A Quick Quote from ULOR

In celebration of finishing the first vague round of editing.

“You have opposed me. For this, even though you have proved that you have the brain of a bug and the imagination of a plumber, you still must be punished.”

Raltan Menger, ULOR

Tales From The Writer’s Desk: Out To Lunch

Inspired by questions on sarahtps’ post about her Liebster Award acceptance. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think. I love feedback! 😀

“Hi, Cascade, Iris, Slade,” I greet as the three troop into my office. It’s quite crowded with this many people. “Are you guys ready for lunch?”

“Starved,” Slade groans. Iris jabs him in the ribs with her elbow. We leave and head out of the building. “Where are we going to eat, anyway?” Slade asks.

I shrug. “Um, well, I guess we could go to the Shawarma Palace,” I suggest.

Cascade nodded. “That’s perfect. They’re amazing.”

We make our way down the street and take a cab at the corner. Even with all the heavy New York traffic, it doesn’t take us long to reach the restaurant and order our food. It’s pretty early for lunch, so the restaurant is virtually empty. We quickly devour our food.

“That was good, Bri, thanks for treating us,” Iris says, smiling at me.

“No problem,” I reply. “I enjoyed it, too.”

“So, what are we going to do next?” Slade asks. “You said you had a full day planned.”

“Fighting ninjas? Or crocodiles? Or man-eating tigers?” Cascade suggests eagerly. I laugh, and I’m about to reply when a voice from the booth behind us interrupts me. A man stands up and faces us.

“How about fighting… me?” he asks, an evil grin crossing his face. His knotted black hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, and his sun-darkened face has wrinkles crossing it. They’re not smile wrinkles. A scar stretches across his cheek from his chin up to his eye. And then his eyes… one is green, the other yellow, and they’re both glittering with an intense hatred and glee.

“Raltan,” I breathe. “Raltan Menger.” He’s the villain from the story that Cascade was in, and he nearly killed her twin brother, Darrin.

He smiles. “Of course.” He turns to face Cascade. “I’m sure you wouldn’t be too scared to fight me.” He smirks.

Slade waves his hand as he steals a French fry from Iris. Raltan tumbles backwards, landing on his rear. Cascade leaps on top of him and clips handcuffs on his wrists. “I would fight you,” she admits, “but it’s probably a good idea to lock you up first.” She winks at Slade. “Too bad you weren’t there when we needed you.”

“Yep, lock him up,” I agree, relieved. “It’s a very good idea.”

Passing a Milestone

Woohoo! It’s time to celebrate!

I just passed two milestones in the novel I’m currently working on: I finished chapter three and officially passed ten thousand words. (Current word count is 10,232 words.)

To celebrate, I’m posting the prologue here on this blog. Enjoy! And please let me know what you think in the comments below. Look for more soon!


The man stepped outside the huge double doors at the end of the darkened hallway. The doors were nearly completely cloaked in darkness, and he could barely make out the two guards blocking the doors. Their black uniforms provided excellent camouflage, and their presence was only revealed by the slight bit of light glinting off their rifles.

“State your business,” one of the guards demanded roughly.

The visitor could feel their eyes boring holes into him. His hands shook as he began his rehearsed statement. “I am here to meet with Leader Menger, ruler of our prestigious regime and general or our undefeatable armed forces.” Even in his fear he nearly laughed at the irony of the last statement.

The other guard snorted in derision. “I think we figured out that much,” he snapped sarcastically.

The first guard ignored his partner. “Unless you give me a good reason right now, you shall be thrown into either the streets or the prison.

The man gulped. “I have been sent by Captain Hensley. You should have record of an appointment,” he added.

The first guard pulled a small electronic device out of his pocket, tapped the screen several times, and looked up at the man. “I see the appointment. You were supposed to come yesterday.”

“I was detained,” the visitor said snippily, surprising himself with his own audacity. The first guard shrugged and helped the other guard open the doors.

The visitor stepped into a surprisingly small and empty room. The only furniture was a chair much like a throne that stood opposite the doors. The chair was almost completely in the shadows of the already-dark room, but the man could make out an imposing figure sitting erect in it.

“What do you want?” The harsh, cold voice sent a shiver of fear down the man’s spine. He wiped his sweaty palms on the sides of his dark brown uniform.

“Leader Menger,” the man began, trying to keep his voice from squeaking. “I have been sent by Captain Hensley on some political matters.” He gave a nervous little bow.

There was a long moment of silence. “Begin!” the voice demanded impatiently, beginning to sound exasperated.

The visitor gave another nervous little bow. “He believes that we should make some policy changes, concerning the way we treat our soldiers and the people whose lands we conquer. He thinks our current actions will not please the World Peace Organization.”

“Oh, curse the WPO!” the voice said harshly. “They can’t do anything to stop me. They are completely unprepared. Go back and tell your ‘honorable captain’ that we shall make no changes.”

The man gasped. “But if we don’t do anything, we shall have IDIA agents crawling all over us!” he blurted before he could stop himself.

The figure rose in his chair. “Guard!” he called. He spoke to the messenger once again. “I do not care about IDIA. They have no power over me, and they shall not get in my way. I have no fear!” he cried as a guard entered the room. “Take him to the prison and make sure he attends the extermination tomorrow.” The guard gave a curt nod and grabbed the messenger’s sleeve. The figure stepped into the light, revealing himself to the messenger for the first time. “I do not care for peace. I did not come all of this way to have my plans ruined by thoughts of peace.”

“America has changed,” the messenger said, his eyes still wide as he looked at the figure.

“We are no longer America!” the man exclaimed. “I, Raltan Menger, am now the Leader of the United Lands of Raltan!”