Curses and curses

Since I started writing on a new idea of a cursed man that the world has forgotten. How do you break a curse by having someone remember you? When writes things down about himself or the curse, the age is earased. I know very cool special effect.

Currently my thought is to get images through dreams to my heroine. However she is currently a child determined to right a wrong from one of her grandmother’s bedtime stories. Now the question becomes is she my heroine or is she supporting character?

I am creeped out by the imagery of a man spying on a child or communicating with a child until she is grown. In this day and time so much bad stuff has come out about abuse and sexual predation that I am not willing to cross that line. So …

First major conflict, need the open mind and innocence of a child in an adult. I briefly considered using the grandmother except how do betray that trust by snatching her away from her grandchild. It is an interesting tangle I have set for myself. Besides isn’t that what writing is about testing boundaries and discovering things about yourself?

Hopefully I have given you something to ponder in your own writing or reading. Cheers, james

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Finally Writing again

I am finally writing again. I started playing around on my lunch break this week. And there seems to be merit in the idea. A sort of sleeping beauty/beauty and the beast kind thing. Cursed king that the world has forgotten and he is frozen in time, except he is awake and cranky. Very cranky. So how do you break a curse when nobody remembers you exist.

Fun idea right. I’m thinking so. I will keep you guys updated. Writing on my lunch break is nice cause it gets me away from a computer screen. And I haven’t given up on my other stories. But I can’t afford to get that sucked into my writing while at work. Otherwise nothing gets done because I am continually distracted thinking about the writing. Yep not ready to let my day job. So must stay focused on work during work time.

So I am safe working on this one cause it is the sum total of 3 or 4 pages. But I am super excited to be writing and writing with my fountain pen. Have a wonderful Saturday.

Cheers, james

Acts of Kindness

“No act of kindness, however small,  is ever wasted.”  Aseop

I read this quote a few years ago when it was International Kindness day or something. And I printed it off with a bunch of other kindness quote. This week this quote was hammered home. I work for a small town and I have gotten to know them over the years. Some no matter what will fuss, just to have something to fuss about. Some are lonely and like having a real person to talk to. Some are standoffish no matter how friendly I am. My true joy in work are my seniors, they are funny, wise and live life fully. Or maybe they have reached an age that cuts through the bs. 

Earlier this week one of my seniors called me at town hall. She said she was by herself and thought she was having a stroke. Of course I called 911 and got help on the way. She was taken to the hospital and she was released later that afternoon. I wondered that instead of calling 911 that she called me first. And I think the answer is she needed that human contact. She knows me and I know a little of her history. Kindness at their time of need. I have always shown all of my citizens kindness regardless of the kind of day I am having. And most of the time that kindness is returned. 

Last night on Facebook, that time stealer, I read a post of an older gentleman who thanked folks for their kindness to him since his wife passed. I was touched by the post and reached out to him. He contacted me thinking I had made a mistake. I explained his post had touched me and I wanted to reach out. We chatted for an hour. An act of kindness doesn’t just touch the person receiving the act, it touches the person making the act. 

I urge you if the chance comes to you be kind. Even if you feel the gesture was wasted, I assure it wasn’t. Aseop was incredibly wise when he penned those words. Cheers, james

Outlines and Writing

“Outlines are the blueprints of your story.” Terry Brooks, Sometimes the Magic Works

I read Mr. Brooks’ aforementioned book on his method of writing and that quote stands out to me. Outlines have always been dreaded monsters that had to be defeated in school. However blueprints make sense, you have to know what your story is constructed of and how certain pieces fit together. Unless its NaNoWriMo, I started with nothing but a fuzzy idea and a name. 

I won’t say since reading Mr. Brooks’s tome of writing has turned me into a grand writing wizard., (I wish.) There are no shortcuts to writing and we all know the struggles. But it has certainly given me things to look for and apply in my own writing. 

Now on to figuring out to blueprint MEI, maybe I will finally get it finished. Cheers, james

Dragons

Fairy tales are more than true — not because they tell us dragons exist, but because they tell us dragons can be beaten. — G. K. Chesterton, as quoted in Coraline (2004) by Neil Gaiman, epigraph.

In the above quote G.K. Chesterfirld gave us words of great wisdom and power. However dragons have always been creatures of wisdom and firece warriors if called to battle. My nightmare creatures were of man and mob, maddened uncaring and unreasoning. Hunted and chased without safe haven those were my terrors of the dark night. Dragons were never my enemies. I suppose should I sit with a dragon and become a tea time snack I will have been proven wrong. Dragons, in my thoughts would be more inclined to rise above the animal instincts we share. Dragons still exist in my world. Living in my imagination and my writing, soaring in my dreams, resting upon hoards of knowledge and books. Gems and a little gold to brighten things up a bit.

Dragons aren’t to be beaten, they are to teach us to soar above our animal instincts and let the pettiness go. Cheers, james


Museum Fright part 2

“Come to me.” 

Instinct had me grabbing for the gate. I felt a strange current where ever I touched the metal. Things looked clearer, the light less dim. The shadows of the statues seem to be shrinking, less threatening. 

“Shannon, honey, I need you. Won’t you come stand by me?” 

My thoughts raced, if she touched the gate would whatever possessed her leave. I tried to remember the stories dealing with magic and metal. Something about cold iron canceling out magic. I hesitated, what if it made it worse. 

I gripped the gate harder. “Babes I’m getting lonely by myself.” keep it light, I thought, flirt with her. 

“Mac? What’s going on I don’t feel so good.” Shannon sounded like Shannon.

“Come stand beside me Babes. The fresh air will make you feel better.” 

She took a couple of steps towards me. I started to relax when I noticed her eyes shinning red in the light. Her steps were a little off balance. Her stride brought her closer and she started to grin. That grin was more of a teeth baring snarl.

“That’s it Babes. Just a little farther and you will feel better.” I hope, I thought it but didn’t say it. I searched her face for the woman I knew and loved. Shadows danced hiding then revealing parts of her. 

She leaned into me, her skin was icy. I started to let go of the gate. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and protect her. Something held me back, a warm trickle from the side of my neck. 

“Shannon are you okay? Talk to me Babes.” Pain slammed into my body. 

“The sacrifice is ready.” Her lips were wet. I felt my strength fading. 

                 To Be Continued

 

Museum Fright

“Come on. The museum is closing in thirty minutes.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward revolving doors.

“Babes you know this is your thing, not mine.” 

She threw me a look over her shoulder before dashing through the doors and out of sight. I sighed and followed her. The museum was dark and cool after the glare of the day. A guard nodded at me and pointed toward a exhibit hall to the left. I nodded my thanks and set off in pursuit of my wife. 

The exhibit was dimmer than the main hall with spot lights illuminating the various exhibits. Some where near the back of the gallery I found her entranced in front of three statues. 

“Okay Babes. I’m here. They’re great let’s go.” 

“Shush. Just watch the shadows.”

I glanced up. Everything seemed normal, a shiver traced up my spine. The shadow of the middle figure was leaning to the statue on the left. I looked at the exhibit, nothing had changed they were standing straight in a line. I looked back up and swallowed hard. The left shadow was caressing the middle shadow. While the right statue had turned to face them. 

“Babes come on. Funny but let’s go.” I touched her shoulder and she snarled. I backed away, her face was different. I felt the stares of the shadows and statues, my hair was standing on end. 

“You would leave before the sacrifice” Her voice was husky and dark, old and not hers. 

“Shannon enough let’s go. Now. This isn’t right.” 

A jangle of keys caught my attention, and the scream of a metal gate shocked me into shouting. 

“Hey wait. We are still in here. Hey come back.” I jogged towards the gate, the lights dimmed and went dark. I rattled the gate, “Hey is anyone there?” 

The jingle of keys and footsteps echoed, the guard appeared in the gloom. “Funny I thought I heard somthing.” 

I rattled the gate, “Here. I’m right here.” 

The guard jumped staring at the gate. “Creeping bloody statues. They say the gates are to keep people out. I think they are trying to keep something in.” He turned and walked quickly away. He didn’t look back.

I looked towards Shannon, she was backlit by the only remaing light in the hall. There was something off putting about the way she stood, I glanced to the ceiling. A fourth shadow, her shadow had joined the three. Anticipation filled the air. Sweat ran down my back.

“Come to me. The sacrafice is ready.” She called to me in that old dark alien voice. My feet started to move as I fought to stay by the gate. 

                  To Be Continued…..