Twinepathy (Part 5): That’s Disappointing

Hullo, everyone! I’m here with another part of Twinepathy! Have you been enjoying it? I hope you have, ’cause things are about to get crazier… New? Start here.

Brooklyn stares at the fake volleyball like she’s expecting it to explode, and Madison backs away carefully. Nothing happens. I sigh. “Well, that’s disappointing.”

Brooklyn glares at me. “That’s fortunate! What if something had happened, and it blew up or sprayed acid or something?”

I tilt my head. “You need to read more books. Things don’t happen that way. If it was a bomb, it would have had a countdown clock on it, of course.”

She narrows her eyes. “You’re teasing me. Listen, Albany, this isn’t one of those dumb novels. There’s no guarantee that things will turn out right no matter what.”

You’re forgetting about little Maddie, I remind her telepathically. Lighten up a bit. Sure, I know how high the stakes could be, but to be honest, all we have is… well, a little girl with amnesia and a strange ball with a button on it. That doesn’t really seem all that dangerous to me.

Brooklyn sighs. “Would you like some more water, Madison?” she asks.

Madison nods. “Yes, please.” Why does she have to be so adorable? It makes me want to give her whatever she asks for.

Brooklyn goes to the kitchen, and I get Maddie to sit down on the couch next to me. “So you don’t remember this at all?” I ask, holding up the ball.

She shakes her head, then pauses. “Well…”

I lean forward. “What? Are you remembering something?”

Maddie frowns. “Not… not remembering exactly. But I keep getting the urge to do something, like…” Her frown deepens. “Something with my hands. It doesn’t have anything to do with that.” She motions toward the ball.

Now I’m frowning. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know. I just… I just can’t remember what it is.” Her little fists clench. “And I don’t want to try it in case… something bad happens.”

I pat her shoulder awkwardly. “I know. We’ll figure it out, don’t worry.”

Brooklyn comes back into the room and hands Maddie a glass of water. “There you go.” She turns to me. “Albany, I—” Her eyes pop halfway out of her head as she stares over my shoulder.

I spin around instantly, expecting Mom and Dad, or Denver, or something else relatively… normal. Or even something absolutely terrible. But no. All I see is a cute guy I’ve never seen before, leaning against the doorframe, a mask covering most of his face. His fancy suit and cocky manner are almost jarring. He smirks at us and tosses a wink. “Hey, girls. What’s up?”

Whaaaat??? Who is this masked man? (*cough* Couldn’t resist…) What’s going to happen next? How did he even get there? Guess we’ll have to wait to find out…

If you’d like to be part of the cover reveal, please contact me using the Talk To The Writer page. We’d love to have you!

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Twinepathy (Part 1): The Beginning

Hullo, everyone! Here’s that surprise I mentioned yesterday. It’s been over a month since the end of Avengers’ Isle, which was a ton of fun, and it seemed like all of you enjoyed it, too. Rather than start a sequel (which I was tempted to do after watching Age of Ultron), I decided to take a story I was planning and turn it into a serial story for your enjoyment. I present to you part one of Twinepathy. Enjoy, my dear friends! If you like it, share!

Hello, my name is Albany, and I have a telepathic connection with my twin sister, along with the ability to read minds.

Well, that may not be the best start, but I’m pretty proud of it. It makes this sound like it’s going to be an awesome story. Which it is. But the beginning… well… I promise it’ll get more exciting than this.

“Go fish.”

Denver, my older brother, moaned and drew a card from the small stack. “How can you guys beat me at everything?”

Brooklyn, twin sister extraordinaire and social butterfly, gives him a mischievous grin. “You’re just too obvious.”

Denver gives me a helpless look, and I shrug. “I’m losing, too.”

“And if I win…” Brooklyn studies her hand. “You have to treat me to dinner, Denver.”

He makes a moaning sound. “Okay, fine. But not tonight. You know I’ve got a date.”

Brooklyn makes a face. If there’s one thing she dislikes, it’s Denver dating. She would definitely prefer to only have to share him with me and Mom and Dad. It doesn’t matter to her that Ezra’s a sweet, slightly awkward girl that Denver’s gone head over heels for. It also doesn’t matter to her that she hardly does anything with him, anyway… but I digress.

“Two,” Brooklyn says to me. I mutter something under my breath and hand a card to her. She sniffs the air. “Your cookies are burning.”

I fly into the kitchen. I’m no cook, but I had to try the bacon cookie recipe I found. I mean, hello, bacon and cookies! My two favorite foods just have to be amazing together. I should’ve known I’d burn them. I can’t cook anything.

I pull out the extra crispy cookies just as the doorbell rings. “You should get that while you’re up,” Denver calls. I roll my eyes. I’ll be he and Brooklyn are laughing. I hate checking the door. Technically, since Mom and Dad aren’t here – they’re on a date – Denver should answer the door, since he’s the oldest. But of course they’ll make me do it. I check the cookies. Yep, they’re burnt enough that no one will want to eat them, not even me. I’ll have to beg Mom to try the recipe for me. What a waste of bacon and cookie. I sigh and wipe my hands on a towel before heading to the door.

I peer out the peephole and don’t see anything until I look down. There, on our doorstep, is a little girl in a ratty red dress, hair tangled and face smudged. She looks around eight years old, maybe a little less. I send a mental image of her to Brooklyn before opening the door.

“Hello,” I say, gazing at her. I notices she’s not wearing shoes, and her dress looks fairly new, just dirty and torn. “Who are you?”

She looks up at me with haunting blue eyes – hollow, scared, lost. Her mouth opens, as if she’s going to speak, but an odd expression crosses her face. She wobbles, then crumples to the ground, out cold.

Well, what do you think so far? Thoughts, comments? Comment below! Your comment could be the difference between the continuation of this series… and the end. No pressure…

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Tales From The Writer’s Desk: So Many Stories

Hullo, everyone! This is a little piece that came out of my frustration for all the new story ideas I keep getting. All stories mentioned are real works-in-progress or new ideas. Enjoy!

I’m literally banging my head on my desk when Benedict comes into my office. He coughs, and I look up, rubbing my now sore forehead. “Yes?” I grumble.

Benedict hands me an envelope. “Another one, from Shadow.”

I let the envelope fall onto the desk, rolling my eyes at the “Confidential” stamp on it. Shadow is the guy who dishes up ideas for me. Right now he is the person I am quite angry with. Emphasis on angry.

“Would you like me to read it for you?” Benedict offers. He’s so helpful, bless his heart. If he weren’t here, I probably would have thrown my computer out the third story window by now.

I sigh and push the envelope across the desk to him. “Does he really think I need this many ideas? This is, like, the fourth one this week! Honestly! I mean, I really loved that twin idea, and the ideas for Chloe were super helpful, but I can’t write all of these at once!”

Benedict’s eyes widen as he reads, and he grins. “This one’s good.”

I groan. “I don’t think I want to hear it.”

He dangles the paper in front of me. “Contemporary Robin Hood story with the possibility of becoming a Cinderella crossover… Oh, and it even has a pretty nice first line.”

I snatch the paper away and read it excitedly. “Oooh! I love it!” I hug the paper to my chest, then moan. “But I have so many other stories…”

Benedict pats my shoulder. “You’ll be fine, Bri. Just set it aside for now and write down any ideas that come to mind. You can make it your reward for getting Chloe’s story done.”

I gaze longingly at the story idea. “Benedict, if you get any more envelopes from Shadow, do me a favor and hide them, okay? I’ve already got two possibilities for NaNoWriMo projects… I don’t think I need any more options.”

Benedict smiled. “Of course.”

Well, what about you? Do you have too many story ideas, or not enough? What’s your favorite not-yet-written idea? Comment below!

Tales From The Writer’s Desk: Blogiversary Bash

Warning: Craziness follows. For more information about characters, click the links provided. 😉 Enjoy!!!

“So… why are we here?” Slade asks. He leans back in the chair, arms behind his head.

I gape at him. “What?”

“Why was I dragged here?” Slade says, raising an eyebrow.

“We didn’t drag you here,” Wilson says, plopping down in another chair nearby. “We said, ‘Come on, there’s going to be cake,’ and you came.”

“And I haven’t seen any cake.” Slade leaned forward. “You didn’t lie to me, did you?”

Iris leans against my desk. “Bri said there would be cake,” she says. All eyes turn to me.

“Um.” This is a tough position. “I think all of you might have misunderstood. While there will most likely be birthday cake, as long as Adelyn doesn’t make… er, attempt to make… it, I-I wasn’t talking about cake the food. I was talking about Cake the person.”

Silence. “You–” Ellis stutters. “There’s a person named Cake?”

“Blame Adelyn,” I grumble. “She’s the one who gave him the nickname when he wouldn’t tell her his name.”

“I’m more concerned about the apparent lack of food cake,” Slade says, looking very upset.

Haven stands up. “I can take care of that.”

I give her a grateful smile and she ducks her head shyly before turning to leave the room. Benedict comes in, and I point towards a seat. “Sit,” I command. “You don’t need to work. This is a party. Everyone can show themselves in here.”

He sits down reluctantly, and Iris leans forward, eyes sparkling. “So, this Cake guy. Does he have a real name?”

I make a face. “He says he does, but he won’t tell me, so sometimes I wonder.”

The door opens and Adelyn walks in, followed by Cake, Jet, and Chase, her story companions. “I can’t believe you’ve been around for a whole year,” Adelyn says, giving me a present.

“Uh, it’s not my birthday,” I say, face turning red.

“Yeah, but it’s the blog’s, and it’s pretty much the same thing,” Adelyn insists. “Besides, I burned the cake.” She looks around the room at everyone. “Well, this is our first time here. I can’t believe it! It’s so cool. I meant to talk to you about an interview, Bri,” she hints.

I clear my throat, but I’m interrupted as the door opens again. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got the next turn,” Chloe says, walking in. Her cane taps slowly against the floor, and Benedict helps her find a chair. Melissa rolls in after her, parking her wheelchair next to Chloe’s chair. There’s a slight tap at the door as it starts to close and then Pam rolls in.

“Yay for the only one whose story is actually finished and published,” Slade grumbles, giving me a pointed look.

Pam’s cheeks redden. “Are you almost finished typing up our post-book interview?” she asks me.

Now my face is hot. “Um. Getting close, yes.” I stand up quickly. “Since we’re obviously limited on space, you all are the only ones I’ve invited.”

“Yay, no Marba!” Ellis says, grinning.

“I don’t have a villain,” Pam says, frowning.

“Same.” Chloe shifts in her chair. “Or do you just mean that you didn’t invite my mom? She’s not exactly a villain.”

“Um.” Abstract villains? “Technically your conflicts are internal. But that doesn’t matter now, why don’t we just enjoy ourselves?”

Haven walks in carrying a cake, and Slade leaps up to hold the door for her. I’m not sure if it’s because of the cake or Haven. I hide a smile. “How did you even make it that fast?” Iris says, eyes wide.

Haven smiles and sends me a wink. “I came prepared.” She’s always thinking ahead, of course, and she probably decided to bring a cake, just in case.

We set the cake down in the middle of my desk, which is cleaned off for once. Everyone gathers around, and Benedict and I blow out the candles. I roll my eyes at him, but he just smiles.

Slade reaches for the cake. “This is mine, okay? You guys can find your own…”

I smack his hands away and pick up the knife. “Who wants a slice?”

Here’s to a full year of writerly blogging! And free cake for all you wonderful followers! Oh… and a giveaway! Comment below and you’ll be entered for a chance to win a PDF copy of Paralyzed Dreams!

Make sure to use a valid email address when commenting, as this is how I’ll send the book.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Happy Mother’s Day to all of the wonderful mothers out there! I hope your kids have shown how much they love you…

sinceiopenedmyeyes

And that you’ve laughed plenty, as well.

notfunny

I saw this quote/story on Goodreads, and I thought I’d share it with everyone.

When God Created Mothers

By Erma Bombeck

When the Good Lord was creating mothers, He was into His sixth day of “overtime” when the angel appeared and said. “You’re doing a lot of fiddling around on this one.”

And God said, “Have you read the specs on this order?” She has to be completely washable, but not plastic. Have 180 moveable parts…all replaceable. Run on black coffee and leftovers. Have a lap that disappears when she stands up. A kiss that can cure anything from a broken leg to a disappointed love affair. And six pairs of hands.”

The angel shook her head slowly and said. “Six pairs of hands…. no way.”

It’s not the hands that are causing me problems,” God remarked, “it’s the three pairs of eyes that mothers have to have.”

That’s on the standard model?” asked the angel. God nodded.

One pair that sees through closed doors when she asks, ‘What are you kids doing in there?’ when she already knows. Another here in the back of her head that sees what she shouldn’t but what she has to know, and of course the ones here in front that can look at a child when he goofs up and say. ‘I understand and I love you’ without so much as uttering a word.”

God,” said the angel touching his sleeve gently, “Get some rest tomorrow….”

I can’t,” said God, “I’m so close to creating something so close to myself. Already I have one who heals herself when she is sick…can feed a family of six on one pound of hamburger…and can get a nine year old to stand under a shower.”

The angel circled the model of a mother very slowly. “It’s too soft,” she sighed.

But tough!” said God excitedly. “You can imagine what this mother can do or endure.”

Can it think?”

Not only can it think, but it can reason and compromise,” said the Creator.

Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek.

There’s a leak,” she pronounced. “I told You that You were trying to put too much into this model.”

It’s not a leak,” said the Lord, “It’s a tear.”

What’s it for?”

It’s for joy, sadness, disappointment, pain, loneliness, and pride.”

You are a genius, ” said the angel.

Somberly, God said, “I didn’t put it there.”

Happy Mother’s Day!

Beautiful People April: Siblings – Teel and Peri

Check out the main post here.

Check out the main post here.

Whew, just barely making it! This is my first time doing the Beautiful People tag, and it’s perfect for one of the stories I’m working on. The current working title is The Standard, and two of the main characters, Teel and Peri, are sisters. And twins. So, let the questions begin!

<I>And, yes, I am going to use Thor and Loki memes and gifs. Because siblings.</I> Continue reading

A Special Day…

Hi, everyone! Guess what today is? Never mind… It’s my mom’s birthday! ❤

You may or may not know that I dedicated Paralyzed Dreams to my mom. I also stole her name for the book. 😛 In honor of her birthday, I decided it was a good time to tell how I came up with the idea for the book. So, I present to you the Story Behind The Story.


 

When I first decided to write a story for my mom for her birthday, I already had a bit of experience under my belt. I had started (without finishing) a ton of stories, and I had just finished my very first nearly-book-length story. I was thrilled, and I couldn’t wait to get started on my next story.

Then I had an idea. I had written the first story for a friend for her birthday. Why not write a story for my faithful editor (aka my mom) for Christmas? So, pencil and notebook in hand, I set off to write a story for my mom.

Several problems arose immediately. I knew that I wanted to have the main character named after my mom, but I also knew that I couldn’t really write from an adult’s perspective. I also had no idea for a plot, or a theme, or even any other major parts in the story.

Somehow I thought of volleyball. My mom had played volleyball when she was younger – in fact, that’s how she and my dad met. So why not write a story centered around volleyball? Somewhere along the line I had the idea to show how we can have faith through the hard times, even when it feels like everything is crashing down. And, voila, the plot for Paralyzed Dreams was born.

Of course, I had to do research on volleyball, since I knew absolutely nothing about it. Google is amazing. I also had to look up things about wheelchair accessible vans. The church and youth group I based off of my own, and the trip to the nursing home was based off of a trip I took with my youth group. And yes, we did play chair volleyball. Jeremy was based off of a certain person that you might know… but you’ll have to check out the other posts to find out about that.

As always, there were struggles during writing. There always are, and there will never cease to be. But with a little perseverance, I finished the story with plenty of time left for my dad to edit it before Christmas. With his help, I got the story edited and ready, and on December 25, we had a bound copy from Office Max waiting for my mom under the tree. I was so proud to have written a story for her.

And I’m so proud to be able to share this story with you, too! If you’ve read it, thanks so much! I’d love to hear what you think of it, and what it has taught you. If you haven’t read it, go ahead and check it out!


 

Happy birthday, Mommy! I hope everyone has enjoyed this… and check out the book! Buying copies is a great way to wish my mom a happy birthday… 😉

The 777 Writing Challenge

Hi, everyone! Today I was sort-of tagged for the 777 challenge by Lynette Noni!

The 777 challenge requires you go to Page 7 of your work-in-progress, scroll down to Line 7 and share the next 7 lines in a blog post. Once you have done this, you can tag 7 other bloggers to do the same with their work-in-progress.

Since my two main stories that I’m working on are still in the plotting stages, I decided to share from the story I’m currently editing. This worked out perfectly to the first time we see the villain! And don’t worry, you’ll be hearing more about this story soon.


Marba wove her way down the hallway between the small groups of people. They didn’t pay any attention to her, and she repaid them with the same treatment. You could tell which trainees were new; they were the ones who stared at her in awe as she walked past. Most of the seasoned trainees, and those who had completed training, had grown used to her commanding stature.

“Marba,” an authoritative voice called from behind her. The very sound of that voice was enough to silence all of the conversation in the hallway.


What a perfect ending! 😀 Now for those people I tag…

icedmocha34

erinkenobi2893

awkwardlyartistic

Ashlee Willis

writefury

Robyn Hoode

And if you’re reading this, I tag YOU as my seventh person! 😀

What did you think of the excerpt? Are you going to do the challenge? Well, are you????

Pevensie – A Captain America/Chronicles of Narnia Crossover

Helloooo, everyone! Because of the Super-Duper Fan Fiction Crossover Challenge (What a mouthful. SDFFCC?), I decided I should write a quick crossover as an example. And because the idea randomly came to mind. So this is a Captain America/Chronicles of Narnia crossover, inspired by the fact that both Steve and Mr. Pevensie (we believe) fought in World War II. Note that there is no quote used here, as I didn’t do it for the challenge, and the quote is not required. Enjoy!!!! 😀

Steve let the book fall down into his lap as he stared off into space. It couldn’t be. Could it? He glanced down at the page. He wouldn’t have thought anything of it until he saw the last name. Could this actually be real?

He hated seeing people go down. Friends, acquaintances, even people he didn’t know. All of them had families, loved ones, children waiting for them to come home. But he always would go to the medical tents after a big battle and encourage the men there. It was his way of giving back.

Today, there was another man helping him. He told the wounded men about his kids, funny things they had done, stories they’d made up. He made them smile – some even managed to laugh. He and Steve left together, and Steve noticed the man’s eyes filling as they left.

Steve made him stop. “Are you okay?”

The man shook his head. “That could be me in there. Sometime before this war is over, I probably will be in there, if I don’t die right away.”

Steve put a hand on the man’s arm. “You should think like that…” He paused, not knowing the man’s name.

“Pevensie,” the man said. He looked at Steve. “You’re Steve Rogers, of course.”

Steve gave a small smile. “Yes.”

Pevensie stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a thick envelope. “I’ve been looking for someone trustworthy to give this to, and I can’t think of a better man than you. Could you make sure this gets to my children? There are letters for each of them in there, and one for my wife, Helen, too.”

Steve nodded. “I’d be glad to, sir. What are your children’s names?”

“Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy,” Pevensie said. “My wife said the children were evacuated to the country, staying at a professor’s house.”

Steve gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You can count on me, Pevensie.”

Pevensie.

Steve looked down at the book. Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy. Pevensie. Staying at a professor’s house. Professor Kirk. Could it be true? Could there really be a magic wardrobe? Another world?

He didn’t know what had become of the letter. He’d never had a chance to mail it or hand it over to anyone. He’d had it with him during the crash. It must’ve been so waterlogged that someone threw it out. Either that, or… could SHIELD still have it somewhere?

He wouldn’t have even given it a chance if he didn’t know about Thor. If Asgard was real, why not Narnia?

So as you can see, the story doesn’t have to be long, and it can involve any connection. 🙂 Stay tuned for a Word War announcement for Monday. After all, it’s a holiday, we should take advantage of it! 😀

REDSKULL1

Flash Fiction Fan Fiction

Helloooo, everyone! It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything, but that’s mostly because the list of book reviews and character interviews I need to work on has gotten pretty intimidating.

But, while I work on those, I might as well give you something to enjoy. Because everyone likes some Captain America fanfiction, right? Titleless as of yet, I think you’ll still enjoy it. Oh, and this takes place right after the Marvel One-Shot Agent Carter, but you’ll still get it if you haven’t seen it. 😉

Peggy searched the small crowd for a familiar face.
“Peggy! Over here!” Howard’s voice called out. She pushed her way towards him and fell into a slightly awkward hug. “How has Flynn been treating you?”
Peggy smiled. “Let’s just say I’m glad to be done with him. How’ve you been?”
He shrugged, but she detected a hint of sorrow on his face. “Pretty good.” He averted his gaze. “Well, let’s drop your bags off in the hotel and head out for something to eat. Maybe some–” He stopped, and it wasn’t that hard to guess what he was going to say.
“I’d love some fondue,” Peggy said cheerfully, the fakeness carefully hidden. “You know you don’t have to walk on eggshells around me, Howard.”
He nodded and picked up her bags. “Right. Well, let’s get going.”
The hotel wasn’t too far, and Howard told her it was only temporary, until SHIELD was officially started and she had time to look for a house. After eating, Howard dropped her off at the hotel, and she retired early. The next morning, Howard took her on a tour of the building that he’d purchased for SHIELD. The tour was achingly long, and then Howard got an odd look on his face and stopped by a door. “This is your office,” he announced, opening the door.
Peggy stepped inside, gazing around at the beautiful room. The desk was beautiful, and Howard had been thoughtful enough to put a few special touches on the room, including a picture of Steve on the desk. She touched the frame, gazing down at the tall, muscular man in the picture.
“I’ll just leave you alone,” Howard said quietly, slipping out of the office. Peggy sat in the leather office chair, setting down the briefcase she’d brought with her. She opend it and set a smaller frame next to the picture. Steve, skinny. Before and after.
She closed her eyes and reached into her briefcase again. She dug around until she found her pocket knife. Then she flipped it open, found an unobtrusive corner of the desk and carefully drew the knife across its surface.
Seventy Years Later
The carving had been worn and smoothed by time. The letters hadn’t disappeared, the handwriting achingly familiar. His finger traced the word. Steve.
If she could’ve known that he’d be reading this years later, decades later, would she have put more? Would she have written something to him? Would she have left her feelings, her thoughts, her love, just a simple note?
If only he could go back.
A lone tear trickled down his cheek and landed on the desk.