*This is another excerpt from a book I just wrote. It's the introduction. Hope you like it! :)*
Stumbling and tripping, Kara ran through the dense forest, distancing herself as much as possible from her pursuer. Branches slapped her face, delivering stinging blows and leaving bloody scratches. Bramble and thorns caught at her jeans and tore the soft fabric of her shirt, delaying her progress. Tears streamed down her face as she blindly tore through the trees, thinking only that she had to get away. Her stomach involuntarily rumbled with hunger, and she blandly recalled that she had not eaten in an entire day. She pushed the thought from her mind and continued on her way, trying to ignore the steady noise of foliage being crushed as her hunter relentlessly pursued her. She cast a quick glance behind her, trying to see how close her hunter was and rendered a broken scream upon seeing him barely an inch from her face. Tripping over a root, she fell with a grunt into the dirt, her hands skimming rocks and breaking skin.
There he stood, staring down at her with a merciless, pitiless, gaze, ready to kill her at a moment's notice. Kara's breath came in short sobs, fear over taking her mind, her heart beating a thousand miles a minute right out of her chest. She felt a curdling sensation in the pit of her stomach and felt like she was going to vomit. Everything about her situation was nauseating. This man, or thing, just stood there without emotion preparing to kill her. Her life was about to end. How could this have happened? What had she done wrong in life? This was beyond unfairness- this was the epitome of cruelty, the bitter, harsh reality of what she never should have had to go through. She should be home, sitting on the couch with her cats watching the Notebook and crying about the misery of other people's lives. This should not be happening!
She closed her eyes, hoping that the terrifying vision before her would disappear when she opened them again. But he was still there, like some haunting ghost that would never fade away. And he was just staring at her. Or so she assumed. A thin, black cloth covered his entire face, hiding all of his features. But somehow, Kara knew that behind the mask were cold, black eyes, and a hard, cruel face. And still he did nothing. Kara took advantage of his silence to beg for her life.
"P-please....Let me l-live. Please!" she pleaded softly, her voice breaking and hoarse. There was silence again. Kara felt a throbbing pulse in her leg, and looked down in shock to find her leg bleeding profusely. She let out a silent gasp and tasted the salty tears on her chapped lips. She winced in pain as she felt a broken bone prod the skin of her arm. But it didn't hurt as much as she expected. She was blessedly immune to the blinding pain that she was expecting. Maybe her death wouldn't be painful either. She silently prayed that would be the case. And then her hunter spoke.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Snowfall
Snowflake after snowflake gently swirl down to rest on the growing white blanket, covering what was once grass. It's a completely different world when it snows. A frosty, white one that seems to be one endless conformity. Everything looks the same. Nothing is different. It is just all white, and hidden by the thin veil of snowflakes falling. Naked branches of trees are garbed in white, as well as the full green branches of evergreens. Roads are smoothed over with the soft down of snow, and drivers try to stay indoors. Children press their faces and hands against the window, trying to discern the shape of each particular snowflake. Their eagerness can hardly be contained as they think of snowball fights, snowmen, and snowforts, yet they still manage to stare solemnly and quietly at the blinding white, with the occasional 'Look at all the snow!' How different their reactions are to what adults think upon seeing snow; will they be able to drive, will their spouse make it home from work safely, will it clear up by tomorrow? The worries and reality of the world has not yet breached the innocence of children's minds, and one only hopes that it will remain that way for as long as possible.
But whether adult or child, the beauty of snow falling is not lost upon the human mind. It's those first moments of pure white, untainted precipitation that stuns man into silence, quietly appreciating the raw beauty of nature. There's only the few hours to enjoy snow at its greatest, when it is still completely au naturel, and before dirt has been mixed in, ice has been formed, and the once pure whiteness plowed. The spell that entranced so many breaks, and children enjoy the snow as they play and adults remark on how dirty it is. But those few hours are not forgotten- it is those few hours that remind us why we love snow, and why every year it continues to fascinate us when it first falls.
But whether adult or child, the beauty of snow falling is not lost upon the human mind. It's those first moments of pure white, untainted precipitation that stuns man into silence, quietly appreciating the raw beauty of nature. There's only the few hours to enjoy snow at its greatest, when it is still completely au naturel, and before dirt has been mixed in, ice has been formed, and the once pure whiteness plowed. The spell that entranced so many breaks, and children enjoy the snow as they play and adults remark on how dirty it is. But those few hours are not forgotten- it is those few hours that remind us why we love snow, and why every year it continues to fascinate us when it first falls.
Excerpt from Masquerade
*Another excerpt from another one of my books, but this one has an excerpt from chapter one and chapter three. I'll let you know when it switches.The excerpt from chapter one is really short, but to somewhat understand what's going on in the excerpt from chapter three, you need that one brief paragraph. oh, and not all of my stories are written from first person, just so you know. oh, aaaand the heroine's name is merianna, but called mer by her friends,JSYK;)*
Smile. Breathe. Don't show what you're really feeling. I step out of the carriage, lifting my dress skirt to avoid tripping. I straighten my shoulders and adjust my mask. A bitter laugh quietly escapes my lips as I think of the irony of the situation: my entire life is one big masquerade, a permanent mask hiding who and what I really am. And here I am at an actual masquerade ball. I sigh, than walk up the steps, automatically smiling again, ready to hide my secret, my past, my real life. Or what it was.
(Chapter three excerpt)
“Remember me, Merianna?” the man asks me. I shake my head, trying to control my breathing, trying to control the panic rising in my chest.
“No,” I whisper. Inside, I’m shouting ‘no’ a thousand times over.
“Come now, Merianna. How could you forget me?” I haven’t forgotten. I wish I had. I remain silent and try to break away, but his strong hands hold me in place. I consider using my…No. I promised myself long ago to never use it again. “Merianna, you cannot hide from your past forever. You knew we would come for you sooner or later,” he whispers in my ear.
“How did you find me?” I ask. Actually, it was more of a squeak. He gave me a meaningful look, and I knew how. It had betrayed me. “Please, let me go. I don’t want this,” I whisper as I try to break away again. He grabs my wrist tightly, and leads me out to the balcony. I consider screaming, but I know that he would expose my true identity to everyone if I did. And that’s the last thing I want.
He turns back to me, his black eyes peering down at me. Another man suddenly steps out of the shadows and I see a pair of familiar gray eyes and gasp.
“Hello, Mer,” he greets with a smile. I shake my head. No, no, no, no, NO! This could not be happening! “Your country needs you, Mer. We are in danger.” I shake my head.
“Let the Royal Family deal with it. Nardom is no longer my problem,” I state, sounding more confident than I feel.
“The Royal Family sent us to find you. Nardom will always be your ‘problem’. You are the country guardian! You cannot turn us down when we most need you!” the black-eyed man exclaims.
“I swore never to kill again!” I return angrily. I feel a hand on my shoulder and look up into those gray eyes that I have missed so much.
“Mer, you are my sister. I know you better than anyone else. And I know that you love Nardom and will not abandon us to this dismal fate,” he says calmly. I sniff, determined not to cry. I haven’t cried since the day I saw the destruction I had caused. I would not cry. I look at the two of them,than sigh. I consider arguing further,but what good would it do?I know I have lost. Even if I refused to return to Nardom, 'it' wouldn't let me. I have only one choice.
“Alright, I’ll go. Meet me tomorrow at the Royal Stables.” They nod, and I can see relief in my brother's eyes. But he knew I would agree when they found me. I was only safe when I was hidden. But I can't hide anymore. No, I'll never be able to hide from who I am again. My brother pats my shoulder, then disappears into the darkness.
Smile. Breathe. Don't show what you're really feeling. I step out of the carriage, lifting my dress skirt to avoid tripping. I straighten my shoulders and adjust my mask. A bitter laugh quietly escapes my lips as I think of the irony of the situation: my entire life is one big masquerade, a permanent mask hiding who and what I really am. And here I am at an actual masquerade ball. I sigh, than walk up the steps, automatically smiling again, ready to hide my secret, my past, my real life. Or what it was.
(Chapter three excerpt)
“Remember me, Merianna?” the man asks me. I shake my head, trying to control my breathing, trying to control the panic rising in my chest.
“No,” I whisper. Inside, I’m shouting ‘no’ a thousand times over.
“Come now, Merianna. How could you forget me?” I haven’t forgotten. I wish I had. I remain silent and try to break away, but his strong hands hold me in place. I consider using my…No. I promised myself long ago to never use it again. “Merianna, you cannot hide from your past forever. You knew we would come for you sooner or later,” he whispers in my ear.
“How did you find me?” I ask. Actually, it was more of a squeak. He gave me a meaningful look, and I knew how. It had betrayed me. “Please, let me go. I don’t want this,” I whisper as I try to break away again. He grabs my wrist tightly, and leads me out to the balcony. I consider screaming, but I know that he would expose my true identity to everyone if I did. And that’s the last thing I want.
He turns back to me, his black eyes peering down at me. Another man suddenly steps out of the shadows and I see a pair of familiar gray eyes and gasp.
“Hello, Mer,” he greets with a smile. I shake my head. No, no, no, no, NO! This could not be happening! “Your country needs you, Mer. We are in danger.” I shake my head.
“Let the Royal Family deal with it. Nardom is no longer my problem,” I state, sounding more confident than I feel.
“The Royal Family sent us to find you. Nardom will always be your ‘problem’. You are the country guardian! You cannot turn us down when we most need you!” the black-eyed man exclaims.
“I swore never to kill again!” I return angrily. I feel a hand on my shoulder and look up into those gray eyes that I have missed so much.
“Mer, you are my sister. I know you better than anyone else. And I know that you love Nardom and will not abandon us to this dismal fate,” he says calmly. I sniff, determined not to cry. I haven’t cried since the day I saw the destruction I had caused. I would not cry. I look at the two of them,than sigh. I consider arguing further,but what good would it do?I know I have lost. Even if I refused to return to Nardom, 'it' wouldn't let me. I have only one choice.
“Alright, I’ll go. Meet me tomorrow at the Royal Stables.” They nod, and I can see relief in my brother's eyes. But he knew I would agree when they found me. I was only safe when I was hidden. But I can't hide anymore. No, I'll never be able to hide from who I am again. My brother pats my shoulder, then disappears into the darkness.
Excerpt from November Skies
*So, this is an excerpt from the first chapter of one of my books, November Skies. Sorry if it's boring. I'll be posting excerpts from my books every once and a while, just to see what everyone thinks and to get some constructive criticism on how to make them better. Let me know what you think :)*
Wandering through a shimmering field of goldenrod, skimming the dusty tops with the palm of my hand, I looked up at the sky and smiled in appreciation for the beauty above me. It was November; the blue of the sky was turning the color of lilacs, and the clouds were pink and orange in the wake of the sunset. I lay down amidst the tall and untamed goldenrod and knew I was completely hidden from view. The rumble of the ocean drifted over the sandy dunes and I was reminded of the ocean's fickle character as I gazed up at the beautiful colors of the sky.
At times, the ocean is untamed, wild, rough, and roaring, becoming unforgiving and cruel. Then with a change of wind, it morphs into the very epitome of calmness and beauty, its small, delicate, frothing waves gently swirling and splashing like a sweet child at play. I can relate to the ocean's fickleness, though, for I too can be sweet and gentle, and than suddenly become angry and agitated.
The ocean's roughness can be very frightening, but it is awe-inspiring as well. When watching the large, rolling waves come crashing down again and again, foam spraying everywhere, and the taste of salt in the air, I catch my breath waiting for the next wave to come tumbling down. I find myself caught up in the ocean's wild grandeur, the roar and crash of the waves ringing repeatedly in my ears. A chill runs up my back and I shudder, knowing that the ocean's untamed power could destroy me in mere seconds. And yet I am still struck with wonder at its awesome majesty.
I closed my eyes and absorbed the stunning beauty of nature. I had lived all my life among the sand and water, plants and flowers, and this amazing scenery. And in twenty-six years, it had not changed.
"Marvelous," I whispered.
"Beggin' your pardon, ma'am, but what's so mahvelous?" asked a strange voice. Disturbed from my reveries, I sat up to see a man's tanned and worn facing peering at me.
"Oh, I was merely commenting on the consistency of beautiful scenery here," I explained. Immediately, I wished I had used a more simply termed explanation as the man's brow furrowed in confusion.
But he seemed to understand what I meant, for he said, "Aye, it is mighty beautiful, though, ain't it?"
I smiled and stood up. "Yes, it is that." The two of us stood there in silence, gazing at the goldenrod spread out around us, the wind blowing across it and giving it the appearance of one, large, endless, golden wave. I pulled my sweater together tightly to shut out the growing cold, and looked at the man who stood beside me. He was a stocky, broad man with a gray, balding head. He had bright blue eyes that twinkled with humor and a near toothless smile. In his rough, weather-beaten hands he held his torn cap.
"There are some won'erful things in this world, miss," he commented.
"Yes, there are," I agreed. Silence fell again. "May I inquire as to your name, sir?" I asked after another pause.
"Why, bless your lil soul, 'course you can! My name's Jacob Jacobs," he replied cheerily. My eyebrows rose slightly, but I decided that I'd heard stranger names. And this name seemed somewhat familiar...
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jacobs. I am Catherine Whiting," I said, thinking that compared to his name, mine seemed long and sophisticated. I extended my hand, which he shook vigorously.
"Whoo-wee, that's some name you got there, Mrs. Whiting," chuckled Jacob Jacobs. I smiled. That thought had never occurred to me before. "I once knew a fam'ly by the name of Whiting. Some time back since I last heard from 'em," he continued, "only one child they had, Will, I b’lieve his name was." I started to laugh.
"Why, Mr. Jacobs! It is Will who I am married to!" I exclaimed.
"Now ain't that jist dandy? It musta been fate we met, 'cause I was planning on visitin' your in-laws soon," he told me.
"Than you must come back to the house with me. I'll invite Mr. and Mrs. Whiting over, and you can all stay to dinner!"
"Very well, then," consented Mr. Jacobs. As we trekked back to my house, I began to recall Mr. Jacobs from my early childhood, remembering him as work hand who had only worked for Mr. and Mrs. Whiting, my in-laws, for a short time, but he had been extremely trusted by them. While Mr. Jacobs chattered on, my childhood memories began to rise to the surface.
Wandering through a shimmering field of goldenrod, skimming the dusty tops with the palm of my hand, I looked up at the sky and smiled in appreciation for the beauty above me. It was November; the blue of the sky was turning the color of lilacs, and the clouds were pink and orange in the wake of the sunset. I lay down amidst the tall and untamed goldenrod and knew I was completely hidden from view. The rumble of the ocean drifted over the sandy dunes and I was reminded of the ocean's fickle character as I gazed up at the beautiful colors of the sky.
At times, the ocean is untamed, wild, rough, and roaring, becoming unforgiving and cruel. Then with a change of wind, it morphs into the very epitome of calmness and beauty, its small, delicate, frothing waves gently swirling and splashing like a sweet child at play. I can relate to the ocean's fickleness, though, for I too can be sweet and gentle, and than suddenly become angry and agitated.
The ocean's roughness can be very frightening, but it is awe-inspiring as well. When watching the large, rolling waves come crashing down again and again, foam spraying everywhere, and the taste of salt in the air, I catch my breath waiting for the next wave to come tumbling down. I find myself caught up in the ocean's wild grandeur, the roar and crash of the waves ringing repeatedly in my ears. A chill runs up my back and I shudder, knowing that the ocean's untamed power could destroy me in mere seconds. And yet I am still struck with wonder at its awesome majesty.
I closed my eyes and absorbed the stunning beauty of nature. I had lived all my life among the sand and water, plants and flowers, and this amazing scenery. And in twenty-six years, it had not changed.
"Marvelous," I whispered.
"Beggin' your pardon, ma'am, but what's so mahvelous?" asked a strange voice. Disturbed from my reveries, I sat up to see a man's tanned and worn facing peering at me.
"Oh, I was merely commenting on the consistency of beautiful scenery here," I explained. Immediately, I wished I had used a more simply termed explanation as the man's brow furrowed in confusion.
But he seemed to understand what I meant, for he said, "Aye, it is mighty beautiful, though, ain't it?"
I smiled and stood up. "Yes, it is that." The two of us stood there in silence, gazing at the goldenrod spread out around us, the wind blowing across it and giving it the appearance of one, large, endless, golden wave. I pulled my sweater together tightly to shut out the growing cold, and looked at the man who stood beside me. He was a stocky, broad man with a gray, balding head. He had bright blue eyes that twinkled with humor and a near toothless smile. In his rough, weather-beaten hands he held his torn cap.
"There are some won'erful things in this world, miss," he commented.
"Yes, there are," I agreed. Silence fell again. "May I inquire as to your name, sir?" I asked after another pause.
"Why, bless your lil soul, 'course you can! My name's Jacob Jacobs," he replied cheerily. My eyebrows rose slightly, but I decided that I'd heard stranger names. And this name seemed somewhat familiar...
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jacobs. I am Catherine Whiting," I said, thinking that compared to his name, mine seemed long and sophisticated. I extended my hand, which he shook vigorously.
"Whoo-wee, that's some name you got there, Mrs. Whiting," chuckled Jacob Jacobs. I smiled. That thought had never occurred to me before. "I once knew a fam'ly by the name of Whiting. Some time back since I last heard from 'em," he continued, "only one child they had, Will, I b’lieve his name was." I started to laugh.
"Why, Mr. Jacobs! It is Will who I am married to!" I exclaimed.
"Now ain't that jist dandy? It musta been fate we met, 'cause I was planning on visitin' your in-laws soon," he told me.
"Than you must come back to the house with me. I'll invite Mr. and Mrs. Whiting over, and you can all stay to dinner!"
"Very well, then," consented Mr. Jacobs. As we trekked back to my house, I began to recall Mr. Jacobs from my early childhood, remembering him as work hand who had only worked for Mr. and Mrs. Whiting, my in-laws, for a short time, but he had been extremely trusted by them. While Mr. Jacobs chattered on, my childhood memories began to rise to the surface.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Dancing In The Rain
*I really don't know why I named this blog the name I did. I just like dancing in the rain. So this is just a commentary about what it feels like :)*
Spinning faster and faster, than standing still. Stretching my hands and soaking up the miniscule droplets of water, and absorbing them into my clothes and skin. It's difficult to describe the feeling of the constant drumming of raindrops on skin, just standing motionless as the water slides off my clothes to land in the ground. My hair slowly becomes drenched, and clings to my face. It's like being cleaned, enabling you to start all over again fresh and glistening (with water, of course).
There really is no pattern to the movement made while in the rain. No way to specify the actual dancing part. The pattern of raindrops falling absorbs my concentration so that the dance becomes mindless and natural...Something that just happens without thinking about it. Just spinning around would be a more suitable term than dancing. Or maybe just outright spasms, in my case. But whether you're just standing there or dancing and jerking around, the feeling of rain pouring down on you remains the same. Dancing is still the more entertaining option, though.
Rain is always associated with gloominess and boredom. We all have those days when it feels like it's raining, even if it's sunny out. But there's a way to turn those tough days around, to make fun out of the gloom and boredom. You can sit and watch the rain fall, or you can dance in it and enjoy the rainfall. Just like you can sit and allow the gloominess to overcome you, or you can turn it around and do something useful or fun (since dancing in the rain can't quite be considered as useful). You can walk gloomily through life, or you can dance through it. Either way, dancing in the rain can teach you many things, besides making sure to dry properly after the fact so as to avoid catching a cold.
Spinning faster and faster, than standing still. Stretching my hands and soaking up the miniscule droplets of water, and absorbing them into my clothes and skin. It's difficult to describe the feeling of the constant drumming of raindrops on skin, just standing motionless as the water slides off my clothes to land in the ground. My hair slowly becomes drenched, and clings to my face. It's like being cleaned, enabling you to start all over again fresh and glistening (with water, of course).
There really is no pattern to the movement made while in the rain. No way to specify the actual dancing part. The pattern of raindrops falling absorbs my concentration so that the dance becomes mindless and natural...Something that just happens without thinking about it. Just spinning around would be a more suitable term than dancing. Or maybe just outright spasms, in my case. But whether you're just standing there or dancing and jerking around, the feeling of rain pouring down on you remains the same. Dancing is still the more entertaining option, though.
Rain is always associated with gloominess and boredom. We all have those days when it feels like it's raining, even if it's sunny out. But there's a way to turn those tough days around, to make fun out of the gloom and boredom. You can sit and watch the rain fall, or you can dance in it and enjoy the rainfall. Just like you can sit and allow the gloominess to overcome you, or you can turn it around and do something useful or fun (since dancing in the rain can't quite be considered as useful). You can walk gloomily through life, or you can dance through it. Either way, dancing in the rain can teach you many things, besides making sure to dry properly after the fact so as to avoid catching a cold.
A poem on thunder storms
Boom! You can hear the thunder,
Flash! You can see the lightning.
Clouds being torn asunder,
To little children, so frightening.
Booming noise,
Flashing light,
Girls and boys
Filled with fright.
Pitter, patter, falls the rain,
Quiet silence fills the room,
Waiting for thunder to strike again,
Waiting for the thunderous boom.
Drip, drop,
Comes the rain,
Plip, plop,
On the window pane.
Scratch! Branches clash against the windows,
Swoosh! The wind goes rushing by
Carrying secrets only the wind knows,
Sounding like a mighty sigh.
Sighing, crying
The wind goes on,
Screaming and singing
A discordant song.
Such is the form
Of the Thunder Storm.
Flash! You can see the lightning.
Clouds being torn asunder,
To little children, so frightening.
Booming noise,
Flashing light,
Girls and boys
Filled with fright.
Pitter, patter, falls the rain,
Quiet silence fills the room,
Waiting for thunder to strike again,
Waiting for the thunderous boom.
Drip, drop,
Comes the rain,
Plip, plop,
On the window pane.
Scratch! Branches clash against the windows,
Swoosh! The wind goes rushing by
Carrying secrets only the wind knows,
Sounding like a mighty sigh.
Sighing, crying
The wind goes on,
Screaming and singing
A discordant song.
Such is the form
Of the Thunder Storm.
A brief piece on Winter
Look beyond the harsh cold and bitter winds of winter, and see the true beauty of white snow blanketing the bare branches of trees; the frozen waters glossy with ice; and the evergreens' green needles temporarily turned white. The cold will eventually turn to warmth and Sprirng will be even more enjoyable because of the anticipation.
Welcome!
Welcome to my blog. It's really random, and I'll be posting about random things. It's mostly just a way to express myself, and I'll be posting random bits of literature I've written, comment on random things, etc. I hope you enjoy, and I'd appreciate comments
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