonous. If she bit into that spongy flesh, would it make her sick, make her hallucinate? Would it kill her?

If only she had a way of determining whether this bounty was her salvation or her end.

Eat.

The voice whispered through her mind. Was it her hunger talking, or something else altogether? Eve sighed.

Eat.

The voice was right. She should just suck it up and eat. What’s the worst that could happen?

She could die, that’s what. But at least it would be a quicker end than slowly starving to death. At least she hoped it would be.

Eat.

Eve broke off a piece of the fungus. And ate.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Missed an installment? Catch up here: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight,  Part Nine, Part Ten

Pen and Pencil

I like the process of pencil and paper as opposed to a machine. I think the writing is better when it's done in handwriting. — Nelson DeMille

I prefer the pen. There is something elemental about the glide and flow of nib and ink on paper. ― James Robertson

I take pride in using fountain pens. They represent craftsmanship and a love of writing. Biros, on the other hand, represent the throwaway culture of modern society, which exists on microwave ready-meals and instant coffee. ― Fennel Hudson

After the fountain pen debacle, I switched to a ball point pen in my journal. I was still doing my three-minute words in long-hand (also known as cursive writing), but I noticed that the journal I was doing them in was already half full. These journals are supposed to last me a year and it’s only March.

So, I have since started doing my daily words in a lined, three-hole notebook. As you may recall, I have an abundance of notebooks. And, I’ve also abandoned my pens as I prefer using pencils in these notebooks.

I can remember a time when I did all of my writing in long hand, and believe it or not, my favorite writing instrument back then was a fountain pen. Apparently, I was more careful back then, because I still have many of those scribblings, and they’re in pristine shape.

When the writing isn’t going well, I’ll often default to writing longhand. I’ll also often turn to a notebook when I’m composing poetry. There’s just something comforting about using pen and paper. It slows down the process, allows me to think. And using the pencil allows me to make changes without having to scribble things out.

As well as an impressive collection of pens, I also have many pencils. My favorite to write with was a good old fashioned HB pencil, like the ones we used in elementary school. But of course the problem with ordinary pencils is that you have to keep sharpening them.

The dollar store and back to school sales provided me with mechanical pencils in bulk, but despite their convenience I never really liked them – they didn’t leave much of an impression. And by that I mean the leads aren’t as thick, so the writing is lighter.

Finally, I smartened up and stopped buying cheap mechanical pencils. A good mechanical pencil can cost you as much as a good pen, but it’s worth every penny. The leads come in varying thicknesses – my current favorite has a 0.9 mm lead. Anything less than 0.7 is too light for my liking.

The very best thing about using a pencil is that you can take it with you wherever you go and never have to worry about a charger or plugging it in. :-D

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

After having missed two weeks in a row, I figured it was about time I did a Monday post on the other blog. It wasn’t much of one, but it was something at least.

As for other words . . . yeah, not so much. I had a lot of things on my mind last week, and between that and the dismal weather, I had zero focus for anything else. No progress on my Christmas story, but at least I kept up with my cave story.

NEW WORDS:
Blog Posts – 95+107+138+122+118+99+95=774

Total words: 2,916 words

Three minute words – 127+121+141+145+122+133+131=920

Goals For Next Week:
Get back to wok on the Christmas story, work on journal entries for Elemental Spirit, maybe write a poem.

EDITING:
*looks around innocently, whistling aimlessly* Editing? What editing? Oh, that editing. If I didn’t have enough focus for writing, what makes you think I’d be doing any editing?

Goal For Next Week:
Start the final edits on Magickal Mayhem.

MARKETING MONDAY:
I received an invitation in my email to submit a poem for a local project. There’s no money involved, but it would be wonderful if the poem I sent in is included. I also submitted a flash story to an online e-zine.

I have not heard back regarding any of the stories I’ve sent in thus far.

Goal For Next Week:
Submit two stories and one poem.

TECHNO TUESDAY:
Yeah, this was once again a bust. I texted with one of my sisters for about an hour, and then we were tired of texting so she phoned instead and we talked for another hour and a half. I guess we had a lot to say. :-D

And then I had to clean out the pot drawer in the oven. Apparently, since the mice that have invaded our house can’t get into our new cupboards, they’ve decided to hold their parties in the pot drawer. Can you say ewwww?

So I thoroughly washed all the pots and pans from the drawer, and when they were dry I put them in a plastic bin on the dining room table. The hubby cleaned the remaining mouse droppings out of the drawer, and left a paper plate of mouse bait in their place. I don’t like using traps because it’s not a clean kill

Goal For Next Week:
Set up Paperwhite

CRAFTING:
Woot! I finished the afghan I was working on! And it looks pretty good if I do say so myself.

Goal For Next Week:
Start the embroidery on my granddaughter’s dress.

WHAT I’M READING:
My reading binge has slowed down considerably, although that has not stopped me from ordering a bunch of books from Indigo. I’m still reading Where the Crawdads Sing, by Delia Owens, and still not sure I like it.

On the Kindle. I started The Merman’s Kiss by Tamsin Ley and I’m liking this new twist on the whole mermaid legend.

Goal For Next Week:
Continue to stay away from Nora Roberts books so I can hopefully get more writing done.

GOAL REVIEW:
Well, I did great on the crafts and okay on the marketing, but the rest of the goals were pretty much a bust. To be fair, I had a few things on my mind that eroded my ability to focus, but I’m hopeful this won’t be the case for the week to come.

Happy writing.

The Cave – Part Ten

To quickly recap: Friends Eve and Sara were rock climbing and stumbled across a large cave with primitive drawings on its walls. A rock slide traps them inside. Having little choice, they go deeper into the cave, hoping to find another exit. The cave system seems to be a mixture of natural and man-made and the further into it they go, the stranger Eve starts acting. Just as Sara thinks they’re getting close to a way out, Eve shoves her off of a ledge into a chasm. Now they must each find their way.

Sara waited until she’d filled all three bottles before drinking again. As thirsty as she was, she didn’t want to make herself sick. The water was cold and fresh, and if there were bits of dirt or leaf matter in it, she couldn’t have cared less.

Tucking the other bottles back into her pack, she discovered an apple tucked in the bottom.

“Sweet! How did I miss this?”

She hobbled over to the rock fall and sat down with a sigh. The apple was a little bruised and battered, but no fruit had ever tasted so good. Lantern at her feet, she nibbled slowly, making the apple last as long as possible. She ate the entire thing, including the core.

When she was finished, Sara moved so she could better see her injured leg and poured the rest of the water from the bottle she was holding over the scape. It was too late to stop the infection, but maybe it would keep it from getting worse.

Now that she’d quenched her first and had something to eat, she should probably rest for a bit. It was the smart thing to do, she told herself.

She shone the light around – the ground was pretty much unvaryingly rocky, although right beside the rock fall it was slightly more uniform. With a sigh she slid down from her rock and curled up on the ground. She laid the staff beside her and used her rolled up pack as a pillow. The last thing she did was turn her light off to save the battery, hugging it to her like a teddy bear.

Sara woke with a start. It took her a moment to orient herself. She had no idea whether she’d been asleep for minutes or hours. Her feet were cold. Why were her feet cold? And there was a sound like running water.

She was still clutching the lantern and turned it on now, bringing the intensity of the light up slowly. “What the heck?”

Quickly, she pulled her feet up. Her soaking wet feet. Scrambling to her feet she turned the light all the way up.

“Uh, oh. This can’t be good.”

While she’d been sleeping the trickle of water at the bottom of the riverbed had swelled until it was a steady stream.

“Where is this coming from?” she wondered. And more importantly, where was it going?

Something must have opened up when the earth shook. Now she had a choice – follow the water to see where it was going, or go back and trace it to its source in hopes it was coming from the outside.

Whatever she decided, she’d better do it quickly as she realized the water was steadily rising.

Sara backed up to the rock fall. Whichever way she went, it wouldn’t be safe staying down here in the riverbed.

“Damn it!”

With no real idea of how long they’d been in here or how far she’d come, she didn’t see that she had much of a choice. She’d follow the water. If she had any kind of luck it was flowing out of a fissure in the rock.

Looking up towards the top of the rockfall, she was relieved to see that the ledge continued in the direction she wanted to take. Now all she had to do was get up there.

Though her leg was still painful, it supported her weight. The climb wasn’t as bad as she feared, nor was it as high. She was halfway up before remembering her walking stick. She glanced down but didn’t see it, not that she would have gone back down for it, she’d just have to leave it behind. The wall of the chasm could provide support if she needed it.

She reached the top and was happy to see the ledge was wider than the ones she’d used previously. Putting the gap the rockfall left behind her, she started off in the same direction as the water.

The ledge was smooth and even, a little too smooth and even to her mind. She couldn’t help but wonder if these ledges were natural, or if someone had made them. Other parts of the cave system seemed to be man made as well, which meant people had used these caves at one time. Which meant there had to be another way out. If she hadn’t been so tired and hungry, the very thought of a way out would have put a spring in her step.

At least she had a source of water, she thought, glancing over the edge of the ledge. The water had risen enough that she could see it, and she stopped in her tracks as a new thought occurred to her. It was rising pretty quickly. There were still several feet to go before it reached the ledge, but what happened if it kept rising?

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Missed an installment? Catch up here: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine

Time and Again

I don't really care how time is reckoned so long as there is some agreement about it, but I object to being told that I am saving daylight when my reason tells me that I am doing nothing of the kind. I even object to the implication that I am wasting something valuable if I stay in bed after the sun has risen. As an admirer of moonlight I resent the bossy insistence of those who want to reduce my time for enjoying it.
— Robertson Davies

You will never find anybody who can give you a clear and compelling reason why we observe daylight saving time.
— Dave Barry

Daylight saving time: Only the government would believe that you could cut a foot off the top of a blanket, sew it to the bottom, and have a longer blanket.
— Anonymous

So . . . I got up a little earlier than usual this morning, so I was a little surprised when the cat started howling outside the bathroom door to hurry me up. Usually he only pulls that when I’ve slept in.

I come downstairs, open the curtains, feed the cat, and puttered around the kitchen for a bit. On my way back through the living room before going upstairs for my shower, I glanced at the clock on the bookcase and to my surprise it was closing in on 8 o’clock.

Say what? I thought it should only be closing in on 7 o’clock – how long did I spend puttering around in the kitchen? So I went back into the kitchen and the clocks on the stove and coffee maker both assured me it was almost 7. The clock above the sink insisted it was almost 8 o’clock.

My first thought was that we’d had a power outage for an hour sometime during the night. Yes, I’m that slow in the mornings. Then it occurred to me that if we’d had a power outage the digital clocks would be behind, not an hour ahead.

I checked my phone – it also insisted it was an hour later than I thought. Finally, I checked the calendar on the wall and sure enough, Daylight Savings Time had started. The hubby doesn’t do well with digital time pieces, which is why the battery operated clocks were changed, not the digital ones.

*sigh*

I don’t like the time change at the best of times. I like it even less when it catches me by surprise.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

Despite the fact that my total for new words is higher than it’s been in a while, this really wasn’t a great week for writing. I was in a funk and I just couldn’t seem to pull myself out of it.

I skipped the Monday post on my other blog again because I didn’t have anything to say again. And I just didn’t wanna.

NEW WORDS:
Blog Posts – 1162+991=2,153
Christmas Story – 1,943 words
Total words: 4,096 words

Three minute words – 127+121+141+145+122+133+131=920

Goals For Next Week:
Finish Christmas story, work on journal entries for Elemental Spirit, maybe write a poem.

EDITING:
My editing partner returned Magickal Mayhem to me on Friday, with her invaluable insights. I’ve looked over her notes, but that’s as far as I’ve got so far.

Goal For Next Week:
Start the final edits on Magickal Mayhem.

MARKETING MONDAY:
Okay, so here’s the thing. After two long years my stitchery group was finally going to have an in-person meeting, and it was going to be a “stitch and show” where we show off some of the work we’ve done. And I didn’t have a whole lot to show so I spent the weekend and Monday stitching like crazy to get a couple of things finished.

However, that being said, the wondrous Jamie DeBree passed on a link for a ten word story competition, and who doesn’t have time for ten words? I’m sad you can only send one in, because it was hard to decide between the half dozen I managed.

Goal For Next Week:
Submit two stories and one poem.

TECHNO TUESDAY:
Yeah, this was kind of a bust too. That stitchery meeting I mentioned? It was Tuesday morning, all morning. And I didn’t even have enough time for a bite to eat before the hubby and I were off to a meeting with our lawyer to go over our wills (which took a lot longer than I expected), and on the way home we had to pick the cat up from the vet (where he’d had an ultrasound). So that was pretty much that.

Goal For Next Week:
Set up Paperwhite

CRAFTING:
I found some other lace for my challenge piece and it looked really good around it. Like a lace frame. So then I figured I’d better get my cross-stitched name tag made and as simple as it looked, it was rather time consuming. I stitched my name in red thread on black aida cloth, then I decided it looked a little plain so I sewed red beads around the edges.

Goal For Next Week:
Finish current afghan I’m working on so I can start stitching with a clear conscience.

WHAT I’M READING:
Two Noras last week, one of which I pretty much spent yesterday reading (one of the reasons this post is so late). I read The Witness and Blue Smoke. And now for something completely different – I picked up a copy of Where the Crawdads Sing, by Delia Owens. I’m about a third of the way through it and despite the fact it’s a really popular book, I’m not sure I like it. Especially if it’s headed where I think it’s headed.

On the Kindle. I finished Becoming Dragon by Eve Langlais. Next up will be The Merman’s Kiss by Tamsin Ley.

Goal For Next Week:
Stay away from Nora Roberts' books. I cannot be trusted with them. Once I start, it’s highly unlikely I’ll stop until it’s finished, which means I get nothing else done.

GOAL REVIEW:
While I did work on my Christmas story, I didn’t get it finished. Did not work on the journal entries, did not write a poem. I did submit a single story, but it was only ten words. I did not get my Paperwhite set up, nor did I work on my granddaughter’s dress.

Wow, I did really bad on my goals, didn’t I? Well . . . I can only improve, right?

Have a happy writing week.

The Cave – Part Nine

To quickly recap: Friends Eve and Sara were rock climbing and stumbled across a large cave with primitive drawings on its walls. A rock slide traps them inside. Having little choice, they go deeper into the cave, hoping to find another exit. The cave system seems to be a mixture of natural and man-made and the further into it they go, the stranger Eve starts acting. Just as Sara thinks they’re getting close to a way out, Eve shoves her off of a ledge into a chasm. Now they must each find their way.

Sara moved doggedly forward, focusing on putting one foot after another. Her pains seemed to fade away, or maybe they just paled in comparison to the ache in her leg, which seemed to increase with every step she took.

The walls of the chasm on either side of the riverbed receded and narrowed in turn. Sara couldn’t help but wonder what it had been like when there’d been water flowing through it. How deep had it been? Had there been fish in it?

Fish. Man, she could really go for a nice piece of fish, maybe served on a bed of rice with a nice side salad. It felt like it had been days since she and Eve had finished off the jerky.

There was a part of her that couldn’t help but wonder how Eve was doing, where she was. Was she as hungry as Sara?

It didn’t take a genius to realize that whatever was affecting Eve had something to do with the mosaic. It wouldn’t surprise her if Eve returned to it after she finished filling her pack with stones. She’d been wanting to return ever since Sara had pulled her away. But for what purpose?

Sara shuddered at the thought of trying to traverse that narrow ledge with a heavy pack of rocks. If that’s what Eve was doing, then despite what Eve had done to her, she wished her luck.

She shuddered again for a different reason now. The air around her was beginning to grow chilly. She must be moving deeper into the earth. The hope she was drawing closer to a way out was starting to dwindle.

Her throat was parched. She paused a moment to wipe the perspiration from her forehead and take a breather. She was feeling a little dizzy, probably from lack of food and water. Leaning heavily on her staff, she forced herself to move onwards. She didn’t dare stop for too long for fear of not being able to continue.

She stumbled as the ground dipped suddenly. The tight grip she had on the staff was the only thing that kept her from doing a face plant. As it was, she ended up on her knees, the fresh pain in her leg wrenching a cry from her.

Sinking the rest of the way down, Sara caught her breath and then checked out the fresh damage to her leg. Setting the light on the ground beside her, she carefully pulled back the rent in her pants. Her breath came out in a hiss. The scrape was puffy and oozing a pus-like fluid. God help her, she had nothing to treat an infection. She needed to keep going, and levered herself back up to her feet.

The pain in her leg was a continuous, throbbing ache. To take her mind off of it, Sara started thinking about what she was going to do when she was free of this place. Not if, when.

Eating was the first thing that came to mind, followed by a shower to wash the sweat and grime off, followed by a nice long soak in a hot bath. Then she’d sleep for a week. She was so tired.

A dark shape loomed up in front of her and she raised her light for a better look. It looked like part of the wall beyond the riverbed had broken off, sliding to the bottom of the cavern. With a frown, Sara held the light higher and moved closer.

It might be possible to climb up to the ledge that still ran along the side. The question was, would she be better off up there or down here?

Before she could make up her mind, there was a rumbling noise and the ground undulated under her feet. Earthquake!

Dirt and rock rained down on her. She set the lantern between her feet to protect it and raised her arms above her head to protect it as best she could. It only lasted a moment, but seemed a lot longer. Sara was glad she hadn’t been up on the ledge – she doubted she could survive another fall.

“What next?” she muttered.

She waited a couple of minutes to make sure there were no aftershocks, then picked up her lantern and carefully skirted the rock fall. Something glinted in the light and she stooped for a better look. Was that … it was! Water!

There was a trickle of water beneath the rubble of the riverbed. Ignoring the surge of pain in her leg, she knelt down and brushed away the detritus, revealing the thin stream.

Fumbling off her pack, she grabbed one of her empty water bottles and held it so the water flowed into it. Unable to wait, she brought the half-full bottle to her lips and drank deeply. Water had never tasted so good. When she was done, she put it in the stream again, this time filling it.

It never occurred to her to wonder where the water came from.

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Missed an installment? Catch up here: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight

Lesson Learned

We all have challenges and battles in our life. Sometimes the lesson is less about defeating them and more about learning not to defeat ourselves.
― Brittany Burgunder

The Universe is one great kindergarten for man. Everything that exists has brought with it its own peculiar lesson.
— Orison Swett Marden

I believe that there's a lesson in almost everything that you do and every experience, and getting the lesson is how you move forward.
— Oprah Winfrey

I have a story to tell, one that does not leave me in a good light, but it contains a valuable lesson.

Last Sunday I spent the afternoon working on a cross stitch project that makes my eyes buggy. Using my reading glasses helps some, but it takes a long time for my eyes to re-adjust to normal again. Or as normal as my eyes get without glasses. This is an important thing to note because it impacts what happened later.

It was after dinner. I was sitting in my recliner and seeing as there hadn’t been a whole lot going on during the previous week I decided to skip my Monday blog post and work on my three-minute words instead because I was a couple of words behind. So I had my writing journal open on my lap, because that’s where I write my three-minute words.

Anyway, I as I was contemplating my next word I was sipping my mug of tea - not an 8 ounce mug, or even a 10 ounce mug. No, it was my 16 ounce mug. I guess my eyes were more tired that I realized and I closed them for just a second. Next thing I know I have a flood of tea covering me. Good thing it was drinking temperature and I didn't get burned.

My chair was soaked. My jeans were soaked. The floor was soaked. The tea ran right over the top page of my writing journal. What a mess! And I should also mention that when I do the three-minute words in my journal I like to use coloured pens, to set them apart from the other stuff in there. And unlike last year's journal where I used coloured ball point pens for prompts, etc., this year I splurged on a set of coloured fountain pens. Which means, as you've probably guessed already, the scene I was writing got washed away.

By the time I got everything cleaned up – which included having to go upstairs and change out of my jeans because they were the hardest hit by the tea – I had no idea what I’d written for that scene. Which means, of course, it was probably the best scene of the whole story. LOL

I can be grateful for two things: that my journal is wire bound and I had it folded so only the top page was facing up, and the journal pages are extra thick. So I only lost that one scene. It did, however, take the rest of the evening to dry out. But you can be sure when I did finally rewrite that scene, it was with a ballpoint pen.

Anyone need a set of coloured fountain pens?

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WORDAGE REPORT

I have six journal entries for Elemental Spirit and I was lucky to get those done because I spent most of my time working on my stitchery. If I could be as single minded about my writing as I am about other things, I’d have a stack of books to my credit by now.

I skipped the Monday post on my other blog last Monday because I just didn’t have anything interesting to say. Some weeks are like that.

NEW WORDS:
Blog Posts – 1014+1058=2,072
Elemental Spirit – 669 words
Total words: 2,741 words

Three minute words – 121+149+151+121+126+116+125=909

Goals For Next Week:
Finish Christmas story, keep working on journal entries, maybe write a poem.

EDITING:
Do the journal entries I did for Elemental Spirit count for editing? No, I didn’t think so. *sigh*

Goal For Next Week:
Actually do some edits on Elemental Spirit

MARKETING MONDAY:
I had an appointment with the optometrist on Monday. As I might have mentioned, I broke my glasses a few weeks ago and for the record, Gorilla Glue does not work on everything. So I was mostly going without glasses, but for driving I used my prescription glasses from about ten years ago. The optometrist put three different kinds of drops in my eyes – I was lucky I made it home in one piece, even with my old glasses. Anyway, that pretty much took care of anything that required me to see clearly the rest of the day. In other words, no marketing last Monday.

Goal For Next Week:
Submit two stories and one poem.

TECHNO TUESDAY:
I finally got the charger for my Paperwhite, so the only excuse I have for not setting it up during was that I made my stitchery a priority.

Goal For Next Week:
Set up Paperwhite

CRAFTING:
We’re having the first in-person meeting of the stitchery guild in two years, and I really don’t want to show up with nothing for “stitch and tell” so I spent most of last week working on the cross stitch challenge we were given. I could have had it finished Saturday morning, but I thought it would look better with lace around the edge. So I checked out my stash and found some lace. After spending several hours attaching said lace, I realized it did not look better and ended up ripping it off again and refinishing it with just a felt backing.

Goal For Next Week:
Work on embroidery on granddaughter’s dress.

WHAT I’M READING:
No Noras last week! I’d say it was a miracle, but the truth is I just didn’t have time for extra reading because I was so intent on my cross stitch.

On the Kindle. I finished Her Cowboy Prince, by Trish Milburn. Now I’m back to the dragons with Becoming Dragon by Eve Langlais. It’s a definite twist on the whole shifter thing. The hero starts out as a gator shifter, who’s genetically altered with dragon DNA.

GOAL REVIW:
Well look at that. I reached one of my goals – I finished one of my stitchery projects. Too bad it was at the expense of pretty much everything else. *sigh*

But I didn’t get my Christmas story done, and didn’t get around to checking out any other contests. Hopefully I'll do better on the week ahead.

Have a happy writing week.

The Cave – Part Eight

To quickly recap: Friends Eve and Sara were rock climbing and stumbled across a large cave with primitive drawings on its walls. A rock slide traps them inside. Having little choice, they go deeper into the cave, hoping to find another exit. The cave system seems to be a mixture of natural and man-made and the further into it they go, the stranger Eve starts acting. Just as Sara thinks they’re getting close to a way out, Eve shoves her off of a ledge into a chasm.

Sara clawed her way back to consciousness. First came the pain – she hurt all over. Awareness came more slowly. What happened? Where was she?

Bit by bit, it started coming back to her – rock climbing with Eve, finding the cave, becoming trapped inside . . . The last thing she remembered was standing on the edge of a second chasm, feeling the cool breeze on her face. She’d called back to Eve . . .

Eve!

Sara jerked, attempting to bolt upright but a shaft of pain had her crying out and falling back. Her breath was ragged. She remembered more clearly what had happened. Eve pushed her off the ledge! It wasn’t an accident, it was a deliberate act of aggression.

She’d known something strange was going on with Eve, but never would she have believed she’d turn on her so violently.

She tried sitting up again, this time taking it slowly, and succeeded with a minimal amount of pain. Her breathing became more steady as she took stock of herself.

The worst of her pain seemed to come from her leg. Thank God her light hadn’t broken in the fall. She raised it slightly for a better look. Her pants were torn and there was dried blood on her leg from a long scrape, but she didn’t think it was broken. She tried to move it and her breath came out in a hiss of pain. It might be sprained. This was going to be a serious problem.

And what about Eve? Was she going to be an even bigger problem?

There was no question but that something strange was happening to Eve. Not only strange, but dangerous. And it had nothing to do with being trapped underground. She needed to get away from here, before Eve decided to come finish her off. Raising the light again, she determined that she’d landed in an old, dried out riverbed. At least that’s what she thought it was.

The banks sloped inwards, and the ground was hard earth and rock. She was probably covered in bruises from landing on it. Here and there was also patchy layers of decayed leaves and sticks, which must have protected her from getting hurt worse than she was.

As much as the urge to get away filled her, it was apparent she wasn’t going to be able to get very far unaided. Checking out the sticks on either side of her, she found a likely looking walking stick just within reach. Just stretching enough to grasp it had her whimpering. By the time she managed to get to her feet with its help there were tears running down her face.

Sara clung to the stick and swiped the tears away with her free hand. The breeze she’d felt earlier had vanished. She had no idea how long she’d been laying there. No idea which side of the walls towering above her she’d fallen from. Which way should she go?

She moved away from the center of the riverbed. Though the walls of the chasm itself were only a few feet away, she had no idea how high it was. Even if she hadn’t been hurt, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to try and climb back up. She couldn’t afford a more serious injury if she slipped and fell, and she had no idea where Eve was. Had she continued on? Gone back? Was she even now waiting above, watching?

Part of Sara wanted to call out to Eve, but a bigger part of her somehow knew that would be a very bad idea. That left only one option – follow the riverbed. She hobbled a little closer to the center again and studied the debris. Maybe if she could figure out which way the river had run, she could follow it to its source.

After several minutes, she gave it up as a lost cause. Either the river had dried up too long ago to leave a sign of a flow, or it wasn’t a riverbed at all. But she couldn’t just stand here, leg throbbing. She had to pick a direction.

In the end, she closed her eyes and opened herself up to the possibilities, letting her instincts be her guide. It had helped her thus far in choosing her way. After turning in a slow circle, she stopped, feeling a faint tug in one direction. Opening her eyes again, she gripped her staff firmly and started off.

With any luck, and she felt she was due some, her path would lead her to water. And if it didn’t, well, in a couple of days it wouldn’t matter, she couldn’t survive more than a couple of days without water, especially not in the shape she was in.

There was a part of Sara that wished Eve was with her. The old Eve, not whatever Eve she’d been turning into. They’d gotten into this together, they should finish this together.

Doubts began to crowd her thoughts. Why was she even following this riverbed? She was hurt, she was alone, and she was probably going to die here. This was folly. She should just sit down and give up.

Sara actually paused in her tracks before coming to her senses. No. She had to keep going. She had to believe the path she was following would lead to water. Maybe even a way out.

High above, the watcher breathed a sigh of relief as Sara continued forward.

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Missed an installment? Catch up here: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven,