The Cave – Part Sixteen

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 . . .

Now Sara knew for certain she was dreaming. The woman had long dark hair, and a coppery glow to her skin that suggested aboriginal origins, despite the fact she was dressed in white.

“There’s always been rumors of spirits in these hills, that’s what gave this area its name,” she said. “But I’ve never heard them referred to as guardian spirits.”

“Nonetheless—” the woman began.

“So how did you end up here, and what exactly are you guarding against?”

“Long ago there was great evil in this land—”

“What kind of great evil?” Sara interrupted.

“It has no name. A great battle was fought and we were able to weaken it enough that we were able to trap it in this cavern.”

“You trapped it in here,” Sara said repeated. “But you became trapped as well.”

“Even so,” the woman nodded.

“So you died getting rid of this great evil, and now you haunt the hills?”

“Not exactly, no.”

There was a shimmer in the air beside her as a man took corporeal form. He, too, was of aboriginal descent, and his white clothing appeared to be buckskin.

“For five hundred years we kept the evil contained,” he said, continuing the narrative. “But then the earth moved and a crack appeared.”

“The crack Eve and I came through?”

“Yes.”

“Another battle was fought,” the woman continued. “Many lives were lost.”

“Wait,” Sara interrupted again. “You said lives were lost. You mean after five hundred years you were still alive?”

“After a fashion,” the man said. “Maali, our leader, created a great seal so the evil could not pass to the outside.”

“The mosaic,” Sara guessed. “The normal one, not the abstract.”

“You’re very perceptive,” the woman told her. “It took all of her power, all of her essence to complete it.”

“Not complete,” the man corrected. “But complete enough to trap the evil within.”

Sara thought this over for a moment. “And the other one, the other mosaic? Where did it come from?”

“I think you know,” the man said quietly.

“The evil one you spoke of,” Sara said. It made a weird kind of sense. That was probably why she got such a bad feeling any time she was near the abstract.

“Yes,” the woman said. “The great evil also put much of itself and its energy into the malignant mural. It’s meant to break the seal.”

“But it was unable to complete it,” the man added.

“Okay, so that means the evil is still trapped, right?”

“For now. But it has gained the ability to draw in servants from the outside to continue working in its stead. Should it be completed, the evil will gain the power it needs to break the great seal and once more be loose in the world outside.”

“Servants, you say. From the outside? You mean like Eve and I. We were drawn here by this evil?”

The two spirits looked at each other.

“Not exactly,” the woman said. “Your companion was drawn by the evil; you were drawn by us.”

“Why?” Sara asked bluntly.

“Just as evil has its champion, so too must good.”

“That’s just plain nuts,” Sara said. “You expect me to believe that Eve and I are champions for good and evil? This is the stupidest dream I’ve every had. You guys do what you like. I’m going to lay back down here and then I’m going to wake up.”

The voices of the spirits continued, but Sara did her best to ignore them.

“Perhaps we were wrong in the choosing,” the woman said.

“No, she is the champion. She made all the right choices, passed all the tests.”

“How can we expect her to complete the seal when even we do not know how this is to be done?”

“We must have faith, sister. She will find the way, and complete the seal before her companion completes the means to break it.”

Sara struggled awake. To her great surprise, she found herself out of the water and in a cave very similar to the one she dreamed of. Her light, no longer tied to her, sat on the sand, glowing softly. She levered herself upwards and only then noticed the wooden plate filled with bread, cheese, and fruit beside her, as well as a stoppered bottle. Her leg, that she had visions of losing once she made it back to civilization, had a cloth bandage covering it, and the swelling was gone.

“This isn’t possible,” she said aloud. “It was just a dream.”

Sitting cross-legged on the thin pallet, she nibbled on a piece of the bread while she thought it through. A battle between good and evil, with her and Eve as champions. It seemed utterly ridiculous, and yet . . . here she was.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

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, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen

PAD Challenge Three

Almost caught up, and still not exactly thrilled with the prompts but I’m finding a few inventive ways of dealing with them. Like opting for the form of senryu for day 17, and after a day of staring at a blank screen, using a page of text about organisms to create a black out poem for day 22. I think I’m finally getting the hang of black out though. I highlighted the words I wanted to keep, then it dawned on me that I could also highlight the rest of it, only with black. However, the problem with that is that Word won’t highlight blank lines. So what I did was add random letters to move the black to the end of the line, which is why there are red and blue editing lines in the picture.

16. Write a touch poem

Spring is finally here
and the day is sunny and clear
my neighbor is outside
in her garden, filled with pride
as she should be. I believe
she started it with seeds –
the lilies and the glads
guard the sweet peas growing mad;
there are daisies, asters, mums,
and the crocus, almost done;
impatiens, begonia, phlox,
in a gaily painted box;
the path is pansy lined,
the roses, several kinds
and the tulips, always Dutch –
She has the magic touch.


17. Write a mad poem

this prompt is unclear –
mad can be angry or daft
one word, two meanings

you’d have to be mad
to take up a challenge so
many days behind

mad does not cover
how I feel when driving and
someone cuts me off


20. Write a six words poem: content, double, guide, meet, pump, suit

I wish that I could be content
with how my minutes and hours are spent
or maybe even see them double
and in that way avoid some trouble.
A nonsense poem needs no guide
just copy down the words with pride
and circle round until words meet
to make the poem all nice and neat
and just to give it a little pump
make it rhyme with callithump.
Whatever you like to make it suit –
a nonsense theme is always cute.


22. Write an organism poem

Organism

An entity with life
of one or more cells,
the fundamental biological unit.
Life form; living being; living thing.
Responsible for an organism
are mutations.
Natural selection
may be beneficial to change.
Light energy,
chemical energy,
keep them alive.
Building up includes
breaking down.
Living things
can detect changes:
sight, smell, touch, taste, and hearing –
response is crucial.
Organisms give rise to
a new individual

Catching Up Is Hard to Do

So do we pass the ghosts that haunt us later in our lives; they sit undramatically by the roadside like poor beggars, and we see them only from the corners of our eyes, if we see them at all. The idea that they have been waiting there for us rarely crosses our minds. Yet they do wait, and when we have passed, they gather up their bundles of memory and fall in behind, treading in our footsteps and catching up, little by little.
— Stephen King

With the only certainty in our daily existence being change, and a rate of change growing always faster in a kind of technological leapfrog game, speed helps people think they are catching up.
— Gail Sheehy

In our frenzied attempts to catch up with life, we run right past it. Once we have run past it, what we are in reality attempting to catch is ourselves.
― Craig D. Lounsbrough

The problem with catching up is, it seems easy enough in my head, but I forget that I also have other things to do. And when it comes to writing, the muse doesn’t always come as quickly as I’d like, especially for things like poetry.

Things I thought would be little things kinda turned into big things. Like cleaning up the detritus from working on the granddaughter’s dress. I ended up doing a minor organizing blitz in the craft closet, which included doing an inventory of all the projects I have in various stages of completion. There are a lot of them.

I picked a few of them to have on hand for when the crafting mood strikes, and they’re each a little different to fit different moods. That being said, while catching up on the poetry and three-minute words I lost the desire to craft. LOL

There’s also, as I was complaining whining mentioning to my pal Jamie, the problem of my easy chair being a little too comfortable. I have a bad habit of sitting in my easy chair to have breakfast, and my easy chair is super comfy. And with the weather being as crappy as it has been lately, there’s no good reason to leave the comfy chair and go down to the somewhat less comfy office.

Okay, okay. I confess. The other reason is that I tend to read while having breakfast, and I’ll usually finish eating before I finish the chapter, which means I keep reading. And if the book is really good, then next thing I know it’s almost noon and time to start thinking about lunch. *sigh*

It might be time to start thinking about eating at the table. ;-)

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

Honestly, I don’t know where my time goes. I feel like I should have more to show for my week, but I always forget that I have other stuff to do besides write, other stuff that takes up a lot of my time too. But considering how far behind I’d let myself go, it wasn’t a bad week overall.

NEW WORDS:
Blog Posts – 989+720+456+943=3,108

Poetry
121+55+105+79+37+25+162+70+84=738

Total words: 3,846 words

Three minute words – 102+98+104+113+120+118+104+99+101+97=1,056

Goals For Next Week:
Finish catching up on my words, and forage ahead with new ones.

EDITING:
While I didn’t exactly make great inroads on Magickal Mayhem, I did think about it. AND I just received a new manuscript to edit for someone else (which is always more fun than editing your own stuff). Can’t wait to dive into it!

Goal For Next Week:
Start editing new manuscript, get going on Magickal Mayhem.

MARKETING MONDAY:
To be honest, I forgot all about it. Bad writer!

The winners of the Toronto Star Short Story contest were announced Tuesday – needless to say I’m not one of them. While I’m not surprised, I’m still a little bummed.

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

TECHNO TUESDAY:
Again, I just didn’t think about it. I was busy catching up and doing other stuff.

Goal For Next Week:
Set up Paperwhite

POETRY WEDNESDAY:
I did a little better last week, but I’m still about a week behind on the PAD challenge. I mentioned in my poetry post that I’m not liking the prompts Writer’s Digest is offering so sometimes it takes a bit to get me going. Or sometimes I’ll sit down, thinking I’ll just dash off a quickie just to get it done, but then some of the poems turn out longer than I planned. Good for the poem, bad for the catching up.

Goal For Next Week:
Catch up on the PAD challenge

CRAFTING:
This is one of the reasons I found time getting away from me last week – I kind of got carried away with cleaning/organizing the craft stuff again.

Goal For Next Week:
Find something else to embroider.

WHAT I’M READING:
Last week I read The Hollow, The Pagan Stone, Morrigan’s Cross, and Dance of the Gods, all by Nora Roberts. I am seriously trying to hold off on reading The Valley of Silence, but it’s the third in Circle Trilogy so good luck with that.

The good news is, I haven’t started the stack of Eve Langlais books I received, so at least I’ve avoided the mindless binging. (For now)

Goal For Next Week:
Keep the reading under control

GOAL REVIEW:
More wins than losses last week. I got all my blog posts up. Maybe they weren’t all on time (like this one) but they’re there.

I actually sat down and did a bit of plotting for the end of the Cave serial and I’m really hoping I’m not writing myself into a corner. The three-minute words can be a bit challenging when it comes to working them into the narrative.

I am still not caught up on the PAD challenge, but I’m getting there. And I swear, if I don’t start actually doing the marketing and the techno thing this week I’m going to take them off the list.

Not altogether a bad week last week, but hopefully this week will be even better.

Happy writing.

The Cave – Part Fifteen

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 . . .

Sara realized her mistake the moment she hit the water. It was colder than she expected, much colder, like a spring runoff despite the fact it was mid-summer when they entered the cave. And the current was stronger than she expected too. How had she not realized how strong it would be?

Her swimming skills were average at best. Even had she been at full strength, she doubted this would have been a good idea. Total darkness surrounded her. Her light had either stopped working or was gone. Somehow the darkness made it worse. Fear sank it’s claws in her.

She could feel her strength flagging. The rushing water was a roar surrounding her. She was being tossed around like flotsam, being borne along at the river’s whim. This was not the way it was supposed to be.

Maybe it wasn’t too late. If she could make it to the side, either side, maybe she could pull herself back up on the ledge. Even the ledge in the dark would be better than this. But it was too late. She’d made a colossal mistake and she did not have the strength left to fix it.

It was getting harder to keep her head above water. How far had she traveled? How much further did she have to go? The terrible knowledge that she might not make it filled her.

Sara decided to make one more try for the ledge. Even if she made it to the wrong side she could grab onto the rock and catch her breath. With the last of her strength she tried to move to the side. The attempt caused her to spin in the water, scraping her against the rocks. Losing her struggle to stay conscious, the current swept her away.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Voices. Sara was sure she heard voices. It had to be her imagination. She was drowning, or maybe she’d already drowned. Her eyes wouldn’t open, but she didn’t want to see anyway. Maybe she was oxygen deprived and her mind was gone. She slipped into unconsciousness again.

“You waited too long. We should have helped sooner.”

“I followed the rules. We guide only until she reaches the sanctuary.”

“You forget human lives are frail. She almost died – she might still die.”

“If we do not abide by the rules, we’re no better than the Other.”

“The Other. Even now the one the Other has influenced is closing in on the goal.”

“You must have faith, brother.”

When Sara next awoke, she was no longer in the river. How had she gotten out? Had the water drained away? She was still only on the cusp of consciousness and her thoughts were muddled.

“Drink,” a soothing voice told her.

Gentle hands helped her raise her head and a cup was held to her lips. Sara’s eyes didn’t seem to be working properly, she could only see vague shapes.

“Who—?”

“It will help with the pain.”

Suddenly she became aware of the aches and pains all over her body. It felt like she’d been pummeled to within an inch of her life. Sara drank from the cup.

“Now sleep,” the voice told her.

Sara slept.

Her dreams were chaotic, filled with images she didn’t understand. She relived the hike she and Eve had taken. They hadn’t planned on going to Spirit Hills, but they’d come to a fork in the trail and took the wrong one. Why hadn’t they turned back?

Once again she saw the cave with the primitive drawings. There was something about those paintings, something they’d missed. They might have held a warning, or maybe a message. Were they even authentic? Kids could have done them as a joke.

And what about the mosaics? She’d been in such a hurry to get Eve away from the abstract that she’d all but ignored the other one. Maybe it was important too.

Sara dreamed she was awake. She was warm and dry, and feeling no ill effects from her swim. Sitting up, she found herself in a new cave, one with pale rock for its walls. She was laying on a pallet on the sandy floor. There was food and drink on a wooden tray beside her.

She felt no surprise when the image of a woman shimmered into view.

“I know you,” Sara said in her dream. “You saved me from the river. Who are you?”

The woman smiled, her face ageless. “I am one of the Guardian Spirits of the Hill.”

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

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, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen

PAD Challenge Two

I’m still a few poems behind, but I’m catching up. And I have to say, I’m not enjoying this as much as I thought I would be. Part of it is the prompts – they kind of suck. So, naturally my poems mostly reflect this. My vision of having thirty awesome poems at the end of the month is slowly fading away. Anyway, I have a couple that I’m not too embarrassed to share.

10. Write a taste poem

Choices

I stand before the menu board
so many choices
how can one decide?
Something different for a change . . .
there’s London Fog, sweet vanilla cream
with a hint of bergamot
or maybe a creamy, smooth Macha Latte.
Emperor’s Clouds and Mist offer
a gentle, smoky, earthy flavour,
while Peach Tranquility appeals
with its fruity goodness.
The mint and lemon of Lemon Majesty
would be a refreshing change,
as would the Honey Citrus Mint
with a touch of honey.
So many options,
so much to choose from.
I sigh, resigned,
and order my usual
a creamy, spicy, Chai Latte.
Why mess with success?


11. Write a power poem

I watch
safe behind the glass
hidden behind
the houseplants on the sill.
The yard is alive
with activity,
the birds facing off
with the squirrels
for the pleasure of
emptying the feeder.
Back and forth,
a swing and a miss,
chittering squirrels,
squawking birds,
but wait!
The chipmunk sneaks through
the line of defense,
up the shepherd’s crook
to the feeder
reaching the goal.
Power play!


12. Write a counting poem and/or a not counting poem

I’m counting on
warm summer breezes
the trees greening up
the garden emerging
soft summer nights.

I am not counting on
the endless grey
dismal rainy days
the cold creeping back
and wet snow on the deck.


14. Write a scary poem

The scudding leaves lead the way
the wind is chill, a hint of spray
from darkened clouds laying low,
truly ‘tis a night of woe.

The moon above’s no longer bright
as red begins to dim its light
and footsteps echo in the dark
while shadows dance and leave a spark.

I slow my pace as I draw near
the dark and ancient stone menhir
where waits the coven for the rite
to bring to all eternal night.

The bones are cast into the fire,
spirits shriek as flames leap higher,
hands are joined and words are said
to fill the mortal world with dread.

Dark spirits mass to watch and wail
and wait their turn to cross the veil;
the mortal world is ours this night
you cannot hide, you cannot fight.

Dark desires rule here now
it does not matter what you vow
you cannot stop what is to come
your only choice is to succumb.

The Faster I Go, the Behinder I Get

The more you let yourself be distracted from where you are going, the more you are the person that you are. It's not so much like getting lost as it is like getting found.
— William Stafford

Don't get sidetracked. If you do get sidetracked, get back on track as soon as possible. Ultimately sidetracking kills you.
— Donald J. Trump

The major problem of life is learning how to handle the costly interruptions. The door that slams shut, the plan that got sidetracked, the marriage that failed. Or that lovely poem that didn't get written because someone knocked on the door.
— Martin Luther King Jr.

Ah, yes. Getting sidetracked. Well, I didn’t so much get side tracked last week, as I went off the rails completely to make something other than writing my priority. Namely, embellishing a dress for my granddaughter with embroidery. So it’s going to be a sad and pathetic wordage report today.

The daughter gave me the dress for the granddaughter earlier in the year, with the request that I spiff it up with some embroidery. It was a rather old fashioned style, made out of a thin, unbleached cotton, so the thought was to do some old fashioned style embroidery.

It took me forever to settle on a design because embroidery is like a tattoo – once it’s on there, it’s there to stay. Oh, sure, there are ways to remove it, but the canvass is never the same again.

I’ll save the details of what I went through for the dress for tomorrow’s post on the other blog, but suffice it to say I had several late nights and pretty much everything fell to the wayside. I had a goal, and it had nothing to do with writing, I needed to get the dress done by Easter.

I achieved my goal, the dress was finished yesterday, and despite the fact that I’ve received no feedback regarding it, I’m very proud of what I did. And the fact that it was done on time was a minor miracle itself.

Now I get to play the catching up game. I fell behind on my three-minute words, which means I’ve also fallen behind on the next installment of The Cave story. I’ve also fallen behind on the PAD challenge, so I have a few poems to write.

But hey, at least I have a new goal for the week, right?

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

Not much to see here, I’m afraid. No Monday post again, although I did manage the poetry post for Wednesday and the Friday serial installment, so I guess the week wasn’t a total loss. It helps that I’m eager to get back in the saddle again. And next week’s report should be awesome because it’ll include the catching up words. :-)

NEW WORDS:
Blog Posts – 1311+404+903=2,618

Poetry
0
Total words: 3,257 words

Three minute words – 90+102+112+124=428

Goals For Next Week:
Catch up on the words I missed last week, and forage ahead on this week’s words.

EDITING:
Seriously? I didn’t even take a break from sewing long enough to write a poem, editing was out of the question.

Goal For Next Week:
Get back to work on Magickal Mayhem.

MARKETING MONDAY:
*insert maniacal laugher here*.

Still no word on anything I’ve sent out previously – the wheels of publishing work very slowly.

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

TECHNO TUESDAY:
No. Just . . . no.

Goal For Next Week:
Set up Paperwhite

POETRY WEDNESDAY:
It seemed like a good idea in theory, too bad I haven’t been sticking to it.

Goal For Next Week:
Catch up on the PAD challenge

CRAFTING:
Well, at least something went right. I got the granddaughter’s dress done. But for all that time and effort, I’m thinking the designs I went with weren’t exactly what the daughter had in mind. But it is what it is, and I’m happy with how it turned out.

Goal For Next Week:
Find something else to embroider.

WHAT I’M READING:
Well, a sewing blitz is one way to cut back on the reading. I finished Island of Glass, by Nora Roberts, and took the entire week to read Blood Brothers, also by Nora Roberts. I was also asked to beta-read a novella for a friend. I’m not sure if I’m allowed to talk about it or not yet, but you can be sure I’ll be letting you know when it’s available to buy – it was brilliantly funny (as all his work is).

I did receive all those books I ordered the previous week, and they’re all stacked up on the dining room table. I wasn’t even tempted to crack any of them open – reading was only for the breaks in the sewing.

Goal For Next Week:
Keep the reading under control

GOAL REVIEW:
The only real win last week was getting my blog posts up and finishing the granddaughter’s dress. The rest . . . not so much

I kept up with the three-minute words long enough to get the week’s serial installment done, but that was pretty much it. However, I do have an idea of what’s going to happen next.

The poetry . . . yeah. By the beginning of the week I’d pretty much given up on the poetry. Sometimes a poem will come quickly, most of the time they do not.

Barring any disasters, I have no where to go but up, right?

Happy writing.

The Cave – Part Fourteen

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 . . .

Eve figured the stones making up the mosaic must have some sort of luminescent quality. There was a study she’d read a few years ago, about a rock that naturally glowed in the dark. What was it called? Hackmanite, that’s what the mural must be made of.

But it wasn’t complete. Eve realized this even as she stared at it. As magnificent as it was, there were stones missing, pieces of the pattern that were blank. The missing stones could have just happened over time, but the blank spots were a travesty.

How anyone could have started this masterpiece and then just abandon it before it was finished was beyond her. Why start it at all if you weren’t going to complete it? The only excuse would be if they died while working on it.

Eve glanced around at the floor of the cave but couldn’t discern anything to indicate anyone had been here before. Strange, you’d think there would be some signs. It was a mystery that had no ready solution, unless the other mosaic held a clue.

Reluctantly, she turned to look at the other mural, but shuddered and quickly turned away again. There was something about it that put her off, made her uneasy. It was like it was trying to send her a message she didn’t want to hear.

She turned back to the abstract mosaic. There was a spiral at its heart. She followed it with her eyes, down and around, spinning, sinking. She felt her consciousness opening up, drifting free. Yes, this was how is should be.

Suddenly, there was a gap in the pattern. With a gasp Eve was thrown out of her trance.

“No!”

She almost wept with disappointment. The need to finish the spiral was overwhelming, she’d been almost there. Once she made it to the center . . .

finish . . .

Eve was filled with the desire to work on the mosaic. If only she had the means.

finish . . .

Without realizing what she was doing, Eve got to her feet. “I have to finish it,” she said. “There has to be a way.”

Stepping closer to the mural, she reached out a hesitant hand. Did she dare? It took two attempts, reaching out, pulling back, before she actually made contact with the stone. A shock went up her arm.

“It’s alive,” she whispered. Then shook her head at her own foolishness. Of course it couldn’t be alive, it was rock. But it felt warm under her hand. Gently she traced the pattern in front of her. Rough, then smooth; cool, then warm. Her fingers dipped into an indentation and she frowned.

Loath to break contact with the mural, Eve looked at the ground for the missing stone. It had to be close by. Unless someone got in here and pried it off. But why would someone do that?

thief . . .

She peered closer at the wall. Yes, she could see faint scratch marks, as though someone had used a knife or something to prise it out.

Pulling back slightly, she saw that there were several missing stones, and the ones closest to her had faint scratch marks too.

unworthy . . .

A rage not her own filled her. This was intolerable! How dare someone come in here and damage something so beautiful, so, so . . .

sacred . . .

Sacred. Yes, sacred. That’s the word she was looking for. She needed to restore it, and then she’d complete it. She wouldn’t rest until she did.

yessss . . .

Reluctantly, she let her hand fall away and took a step back. The need, no, the compulsion to finish was all consuming.

Stones, she needed stones. Like the ones in her pack, she suddenly realized. Turning, she went over to her pack and upended it, coloured stones spilling over her feet. Choosing to what, in her mind, was just the right one, she took it over to the mural. Now, if she could just figure out how to make it stick.

believe . . .

Eve pressed the smooth stone into the indentation and pressed gently. There was a lick of blue light, but when she let go, the stone stayed in place.

Her eyes filled with a mad glee.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

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, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen

PAD Challenge Sampling

I was a little late joining the annual Writer's Digest PAD Challenge  this year, but I’m pretty much caught up. And I figured it was the perfect time to revive my Wednesday posts by offering a sampling of these poems.

That being said, these aren't the greatest poems I’ve ever written, but they’re better than nothing. I’m not including all of them, but I am including the prompt Writer’s Digest gave for each given day. And away we go:

1. Write an F-title poem

Foolish Thoughts

Foolish thoughts fill my head
When I’m awake, when I’m in bed
They keep me entertained, it’s true
But I’ve got other things to do.
I’d banish these thoughts if I could
It really is for my own good
But foolish thoughts will oft persist
No matter how long is my list
So work can wait another day
And foolish thoughts can have their way.

4. Write a catch up poem

Like a hamster running on its wheel
Spinning, getting nowhere fast
I fall behind, and then catch up
But it never seems to last
I fall behind, catch up again
The cycle just goes on and on
Perhaps I need a bigger push
Before the catching up is done.

8. Write a what they never tell you poem
I wrote this one while hanging out with my granddaughter, so she may have inspired it a little

They tell you
not to be in a hurry to grow up
but they never tell you why
They tell you
to mind your P’s and Q’s
but not how to deal with those who don’t
They tell you
money doesn’t grow on trees
but not where it does come from
They tell you
eating vegetables makes you strong
but not what to do with that strength
They tell you
to be kind to others
but not what to do when others aren’t kind back
They tell you
“one of these days”
but don’t tell you which one
They tell you
lots of things
but leave out a lot of things too.

9. Write a breaking poem

I stand upon the path at night
and look toward the sky
the stars are fading with their light
the moon no longer high
the water’s calm, there is no wind
as to the shore I am drawn
I face the east, I may have grinned
to watch the breaking dawn

Poetry Month

When a reader enters the pages of a book of poetry, he or she enters a world where dreams transform the past into knowledge made applicable to the present, and where visions shape the present into extraordinary possibilities for the future.
― Aberjhani

Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.
— Edgar Allan Poe

Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.
— Carl Sandburg

A good poet is someone who manages, in a lifetime of standing out in thunderstorms to be struck by lightning 5 or 6 times.
— Randall Jarrell

As some of you may already know, April is Poetry Month, and once again Writer’s Digest is running their annual PAD Challenge (poem a day). They provide a new poetry prompt every day for your writing pleasure. If you’d like to participate, or just learn more, go HERE

I did the PAD challenge in 2006 and had a lot of fun. This is where I was introduced to the Sestina, which set me on my path of exploration of poetry forms. One of the things I liked best about the challenge is the fact that like NaNo, there’s nothing official. So if you fall behind and have to catch up, nobody really cares.

I’ve found in the past that when I’m in a writing slump writing poetry helps pull me out again. I guess part of this is because my first serious writing was poetry. In junior high, my language arts teacher designated Fridays as “Anthology Day,” where we’d be given a prompt (a picture, a short film, an idea) and would write about it in our anthology, a special notebook designated for that alone.

The thing was, we could write whatever we wanted. It could be fiction, non-fiction, a poem, or a excerpt from someone else’s work. I only once used someone else’s work (a rather gross poem about a fly that I chose for its shock value), and once I wrote a short story. But usually I could be depended on to turn in an original poem. My teacher loved me. ;-)

Some of those poems survive to this day. Even back then I had a strong sense of rhyme and rhythm – I don’t know where I learned that from, but it was pretty much hardwired into me. I also learned to never abandon sense for rhyme, and was introduced to the wonders of the thesaurus.

Even when I began writing more prose (mostly short stories), I still wrote poetry. I wrote my first parody in high school. The assignment was to write three verses in the style of one of the masters whose work had a strong rhythm to it. I chose Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Cremation of Sam McGee and instead of three verses I rewrote the entire thing as The Refrigeration of Sam McGee.

In any case, like I said, when I’m in a writing slump I often turn to poetry to pull myself out again. So I figured I have nothing to lose and I decided to give the PAD challenge a try. I joined up a little late, but I’m only a couple of poems behind.

They’re not great poems, but they’re good enough to warrant their own category in the wordage report. AND I figure I can post a selection (or maybe all of them because they’re really short) on Wednesdays.

Look at me go – new words and a Wednesday post. It can only get better from here, right?

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

Well, would you look at that. Not only did I get my blog pos back, I managed to get some poetry done. It might not be great poetry, but it’s something.

NEW WORDS:
Blog Posts – 1326+726+816=2,882
Poetry - 72+40+49+55+43+65+47=375
Total words: 3,257 words

Three minute words – 93+112+92+94+114+91+88=684

Goals For Next Week:
More poetry, and maybe something else as well.

EDITING:
I’ve been working on Magickal Mayhem, bit by bit, and making steady progress. Maybe next week I’ll remember to keep track

Goal For Next Week:
Keep editing Magickal Mayhem – and anything else that happens to come my way. Hint, hint, Jamie :-).

MARKETING MONDAY:
*sigh* Nope, didn’t happen last week.

And I still haven’t heard back about anything I’ve submitted so far, not even the Toronto Star Contest. They’re supposed to make their decision by now, but I’m not finding anything on a Google search either.

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

TECHNO TUESDAY:
For cryin’ out loud. Seriously, I do not know what is up with me as far as the Paperwhite goes. Maybe I could start by charging the damn thing up. And just because I get the books uploaded to it doesn’t mean I have to get it all organized. Who says I have to organize it at all? I can just delete as I finish a book. I’ve got so many books in my cloud I’ll never have the time to re-read any of them. And just because I delete them off the Paperwhite doesn’t mean they’re deleted out of the cloud – unless I really want to permanently delete something. In which case I’ll just cross that bridge when I come to it.

Goal For Next Week:
Set up Paperwhite

POETRY WEDNESDAY:
By the end of the month I’m going to have 30 new poems. Wednesday seems like the perfect day to showcase some of them.

Goal For Next Week:
Catch up on the PAD challenge

CRAFTING:
Yikes! I’m behind in my crafting.

I finally have the design set for the embroidery on the granddaughter’s dress. This entailed tracing the designs onto tracing paper, and then tracing them from the back to create my own transfers. It really shouldn’t have taken this long, but I wanted to be really, really sure so I didn’t screw anything up.

Goal For Next Week:
Embroider the granddaughter’s dress – it’s supposed to be for Easter

WHAT I’M READING:
Thank goodness this slowed down a bit. I finished Key of Valour by Nora Roberts, and then read Stars of Fortune, and Bay of Sighs, and I’m almost finished Island of Glass. The good news is I have a couple of books on tap that are not Nora Roberts.

The bad news is, I ordered the next four books in the Freakin’ series by Eve Langlais, and three other kind of random paperbacks that were on a points sale with Indigo. And they’re supposed to be here by Wednesday.

Goal For Next Week:
Make an effort to keep my reading under control

GOAL REVIEW:
Well . . . some good and some bad, I guess. The new words got a boost from the poetry, so that’s a win. And I’ve been continuing my slow but steady work on Magickal Misfire as far as editing goes.

The marketing was a bust, as was Techno Tuesday. At least Poetry Wednesday is looking promising.

The crafting was a dismal failure, which is really putting me behind the eight ball for this week. And my goal to not order any more Eve Langlais books lasted a whole day. *sigh*

But if there’s an up side to not meeting my goals, it’s that it gives me something to strive for in the week ahead.

Happy writing.

The Cave – Part Thirteen

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 fungus tasted only slightly better than it smelled, but if it kept her alive that was all that really mattered. Eve chewed slowly and thoroughly, washing it down with a sip from the bottle of water she was carrying. She waited a moment, just to see if there were any aftereffects, but there was no nausea, no dizziness. Relieved, she broke off another piece and ate it. It wasn’t haute cuisine, but it filled her empty stomach.

As Eve got used to the texture and taste of the fungus, she began to eat faster and faster. It really didn’t taste so bad, once you got used to it. And more importantly, it would keep her alive so she could do what she had to do.

Soon she was ripping off chunks as fast as she could, stuffing them in her face and swallowing them down. Of course she realized her mistake only seconds after the massive amount of fungus she was ingesting hit her achingly empty stomach.

Eve had just enough warning to back away and turn around before she doubled over, vomiting up the fungus she’d just eaten.

Stupid! She should have known better than to gorge herself after having done without food for so long. It was a rookie mistake, and one she didn’t intend to make again. When she was certain she’d purged everything, she rinsed her mouth out with water from her bottle, then sat with her back against the stone wall to catch her breath.

She sipped from her water bottle, giving her stomach time to settle. Eve knew it wasn’t the fungus itself that made her sick, it was the amount she ate, and the speed with which she ate it. Though it couldn’t have been more than a few days that she’d been without food, it was enough time for her stomach to start to shrink.

She was lucky she found the fungus when she did, she reminded herself. Between it and the water in the other tunnel, she had a real chance of survival.

Discretion being the better part of valor, Eve got to her feet and went back over to the fungus. She broke off a couple of large pieces, but rather than eat them right away, she decided to take them with her. She could always come back for more.

As she made her way back out to the cave, she wondered how fast fungus grew. She needed to be a little more careful, make sure her demand didn’t outstrip her supply. After all, she didn’t even know how it started growing there in the first place. It might be a fluke and once it was gone, that would be it.

There seemed to be no reason to keep going on to the cave with the paintings, so Eve retraced her steps back to the mosaic cave. Peace stole over her as she stared up at the mosaic once more. She hadn’t even realized how tense she’d become until she started to relax.

There was a roughness to the wall abutting the mural that formed a narrow ledge. Eve set her lantern on it, freeing her hands so she could sit down beside the stones spilling out of her pack. Nibbling on one of the pieces of fungus she’d brought back with her, she studied the mosaic in the soft luminosity from the light. The other mosaic, the on the opposite wall depicting an actual scene, held no appeal for her. Her attention was riveted on the abstract mosaic.

It rose and fell, dipped and swirled, the workmanship exquisite. The design seemed almost random but she was able to follow the pattern it formed. It was mesmerizing, pulsing with life. As she continued to stare at it, it began to glow.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

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, Part Eleven, Part Twelve

Patience

Patience, persistence and perspiration make an unbeatable combination for success.
— Napoleon Hill

The key to everything is patience. You get the chicken by hatching the egg, not by smashing it.
— Arnold H. Glasow

Only those who have patience to do simple things perfectly ever acquire the skill to do difficult things easily.
— James J. Corbett

Patience is the ability to idle your motor when you feel like stripping your gears.
— Barbara Johnson

How do you define patience? The dictionary defines it as: the quality of being patient, as the bearing of provocation, annoyance, misfortune, or pain, without complaint, loss of temper, irritation, or the like; an ability or willingness to suppress restlessness or annoyance when confronted with delay; quiet, steady perseverance; even-tempered care; diligence

Earlier this week I had a blue jay in the birch tree beside the pool, asking politely for some peanuts. Okay, he was basically in the tree shrieking his fool head off, but that’s what jays do when I don’t have peanuts waiting for them. I was too lazy to take extra peanuts and seeds down to the lower patio for the birds and squirrels, so I just opened the deck door and threw a few handfuls of peanuts onto the deck.

The jay flew off of course, it always takes them a while to get used to humans again. By the time summer rolls around they’ll be waiting in the tree and I’ll be lucky to get the peanuts down before they start diving for them. In fact, I can put peanuts on the rails of the deck and they’ll come for them even if I’m sitting at the table out there.

Anyway, the jay flew off, but to my surprise I had a crow come in his place. Then he flew off and came back with a couple of buddies. Now I have a thing for crows, I find them fascinating. So naturally my first impulse was to take a picture of them. They loitered on the deck, sifting through the peanuts, as I stealthily approached with my phone.

Unfortunately, they’ve got a sixth sense or really good vision or something, because as soon as I got within range they were gone. I waited to see if they’d come back, but they didn’t. Until I sat down again.

I tried sneaking up to the door, but they flew off before I could get a shot. We played this game for about half an hour or more, before I gave up. And I swear the one that was left in the tree was laughing at my frustration. I figure it’ll take some patience, standing as close to out of sight of the door as I can manage, but eventually I’ll get a couple of decent pictures of my crows.

And then I started thinking about this in relation to my writing. Some things you just can’t rush, whether it’s taking pictures of birds or writing a story. One thing I’ve learned while working on the edits for Magickal Mayhem is that sometimes I rush the story. When you rush, you leave out details that are important for bringing your story to life.

I think a lot of this comes from focusing on flash fiction the last couple of years. With flash you don’t want to be bogged down with a lot of detail. You write in a flash, you read in a flash, hence the name. But with anything longer you want to take a little more time, have a little more patience, and include details that will make the story richer.

I need to learn some patience with my writing. It’s not a race, and I’m not under any deadline (as a rule). I need to slow it down and take my time and add some detail.

It’s always easier to cut some out than add it in. :-D

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

I did my Monday post, so there’s a few more words for the week. I’m starting to think Mondays are going to be an every other week.

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. The weather hasn’t exactly been conducive to creativity – grey and dismal and up and down.

NEW WORDS:
Blog Posts – 1326+726+816=2,868

Total words: 2,868 words

Three minute words – 130+93+103+96+81+93+86=682

Goals For Next Week:
Write something new.

EDITING:
I had a fit when I opened up Magickal Mayhem in Word 2019 – I didn’t see the lines that attached the comments to the place in the document where they belonged. Turned out you just had to rest the cursor on the comment to see the line, but still. It makes it much easier to edit when you know where the comments go.

Goal For Next Week:
Keep editing Magickal Mayhem.

MARKETING MONDAY:
*sigh* Nope, didn’t happen last week.

And I haven’t heard back about anything I’ve submitted so far, although the Toronto Star Contest is supposed to contact the winners this month, so there’s always hope.

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

TECHNO TUESDAY:
I don’t know what I did on Tuesday that kept me from setting up my Paperwhite, but it didn’t get done. Again. Part of it is because I don’t want to face all those books I’ve downloaded to my Amazon cloud. With my old Kindle I could do everything on the device. With the new one I have to sign into my cloud and do my organizing online, starting over, as it were. I know it’s a pretty lame excuse as excuses go, but it’s the only one I’ve got.

However, I did manage to figure out why my printer would print from my old lap top and not the new one, and I fixed it all by myself. Does that count for techno?

Goal For Next Week:
Set up the Paperwhite

CRAFTING:
I received the new transfers I ordered, but none of them really fit with my granddaughter’s dress so there was no progress on that. I finished the baby quilt squares, and now all I have to do is put it together.

I was really jonesing for something to work on while watching night time TV last week, so I broke down and started a new afghan. This one is a hexagon shape, just one big giant hexagon, and I’m using yarn leftover from the previous afghan. At least to start with.

Goal For Next Week:
Finish baby quilt. Start the embroidery on granddaughter’s dress.

WHAT I’M READING:
Oh, boy. Did I fall off the wagon or what? I didn’t do any reading on Where the Crawdads Sing, by Delia Owens, but I did do a crap load of other reading. I started with Key of Light, by Nora Roberts, and I was making it last like I did Whiskey Beach, but then Indigo delivered the first three of the Freakin’ Shifters series by Eve Langlais, and I only meant to take a peak, but next thing you know I read Delicate Freakin’ Flower, Jealous and Freakin’, and Already Freakin’ Mated in two days. Oops! Then it was back to the Key Trilogy and I read Key of Knowledge and I’m just about done Key of Valour by Nora Roberts. No wonder I didn’t get anything else done.

My Kindle saw no action last week, but I still have Curse of Christmas: A Collection of Paranormal Holiday Stories, by assorted authors up on it.

Goal For Next Week:
Fish or cut bait with “Crawdads” so I can pass it on, and otherwise get a handle on my reading. Which means no ordering any more Eve Langlais for a while, and stay away from Nora Roberts.

GOAL REVIEW:
My goals were pretty much an abysmal failure all around last week. Partially to blame was the crappy depressing weather, the other part was my weakness when it came to reading. I really have to get to work on the granddaughter’s dress, but the daughter was pretty vague on what she wanted and I really don’t want to screw it up.

Some books are easier to binge on than others, and I did receive a few of those books in the mail last week too, so maybe it’s time to crack one of those open for reading time.

As for the writing . . . I don’t know what to tell you. The three-minute words are easy enough, but my cave story seems to be winding down. When all is said and done, it’s not a great story, but it was an unintentional serial and it is what it is. I’ll be happy when it’s done so I can move on to other things.

Happy writing.

The Cave – Part Twelve

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 . . .

Sara paused to take a rest. She was taking them more and more often, and every time she did it got harder to get up again.

Hunger was a dull ache inside her, an ache that rivalled the ache in her leg. She didn’t even want to think about her leg. It was enough she knew it was swollen with infection, and she was pretty sure she was running a fever.

Her thoughts drifted to Eve, and what might be happening with her. And then her thoughts just drifted away.

Sara jerked awake. How long had she slept this time? Given that she was feeling rather refreshed, it must have been a lengthy rest. A smart person would get moving while they had the energy to do so, but for some reason she lingered.

Raising her light, she checked the level of the water. It had peaked hours ago and, if she was not mistaken, it was beginning to recede.

The light flickered, then steadied again. It occurred to her that this artificial light wasn’t meant to last forever. What would happen when the battery finally ran out? She’d be left in darkness, that’s what. She stared down at the turbulent water, mesmerized. If it was receding, then it had to be going somewhere.

Sara sat back again. The way she saw it, she had two paths before her. She could keep following the ledge and hope she came to a way out before she starved to death, or she could take a swim and hope the water was draining through a way to the outside. Not great choices.

Have faith, the watcher whispered, although not loud enough for her to hear. This is your last challenge.

Sara took a large drink of water, trying to placate her empty stomach. It wasn’t fooled, but the hunger pangs did ease up a bit.

Follow the ledge, or take to the river? One thing for certain, she couldn’t just stay here indefinitely.

The ledge was probably safer, but there was no guarantee there wouldn’t be a gap in it too wide to cross, or that it might peter out altogether.

Glancing down at the water, she tried to gauge how fast it was moving. Certainly faster than she could hobble with her bad leg. She was a strong swimmer, although probably not so much in her weakened state.

Still . . . she could probably manage to stay afloat and let the current do all of the work.

Her light flickered again and she felt a chill of fear. How much worse would it be to be trapped here in the dark? The battery couldn’t last forever, it was a miracle it had lasted this long.

The thought of a quick resolution, one way or another, had a definite appeal. As for the light, she’d paid extra for it to be waterproof, she could take it with her.

She had to trust she was doing the right thing. Staring down at the water, she couldn’t hold back a shiver though. Closing her eyes briefly, she firmed her resolve and turned away to divest herself of anything that might weigh her down. The knapsack was a no-brainer.

All it held at this point were the three water bottles. Next, she sat down to remove her hiking boots. They’d only weigh her down in the water. If she made it to the outside, she’d damn well walk in bare feet. And if she didn’t, well, it hardly mattered, did it?

She didn’t for a second believe she’d be able to hang onto her light, so Sara worked the lace out of one of her boots. One end was tied to the light, and after some consideration she tied the other end to one of the belt loops of her pants.

“And now you’re just procrastinating,” she told herself. “Time to take a leap of faith.”

It wasn’t so much a leap, as an easing off the ledge and into the water. Sara gasped as the cold water struck her, then carried her away.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

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, Part Eleven