Weekly Stories pt. 3: Sherbet the Cloud Dragon

I had a wonderful birthday yesterday. My husband watched our daughter so I could work on my writing uninterrupted, took me out to eat and to a movie, then gave me the game Betrayal at House on a Hill. We played it with my sister and her husband. Apparently I am now one year older...though I don't feel or look any different. Birthdays are so surreal the older one gets, don't you think? This picture is by GaudiBuendia found on DeviantArt via Pinterest.

Week 3

Cloudberry

“Just a second longer, little guy. I’m almost done.” Vera told the tiny orange dragon resting on a cloudberry. Her oxygen mask muffled her voice and dug into her skull. The cloudberry and subsequent cloud dragon could only be found above 25,000 ft above sea level. “I wish I could take you home with me, little guy, but you wouldn’t survive for very long. I think I am going to name you Sherbet--”

“Sherbet? What dragon wants to be named after ice cream? Why don’t you pick something more manly and vicious? Something befitting a beast capable of living here?”

“I didn’t ask your opinion, Kev, thank you very much.” Vera responds without turning around.

“I know, you asked me and Tarin to fly you to this isolated, far away, extremely far away, mountain all so you could sketch a baby dragon for your book. ‘I can’t write a book about dragons if I am missing a known species.’” He mimics her voice and ends his speech with a large snort.

“First of all, this dragon is a mature, adult cloud dragon. If you had been paying any attention to me last night when I asked you would know that full grown this breed only grow an inch to an inch and a half inches long. Second, I am not just sketching him but also observing his habits, mannerisms, and behaviors. I need more information if I am to write more than a paragraph, which is all Dr. Greve wrote on them. For example, I think he is sunbathing on the cloudberry, warming both himself and the berry with his body heat. Then--”

“All right, all right! Forget I asked, Vera. I didn’t think you would launch into one of your long boring speeches. I will just lay here quietly with Tarin. It’s not like I have anything else to do that’s super important, like scouting or hunting. Wake us when you are finished.” Vera smiled. Kev talked big but she knew he loved her and her eccentric behavior. That was why he had agreed to take her here in the first place when he did have important things to do.

She paused in her drawing to peek at him over her shoulder. He was lounging on Tarin’s muscular, gray hide with his head resting on his hands. His eyes were closed and his oxygen mask was pressed over his long wavy hair. His tan skin accentuated his muscular body. Tarin blinked his green eye at her then closed it, and by the sounds emanating from him and Kev, they both fell asleep.

She resumed her research, finishing her drawing and writing down her thoughts on his behavior. Oh how she loved that man.

Weekly Story pt. 2: Panther Assassin

As some of you know, I work at the Main Salt Lake City Library which means I am surrounded by books. Every so often as I am straightening books in the stacks, I am struck by an intense desire and longing to see my book on a library shelf one day. This longing, along with a few other inspiring things, has pushed me to write and finish my novel, as I said in my previous post. Little by little I see my novel grow. This beautiful snippet's picture is by Josh Corpuz.

Week 2:

Panther Assassin

This is it. Venge thought. My final mission. Once I’m done with this, I’m free. A shiver of anticipation ran up his spine at the thought of his freedom. Nobody would control him after tonight. One last assassination, one last item to steal, and he could leave the guild without any repercussions.

100 days to master panther movement, 100 days to master panther weaponry, and 100 days to master the shadow panther art. 100 cubed. Therefore it takes 10,000 missions to pay us back. After that you are free to leave and start a new life or remain here and earn money for future missions. He could still remember being told that right before he signed the contract. The Panther Guild was known for being the hardest yet quickest way to rise above slavery.

The training regimen for all new recruits is quite intense. Many don’t survive. More don’t live to finish all 10,000 missions. But still, everyday Venge saw more beaten down children enter Panther Guild walls in search of a better life, even if the chance was slim to none.

Venge breathed in the fresh, warm air of night. The city was asleep, a hazy blackness surrounding him with the occasional light in the distance and the stars above him. The time had come to move. He could see the strange smoke curling off his body in the gentle breeze. His shadow spray would last or 6 hours. It should only take him 4 hours to assassinate his target, steal the item, and return to the guild.
He leapt down from his perch on the ledge of a building, his gloves touching the pebbled ground for a moment, then quickly, yet quietly, ran through the city like a cat on steroids with his shadow speed. His shadow spray hid him and even kept him cool as he sprinted in his black leather jacket and padded leather boots. It was a warm evening but he didn’t pull his hood down. His master claw rested in his right hand, a long skinny knife that the Panther guild had given him when he graduated to Master Assassin. Despite it being his most proficient weapon, he hated it’s shiny surface and onyx hilt, wiped clean of the blood of his victims time and time again
This was his last mission; his last time using such a vile tool. Soon, he would return it the Panther’s, still bloody, of course, along with the signet ring of Commander Shoul and walk away a free man. He would never stay with the guild and shed blood for money. He would never kill again. Venge bared his teeth in a smile and crept into the back window of the silent house, blade ready. One more murder...  

Snippets and Shorter Stories Revamped

Whew, I never knew how much time taking care of a baby can take. Time seems to slip by like water in my hands if I don't pay attention. To help me pay attention, I decided that setting goals along with setting aside time to work on my goals is the best way to help me continue writing. I recently set the goal to finish my first draft of my novel by the end of August (but if I finish it early, I'm okay with that too!). I will need to write 900 words a day excluding Sundays to accomplish it. I will keep you updated about how I am doing. I'm excited, also, cause I bought the Scrivener software and I love it. Seriously. It helps keep me organized and motivated in my writing process. Lastly, I figured that posting a weekly story on my blog would be a good way to hone my writing and editing skills. This picture is by HELMUTTT and was found on DeviantArt via Pinterest. The story is my own and a piece of fiction. Comments are welcomed!

Week 1:

Scavenger

Ashlin hated this part of her job. Scavenging in the ruins of civilizations lost to time set her teeth on edge, but it was the best place to find valuable things to sell. The silence of the tunnel suffocated her as she opened chests, drawers, and anything else that appeared to contain valuables. She exited the small room she was in and moved farther down the hall to the grand chamber.

Large cobwebs stretched across the room and the furniture. As she tiptoed down the stairs, she accidentally stepped into one of the wispy webs. It took several minutes to distinguish what was hair and what was cobweb on her black cloak. Not for the first time, Ashlin cursed her white hair. Dust an inch thick covered the ground and she sneezed before she could stop herself. Fear clenched her stomach as her sneeze echoed off the walls and throughout the dwarf stronghold. She waited. She breathed a sigh of relief when nothing happened for several minutes. That meant she was alone here. Hopefully. Even though Ashlin had been scavenging for years, she had never quite gotten over the feel of being alone, or feeling alone at least. In the beginning, she had hated hearing only her breath and near silent footfalls. Now she welcomed it. Her first few jobs as a scavenger, she had thought that silence was the worst thing about her job. But the only thing worse than hearing nothing besides her own footsteps was hearing other footsteps.

Still, she shouldn’t linger too long. Efficiently, but more hurried than before, Ashlin searched through the wreckage. She found several discarded pouches on the ground with small amounts of money and jewels inside. Success at last. She picked up a dusty emerald necklace off the ground and stuffed it into her cloak. Then she froze, her blood turning as cold as the stone all around her.

Ashlins’ heart skipped a beat as her ears detected the padded footsteps coming from behind her. Guess she wasn’t alone after all. What it was would determine whether she fled or not. There was still a lot of the stronghold left to explore. No one had survived the plague that had swept through this Dwarven stronghold and it was too soon for others to risk moving in. Ashlin herself wouldn't be here if not for her slight elven blood that protected her against most diseases. She scanned one last time for anything close by her, grabbing a few loose coins before pulling her elvish steel bow off her back and notching an arrow. Situated in the middle of a large chamber with hallways on all four sides, she waited silently, half hidden behind an old table turned on its side, hoping that it was just rats or diggers, but she knew she was fooling herself. Perhaps it was just another scavenger like herself. Whoever or whatever it was, she was about to find out. The sounds were coming from the end of the hall just to her left. That was the way she had come in, but she knew of several other ways to exit in case she needed them. She had paid a dwarf a large sum of money for a blueprint of the stronghold.

Just before the sounds reached the entrance to the chamber, Ashlin felt the rhythm of her heart change. What is...? Oh, no. She was in trouble. It wasn’t rats or diggers; it was the Undead Monks. She had heard stories of their Heart Chant, but she hadn’t experienced it till now. When they stopped their spell any heart within their sound radius would stop as well. Very few could counter such a powerful spell. She only had a few moments to break free from their silent spell or get out of range before her heart stopped and she joined the ranks of their undead followers.
Channeling her energy into her bow, Ashlin cast her fira spell, igniting the magical steel and imbuing her arrow with the power of a fire explosion. Then she turned and let her arrow fly before sprinting in the opposite direction.