Million Things

There are a million things I could have done.

I could have reached and touched the sun.
A million things, and all times two,
All of which, I did not do.

I could have drunk the desert rain.
I could have loved, but feared the pain.
I could have lived a life so free,
unbound, as a bird upon the sea.

A million things, and all times two,
All of which, I did not do.

I might have found the rainbows end.
I might have been a constant friend.
I might have been a beacon bright,
I might have been someone's delight.

A million things, and all times two,
All of which, I did not do.

There are a million things I might have done
Coulds and mights, and did not one.
A million things, and all times two,
All of which, I did not do.

Forever Living, Forever Dying

Forever living, forever dying.
Upon the wings of both I'm flying.
Here forever trapped to be,
Between the mountains and the sea

And somewhere else I do not know.
Somewhere midst the drought and snow.
Or else in prairie lands so vast.
Perhaps its now, perhaps the past.

I look to see but cannot tell,
Am I in Heaven or in Hell?
Where at last does it stop,
In the valleys or mountain top?

Cannot rest, nor drink my fill.
Continuing on, tormented still.
And my soul is forever crying,
Forever living, forever dying.

Dance with Me

"Where are we going?" I asked and stumbled just slightly. It was just me and Chris tonight. Dianne had stayed home.

"You'll see," He said and I felt his arm tense as he steadied me. I could faintly smell his unique scent on the whisper of wind that passed us by.

"Or rather I won't," I teased him right back. My hand was wrapped around his bicep and his other hand was covering mine.

"Don't worry, I won't keep you in the dark for long," I could hear him smiling at the banter.

"Seriously Chris, where are we going?" I asked as we walked down the street. I was comfortable with him leading me now, though most of the time Dianne was with us too. Chris had said that where we were going Dianne wouldn't be very comfortable.

Chris laughed at my impatient tone and I shot a glare at him that was pretty ineffectual. I could tell because he laughed again. "We'll be there soon Miss Impatient."

"Can you at least give me a hint?" I begged.

"Oh no," Chris said and patted my hand, "any hint I would offer would give it away. You're just way to cleaver for your own good."

We walked along in silence for a few minutes when Chris said, "you know you're cute when you pout, but that's not going to get me to tell you where we are going, besides, you'll know soon enough."

I laughed and leaned into him, letting my head rest on his shoulder for the briefest of moments.

After walking a few more minutes I could hear something on the wind, the faintest strains of music.

"Are we going to a concert?" I asked. I could feel his gaze turn towards my face.

"Not quite," he said and steered us closer to the music. At the moment it was a nice piece of west coast swing. I could feel the difference in the air when we entered a building and the music was much louder.

"There is a chair to your five o'clock," Chris said and steered me towards it. I sat down and listened to the music for a moment.

"This is nice music Chris, but why are we here?" I asked. I was dying to know what he had planned.

"Just sit still a moment," Chris said. I could hear him rustling close by and a couple of faint clicks, and I jumped horribly when I felt him touch my foot.

"What are you doing?" I asked and pulled my foot away from him.

"Changing your shoes," he said in a matter of fact tone.

"And why are you doing that?" I asked, I was really confused now, but allowed him to switch out my shoes. I could tell that they were low heels, strapped, but sturdy.

"Remember a few days ago when we were at that little cafe and that song came on?" Chris said. He had finished with one foot and started on my other.

"Yeah, What about it?" I asked. I was beginning to get an idea of where this was all going and I almost wanted to cry from the sweetness of Chris's gesture.

"You said that you missed dancing. You missed the Cha-Cha, and the Samba, Foxtrot, and the Waltz." he said as he finished with my other foot, "So I thought you would like to go dancing again," as he finished he sounded as if he were unsure. I could feel him still crouched down in front of me and I felt the warmth and pressure as he places his hands lightly on my knees. "That is, if you want to," he said, "we can do something else if you would rather."

I couldn't resist leaning forward and wrapping my arms around his neck in a tight embrace. "Thank you," I whispered against his cheek. I leaned back and he stood up, holding on to both of my hands and lead me towards the dance floor.

As a new song flooded the room my left hand slid up his arm to rest just above his bicep and I held out my left for him to grasp. I felt his other hand on my shoulder blade and he said, "you ready?"

I nodded and he lead me with sure movements into a flowing waltz.

Poetry Compilation

These are all poems that I have worked on over the last year. But I didn't think you would want them all posted separately. If you do then I am more than willing.

Dance

We dance across the moonlit floor;
Our arms, hands, and bodies one.
I follow in the path you trace,
You show me how it's done.

I smile at every misplaced step.
Patiently you lead me round.
Though I can feel the earth below,
My steps have left the ground.


Elixir

When I ponder on the days I had
I know not what to think.
Your love was an elixir
That I would deeply drink.

Oh, I knew not what that potion was.
Truth, or lust, or lies?
All I know is from that cup
My heart grew sad but wise.



Bloom

I loved you then, when year was young,
And all was green and new.

I loved you still, as days were long,
And nights were brief and few.

I continued to love you in the chill
Of winters darkest gloom.

But when the spring had come again;
My love, it did not bloom.


Where are you now?

I could feel the sunshine's warmth
From your golden smile
I could breathe the clearest air
I Could walk with you for miles

Where are you now?

Your tender arms surround me
Kept me safe all through the night
And when the dawn awoke me
You were always in my sight

Where are you now?

Your kisses breathed life into my soul,
Taught me how to live.
Everything I had was yours
All that I could give.

Where are you now?


Eagerly

Eagerly I sought your eyes
To tell me of your soul
I had a wish that you might see
My heart that you had stole.

Eagerly I met your gaze
but saw no spark within.
The coolness of your look was pain,
Though your touch burned upon my skin.

I closed my eyes to shield my heart
From glancing I refrain
I put it all to a restful death;
I dare not look again.


Wishes

Wishes are a way to think
Of things that could not be
They bring a smile to your lips
And set your dreaming free.

Wishes are a lot of fun
Although they don't come true.
The sparkle in the morning sun
And fade like morning dew


Birds

Time is forgotten,
when roses bloom in spring.
Tiny birds return again
and teach my heart to sing.

A simple tune of life's new growth
thaws my frozen heart
Help me to forget him birds
and give my life a start.


Deathless Sleep

Wake now from your deathless sleep;
Open up your eyes.
Bring again your sweetest smile,
Hold here to your earthly ties.

Let you gentle hands once more
Encompass all you love.
Let your spirit here remain
In a world that you are part of.

Let your arms embrace again
friends who hold you dear.
Know that a life of joy awaits
for many and many a year.


Shells of Autumn

Drifting autumn leaves are now
Shells of what was young
Summer dies along times way
Winter still unsung

Barren limbs reach for the sky
Silent cold and gray
Twitching in the winter winds
Gone are days of may

Wind replaces song birds call
Whistling sharp and shrill
Keening to the moonless night
Echo winters chill


Did Not, Would Not

I did not heed you when you called
I did not stop to know
All the words that you could say to me
As the winds of winter blow

I would not stop touch your hand,
All my dreams had gone awry
I could not let you see my tears
I will not let you see me die.


Eternal Call

It's been forever since I've seen you;
An eternity it seems.
Though it has only been a few short years
In the scheme of things.

I cannot recall you clearly,
No matter how I try.
I always feel you watching me,
Guarding me, as my days fly by.

The years have passed I've seen a lot,
I yearn to tell you all.
I have waited oh so patiently,
For your gently call.

It seems I can go no further
Though I try with all my might.
You seem to be just ahead of me.
Somewhere just out of sight.

I'm weary and I stumble,
I feel about to fall.
When I hear you calling to me,
That last eternal call.


Twisted Perceptions

Earth above and sky below;
Moonshine and the sunlight's glow.
Winters growth and summers snow;
Rivers stop and deserts flow.

Solid wind and misty stone.
Truths are hidden, secrets shown.
King's stool and a paupers throne
Multitude of suns, a star alone.

Crystal fire and blazing ice.
A single sleep and a first kiss twice
Careless shadows, worlds precise
A fractured gem at double the price

Lofty plains and valley peaks
Adamantine flowers, Granite weak
Quicksilver snails and lighting creeps
Vigorous death, and life that sleeps.

How Did You Know?

"I don't think I can concentrate a moment longer," I growled, pushing myself away from the table and standing up. I wished I could go for a run, but being blind made that an impossibility now. Restlessly I paced back and forth, trying to clear my thoughts. I could almost feel Dianna's eyes following my movements.

Maybe a short walk will help I told myself and I reached for my jacket. the fall weather was getting cooler by the day, and I could literally hear the leaves being shed by the massive trees around my house and around the campus. If I concentrated enough I could hear them drifting through the air and settle with a faint scrape on the sidewalk.

Dianna matched my pace as we headed towards the center of the town. I could smell wood smoke from a few houses. gradually a new, yet familiar scent mixed with the smell of burning wood.

"Hi Chris," I said and turned my head slightly and pausing in my walk.

"How did you know I was here?" Chris asked clearly puzzled.

"I could smell your cologne." I smirked at his silence.

"Is it to much?" he asked, and he brushed my arm just above the elbow to let me know where he was.

"Actually it smells very nice. Sandalwood?" I asked.

Chris laughed, "Yeah."

I grinned in his direction, "But it's not just Sandalwood," I went on, "several men wear sandalwood. There is something else there that makes your scent you." I paused to consider what it was. I could feel my brow furrowing in thought. I couldn't quite grasp it.

Blushing, I turned towards Chris, "would you mind terribly if I gave you a hug?"

The surprised silence lasted a moment or two before I felt myself drawn forward into a gentle embrace. I tucked my head into the curve of his neck and my arms went around his chest.

Inhaling deeply, the most prominent scent was that of sandalwood, just as I knew it would be. I could also smell leather, that had to be his jacket, and something spicy like an echo of cinnamon. I could also smell lavender, but only a suggestion of it, as if his clothes were washed in it, and the faintest trace of sweat as if he had worked out earlier in the day.

I took in his scent one more time before loosening my embrace and stepping back. I could feel my face heating up. I knew he was staring at me expectantly.

"Well?" he asked. I could hear a grin in his voice.

I blushed again. "Sandalwood, leather, cinnamon, lavender, and," I hesitated.

"And," he prompted. I felt his fingers brush a lock of hair out of my face.

"And a little bit of sweat," I mumbled quickly.

"I'm sorry," Chris laughed out loud, "I missed that."

"Nothing," I muttered and clicked my tongue at Dianna, signaling her that I was ready to walk. I could feel my face practically glowing with embarrassment. I can't believe I did that I thought to myself.

"Wait," Chris called and I could hear him hurrying to catch up to me. "Wait, Sarah. Don't go." I felt a slight pressure on my arm again, letting me know he was right there.

"I'm sorry Chris," I said and I slowed my pace.

"For what?" Chris asked.

Actually I wasn't sure what I was sorry about, only that I was embarrassed.

"Look," Chris said, and gently pulled me to a stop, "if I promise not to laugh will you tell me what else you could smell? I'm rather curious."

I bit my lip, debating on weather it would offend him or not. Finally I felt myself sigh in resignation, "I could smell sweat," I said. "But only a faint trace, as if you had worked out earlier today or yesterday," I added quickly.

"Hm," Chris hummed thoughtfully, "you know you are right," he said. "I worked out late last night."

"I didn't mean it in a bad way," I said, trying to get him to understand, "I like the way you smell."

"And I like the way you smell too," Chris said, and I could hear him grinning again.

I smiled in his direction and clicked to Dianna and the three of us moved on.

Shane Revisited.

A small neat house stood before me on a quite street where the cab driver had deposited me a few moments ago. There were a few bushes along the path that bordered a small lawn and lead to the front door.

The small set of keys felt oddly heavy as I walked the short distance to the front door. I took a deep breath and slid one of the small brass keys into the lock, though I hesitated to turn it. This was the address that was on the licence that they had given me, and looking into the mirror of the tiny hospital bathroom, I could at least tell that it was my own face that was smiling out of the ID card. They had kept me in the hospital a few more days after I had woken up; partly to make sure that I was alright and partly to see if I would regain my memories. Finally though they had released me.

A small click sounded as the key turned smoothly in the lock and I pushed the door open. The interior was dim in the late afternoon light, dust motes stirring in the air as I passed by a window.

The inside of the house was as neat as the outside had suggested, nothing seemed to be out of place. I laughed as this thought crossed my mind. How would I know if anything was out of place, I didn't recognize anything at all. I could have been in anyone's home.

A flashing red light on the phone caught my attention.

Beep... A man's voice came from the recorder, "hey Shane, it's me. You up for a pick-up game tonight? Give me a call."

Beep... An attractive woman's voice came next, "Shane, don't forget that you promised to go to that party with me."

Beep... "Shane. Man, where are you?"

Beep... "Shane, I'm getting worried, and so is Mom."

Beep... "Shane, did you forget to tell us you were going out of town or something?"

Beep... "Mr. Briarwood. This is a reminder..."

Beep... "Shane."
Beep... "Shane."
Beep... "Mr. Briarwood."

My hand hit the delete button, stilling the flood of voices. I could feel a headache coming on. I walked down the hall to the kitchen and opened the fridge, realizing that my stomach was growling. It felt awkward though, as if I was reaching into someone else's fridge without permission, without them even knowing that I was here.
I shook my head and pulled out a few things. It would take a while before it felt normal to be here.

I was just cleaning up when the phone rang, causing me to jump. I only hesitated a moment before picking it up. It could be someone that I knew, someone that could help me remember. Someone that could tell me who I was.

"Hello?" I said.

"Shane!" came the relieved voice over the phone, a woman's voice, "I've been so worried about you. Where have you been? Are you alright?"

I didn't recognize the voice. "I'm not sure if I'm alright," I said.

"What do you mean you don't know if you are alright?" she asked.

I sighed and quickly explained what had happened. "So you see," I concluded, "I don't even recognize your voice. I don't know who you are."

There was silence on the other end of the line. "Hello?" I asked.

"Shane," she breathed in shock, "I'm coming right over," she said, "don't go anywhere. I'll be there in half an hour."

"Alright," I said and hung up the phone.

"Hopefully in half an hour I'll start to have some questions answered," I said to myself.

Overview #87: Secrets

So I was a bit spotty on writing this week. Did my best, but it wasn't much. I was pleased at the way I managed to throw some interesting depth into the mix that is Asia and James. I love the new James as a character, and I'm excited to see what happens. I was pleasantly surprised to see Riley developing as the secret-keeping character. In every group of friends, in every romantic comedy plot, there's one poor, sweet, put-upon person who has to keep everyone else's secrets, and either the keeping or divulging of those secrets makes or beaks the plot. Here's to a bit more consistency next week.

Secret Revealed

"Tell me a secret," Hannah whispered, nudging me in the side.

I looked up at her, "what kind of secret? There are so many different kinds and different levels of secrets. There are everyday secrets, and there are deeper secrets, secrets that you don't mind people knowing, and secrets that you would guard with your life," I said.

She blinked at me, clearly at a loss for words.

I smiled, "alright, here's a secret for you. One that few people know," I said, drawing out the suspense.

Hannah leaned in close to me, "tell me."

"I'm colorblind," I said.

(short but to the point. lol)

Know what they say...

"Can you keep a secret Mark?"

I looked up from where I was studying my textbook. I pulled off my glasses and wiped them slowly on a piece of soft cloth, "of course I can," I said, "but you do know what they say."

"I have to tell someone or I'll go crazy," Sam said and leaned in closer.

I placed a marker in my text and turned my full attention towards Sam. He was practically jumping up and down. Sam was a journalist for a local newspaper.

"I heard about something big that is going down. I was looking into the recent death of Brock Tharen, the one that died of a heart attack, and I found a whole host of other unsolved, or mysterious deaths within the same two hundred mile radius," he said in a whisper, looking around briefly to see if we were being overheard. "I think that there is some sort of organization that is taking out these people. I figure it can't be one man," he said, 'too many deaths in too short a time.

I took off my glasses again and gave them another brief swipe with the cloth, "have you told anyone else about your suspicions?" I asked.

"No, I thought I could rely on your opinion," he said.

"Just as you should," I said with a smile and beckoned him to follow me, 'though you never did answer my question about secrets. Do you know what they say about them?"

"Not really," Sam said with a laugh.

"Two people can keep a secret if one of them is dead," I said. I wasn't laughing as a slipped a knife between his ribs.

Change Everything

“I need you to keep a secret for me,” Asia said, apropos of nothing.

Riley blinked. “Me?” He didn’t usually get a sword, so the fact that he was in Asia’s stunt cave of all manliness was a rare event.

Asia nodded without looking at him - she was trying to fix a stray piece of armor. Riley thought that was the costume department’s job, but Asia was filled to the brim with odd skills like that.

“Okay.” Riley set down the stunt sword very carefully, lest she say something utterly shocking and he dropped the sword on his foot. “What’s your secret?”

“It’s for James,” Asia said.

Riley felt himself light up, and it took the best of his actor discipline to smooth his face into a calm, half-interested mien. This was the sort of gossip Fiona and Serena would kill for. “For him? As in I should tell him?”

“As in it’s for his benefit, but I hope for your sake you never have to tell him,” Asia said.

That was downright cryptic and, Riley suspected, not really all that romantic. But he stepped closer and lowered his voice, adopting the demeanor of one both interested and sincere. And he was interested and sincere. But he was also dying of curiosity.

“You can tell me your secret,” he said.

“If something should ever happen to me,” Asia said, “and James ever gets the feeling that he’s being...watched. Or followed. Or whatever. He’s not being paranoid. He needs to get in touch with Tobias immediately and tell him what’s going on, and Tobias will keep him safe.”

Riley raised his eyebrows. “Will something ever happen to you?”

Asia glanced up from her armor-smithing. “These are perilous times, friend.”

“Why would people start following James around if something happened to you?” What could have been immensely romantic was now just confusing. Riley resisted the urge to sigh.

“Because today I’m going to let James kiss me, and that’s going to change everything.”

(334 words)

Spilling the Beans

He was sitting alone on a bench in the park, watching boys kick a football around a field. They had more enthusiasm than skill. James couldn’t remember when he’d been that enthusiastic - about anything, but he was an actor, and he could get by at work without prying questions.

“I’m surprised you’re not out there playing.”

James looked up, saw a stranger standing beside his bench. The stranger was about his age, slender, pale but dark-haired. He had shadows around his eyes and looked tired - or possibly ill.

As if he’d read James’s mind, the man tucked a lock of hair behind one ear and said, “Leukemia. It comes and goes. Makes me look like a zombie.”

“I’m sorry,” James said automatically, British at heart, and then, “Can I help you?”

“Not really.” The man smiled wryly. “I can help you, though.”

“How?”

“I’ll tell you a secret.” The man sat down on the bench beside James, leaned in and lowered his voice. “She’s still alive.”

James felt like he’d been dropped into the middle of an episode of Spooks. Was this a hidden camera prank? “She who?”

The man reached into his jacket. James tensed. They always had weapons in their jackets. He glimpsed dark steel, and his pulse skyrocketed - but then the man handed him a crumpled photograph.

“See the newspaper in the background? This was taken two days ago.”

What James saw in the photo robbed him of breath faster than a gunshot. “Asia.”

“Like I said, she’s still alive. And you can find her.” The man cast a glance over his shoulder. The only person James saw nearby was a skinny girl stretching out for a jog. “I should go. But I thought you should know their little secret.”

“Whose secret?”

The man nodded at the photo. “Theirs. Good luck, James Mallory.”

“Wait - who are you? Will you contact me again?”

“I’m Bob. And probably not.” He ducked his chin into his collar, jammed his hands into his pockets, and walked away.

James studied the photo, and he realized he recognized the others.

Asia’s brothers.

(350 words)

Never Will

I don't think I ever told him about that night. The night I first kissed him. We had talked many times since then, but I don't think he ever knew that it was my first kiss. He never knew how long I had waited to find someone special, someone that I could love enough to give that special moment to.

I don't think he knew how important he was to me, how much I had come to love him in such a short time. He probably didn't know how much it hurt to lose him, because I never told him that I loved him.

And now I never will.

Eavesdropping

“What about him?”

Riley lifted his head, surprised at hearing anyone else’s voice round his corner of the set this early in the morning. He picked it because it was quiet, secluded, and he could study his lines in peace.

It took him a moment, but then he recognized the voice - Asia, the new stunt girl.

Riley wasn’t sexist, but that they had a stunt girl blew his mind.

“Yes, he’s as handsome and golden and glorious as ever,” Asia said. She sounded neither dreamy nor sarcastic; without seeing her face, Riley was hard pressed to gauge her emotion.

“No, I’m not going to say anything to him that isn’t perfectly polite or strictly professional,” Asia said. Now there was a touch of impatience to her voice. “I can’t begin to understand why you - or any of the others - would encourage me to engage in such unethical behavior.”

Golden and handsome - she had to be talking about James. To whom? Riley felt guilty for listening in, but Asia was such a cypher, and he was curious. And what could she possibly do with James that would be unethical, besides the obvious? Only maybe that wasn’t unethical, exactly, because she wasn’t James’s boss or his subordinate.

“I’m not in love with him,” Asia snapped. “It doesn’t work that way. Look, I have work to do. If you breathe a word of this to any of the others, I swear I’ll kill you.”

Riley swallowed hard. She sounded serious.

“Can this be the end of the discussion, please? I - no. I won’t say it. Don’t even - don’t you dare! Fine. I am not in love with James Mallory. Are you happy? Well, that’s the truth.” There was a long pause, and then Asia said, softly, “You never stop loving someone, not when you loved them the way I loved him. I really have to go now, Angel. Good luck.”

Riley hunched over his script when he heard her start to move. His heart was pounding. Asia was in love with James. James was mad for her. What could he do with that?

(350 words)

His Voice

I squirmed with a tiny bit of guilt whenever Joyce asked me about the tapes. I know I was supposed to turn the tapes back in. After all it's only fair. Eventually I knew that another blind student may need them, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't give up his voice.

I smiled as I moved about the kitchen, preparing a little bit of light lunch for myself and Chris, Diane following me around. He was coming over soon to read an additional supplement from class.

My thoughts turned back to Chris. He had volunteered to help me any time that I needed it. I'm sure I had blushed when he told me that. Even now I could feel my face getting warm from thinking of him. He didn't know that I had kept the tapes.

When we were together, it wasn't just his voice that drew me in, it was him. His voice, his personality, his warmth. I knew that if I just reached out that I could touch him, he was never far away when we were together. That always comforted me.

There was another reason that I kept the tapes. What if one day he wasn't there? What was going to happen when he graduated, or I did? We would go our separate ways and that would be that.

I heard the doorbell ring and the sound to Diane's nails on the floor as she trotted to the front hall. I followed quickly, movements sure in my own home.

"Hi," he said, and I could tell he was smiling.

"Hi Chris," I said and patted Diane on the head, "come on in. I have things set up on the table.

"Sounds good," he said and followed me down the short hallway into the kitchen.

You're on

When I sing, I sing only for her. I know that other women come to listen to me, stare at me in rapt attention, dreamy looks floating across their faces. They never see more than my smile, I make sure of that.

It doesn't seem to matter if it's in English, Italian or French; all my songs call to her. I can see it in her eyes, the puzzled look that creases her brow as of she is trying to puzzle something together.

I look out from the side of the stage, from that slight part between the curtain and the wall. I look out at her. Alastrina, sitting so poised and beautiful near the bar. I take in her figure from afar, her green dress swirling just perfectly about her knees. I can also feel the butterflies building in my stomach. Each time I sing to her it's as if it's the first time.

"You're on Partrick," the stage manager told me as he brushed past me.

I swallowed a bit nervously, and reminded myself why I was doing this. I was doing it for her. Hopefully I wouldn't need to keep secrets from her much longer. I stepped out onto the dark stage and found my place as the opening notes flooded into the room.


Hush now baby don't you cry
Rest your wings my butterfly
Peace will come to you in time
And I will sing this lullaby...

One Day, Until Then

James glanced at Asia out of the corner of his eye while she walked Stephen through his half of the sword routine. She didn’t know, and he would never tell her, that he’d been waiting for her all his life.

When he was eight, he’d started having a dream - the same dream, over and over again - of himself, crying and hungry, tearing through the forest with a bow and arrows, desperate to catch something for supper lest he, someone be angry. Halfway through the chase he ran into a man whose face was fuzzy, just out of focus, and at the man’s side was a cloaked figure, and James knew that underneath the cloak she was Asia.

When he was fifteen, he dreamed again and again of sitting in an ancient little Christian church, staring at the altar in which was buried to the hilt a sword, while a maid sat beside him and told him stories of golden deserts and foreign lands. In the dream he was no longer afraid and hungry, and she was no longer wearing a cloak, and he knew her face.

When he was twenty and getting ready for drama school, he dreamed he was dying, and she was crying as she held him.

And then he walked into his dorm room and met his new roommate’s sister...and she’d looked at him with nothing more than polite blankness.

James had never expected to see her in real life, had thought she was little more than a dream. To her, he was little more than an acquaintance, and every time her indifferent gaze passed over him, it was a solid blow to the chest, so hard he was robbed of breath for just a moment.

One day James would make her smile at him.

One day.

Until then...

“Hey James, you’re wanted on set!”

(309 words)

Project #87: Secrets, Take 2

This year, we're going to re-up an old challenge: Secrets. 100-500 words. Tell a character's secret. Or have a character tell a secret - what secret, and to whom? Or have a character being asked to keep a secret. Or maybe a character accidentally overhears a secret. What does she do with it? Past variations on the 'secret' them include vice and confessions.

Happy writing!

Overview #86: Proverbs

I think I did all right as far as using proverbs. Thing is, I sort of wove them into the dialogue without giving them the weight they deserved. They came off as clever quips or perhaps lines of poetry but without much in the way of real depth. Sometimes that was deliberate, as a given character was unaware of proverbs being used, and other times I think I was too busy doing what I do best - dialogue - and not giving ancient wisdom the respect it deserves.

I missed out on a few days due to sheer exhaustion, and right now I think I'm learning about my writing weaknesses more than anything, but so far I'm surviving. Here's to doing better next week.

Silken Goat

"You look surprised to see me," Andrew said, reclining on a plush chair.

I blinked, still not quite sure what to make of the situation, "what are you doing here?" I finally managed to get out.

"Didn't you hear that I've been reformed?" he asked. He sipped at his cocktail, smirking like that cat that ate the canary. "I paid my debt to society and they let me out for good behavior," he said. "After all, I was wrongfully imprisoned," he put on a look of hurt, "and I was such a model prisoner. They never had any problems with me at all."

But all those people you killed, all the lives you destroyed. How could they let you out?" I asked.

Andrew stood up and walked across the room to the bar, glancing back at me, "come now Benjamin, I never actually killed anyone, and those so called 'lives' were barely worth calling lives anyway. It was a mercy to them."

"You might fool them," I said quietly, "but I know what you are. A monster. A cold blooded killer who will never change."

"But I have changed Ben. Your government even said so," he laughed.

I shook my head and stepped towards the door, "put silk on a goat, and it's still a goat," I said and walked out into the night.

(Not really what I had in mind for this. I think I will try this quote again later at some point. I really do like it.)

Silence and the Sound of Home

“But I –” Topher began.

Adelle cut in. “Do not speak unless you can improve the silence.”

Topher shut his mouth so fast his teeth clicked. He raised his eyebrows and made a series of highly expressive and inexplicable gestures that indicated he was very agitated about the situation at hand, but Adelle was pondering a serious problem and ignored him.

A voice broke through Adelle’s brooding, and she spun, ready to deliver a sharp invective to the person who had dared act against a direct order, but it was just George, tall and golden and beautiful and so much a victim, standing in the doorway with a pleasantly passive expression on his face.

“ – Ready for my treatment.”

Topher, very deliberately not saying a word, gestured for George to cross the room and seat himself in The Chair. Adelle studied George, and remembered when she’d first seen him, a broken runaway who’d ended up past the other side of the tracks and almost drowned himself in the river of humanity that was Los Angeles. In his doll state, he didn’t have the accent that reminded Adelle fiercely of home.

Six more months on his contract, and his very wealthy parents would be pleased at the sane, healthy, confident young man who returned their vast estates in the Southeast.

Topher was distracted from his mime act by pulling up The Pipepline and parameters of the engagement. He’d done the work beforehand, but once Ivy, sleep-deprived and too afraid to confess it, had mixed up the imprints and the dolls, and Topher was one for leaning from mistakes.

He lowered the chair, and the light flared blue. Adelle didn’t even flinch anymore when George hissed, arched his back in pain, but then Topher was raising the chair, and George was no more.

George’s handler, Perry, was a slender slip of a thing, and underestimated by everyone who looked at him.

“Are you ready?” Perry asked.

“Of course,” George said, only he was someone else now, someone who sounded like home, and Adelle wished, for one moment, he could stay for a chat.

(350 words)