Night and Day in Snippets and Shorter Stories 2.0

2.10  Whew I have been busy. Time to play catch up. I feel like life has finally settled down, but we will see how long it lasts. Am I right? Artist: Kinga Britschgi.

The Hole Between Worlds

Anabeth had heard rumors all her life that there was a hole between night and day and she was going to find it. She desperately wanted to know what day looked like. What did the stars and the moon look like in the daytime?  The oldest living woman had told Anabeth when she was eight about how she had gone to see the hole when she had been a young woman; how she crossed the sea on a ship until she reached unfamiliar land. Then she traveled across a field for several days until a bright light caught her eye, brighter than the full moon, and when she reached it, wonders beyond imagination had filled her sight. The old woman never spoke about what she saw on the other side, she would just sigh and gaze across the sea, her eyes distant.

“Why did you come back, Lady Roballo?” Anabeth had asked.

Lady Roballo said nothing for several minutes and just when Anabeth thought she had fallen asleep and got up to leave, the old lady whispered, “A fish cannot fly, no matter how much it wishes to. Oh, child, you are so young. You don’t know what it what it means to leave behind everything you know and start over somewhere else, how scary it can be, how small it makes you feel. But, perhaps...Perhaps that can be to your advantage. I visited the hole too late, Anabeth. I had already replaced the ability to simply be in the present with the adult fear of the future. But it is like I always say: regrets are like rocks in your shoes.”

Anabeth tiptoed out of Lady Roballo’s house and ran to her house, her head filled with thoughts of the hole. Ever since then, Anabeth had begged and begged her parents to take her to see the hole. They refused, but after years of constant begging they finally came up with the idea that Anabeth save up all her money and go when she turned eighteen. Although worried about whether she would be too old by then, Anabeth agreed and worked hard to save enough money to board a ship and buy supplies. Finally, the day arrived when she had earned enough. She found a boat that would take her and filled it with supplies for the long journey. Then she said goodbye to her parents and departed.

Apart from the rocking of the boat and the reflections of the the stars and moon on the ocean, the boat ride to the other land had been uneventful. She found the field easily beyond the first hill and followed it with her lantern to guide her. Anabeth thought about Lady Roballo often, even after she was gone. She was, after all, the woman who had lit a spark inside Anabeth about the hole that had grown into a bright flame. Anabeth smiled at the thought of that gentle, thoughtful woman. At the moment she was making her way across the meadow, the tiny flowers barely visible. Anabeth was gazing at the stars, finding constellations and naming new ones. 

She crested a hill and something bright hit her eyes. She looked down and barely a mile or two away, positioned on a hill, was a white light that looked like a large doorway. Her breath caught in her throat and she froze for a moment. Then the excitement and anticipation inside her built and she took off running. When she got to the bottom of the hill, she dropped her lantern and climbed using her hands. She got to the top and stopped, the light from the hole barely touching her. Moving slowly, her eyes wide, she gazed at the giant keyhole that opened up into a colored sky. Oranges, blues, and yellows beckoned her and the sight of the bright green grass with tiny yellow flowers made her smile. Laughing, she walked forward and each step brought her closer to a dream that had filled her for ten years. The first thing she noticed was that there were no stars in the sky. What has happened to them? She wondered. The next thing she noticed was that the moon was much brighter than their moon, even when it was full. It is so warm, she thought, like a great fire. She opened up her face and felt it sink into her skin. She remembered that the old woman had called it the sun and that it wasn’t the moon at all. It was the only thing she would tell her about day and that was after many weeks of wheedling. Anabeth shook her head in wonder. The sun cast the most beautiful colors across the sky and clouds. As a gentle breeze swept across her, ruffling her dress, she noticed that it was the same shade as the sky. Then she realized that her shadow stretched behind her and waved at it. Turning back to the bright and wondrous scene, Anabeth stood at the threshold between day and night and felt as if she were flying.

A Day in the Life of a Cat in Snippets and Shorter Stories

2.9 Phew, this was a whirlwind weekend. Between graduation and family, Eric and I kept busy. But the good news is I finally found my phone; it had been missing for almost a week! Artist: Rihards Donskis

Life of a Cat

Shadow Fury, Lord of the 1927 Realm, stalked through the soft grass, searching for enemies. Puny creatures tirelessly sought to overwhelm him and take the his castle and the neighboring houses. Shadow Fury had to constantly be on the alert: attacks could come from both the ground and the sky at anytime. Crouching behind a bush, his black fur blended in well with the shadows, Shadow Fury opened his eyes wide and gazed for signs of enemy movement. Nothing. Second scan. There! A tall tuft of grass moved and a furry, vile rodent emerged, sniffing the air. A scout! Shadow Fury tensed and waited for it to move closer before striking with lightning speed. His strike proved true and soon the struggling, frightened scout stopped moving. Up in a nearby tree, several birds chirped and squawked. No doubt warning the approaching army to retreat. He thought smugly, preening his paws. Satisfied that his realm was once again safe, Shadow Fury returned to his castle with his head held high to eat his captured prize and perhaps gain some of it’s power. Only he could protect the two-legged servants he allowed in his castle from the silent, deadly attacks. I am Shadow Fury, Lord of the 1927 Realm! Tremble before me! I command thee, servants, to open the castle door! Shadow Fury roared and, when the door opened, regally walked inside and climbed his observation throne.

Snippets and Shorter Stories 2.0 Wishes on a Dandelion

2.8 Today I graduate from the University of Utah. I am so excited to be done but I had some great classes. I will miss learning but not tests and assignments. This next snippet was rather fun to figure out how to show the way children interact with stories. Artist: Amanda Cass.

Dandelion Wish

Abigail broke away from her father and ran toward Dandelion Field. Her father eventually caught up and urged her to go up the cliff to where a plaque stood overlooking the field below. Together they climbed the stairs and leaned against the railing.

  "What do you see, Abby?"

   Abigail thought for a moment staring at the field, then gasped when she noticed it. "The dandelions are in the shape of a teardrop!"

   Her father smiled and moved to read the plaque. It contained the legend of the mysteriously shaped clump of dandelions.

"There once was a girl who was very happy and her name was Danielle. She lived with her mother and father in a nice little house on the edge of the woods. One day, however, a mighty pack of wolves killed her father while he was hunting for food. (Gasp!) Then her mother got sick and also perished leaving the girl all alone with no one to care for her. (Oh, no, daddy, that is terrible!) Indeed it was terrible; especially for the little girl. Everywhere she looked things reminded her of her parents and it wasn't long before her heart couldn't take it anymore.”

“She hiked through the forest until she came upon a meadow. Sitting in the middle near a single dandelion, Danielle began to cry. (I would too!) She cried and cried and cried until her tears nourished the dandelion and it grew bigger and bigger. (It did?) It wasn't long before it was taller than her. She plucked it, held it up to her mouth, and made a wish. (What did she wish for?) She wished to be flown far away from this land that held only pain for her.

Then she blew.

But the seeds floated back to the ground for there was no wind to carry them away. (Oh no!) She cried some more and more dandelions grew until she was surrounded by them. The few nearest her grew taller than the first one and when she plucked them a great wind arose and caught hold of the dandelions and carried her far away where she could be happy. (Yay! Her first wish did come true after all, daddy!) The only things she left behind were the small cottage and the teardrop shaped clump of dandelions.” Abigail’s father finished the story and stared down at the dandelions below. He had learned long ago that it was better to be patient with her interruptions. So he paused every now and then so she could speak before continuing. He smiled down at her, watching the way her face scrunched in thought as she stared at the dandelions below. Together they watched the fluffy seeds catch in the breeze and dance through the wind until nothing was left but the empty stalks.

Snippets and Shorter Stories 2.0 Walks on the Beach

2.7 I am excited to be back in the groove of writing and posting everyday. I like sharing my writing with you readers and hope that you enjoy the variety of snippets I post. Remember to comment after you read them if you feel so inclined!

The Land and Sea Intermediary

The sand is warm and soft as I step off my porch and onto the beach. I love squishing my toes in it and watching my feet sink and slowly disappear. My daily walk along the beach was something I had started over a year ago and still looked forward to every morning. Most of the time the sea was calm and gentle as it washed ashore. Last night there had been a fierce storm that threatened to prevent my morning walk but, luckily, it had calmed down only a couple hours before dawn. The beach was smooth and free from footprints or trash. That is how I like it. Taking a deep breath of the salty air, I stare out at the rising sun and the way the light ripples along the surface of the ocean like a skipping stone. Sunrises always seem more beautiful than sunsets to me. Most people couldn’t see a difference but that didn’t matter to me. Sunrises signal the beginning of the day and a fresh start at life. And for some reason, I feel like today is going to be the beginning of something amazing. I smile as the last of the purple and orange streaks disappear and meander toward the pier.

“Ow!” I stumble as something hard and pointy dug into my left foot. It was probably a piece of trash that some tourist left behind. I rub my foot for a moment then crouch down to see what had caused my distress. It was a small gold and green ring that looked like a person whose arm, as it curled around to form the ring, transformed into a fish tail. It was certainly odd but quite pretty. I pick it up and a sudden gust of wind sweeps over me. I shield my eyes from the biting sand until the wind resumes its usual gentle breeze, grateful that I had put my hair in a ponytail and I hadn’t put my contacts in yet. I slide the ring onto my middle finger and to my surprise it is a perfect fit. Hmm, things just keep getting stranger and stranger. I still want to finish my walk and stand up, but when I look forward there is a woman standing in front of me. A chill runs up my spine as I notice there are no foot prints leading up to the woman anywhere in the sand.

The woman wears a dress that appears to be made of metallic purple fish scales and her hair is still dripping. She speaks and her voice sounds like the mist that rises from a waterfall. “Chosen one, may you be a better intermediary than I was.” Then she thrusts a damp, sandy book into my hand and disappears like the spray of the ocean against the rocks. The breeze disappears with her and I am left staring at nothing, mouth hanging open. I snap my mouth shut and look down at the book to make sure it really happened. It also looked to be made from fish scales. It had the same symbol as the ring on the cover along with a title: Handbook for the Land and Sea Intermediary. What could that possibly mean? I stand transfixed for several minutes before I decide to cut my walk short and head home. As I walk, it feels as though hundreds of eyes are staring at me though from a quick glance around me, I am alone on the sand. Hugging the book tight to my chest I practically sprint home not bothering to wipe my feet as I run inside and slam the door shut.

Music is Magic in Snippets and Shorter Stories 2.0

2.6 Today is the day; my final final for my Bachelors' degree. Wish me luck and enjoy this enchanting story about the fairy Moonbeam! Artist: Chezhina Svetlana.

Moonbeam's Flute

Moonbeam knew that this latest flute was the best she had ever made. It was long, delicate, and it fit perfectly in her hands. Moonbeam looked at everyone else’s flutes and was surprised by how similar they all were. None had strayed far from the beginner flutes they had made over the weeks. She felt a sliver of doubt. Would her flute, so different, produce beautiful music? She looked down at it and ran her hand along it, feeling the smooth Elder Tree wood. She smiled, of course it would.

When it was her turn, she walked to the beginning of the tree ring and held it out for Queen Meadowlark to critique. If the Queen approved her flute, Moonbeam would move on to the second phase; playing it. If her instrument was indeed a reflection of her power and her body changed to match the music, she would pass and move up to a second-class fairy. She would get a new home in the middle branches of the forest (instead of on the ground floor with the rest of the third-class fairies), attend different classes, and gain more power. Moonbeam held her breath as Queen Meadowlark delicately fingered the instrument and looked at it from every angle. Finally, she smiled, nodded, and handed it back to Moonbeam, who lit up with anticipation. She had passed! Now was her chance to prove Treeshade wrong. She wasn’t just some third-class fairy who would spend her days in the forest. She would be a first-class fairy someday and travel the world. 

Breathing deeply to steady her fluttering wings, Moonbeam put her lips to the mouth and played an alluring and enchanting song. At first nothing happened but then her fiery red hair doubled in length and faded to gold at the ends. When her hair was done growing, a moonflower bloomed on the side of her head. This was followed by her wings growing and transforming into a more intricate design, changing from clear to a beautiful purple and teal ombre. Her white dress lengthened and also turned purple and teal to match her wings. Moonbeam’s song ended. She felt her heart soar as Queen Meadowlark draped the golden chains of a second-class fairy over her head and down her wavy hair. Princess Rosedew approached and extended her hands as she greeted Moonbeam warmly. “Welcome, Princes Moonbeam, to the second-class.” Then Princess Rosedew turned and floated away toward the middle level of the trees with Princess Moonbeam following close behind. Without a backward glance at Treeshade or her outraged face, Princess Moonbeam soared gracefully up to her new life.

Castle in Ruins in Snippets and Shorter Stories 2.0

2.5 I am still going strong and proud of it. Artist: Kama Sofie Gaiadottir.

The Rising Shadow

Even from a distance the scout knew that something was wrong as he rode toward Rendell Castle. The drawbridge hung halfway down and looked splintered and broken and there were holes in the stone towers and along the outer wall. Garin’s suspicions were confirmed when he rode around to the back and saw an entire section of wall scattered around the surrounding area. Pulling his spear from the safety latch he cautiously entered the abandoned keep. 

Everywhere some form of plant clung to life on the stone buildings. Ivy creeped up the walls, slowly covering them and grass slowly engulfed broken arrows and other weapons, smashed carts, and overturned tables. There wasn’t a single sign that anyone died here--no bones or armor anywhere. That could only mean one thing. Shadow beasts and orcs. Orcs broke down the walls and shadow beasts took anything living they could sniff out and left their cursed mark on the ground. All he had to do was look and...there! His lips curled as his eyes found a dark spot on the ground where nothing grew. Someone had probably died there and been eaten. It would be a long time before anything green touched that soil. Garin shuddered as he walked by it. The fear was faint and nearly gone but it must have been extremely powerful to have lasted this long.

Garin slowly made his way around the keep, his horses clip-clops sounding loud and echoing off the empty walls and buildings. He stopped his horse and fingered the leaves of a young aspen tree. It couldn’t be more than five years old and it would have taken a year or two for plants to move into the cursed keep. That means that the Rendell had fallen perhaps seven years ago. Garin felt a twinge of regret that it had taken so long for his own castle to wonder why they hadn't heard from Rendell in a while and send a scout to find out. With a final look at the aspens in the courtyard, Garin slid off his horse with one fluid swoop of his leg and strode up the cracked stone steps and into the castle where Lord Ren had lived. He didn’t know what he expected to find but he had to at least look for some clue as to what had happened. 

The tall oak and iron door was splintered and broken though, amazingly, it still stood upright. Unwilling to disturb it, Garin lightly stepped through the hole made by an orc launcher and shuddered as the feelings of the fallen hit him. Fear, terror, hatred, pain. He nearly groaned. He hadn’t felt such strong feelings such as these in nearly twenty years. Outside, nature had eased the ghost feelings but not in here. Garin had to take several steadying breaths before he could continue. He hated this power and not for the first time wished his father had chosen a woman from anywhere besides Mystic Castle to be his wife.

Graydon's Final Goodbye Snippets and Shorter Stories 2.0

2.4 And so it begins. My final week before graduation. I have one last final on Wednesday then I am free. My brother-in-law will be traveling here with his family so he can walk with me so this will be a busy week. This next snippet is a tragic tale. Sorry.  Artist: Gina Chacón, "After the Rain." Final Goodbye “It is said that the dead never truly leave us. They are able to communicate through the elements,such as wind and water, if we only stop and listen.” Mimi read aloud from the book, Grief and Coping, that her aunt Karen had given to her a few days ago. Mimi stood alone on a stone bridge in the rain, her charcoal gray dress gently floating in the breeze. She stared out at the drab, dark rainclouds above her and the dull, choppy lake below her. The color had drained from her world when Graydon had died nearly two months ago from a bike accident. If only she could see him one last time, hear his voice so she could tell him she loved him, maybe she could...no. Mimi shook her head unconsciously.

Turtle Guardian in Snippets and Shorter Stories 2.0

2.3 This next one should seem familiar to some of you faithful readers. I wrote this snippet back in November about the tiny hummingbird guardian. Now back by popular demand (meaning Grandma King and mother, love you guys!), I have extended this snippet.

 Read the beginning of this snippet Here. Then read on to see what happens next...

Sneak Peek: You meet the next guardian. :) Artist: Unknown.

Beware Paralysis Lake and Snippets and Shorter Stories 2.0!

2.2 I feel so free. I turned in my last real essay yesterday. It was a wonderful feeling, especially with the warm weather. Now I only have one more final next Wednesday and then I am graduating! How are your finals going? Why not take a break from studying and enjoy this chilling snippet that will make you think twice about going for a swim in a lake. Photographer: Unknown, found on mobay.vn. BTW...this picture may very well be a real place in Vietnam...the lake sirens are real, just saying.

Koran and the Molara Flower

Koran stared out at the lake and the rickety bridge that scaled its entire length. The cloudy water was a light blue and contrasted sharply with the orange sky as the sun set, elongating the shadows around him. Nothing moved under or above the lake; no biting mosquitoes, buzzing flies, or shimmering fish. The unnatural silence made the hairs on the back of Koran’s neck stand up. Koran knew he needed to cross the lake if he was to find the Molara flower that would restore his powers, but he was afraid. The lake sirens lived here, and they weren’t very friendly. They didn’t sing their victims into a trance like their cousins in the sea. Their song was paralyzing. It sapped the strength from the limbs of a person, immobilizing you so they could simply reach up and slowly pull you under, completely aware of your lungs filling with water but unable to do anything about it. Koran shuddered. Of all the deaths he most feared, drowning was among his top three.

“Are you going or not, little manling? I’m growing bored.” The sun sprite next to him pulsed gently absorbing the energy of the setting sun and storing it for the coming night.

“Don’t rush me, Sharra! I will cross when I am ready. Besides it would be madness to cross at night.”

An Unlikely Hero in Snippets and Shorter Stories 2.0

2.1 May has arrived and so has the sunshine! Six months have passed since my first Snippets and Shorter Stories and the stories are back! Here is the starting story that is sure to challenge your ideas of a fairy tale. The picture's origin is unknown.

Dragon for Hire

Grinter shuffled through the forest on four legs, smelling the air for prey. If he was really lucky, he might come across a wolf, or, better yet, a bear. Grinter’s stomach growled at the thought of his first meal since waking up from his hundred year nap. He took a moment to stretch now that he was warmed up from moving and the golden sun glinting off his scales. Many mistook him for a gold dragon, but that wasn’t the case. After all, Grinter’s granddragon used to say, All that glitters is not gold. And it was a good thing his scales weren’t gold too. Gold is weak; such a soft metal, it would make terrible armor. He was actually made of Rilcon, the strongest material known.

    That didn’t stop people from trying to make gold armor. He had heard tales of some Knight proudly displaying a single scale he claimed he had knocked loose with a single arrow while Grinter had flown above his castle. The Knight had created gold armor and placed said scale in the middle of the helmet. Grinter shook his head and laughed at the memory, sending a small plume of black smoke curling from his nostrils. What a fool! The scale had been shed by Grinter and the Knight had found it while on a boar hunt. Besides that, the next year, the same Knight had been challenged to a duel and lost because a single blow from his challenger had struck him clean through the heart, the front, and the back of his gold armor. Serves him right! Grinter though as he sniffed the air again. Gold was useless in the way of protection, but exquisite in the way of beauty, decor, and in the case of Grinter, camouflage. Grinter laughed again, then resumed looking for food, suddenly eager to return to his hoard of treasure.