Loyal Love

This was a very quick write that I did at work. Characters can be found in Branded.



Alita doesn't remember much about her parents. Sounds, flashes of images, smells, a fading feeling of love. Mostly, she remembers the night they died. The terror, hatred, and self-loathing. A child's heart within her crying, “I could have saved you!” But, there are some things that remain once forgotten, unconsciously.

They're trapped on an island. The entire town. It appears deserted but their powers, everyone's powers, have turned sketchy and something can be felt lurking just out of sight. Alita and Tremayne seek refuge in the woods. A small clearing away from the chaos of too many heroes trying to be heroic. They'll return once the posturing is done and people are ready to work towards a solution. Usually, that won't happen until Hector has gone storming off and things get worse. Experience brings wisdom; for now they wait.

Alita sits, back against a tree, thinking about the situation as her hands absently move. Tremayne stands, back partially to her, watching the woods for danger. After a time he turns, the question he plans to ask dying on his lips. A small smile curves the corner of his mouth. Crouching, he runs a gentle finger over the crown of daisies she's weaving. Alita stops, fingers frozen in the tangle of flowers, seeing them for the first time.

“I didn't know you could make these,” he says softly, careful not to spook her.

“My mother taught me,” Alita says after a long moment. Twisting the stems with deft fingers she completes the crown. “Daisies have many meanings; one is loyal love.” Carefully she rests the crown on his head, fingers trailing down to cup his face. Silver and amber connect behind sunglasses. “That's what she wanted for me.”

Creamy Murder Eyes

For Fred, who asked me to write her a story about creamy murder eyes.

It would be nice to say that this sort of thing didn't normally happen to him, but it wouldn't be true. J. M. Hatter had a knack for getting into this kind of situation. This was, at least, the fourth time. Hatter woke to find himself tied to a chair, in the middle of an abandoned warehouse, surrounded by gruff looking men. Most people would find this terrifying, but he was feeling rather chipper. Compared to some of the things he saw growing up, this was practically tame.

The leader of his kidnappers came forward. A short man with a strong build, the dim orange light glimmering off his bald head drew Hatter’s attention. Privately, Hatter dubbed the man McGleamy.

“Glad yah could join us,” McGleamy said, lighting up a cigarette. “When yah fought back da boys gave yah a pretty good whack on da noggin.” Hatter had noticed a painful throbbing in the back of his skull. “Truth is, yah didn’t wake up, I’d ah hadda shoot Jimmy. Now that yer ‘wake, I don’ hafta.”

“I ‘preciate that, Boss,” Jimmy piped up from behind Hatter.

“Glad to help!” Hatter said amiably, tugging on his bound wrists. “Now that Jimmy’s safe, if you’ll untie me, I’ll be on my way.”

McGleamy shook his head. “We can’t do dat. Yah’ve got info I need.”

“Is it where to find wax for your head? Because, it’s pretty shiny already,” Hatter quips.

WHAM! Ears ringing, blood pounding through his aching head, Hatter wobbles precariously on his chair, reeling from the sudden blow of McGleamy’s meaty fist.

“Dat’s funny. We got us a funny man,” McGleamy mocks. Grabbing a handful of Hatter’s hair with a jerk, he leans in close. “Yah tell me where yer partner is, Funny Man, or I’ll make yah wish yah’d never been born.”

Staring into the light grey eyes of his captor Hatter said with a lopsided grin, “You’ve got rice pudding eyes, and the pupils are raisins.”

McGleamy blinked, looked at his men in confusion, turned back to Hatter. “Yah makin’ fun ah me?” he asked. “Are yah really that stupid?”

Hatter chattered on, ignoring his captor. “Maybe not rice pudding. I never liked rice pudding. Tapioca eyes? Isn’t tapioca just rice pudding? I don’t think it is. I can never remember. Maybe your eyes are more like the cream filling in a Cadbury Egg. Or a cherry cordial!  No, you just have these dreamy, creamy murder eyes.”

“Hey! I’m talkin’ ta yah. Listen ta me yah stupid freak!” McGleamy yelled, shaking Hatter, to no avail. The mindless prattle continued uninterrupted.

“I think yah broke ‘im, Boss,” Jimmy suggested.

“No kiddin’, Nimrod. Get the pliers. Maybe a few broken fingers will get his attention,” McGleamy announced with a grim smile.

“No, once he gets on a roll you just have to wait until he stops,” a new voice said from behind McGleamy.

He turned, seeing a young, dark-haired woman. The same person he’d kidnapped Hatter to find. “Hey!” he exclaimed, a little stunned.

“Hullo,” she replied with a wicked smile.

                                                                                                                                  

“I’ve got it! You’re eyes look like cheese soup, if it was the white cream filling from a donut that was melted, and not actually cheese soup,” Hatter announced triumphantly. He realized, belatedly, that he was no longer with McGleamy in the warehouse, but sitting shotgun in a car. Hatter turned to greet the dark-haired woman driving. “Hi, Belle! Did you get the information you wanted?”

“I did,” she said with a satisfied smirk. “Your bald friend knew more than I expected. Thank you for being the bait.”

“Not a problem,” Hatter assured her, gingerly leaning his thumping head against the cool window. “You meet the most interesting people that way.”

“I suppose you do.”

After a few minutes of companionable silence Hatter piped up, “Y’know, his eyes did look a little like creamy mashed potatoes.”

Inspired Imagination

This was an entry I wrote for Sparkler Monthly http://sparklermonthly.tumblr.com/  for a contest they had about how people share their worlds. I didn't win, but I'm still very proud of this slice of my childhood.


It began with Sailor Moon. Two girls, eight and nine, bonded during recess as Sailor Mars and Sailor Jupiter fought against the Negaverse. Battling imaginary monsters, Salina and I would save the world day after day as our two favorite scouts. Then, with a set of seven Sailor Moon Adventure Dolls, our games expanded in bigger, better ways. No longer limited to our bodies, the scouts went on madcap adventures that sent them bungee jumping off the second floor stairs, tumbling over rocks, and desperately running along the wheel of a bicycle, trying to stay alive. The dolls made our games more exciting, but the rough escapades took a heavy toll on the toys, putting us in a bind. How to continue our daring adventures when our beloved heroes were breaking?

The answer was Barbie. Far easier to replace, we decided to transform our Barbie dolls into Sailor Scouts. Our games began again with exciting new life. No character from Sailor Moon was off limits. But, we didn’t stop there. Using Barbies opened us up to a world of characters just waiting to be discovered. Our imaginations had no limitations. We began to build a world beyond Sailor Moon, creating original characters and picking characters from our favorite shows, movies, and anime. Soon, our creation took on a life of its own.

Minor characters in one world became the heroes of their own stories, finding friends, and forging new lives for themselves in our world. Characters from completely different stories never meant to meet, crossed paths in our town becoming so entwined it’s impossible for one to exist without the other. As the years passed, our world expanded from a dollhouse with seven characters to a town of forty-seven, each with unique lives and personalities.

Now at twenty-five and twenty-six we live on different sides of the country and no longer get together every weekend to play dolls. Despite the distance and responsibilities that come with age, the town we created seventeen years ago still exists. It lives on, beyond the dolls, in illustrations, short stories, comics, radio plays, and continues to grow with us. The world two kids created from their inspired imaginations now kindles the dreams of a younger generation.

When my cousins ask for bedtime stories I tell them about the adventures of our beloved characters and their little town. It’s a place where friendships are made, hearts are broken, villains seek redemption, and the weak find strength. I tell them of heroes triumphing over evil, sometimes at a heavy cost, and the enduring power of hope. Looking into their enraptured faces, imaginations beginning to blaze, I know by sharing those stories our world got bigger and a new one was born.

He is...

It’s been years since I last wrote a sonnet. But, I was given this challenge and, though it took me more time than it should have to post it, I’m happy with the results.

Vengeance and justice all rolled into one

Brewing, consuming, one man’s lonely soul

Silently screaming, that poor orphaned son

Forged in an instant for one tainted role

He stalks through the darkness, born of the night

Hunting through shadows for dangers and crime

When people cry out in desperate plight

He always answers; a hero in time

Facing down criminals thriving on pain

Fighting for justice to break evil’s sway

Beating back villains with noble disdain

Protecting his city, always to stay

Haunted and driven by ghosts that won’t rest

Though only a man, he’s simply the best.

First Love

Smile like you mean it.
Can a heart ever truly break?
 
Love is forgiveness,
and foolishness.
A thousand heartbeats.
A blind eye.

The press of soft lips,
in a familiar kiss.
I'm drowning in sweet agony,
as you tear the world apart.

Pinkies tied by a red string,
promise forever.
Pulled taut to breaking,
it wears and frays.

Left alone,
living in your shadow.
Does my smile seem sincere?

I've tried so hard.
It isn't enough.