Forcefield (IDIA #3) Update + Snippet!

Hullo, friends! It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’ve been meaning to post this update since the beginning of the summer and I just… never really got around to it. But better late than never, right?

I wanted to give you guys an update on where I’m at with Forcefield (IDIA #3). I’m hoping to have the first draft of this book finished by the end of August, but my current pace has been a bit slow. I’m estimating this book will be around 50k words, but the first draft might not be. We’ll see! Once I finish the first draft, I’ll begin looking for beta readers, which is always exciting! I plan to post more updates soon, and I’ve had some blogging ideas stewing in the back of my brain for a while that I hope to get to soon. But for now, Forcefield stats!

Current Forcefield Stats

Status: Writing First Draft

Words: 34,720

Pages: 123

Chapters: 18

And, as a reward for all of your patience, here is a snippet from early on in Forcefield!

Snippet

A bell over the door rings as we step into the bookstore, and an older man’s head pops up from behind the counter. His hair is thinning and gray, and his thick-rimmed glasses sit perched on the end of his nose. His eyes widen when he spots us. “Well iddybe, if it ain’t Logan York’s little twins. I swear you girls are twice as tall as the last time I saw you, and twice as pretty.”

Brooklyn grins. “I think you say that every time we come in here, Mr. Olden.”

 “Maybe I do, maybe I do. I doubt I’ll be able to say that the next time, though, unless you turn into giants.” He chuckles at his own joke. “Albany, I just got some new fantasy books in, they’re in the same place as last time.”

I nod. “Got it! I’ll check them out.”

Mr. Olden jumps, then points at me. “I coulda sworn you were Brooklyn.” He shakes his head. “I must need a new pair of glasses.”

Brooklyn and I both laugh, and she tags along with me to the fantasy section. I start looking through the books, and after a few minutes, she wanders off, probably heading to the CDs and movies section. Some of the books are ones I’ve already read, but there are a lot of others, and before long, I’m lost in the pages, reading back covers and setting aside interesting books. My stack grows quickly, and I’m so absorbed that the bookstore fades into the background.

“You are a very easy person to find.”

I spin around to find Blaze smirking at me. He picks up the top book on my stack. “Ooh, a world where everyone’s a mind reader? That’s intriguing.”

I pull the book from his hands, setting it back on the stack. “What are you doing here, Blaze?” I ask, frowning at him.

Blaze shrugs, pulling a book off the shelf, flipping casually through the pages. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you were booked. Should I come back another time?” He tries to hide his pleased grin behind the book, but it doesn’t work.

I roll my eyes, doing my best not to laugh. “No, seriously, why are you here? Are you checking up on us? Because we’re fine.”

Brooklyn steps around the corner. “Al, are you ready to—” She spots Blaze. “What’re you doing here?”

Blaze shrugs. “Data wants to know if you two would be available for a mission tomorrow. It should be quick, she said.”

Brooklyn looks at me. “Um… but I thought we were on vacation. We’re not supposed to go on any missions while we’re with Grandpa.”

“It’s up to you.” Blaze tosses the book to me. “Jen said it’s fine if you don’t go, she can find other agents. It’s just… close to home.”

“What?” Brooklyn and I ask in unison, and I feel myself tensing.

Blaze hands me a small slip of paper. “That’s the address.” He gives a dramatic bow. “Just let me know if you two want in.” With that, he disappears.

I look at the piece of paper. Brooklyn peeks over my shoulder, and her eyes widen in shock. “But that’s…”

“Across the street from our house,” I finish.

---

Dun-dun-dun! What did you think of that snippet? Are you excited for Forcefield to finally come out? I know I’m excited to finish the first draft. Let me know your thoughts in the comments below!

Poem: Sitting In My Tree

Hello, friends! It’s Monday, which means a post! This semester, I’m taking a class on American Poetry, and that made me think about my poetry class from last year. So this week, I thought I’d share a fun poem that I wrote for that class. I hope you enjoy it!

Sitting In My Tree

C.B. Cook

 

No one notices me

sitting in my tree.

 

I look down as

people walk past,

eyes down,

not looking around,

and no one bothers

to turn their eyes UP.

 

If they did, they might

see me in the morning light,

admiring how the sun

sets that one

green leaf ablaze

with golden fire.

 

But instead, I look out,

a secret spying scout,

safe in my cave of leaves

because no one really sees

beyond my shield

and I’m smiling because

 

no one notices me

sitting in my tree.

I hope you enjoyed that poem! I did, in fact, write it while sitting in a tree. 😀 I know most people either love poetry or hate it, so what’s your opinion on poetry? Do you like writing it or reading it better?

Stay safe, have a good week, and don’t forget to wear your mask! ❤

Book Review: Come Marching Home by Hazel West

Hullo, friends! A few weeks ago, I brought you the cover reveal for Come Marching Home by Hazel West, and today I have the pleasure of reviewing that book! 

Photo description: Book cover of Come Marching Home – silhouette of a man and a dog in front of a snowy background

Synopsis

After being away for over a year, Alfonse Keller has returned from the trenches on Teuton’s western front, fighting in the war that’s broken out against the Steppes. He should feel relieved now that’s he’s back in his own village in the care of his brother Ernst, but he’s not. It seems like nothing has changed except for him, like he’s a traveler from a different world.

When Alfonse left to join the army, he was a natural magician making a name for himself, but after a tragic incident resulting in the death of his friend, and his own crippling injury, he no longer has the ability to use magic.

Suffering from constant nightmares and revisited trauma, Alfonse can’t get the trenches out of his head. Ernst tries to help, but he doesn’t really understand either. How can he, when Alfonse doesn’t really understand himself? He feels like a phantom, standing on the outskirts of a life he’ll never live again.

As Ernst tries to do everything he can for his brother, he can’t help but feel like Alfonse is slipping away, that maybe part of him never left the trenches at all. But how can he save his brother when Alf refuses to let anyone in?

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My Review

Man, this book was so good. Usually I’m not a huge fan of books based in war-time, but this book was absolutely beautiful. There were definitely a lot of tear-jerking moments, so when you read this… keep the tissues handy!

To start off with, Hazel does an amazing job developing these characters. I loved that the book focused on the relationship between Alfonse and Ernst. I love reading sibling relationships, and I feel like relationships between brothers aren’t highlighted as much as they could be. Hazel does a great job of developing Alf and Ernst individually while also portraying their relationship realistically. I was rooting for them the whole way!

Since the plot was focused more on the relationships between the characters, the pace was a little slow until the end. While I tend to prefer books with a faster pace, I think the steady pace of this book actually worked better with the message and the tone. 

And maaaan, the feels! My favorite part of this book is all of the awesome relationship-building, gonna-make-you-cry moments that hit you out of nowhere. There were definitely a few times I had to blink away tears. No spoilers, but that continues alllll the way to the end of the book. ❤

There is some minor cursing in this book, along with some references to multiple gods, although the details of their religion aren’t really touched on. This is also set during war-time, so there is a lot of violence and pain, so I would say this book is targeted more towards teenagers and older. 

Overall, I highly recommend this book for anyone who likes reading touching stories!

Have you read Come Marching Home? What did you think? If not, you should definitely go read it! 

An Update For You!

Hullo, my friends! I hope you are all doing well during this crazy time! Today I bring you the update post I talked about in my last post. I wanted to let you guys know a little bit of what’s going on and what my plans are for blogging and writing.

• Writing: I’ll admit, writing has fallen a bit to the side in the past year or so. While finishing up my last year of college, most of my writing time was spent on my thesis. Currently, I plan on writing IDIA 3, and then switching over to work on one of my other writing projects (I haven’t decided which one yet!). I’ve set a goal of reaching 15,000 words on IDIA 3 by the end of May, which should be a pretty attainable goal, and hopefully, I’ll be able to start looking for beta readers and sharing snippets soon!
• Blogging: In case you hadn’t noticed… I’ve been very bad at keeping up with the blogging side of things! One of my goals for the rest of the month is to set up a blogging schedule and prewriting some posts. My current plan is to post something every Tuesday–and I’m telling you all that so that you can bug me about it when I forget! 😀 I’m hoping that having a set schedule will help me to post more regularly, and if I have to adjust that later, I can do so. I mostly want to have a set schedule to encourage me to post more often.
• Reading: If there’s one thing that I have kept up with, it’s been reading! My original reading goal for this year was 20 books, but I’ve already increased that to 26, because I’ve read more books than I thought I would. At this point, I’ve read 17 books, so I may end up increasing my goal again. Many of the books I’ve read have been rereads, but I’ve also been reading through a lot of Brandon Sanderson’s books. His books are amazing, and he even has a series of writing class videos on his YouTube channel, which you should definitely check out if you’re a writer.

So that’s the first post of (hopefully) many more! What are your thoughts on blogging schedules? Are you excited about IDIA 3? Comment below your thoughts, and let me know if there are any blog posts or series you’d like to see me do!

Short Story: Not Fair

Hullo, friends! This is another short story that’s a little different from what I usually write, since it’s historical fiction. It was really interesting for me to try a new genre with a time period that I don’t write in often (late 1700s). This is a little more on the serious side, too. Hope you enjoy!

I thought I knew what loneliness was, but as I watched my closest friend get into her father’s carriage, I realized I had no idea. I felt a surge of sadness overcome me, and I pressed my face against the glass, gazing after the carriage as it bumped into the distance along the road leading away from my family’s plantation. I was glad she had come to say goodbye, but now I was left staring out at the cotton fields that stretched in every direction, big and lonely. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. My dearest friend was leaving her family’s nearby plantation and moving all the way to Philadelphia, and I was alone.

“Phoebe, dear, don’t get smudges on the window.” The voice was distant and distracted, and I turned to see my mother starting a new row on her stitching, hardly glancing at me. I huffed and sat on the sofa, slumping backward. I was only 10, the youngest child of five siblings, and as the only one condemned to a life indoors and the only one still living at home, I often felt forgotten.

“Posture, Phoebe,” my mother reprimanded, and I begrudgingly forced myself to sit up straight.

“Mother,” I said hesitantly, glancing sideways. Mother didn’t look up from her stitching. How did she even manage to sew with her pregnant belly in the way? “Can I go outside today?”

Mother looked up and gave me a sharp look. “You know you can’t. It’s too hot outside, we don’t want you fainting.”

I sighed. It was always either too hot or too cold for me to go out. From the time I was a baby, I had breathing problems when I get too active or stay outside too long, and my parents decided I should stay in the house, except on especially nice days. Since my mom had been dealing with all of my older sisters and their marriages, I had always had to find my own entertainment indoors.

I stood and excused myself from the room, walking out in the dignified manner of a young lady, just as my mother had taught me. Once I was in the hall and out of view, though, I skipped off towards the kitchen. I peeked into the open doorway and caught sight of Hanna pulling pastries out of the oven.

I slipped into the kitchen, and Hanna looked in my direction. A sympathetic look crossed her face, and she wiped her dark, work-worn hands on her apron before stretching her arms out to me. I leaned into the embrace, burying my face in her flour-dusted apron. I finally let the tears come, and my shoulders shook as I sobbed. Hanna just whispered soothingly into my ear, gently stroking my hair.

Finally, I ran out of tears, and I pulled back. Hanna handed me a dishcloth, giving me a gentle smile. A spot of flour on her cheek stands out against her dark skin. “It’s alright, miss.”

I wiped my sleeve across my face, unsuccessfully trying to clear away my tears. “But my closest friend just left me forever. How am I ever going to find another friend if I can’t even leave the house?” I sniffed, my nose starting to run from the tears. “Why do people have to move away and leave?”

Hanna smiled at me, but it was a smile with lots of sadness behind it. “I don’t know, miss. I wish I did. But most of the time, it’s out of our control.” She turned away and started to take the pastries off of the baking sheet.

I moved over and stood next to her, looking up at her face. Her eyes were watering. “Hanna, why are you so sad?”

Hanna smiled down at me and wiped her hand across her eyes. “Oh, no, miss, don’t worry about me.” She turned and handed me one of the pastries. “I made them with raspberry, your favorite. Now run along. I know you have that book you were wanting to read.”

I obeyed and scampered off down the hall. I spent most of the rest of the day reading until my mother made me work on my embroidery. I didn’t mind embroidery, but my mind longed for the outdoors, and it was easy to miss a stitch when your mind was wandering through the cotton fields or to a big city like Philadelphia. The odd thing was that I also found myself wondering why Hanna was so sad, too. That alone took my mind off of my own problems.

The good news was that I only stabbed myself in the finger twice. My mom lectured me on paying attention and not getting blood on my embroidery, but I barely listened. I waited for her to take a breath during the lecture and jumped in with my own question.

“Mother, why is Hanna so sad?” I asked, looking up slightly from my embroidery.

Mother hesitated in her pacing. “Phoebe, darling, you needn’t concern yourself with the slaves.” She turned and I felt her eyes on me, although I pretended to be absorbed in my embroidery. “You may be the mistress of this house someday, if you do not find a husband, and if so, you need to have the proper attitude towards the slaves.”

I finally looked up at her. “So you don’t care why Hanna is sad?”

Her eyes turned fierce and felt like they were boring a hole in me. “Phoebe, it is not your place. They are your father’s property, nothing more.”

I almost said She’s my friend, but something in my mother’s look makes me hold back. “Yes, Mother,” I said instead and turned my eyes back to my stitching.

Later that night, I lie in bed in my room upstairs, simply trying to go to sleep, but what my mother said nagged at my mind. Why couldn’t Hanna be my friend? Finally, my thoughts overwhelmed me, and I decided to sneak down and get another pastry from the kitchen. I slid out of bed, the hem of my nightgown brushing against the floor. I stepped carefully across the wooden floorboards, making sure to avoid the spots that I knew would creak. I left my door slightly cracked to avoid making too much noise.

The house was fairly quiet as I snuck to the stairs. I could hear doors closing somewhere else in the house, and golden candlelight flickered from my father’s study. The murmur of my parents’ voices barely reached my ears. I hesitated on the top stair, not sure if I should chance going past my parents to get my pastry. Finally, though, my craving won out over my fear of getting in trouble, and I crept quietly down the stairs. Being inside all the time had helped me learn where all of the creaky spots were on the stairs, too, so I managed to sneak downstairs without a sound.

At the bottom of the stairs, I paused again. My parents’ voices were clear enough now that I could make out what they were saying, and I heard my own name. I knew it was wrong to listen, but I couldn’t help but move closer to the doorway to my father’s study.

“She was bordering on disrespect, Elias.” My mother’s light footsteps betrayed her pacing. “Do you think we’ve been too soft with her, letting her interact with the slaves?”

“Possibly.” Father’s deep voice sounded like he was only halfway paying attention to my mother. “But she does have a lack of companionship.”

A chair creaked as my mom sat in it. “Elias. I’m afraid that when the time comes for her to take charge of the household, if that occurs, she won’t have the proper attitude towards the slaves.”

The sound of Father’s chair scraping back from his desk made me jump. “Perhaps you’re right, Amelia. What do you propose we do about it?”

Mother sighed. “We need to find her some kind of companionship. I don’t know how, though.” She paused. “Do you think Hanna could be putting ideas in her head, ones about slaves that shouldn’t be there?”

Father’s voice grew serious. “Do you believe that could be possible?”

“I don’t know.” Mother’s voice was shaky. “We’ve always trusted Hanna, but what if she has misused that trust?”

My stomach churned, and I couldn’t bear to listen any longer. I crept towards the stairs quietly, unsure of what to think any more. These were all new and confusing things to think about. I was so absorbed in trying to decipher what “ideas” my parents were talking about that I forgot to watch where I was walking. I stepped directly on a creaky spot, and the sound echoed through the house.

I froze. My parents had gone completely silent behind me. For a second that felt like a minute, I thought I might be able to get away with it. But my father’s footsteps echoed as he hurried into the hall.

“Phoebe.” My name was said with a combination of sternness and surprise. I turned slowly around to face him.

“Father, I—” My mother appeared behind him, looking at me in disbelief, and I couldn’t finish my sentence.

“Young lady, you will go right to bed this instant.” Father’s voice was firm and unyielding, and I ducked my head. “We will discuss the consequences of your eavesdropping in the morning.”

My mother walked me up to my room and made sure I got into bed. I tried to explain to her that I just wanted to get a pastry, but she shook her head at me. “You listened in on a conversation that was not meant for your ears. That is certainly not becoming of a young lady.” She left me alone in my room, and I felt tears slip down my cheeks for the second time that day. I was afraid of what my punishment might be, and I longed to find Hanna and get a comforting hug from her.

Somehow I managed to fall asleep, and the next morning I went downstairs, making a beeline straight for the kitchen. To my surprise, a different woman was in the kitchen. I vaguely remembered her name being Betsey.

“Where’s Hanna?” I asked, looking around in confusion. She rarely let anyone work in the kitchen without her supervision.

The other woman looked up from peeling potatoes. Sadness dripped from her gaze, the same sadness I’d seen in Hanna’s eyes the day before. “Go talk to your parents, miss. They should be in the dinin’ room.”

I backed out of the kitchen and fled down the hall towards the dining room. A sinking feeling of dread sat in my stomach like a rock. What terrible thing had my parents done? I found them at the table, eating their breakfast as if nothing had happened. I walked slowly into the room, slightly afraid that if I entered, things wouldn’t be the same.

Father noticed me first and motioned for me to sit down. “How did you sleep last night, Phoebe?”

“Where’s Hanna?” I asked, hesitating next to my chair.

My parents exchanged glances, but my father was the one to speak. “Phoebe, we decided that you were getting too attached to Hanna. We sent her off to auction this morning.”

My hands started to shake, and I gripped the chair to keep myself upright. “Bu-but… last night, that was my fault! I shouldn’t have eavesdropped and snuck downstairs, but those were my own actions. Why are you punishing Hanna?”

My mother set down her teacup. “Phoebe, dear, your father is right. You’ve been getting too attached to Hanna. It’s not proper. She is our property to do with as we please, as are the rest of the slaves.” She paused and looked at me. “As were her son and her husband.”

The rock in my stomach tightened, changing to a fist that clenched my stomach and wouldn’t let go, and I slumped into the chair. My parents looked at me, a mix of sympathy and sternness on their faces. “It’s not fair,” I whispered.

It’s not fair.

So there’s my historical fiction story! What did you think? Comment below with your thoughts, and what other posts you’d like to see. I love talking with you guys!

Short Story: The Villain And The Hero

Hullo, friends! Unlike some of the short stories I’ve posted recently, The Villain and the Hero is firmly planted in my usual genre: superhero. I had a lot of fun writing this one, and it was nice to get back to writing with superheroes after a little break for other projects. Enjoy!

I’m in love with a boy, and unfortunately, he hates my guts. I know that if he got to know me, he would begin to like me, I just know it! But there’s not much chance for small talk when he’s blasting fire in my direction.

I stand firm as fire blazes towards me, and I throw up a forcefield with one hand. It’s virtually invisible, but I can see the air shimmering slightly in front of me as I hold my hand over my head. With my other hand, I stuff the rest of the money from my latest robbery into the inside pocket of my long black trench coat. Torch’s fire hits my forcefield, reflecting off and shooting straight in the air. I hear him yell in frustration, and I drop my hand, letting the forcefield dissolve. I reach up and scratch around the black mask on my face. Paired with the dark wig, it hides my identity, but I can’t wait to take it off. Talk about itchy.

Torch stalks toward me, his anger and frustration clearly evident. Unlike my dark mask, his black one with flame details makes him look even more attractive. Then again, I’ve always liked guys with brown hair. “Give yourself up, Mirror!” he yells.

Okay, let’s be honest here for a second. I could easily win this fight. It’s as simple as throwing a bubble forcefield around him and making it shrink. Easy peasy, no more Torch. That’s the dumb part about having a crush on your superhero. You tend to go easy on them, even if you’d be better off getting rid of them.

Then again, I’m just stealing from overly rich corporations to pay off student loans, and killing someone wouldn’t help with that anyway.

I put my hands in the air slowly, in a show of surrender, eyeing the distance between the two of us. “You win, Torch. Take me to jail.” The air shivers ever so slightly between us, and I grin. “Or you could take me to dinner instead.”

Torch looks at me suspiciously and rolls his eyes, but he walks towards me. After two steps, he smacks into my invisible forcefield. He yelps and steps back, rubbing his head and glaring at me.

I shake with laughter, letting out a snort on accident. Dang it, Alexis. Play it cool. I try my hardest to smother my laughter, but the glare on his face makes it really hard. Why does he have to be so cute when he’s annoyed? “Sorry, Torch!”

“That’s cold, you know!” he yells back, although I swear he’s hiding a smile. My smile fades when he calls me cold, though.

I throw a disk forcefield on the ground in front of me and step onto it. The other forcefield dissolves automatically. Only being able to make one forcefield is one of my weaknesses that no one has figured out. Not yet, at least. I crouch down and salute Torch, winking. “Until next time, hot stuff.”

At my command, the forcefield raises slightly off the ground and takes off over the nearest building. The wind blows through my hair—at least, the hair on the wig—and I breathe deeply. The air smells of car exhaust and pollution. For a second, I miss the fresh country air from my childhood, but I shove down those memories. This is my home now, and I need to love every part of it. It’s not like the time I spent in the country was any better. Living with my mom was a nightmare.

I lower my forcefield, dodging in between buildings and down alleyways. I come to a stop and dissolve my forcefield, landing on the ground. No one’s around, so I ditch my costume and hide it in the usual spot. I let my long blond hair down and slip on my favorite sweatshirt. Back to my normal college student self.

It doesn’t take me long to make it back to school, and I unlock the door of my apartment. Some kind of Latin music fills the air, probably coming from the kitchen, while I can hear Riley yelling at a basketball game in the living room. I can’t even hear the door close behind me as I walk in.

Lucia does, though. She pokes her head out of the kitchen. “Alexis, amiga! You’re just in time for dinner. Everything’s almost ready.”

I sniff, inhaling the scent of Mexican spices. “Yum! I can’t wait.” I kick off my shoes by the door. “Have the neighbors complained about the noise yet?”

An unintelligible shriek of triumph rises for the living room, and Lucia winces. “Not yet, but I would not be surprised.”

She slips back into the kitchen, singing in Spanish along with the music. I cross into the living room to find Riley flopping back onto the couch, still in her running clothes. She glances up at me and then turns her focus back to her game. “How was your shopping trip?” she asks, reaching for a bag of chips.

I grab the chips before she can get them. “I didn’t get to do any shopping. Mirror and Torch were fighting right by the mall.” At her glare, I set the chips back down, just farther away from her. “Lucia says dinner is almost ready.”

A few minutes later, Lucia calls us into the kitchen. She always makes the most amazing food, and Saturday nights are sacred “Roommate Dinners” for the three of us. After dinner, we all hang out in the living room together, watching a show or talking about our lives. Tonight, we gather all of the junk food in our apartment and sprawl out in the living room. The fight with Torch is still lingering in my mind, and I glance at my two roommates. I love these girls, but if they ever found out about my secret identity, they would go crazy. At least I’m just a supervillain who steals, not one who kills people. I mean, I’ve hurt a few people, but I’ve never killed anyone. I’ve met some villains who are much worse than me.

We’re halfway through our show when Lucia gasps. “Oh my gosh!” Riley and I both turn to look at her in surprise, and she turns her phone around to show us. “Mira!”

A breaking news alert lights up her screen, with a picture of Torch, mid-fight with a supervillain that I immediately recognize. My stomach sinks. Riley snatches the remote and changes the channel to a news channel that’s covering the fight. The voiceover crackles with panic, sending a shiver down my spine.

“…no one knows what Glacier is doing in the city, but so far, she’s been giving Torch quite the beating…”

I tune out the voice on the TV, focusing on the footage. Even from the view of a helicopter, I can tell he’s tired. “Oh, he’s got this,” Riley says, popping a chip in her mouth. “She must be a nobody. I’ve never heard of her before.”

On the TV, Glacier shoots a blast of ice out of her hands, and Torch barely manages to dodge it. Glacier smirks up at the helicopter, and I feel like she’s staring into my soul with her icy gaze. Lucia winces. “I hope he’ll be alright.”

Riley switches the channel back to our show, but my hands are shaking now. What if something really bad happens to Torch? At least when I fight him, I go easy on him. He’s not going to be able to walk away from this fight. Glacier would never take it easy on him.

Before I can think about it, I’m standing up and heading to the front door. Lucia looks up from her phone. “Where are you going?”

I unlock the door. “I’m just going for a walk. I’ll see if the laundry room is open.”

She nods. “Just stay away from downtown. That’s where the fight is happening.”

I nod and smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not going that way at all.”

As soon as I get out of view of our apartment, that’s the exact direction I go. I run to my hiding spot and retrieve my costume, changing as quickly as I can. This is one of the many reasons I chose a trench coat for my costume, instead of some skintight outfit. It’s so much easier to put on. A forcefield materializes underneath my feet, and I zoom off in the direction of the fight.

The closer I get to downtown, the more unsure I feel of myself. What am I even going to do? Fight Glacier? I’m pretty sure I can fight her, yeah—I’ve improved a lot since the last time I fought her—but as soon as I defeat her, Torch is going to turn on me.

But I also can’t let her hurt him… or kill him.

Ugh, feelings are dumb.

I know I’m getting close to the fight because I start feeling blasts of heat and cold. I lower myself behind a building. I’m even more nervous now, but mostly because I feel more cold than heat in the air. I duck around a few corners and finally come across the fight. I immediately cringe. I’ve fought Torch enough times that I can tell he’s exhausted. His fire blasts are weak, barely reaching to Glacier.

Glacier is smirking at him, clearly toying with him. Her skin shimmers, coated in a frosty layer, and her long, dark blue dress sparkles with ice, too, glittering like stars set against a backdrop of night. Her dark hair, streaked with gray, sparkles with a layer of ice too. She looks like a queen, and I shudder at the sight of her. I could have ended up ruthless and cold, just like her.

I step out of the shadows, the wind from Glacier’s next blast of ice whipping my trench coat around my legs. Torch shoots a blast of fire at Glacier’s ice blast, melting it just before it could hit him. He’s almost done, and Glacier can tell. She starts to stalk towards him, just like he did when he was fighting me earlier.

Then she catches sight of me.

A smile slithers across her face, something sinister lurking behind it. “Hello, dear,” she calls out, her voice deeper from the cold air. “Don’t worry about this. I’m finishing the job you’ve never been able to handle.”

Torch glances in my direction just as I glance at him. Anger flashes across his face, but then it fades to nothing. He’s losing hope.

I’m in the middle right now, off to the side, not committed to either one of them. I look over at Glacier. “You’re a monster,” I whisper, my voice carrying on the breeze.

She shrugs and steps closer, towards me instead of Torch this time. “It took you long enough to figure that out.” With a quick flick of her wrist, she sends icicles shooting in my direction.

I know she expects me to put up a forcefield to block the icicles, but I don’t. I react instantly, swirling my hands in the air and then pushing towards her. A bubble forcefield surrounds her as I jump to the side. I feel the impact from one of the icicles, and cold spreads through my shoulder.

Glacier laughs and starts to walk toward me, but she runs into the forcefield. She reaches out and puts her hands on it, her smile fading as she realizes she’s completely trapped. I look at her, and she stares back at me, horror growing on her face. I hold up my hand, and she backs up, hitting the back of the bubble. “No!” she shrieks.

I slowly begin to close my hand into a fist, and bubble shrinks around her, and she panics, trying to make herself as small as possible. The bubble tightens more. I find myself shaking in anger as I glare at her. Out of nowhere, someone’s hand grabs the one I’m holding up. I turn to find Torch, his hand grasping mine.

“Don’t kill her,” he rasps, his voice weak. “You’re not like her. Don’t become her.”

I look at him in shock and then look back at Glacier. Fear covers her face as she sobs into her own skirt, curled up in the fetal position inside the forcefield. It’s barely big enough to fit her now. Horror floods my body, and I let my hand drop. The forcefield dissolves, but Glacier stays on the ground, still sobbing in terror.

Torch helps me to my feet, and cops descend on Glacier. He holds my arms, looking over me. “Are you okay?” he asks, looking at my face. I stare at him, surprised to see concern in his eyes.

“I’m fine.” I lean against a wall nearby, looking over at the icicle lodged in my shoulder.

Torch puts a hand on my arm and inspects the icicle in my shoulder. “Why would you do that?” he asks, searching my face as if he would find answers there. Ambulance sirens echo in the distance.

I look back at him and give him a weak smile. “You’re just trying to do your job. I knew she wouldn’t leave you alive.” I stare off as the police put power-eliminating cuffs on Glacier and push her in the back of a cop car. Relief and sadness tug at opposite sides of my heart. A whisper slips out of my lips, stolen away by the wind.

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

Short Story: The Interview

Hullo my friends! I’m starting to dig through my collections of stories from the past semester, and I came across this one. This is a little different than my usual genre, but I had fun writing it, and I thought you guys might like it. Enjoy!

It was one of those miserable days where the mix of icy rain and gusting wind makes it impossible to stay dry. Melody could feel the cold water trickling from her hair onto the back of her neck and shuddered, pulling her coat tighter around her. She always hated walking, but walking in the rains was even worse. She quickened her pace, close to the edge of the curb, as the coffee shop came into view. Her meeting was supposed to start five minutes ago, but the closest parking spot to her destination was three blocks away.

Melody hesitated on the edge of the curb, eyeing the oncoming traffic before dashing across the road. Her new boots splashed in the puddles near the edge, sending cold water squishing into her socks. The wind whipped her hair back as she jogged across the street. She didn’t even notice the darker spot on the road, glistening from spilled oil.

Her foot slipped, and she hit the ground. She groaned, trying to catch her breath, but all she could feel was the water seeping into her clothes. A car screeched to a halt, bouncing to a stop only a few feet away from hitting her.

Melody sat up, groaning again. She was definitely going to have some bruises. The car door opened and a guy half got out, peering over his car door. “Are you okay?” he yelled.

“I’m fine!” Melody snapped, pushing herself up to a standing position. She wobbled slightly, but she was glad she could stand. Falling again would be too embarrassing. Not that she wasn’t already a mess.

“Then could you get out of the road?” the guy called, pushing his light brown hair off his forehead. “I’m running late.”

Melody glared at him, any gratefulness she’d had for his concern evaporated. She didn’t give him the benefit of a response and stalked to the side of the road. She made sure to take her sweet time. The guy slammed his door and raced off down the street, and Melody glowered at his retreating taillights.

She walked the little ways down the street to the coffee shop and shook herself off at the door, sending droplets of water mixed with oil flying. Smoothing her hair down and stomping the water off her boots, she slipped into the coffee shop. A bell jingled over the door as she opened it. Soft music played over the speakers, and the dim lighting gave it a homey feel. Unlike most coffee shops, old-fashioned booths and checkered tablecloths made the coffee shop feel more like a diner. Only two or three people lingered in the coffee shop.

Melody went up to the pastry case, where a middle-aged woman was humming as she replaced some of the pastries. The woman looked up and her eyes widened. “Oh, honey! Bless your heart! You’re soaked right through!” She bustled out from behind the counter. “You sit right down and I’ll find you some towels. I’ll get you some fresh coffee, too.”

Melody thanked her and sat in a booth, wrapping her arms around herself as the cool air and her wet clothes sapped her body heat. Her wet clothes clung to her skin, and she was grateful when the woman came back a minute later with two clean dish towels. The bell dinged over the door, and Melody looked up from patting herself dry with one of the towels. Her eyes narrowed instantly as she recognized the man who had almost run over her.

“Hello, sweetheart! What do you need?” the woman called out cheerfully.

“I’m here to meet with Melody Hackett.” He shook the raindrops off his thick coat.

Melody smiled. How perfect was this? She could give him a hard time now. Clearing her throat, she raised her hand. “That’s me,” she announced. She kept her face neutral, but she couldn’t help but feel a spark of delight at the look of utter shock on the man’s face. He approached her cautiously as if she was a wild animal that might bite him.

“Oh… hello,” he said, quickly switching to a smile, but she could tell it was a nervous one.

“You must be Luke Norwood,” Melody said, staring him down, but still trying to keep her expression neutral. Keep him guessing, at least.

He scratched the back of his head, still standing awkwardly next to the booth. “Um… can I sit?” At her nod, he slid into the booth. “Yeah… Um, I’m sorry about yelling at you earlier. I was nervous about this meeting and I wasn’t thinking, and I knew I still had to walk over here from the parking lot down the street…” He trailed off, fidgeting with his hands and staring down at the table.

Melody hesitated as the waitress came over and poured coffee into mugs for them. She sipped the steaming liquid and felt warmth spread through her. She looked over her mug at Luke, and he quickly looked down at his coffee. “It’s okay,” she told him. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to give you a hard time.” Luke looked up, and he must have seen the twinkle in her eye before she could hide it by taking another sip of coffee. “Why don’t we get started on this interview?”

Luke nodded, seemingly relieved, but his hands shook as he pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. “Do you mind if I record this?”

Melody shook her head, and he started the recorder on his phone. “So, your official book release and release party are tonight. Are you ready for that?”

She shook her head. “I’ve released books before, obviously, but as an author, this project is close to my heart. I’ve never written a story this personal, and this story is based off some of my own real-life experiences.”

Luke tilted his head. “Really? How so?”

Melody began to explain the story behind her book, and Luke seemed genuinely intrigued. Eventually the interview shifted from normal interview questions into other topics of conversation. Before long, the two of them were laughing like old friends.

“I can’t believe you actually went skydiving with your grandma,” Melody said, gasping in between her laughter.

Luke shook his head, grinning. “She’s done more crazy things than I have.” He sipped his coffee. “She’s the reason I wanted to be a reporter, so that I could travel and experience new things.”

Melody looked at him over her coffee cup. “Has she ever almost run over someone before?”

He laughed. “Not that I know of.”

The waitress came by, placing the check on the table. Melody glanced at her phone. “Wow, I can’t believe we’ve been here for over two hours. That went by fast.” She dug around in her purse and pulled out her wallet.

Luke shook his head. “No, my treat,” he insisted, handing the waitress his card. “It’s the least I can do.”

Melody hesitated, then shrugged. “I guess I’ll let you, since you did almost—”

“Hit you with my car,” he finished, grinning.

Melody laughed and didn’t argue any further. The two of them got up from the table. “I can’t wait to read the article later.” She smoothed out her coat, although she knew she couldn’t do anything about the oil stains. “I hope you’re not one of those reporters that twists everything I say to mean what you want.”

“Of course not!” Luke exclaimed. He looked at her, eyes wide. “I would never!”

Melody made eye contact with him and he noticed the mischievous glint in her eye. “Are you teasing me?” he asked, shocked. She grinned and nodded, and he elbowed her. “Not funny!”

Melody laughed and gathered up the rest of her things. “I’m just joking. I trust you.” A little idea sparked in her mind as they walked towards the door. “So, what are you doing the rest of the day?”

Luke glanced sideways at her. “Well, I’m going to finish writing up this article and turn it in, but that’s really it. That’ll only take me a couple of hours.” He opened the door and held it for her.

Melody hid a smile and stepped outside. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” They hesitated outside, and Melody looked at Luke.

“So, um,” Melody hesitated and looked down, fiddling with the edge of her coat. “If you’re not doing anything tonight, do you want to come to the launch party?”

He looked at her, a smile growing on his face. “I would love to.”

Melody couldn’t help but smile back. “It’s a date, then.”

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed that short story. Did you like this different type of story? Be sure to let me know what you think in the comments below!

Short Story: Meeting Ryan

Hello, friends! I come to you today with another short story that I wrote for class. This one was a lot of fun to write, and I really like how it ended. I hope you enjoy it! Don’t forget to vote for Twinepathy in the TCK Reader’s Choice Awards! If you have questions, you can read my post about it here. Now, on to the story! (Make sure to comment your thoughts below, too! I’m eager to hear what you guys think.)

I see things clearer—or at least more logically—than most people. That may not sound like a big deal, but it’s frustrating. Very, very frustrating. Mostly because I’m not as blinded by emotion as other people, and I can look at things objectively. I have an outside opinion on a lot of situations, but people… they just don’t listen to me.

“Are you listening to me, Natalie?” my best friend Destiny asks, her voice pitched higher than usual in annoyance.

I shake my head, clearing away my intrusive thoughts. “I’m sorry, I got distracted,” I admit. “It’s so loud in here.”

That’s not a lie. People’s conversations and shouts echo in the school cafeteria, a messy blend of voices screaming, yelling, and hollering. Dishes clank against each other, and every once in a while, there’s a screech as someone scoots their chair back from a table. The noise is overwhelming, and I can’t help but feel a little claustrophobic.

“So I think you should meet Ryan.” Destiny’s raised voice brings me back to our table.

I sigh. “Your new boyfriend.” Of course that’s what she was talking about. “I mean, are you sure? You don’t think it’s too soon? You guys just started dating, what, four weeks ago?”

“Of course!” She grabs my hand. “You’re my best friend, and your opinion really matters to me.” She hesitates. “Plus, you always have a good sense about people, and you always look at situations objectively.”

I smile, a warm feeling rising in my chest. “And besides, talking about boys is what best friends are for, right?”

She laughs, high and clear, and I can tell it’s a genuine laugh. “So, do you want to meet him tomorrow? We could meet up at the park after school, at our usual table.”

As much as I don’t really want to meet Destiny’s boyfriend, I do want what’s best for her. “Okay, sounds like a plan.”

“Awesome!”

The bell rings, making me jump. Destiny’s chair scratches backwards as she leaps up and gathers up our dishes. “Come on, let’s go to class.” She grabs my hand and drags me through the crowd of people that are stampeding to the exit. I hate being among the crush of bodies, with all the yelling and the smells, all in close quarters. Lucky, Destiny is an expert at maneuvering us through the crowd, and before long, we’ve escaped from the masses and are on our way to class.

The rest of the day goes by as usual, same old boring routine, except that I can’t get my mind off of meeting Ryan. I honestly don’t know what Destiny has told him about me, and I just feel like no matter what, it’s going to be awkward.

Who am I kidding? It’s always awkward for me when I meet new people.

Destiny comes and finds me after school the next day, and by that point, my anxiety is jumping through the roof. I slip on my sunglasses and try to play it cool as we walk over to the park. She squeezes my hand way too tight as we walk, but I know she’s just excited. I can practically feel the energy radiating off of her as she blabbers on and on. Finally, I manage to get a word in edgewise.

“What does he look like?” I ask her.

She lets out an excited squeak that sounds like a mouse. “Well, he’s about the same height as you, and he has longish brown hair. He has these beautiful green eyes…” She squeezes my hand tighter, making me question whether or not my hand will still be attached to my arm when we get to the park.

We walk a little farther and turn into the park. The path changes from hard concrete sidewalk to gravelly dirt that crunches underfoot. Birds tweet overhead in the trees, and I can even hear squirrels chittering at each other and scampering around. I inhale, enjoying the scent of the recently-cut grass and cool afternoon breeze.

I inhale again. “It’s going to rain.”

Destiny sighs. “Of course.” She stops. “Okay, you stay here at our picnic table and I’ll go see if I can find him. That way we have it covered, whether he comes here or I run into him. Maybe we can go to the ice cream shop or something so we don’t get rained on. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” I reply and slide onto the bench of the picnic table. I freeze. “But how will I know it’s him if he comes by?”

“Oh, I’ve shown him pictures of the two of us together, so he should be able to recognize you.” Her footsteps crunch on the gravel as she walks away. “Oh yeah, and you can ask him what my middle name is, he knows,” she calls, her voice fading as she leaves.

“Wow,” I murmur, picking off pokey wood splinters off the table. “She must really like him if she already told him her middle name.” It took her forever to tell me what her middle name was. It’s not like it’s super embarrassing… just weird.

It’s kind of nice to listen to the sounds of the park without Destiny talking so much. Children laugh nearby, and I can pick out different bird songs, separating them from each other in my mind. A dog barks somewhere in the distance. The most prominent sound is probably the wind rustling the trees—either that or footsteps crunching on gravel as people walk by.

I start to hum as I pick at the splintering wood on the picnic table. The crack as I break off the bigger splinters is really satisfying. The wind brushes against me, pushing my hair in my face, and I can’t help but smile.

“Hey, you’re Natalie, right?”

The deep voice next to me makes me jump, and I turn towards him. “I am. Are you Ryan?”

“Yep, that’s me!” The bench creaks as he sits down. “It’s nice to meet you, Natalie. Where’s Destiny?”

“Looking for you,” I answer, fiddling self-consciously with my sunglasses before going back to picking at the table. A sharper splinter stabs me, and I wince. I tilt my head. “Destiny said I could ask you what her middle name is, to prove it’s actually you, and not some random weirdo.”

Ryan laughs, and it’s a deep, full laugh. “It’s Allegra. Her parents chose it because of its Italian meaning, without thinking about the medicine.”

I nod and grin. “Poor girl.”

The bench creaks again as Ryan leans forward. “So why is Destiny looking for me? I thought we were going to just meet here and hang out.”

“It’s going to rain,” I explain. “We were talking about moving to the ice cream place, just in case.”

He hesitates. “But the forecast didn’t say anything about rain.”

“Smell,” I tell him, and I hear him inhale and exhale. “Do you smell that dampness on the air? It’s definitely going to rain.”

Ryan sniffs again. “I can smell it, barely. That’s so cool.”

“Ryan!” Destiny’s voice carries across the park, as does the sound of her running feet. She stops next to the table, out of breath. She spoke between huffs. “I’ve been… looking for… you!” She puts a hand on my arm as her breathing grows closer to normal. “I’m glad you guys are doing good. Let’s head over to that ice cream shop.”

The table creaks as Ryan gets up and I slide off my side of the bench. “Lead the way, Destiny.” Now I get to judge Ryan and see if he’s right for my best friend.

Destiny hooks her arm in mine. “Rock on your right,” she tells me, and I sidestep neatly out of the way. “I’ll get your cane out of your backpack in a second,” she added.

“Wait, what?” Ryan asks, his confusion evident in his voice.

I laugh, hitting Destiny’s arm. “You didn’t tell him!”

“You must have done a good job being subtle,” Destiny says, and I can hear the grin in her voice.

“Tell me what?” Ryan asks impatiently.

I pull down my sunglasses and turn towards his voice. “Tell you that I’m blind.”

The Mermaid and The Shell – A Fairy Tale Fable

Hullo, friends! So I’ve been trying to figure out some things to post recently, and I realized that I have stories saved up from my creative writing and fiction classes that I can post! So today I’m sharing the first story I wrote this year for my fiction class. It’s a cross between a fairytale and a fable, and I had a lot of fun writing it. Hope you enjoy!

The Mermaid and the Shell

In a far-off land, or sea, I should say, there lived a young mermaid named Nahla. She loved living with her family and playing among the coral reef. Her people were a joyful group, and she couldn’t imagine life without them. The king of the merfolk was a good merman at that time, and under his rule, the merpeople lived in harmony.

For every mermaid’s sixteenth birthday, they were required to decorate a shell to bring before the king. This symbolized their loyalty to the throne and made them a part of the tribe forever. The only requirement was that they make the shells themselves.

“I can’t wait, Mom!” Nahla exclaimed, spinning in a circle next to her mother. “Tomorrow I get to decorate my shell! It’s going to be the most beautiful shell anyone’s ever made.”

Her mother smiled at her. “I know it will, darling. I think you should paint it the colors of the ocean. That’s what I did for my shell, and everyone loved it.”

Nahla tilted her head sideways. “I hadn’t thought of that.” Secretly, she had imagined a swirl of colors, yellow, orange, pink, and purple, the colors of the coral.

Her mother nodded. “I think it would be beautiful. And it would match your eyes.”

Nahla smiled, shifting the picture in her mind. She could put some ocean colors on the shell, she was sure.

Her mother sent her off to find her younger brother, and she found him at the edge of the reef, watching the sharks swimming through the cool blue waters. His eyes lit up as she approached. “Nahla! You need to put a shark on your shell! That would the coolest thing ever.”

Nahla frowned. “Why would I do that?”

Her brother’s face melted into sadness. “For me. I won’t get to make a shell since I’m a merman. If I could make one, I would want a shark on it.”

Nahla put an arm around her brother’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. I’ll definitely find room for a shark on there.”

A little while later, Nahla ran into her best friend, Ara. “I can’t believe you get to decorate your shell tomorrow!” Ara exclaimed, twirling around. “You’re going to put a starfish on there for me, aren’t you?”

Nahla looked sideways at her friend. “A starfish?”

Ara nodded. “It’s our favorite animal, that’s why I put one on mine. It’ll be like a piece of me with you.”

“Of course!” Nahla hugged her friend. “I wouldn’t forget to do that.”

The next day, Nahla was released to find a shell and decorate it. She looked for hours, seeking the perfect shell, and finally, she found it. She struggled as she made it, trying to tie in all of the ideas she had been given. Before long, she finished, a sinking feeling in her stomach. It was nothing like she had imagined, and she couldn’t help but think about how ugly the shell was.

Eventually, the water grew darker, and she knew the day was nearly over. It was time to present her shell to the king, beautiful or not. She entered his throne room, knowing her family and friends would be there watching. Head hanging, she placed the shell before the king.

“What is this, Nahla?” The king asked, his voice stern.

Her mother approached and peered at the shell. “Those aren’t ocean colors, darling. Why are they smeared with yellow?”

“Where’s the shark?” Nahla’s brother asked. “I thought you were going to put a shark on it.”

“That doesn’t look like a starfish,” Ara added, tilting her head.

Nahla felt disappointment welling up inside of her. The king gazed at her. “What do you have to say, Nahla?”

She bowed her head, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I wanted to make my shell coral colors, but everyone kept asking me to add something else. I didn’t want to disappoint my mom by not doing what she wanted, and since my brother doesn’t get to make a shell I wanted to put a shark on it for him. And since Ara put a starfish on hers for me, I wanted to put one on mine for her, too. I tried to include everything, but it turned into a big mess.”

The king nodded. “I will give you a chance to redo your shell, Nahla. Don’t try to please anyone, just yourself. Remember, the one who tries to please everyone pleases no one.”

And there you go! What did you think? I hope you enjoyed the story! Comment below if you have any thoughts or any ideas for future short stories you think I should write. And don’t forget to vote for Twinepathy in the TCK Reader’s Choice Awards!

Indie e-Con Scavenger Hunt 2018 – Stop #18

Hullo, everyone! I’m very excited to be participating in the Indie eCon again this year! This year, each author is helping with a scavenger hunt that’s taking place on each of our blogs. Today I’m hosting Ivy Rose, as she talks a little about her writing and who she is. Check out each of the blog posts shared today to gather the clues, and submit them for a chance to win a special giveaway! Read to the bottom to find your clue.

Hey there! I’m Ivy, and it’s a pleasure to take part in the Indie eCon this year. I’m the author of The Old River Road: a historical fiction novel based on the life of my ancestors; and Left to Die: a contemporary novella inspired by the adoption of my little sister from China.

As I was trying to write an updated bio for myself last year, I had to drive deep into what themes I consistently touch on in my stories. People what to know what I write about, but what do I write about? Both of my published novels are about normal people. Lots of my unpublished books contain characters leading seemingly normal lives. Writing contemporary novels pretty much screams “normal normal normal” when compared to a genre like fantasy or dystopia.

So what makes my writing different?

It took a lot of thinking, praying, and asking critique partners for their thoughts before I was able to file it down to something that made sense (and would fit into a bio):

My stories are about ordinary people in ordinary places. But they are put in a position to make extraordinary choices.

That theme isn’t something I consciously decided to do. It just kinda happened. I’ve been told by readers that my characters are quite relatable. Though I don’t do that on purpose, it makes sense; the characters don’t feel like they’re anything special. They’re normal. But when put in a position to make an extraordinary decision, guess what? Ordinary becomes extraordinary. Just like in real life.

Finding my writing theme was a process that took a few years. Just when I thought I had it figured out, it didn’t quite seem right. It takes time. Don’t fret if you can’t pinpoint yours just yet…it will come with time.

~Ivy Rose

 

Bio: Ivy Rose is a young novelist with a passion to create beautiful fiction. Armed with a desire to make scenarios readers can easily relate to, she writes in many genres about ordinary individuals faced with extraordinary choices. Two of her novels have been independently published. As a chronic illness warrior, Ivy eagerly encourages others to find joy no matter what the circumstances. In her free time, she loves dancing, playing music, or enjoying various outdoor activities in the Pacific Northwest.

Blog | YouTube | Instagram

 

So 4 is your clue for this post! You can check out the full list of posts here, start at the first post on Kandi’s blog, and check out the post I wrote on Sarah Allerding’s blog! Also, don’t forget that sign-ups for Lightporter’s release tour are still open, and I’d love to have more people participating!