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Sharing My Unedited Writing Experiences & Life Experiences.

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It’s About Something Not Natural

Before I get to the story part of this I just want to explain to you what I’m looking for help wise. I’ve been working on a second series and I’m getting to the point of flushing out the main issues. I’m wanting to get peoples opinions on the idea and since I now have a Wattpad I thought it would be great to share it on My Works page.

With that said, I have no flippin’ idea what to put it under. I’ve been thinking about this and I’m starting to drive myself a little crazy… okay a little more crazy… than usual. I have no idea what to classify this story as.

Jay is about a freelance genie in the modern world. They partner up with a detective to catch a serial-killer focuses on killing Wishers – the main food source for Genie. Jay needs to find this killer and quick before the humans discover that there are more than just Genies going bump in the night.

Would that make it a murder mystery? Would it be fantasy because it has magical creatures in it… or would I put it under Paranormal since it’s about something not natural… you could even say it’s supernatural:

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Anywho, I will posted the first chapter below and you can make your suggestions since I’m so lost as to where to put this. XD

 

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Chapter 1: Time to Make a Difference

 

I stared into my coffee.

The tar tasting liquid rippled to the same beat my foot tapped against the center leg of the table while my iPod blasted upbeat techno into the cheap dollarstore buds that rested in my ears. After all these years living on this rock nothing compared to the buzz of energy that radiated from hearing a favorite jam shuffle onto my playlist.

Okay, maybe there were two things…

Across from my table at the small cafe on Augusta Ave, right off Queens, a young man sat hunched over tapping away on his cellular contraption. Never had much interest in getting one of those devices – never saw the point. I understood the benefits sure, but I didn’t have enough friends or family to justify the outrageous amount of mullah needed to have one of those things.

It wasn’t his obsessed typing that caught my attention, though.

In a super megatropolis like Toronto, watching the crowds of humans sucked into their 300 dollar mini-computer was a common sight. It was how he was typing. Fingers jabbing in a panicked fray, eyes wide, and mouth open enough to catch the stray fly if he was unlucky. Usually screen junkies typed quick but held the same droned out apathetic expression. His panic, fear, anger, and sadness were flowing out of him like your insides after Chipotle. I could have ignored him. I had done that a million times or more to others in a similar state, but it was what he was typing that intrigued me.

While humans searched for answers in words written on a tiny glass screen I found my answers in their body language. He was too busy to notice the young waitress deliver his latte, not because he had to get to the next level of Candy Crush but for another reason entirely.

The wincing of his brows, the sniffling of his nose… the slight glistening of tears that he held inside as to not make a scene in public were what I saw. The biting of his tongue, the frustrated pulling of his hair and the panicked look around the cafe before forcing himself to take a sip of the latte to try and calm himself – were all I needed to know.

I knew what the kid was going through. I had seen the same painful expression on human faces before. Although the screaming thoughts from inside his head also helped; there was no need to listen to the details.

Mom. Sick. Hospital. Not much time.

                Humans thrived on connections. The whole reasons social media exploded the way it did was for humans desire to feel connected to something bigger then themselves. Before that it was religions and before that tribes. They depended on one another and strived to impress each other. That’s something we never cared for. We didn’t need each other… but it fracking sucked how much we needed these meat suits.

Even with the dependency on humans we were still independent beings. Some of us stuck in crappy jobs, while others – like myself – had the luck to go out on their own. A freelancer, some could say.

That’s why I was sitting in this grated garden chair on the uneven patio lined by a looped metal fence. This was why I was drinking this bitter tar that I honestly didn’t need to drink. This boy was my meal ticket and that’s why I listened to him.

He was like a broken recorded with his thoughts, and although I felt a twinge in my empty chest regarding his feelings about his mom, there were some rules a freelancer like myself needed to follow.

Accident. Life support. Oh God!

The big bearded guy in the sky had nothing to do with it. He gave humans freewill. With that freewill gave the big guy some overdue time off. Of course that’s my own assumption. Never met the being humans called God, Allah… whatever. I didn’t follow their mythology… heck I didn’t follow anything really.

What can I do? How can I help her?

                “Come on, kid,” I grumbled into my coffee before taking a sip. My electric blue bang fell in front of my face before I combed it back with one hand while the other set the chipped mug onto the table. My black fingernails tapped on the sides of the mug, contrasting against the white porcelain.

He only had to say one word.

One word all humans said constantly like it was some kind of greedy prayer.

I looked through the metal grated table at my rolled down combats. They were practical enough with the amount of walking my job required and with this no-shits-given, free-style appearance I had going with my half shaved head and thick framed ‘hipster’ glasses, no one really paid much attention to me. I liked the glasses ‘cause they reminded me of the pair I busted in the 80s, not ‘cause they were hipster. Whatever the hell a hipster was anyway?

I….

                I sat up in my chair, leaning on my elbows along the edge of the unbalanced metal table. From the years of experience the word ‘I’ usually had the word I needed to complete this screen junkie’s request.

I…

                Come on! I wanted to scream, grinding my teeth in anticipation.

I wish her to be okay. I want her to be okay…

                I stood after hearing the magic word, taking a small glass bottle out of the pocket of my sweatshirt as I approached him. I rested my hand on his shoulder. He didn’t notice me and didn’t see me. I was a shadow standing behind him. With knowing that I leaned down close, moving aside his brunette hair to whisper: “You got your wish.”

He didn’t turn around as I gave him a pat on the shoulder. I glanced to his ear, seeing a pale white smoke begin to leak from the cannel onto his shoulder. Wisher essence. Ten times harder than crack and the staple of my diet.

With a pop of the cork I placed the bottle by his ear, allowing the white liquid to fill the bottle. He didn’t react. He just reached to take another sip of his latte before his phone rang.

Slipping the bottle into my pocket, I went through the opening in the metal fence and into the busy morning rush. There came a clattering noise when his chair flew back hitting the pavement when he stood abruptly after hearing the news. I stopped by a newspaper dispenser to admire my work.

Awake? Pull-through? Live? She’ll live! His thoughts flooded my mind. I smirked, knowing all too well what I had done.

 

UPDATE: New site & Gryphons of Gaitan

 

Some of you may know and most of you will know now that I now have an official website for the Prophecy Six Book Series.

As much as I love blogging on here with all of you, I thought getting a site to just focus on my book would be more professional and easier to navigate than my blog. While I’ll continue to post on this site all the fun things you all seem to like to read, like: my quote rants, WWW, Old Word Fridays, and Mixed Feeling Posts – I’ll be moving a lot of my book stuff over to my professional site.

My professional site is – prophecysix.ca

There I will be putting up maps, history of Gaitan, people/ cultures, creatures, updates regarding my book, and many more things in regards to the book series.

 

So to summarize: Blog will be Blog. Website will be strictly book.

I’ll sometimes post fun things on my blog that I want to share with you on both my platforms. But, right now I’ll be dividing my attention to both.

 

NOW! THE WHOLE POINT TO THE POST!!

I posted my first Creatures of Gaitan on my website that takes a closer look into the bird-lions of the North. Some of you may find it interesting. Others may not, but the link to the page will be shared all the same. LINK HERE

 

With that said, I think I’ll return to trying to figure out other ways of promoting my series and try to work on another chapter of Book 2’s first draft. 🙂

 

Writing Prompt: Power of Time

seethroughtime

Sitting up, she jumped at the sight of Pellar kneeling along the edge of the river. He rubbed a stone over his arms and hands, hoping to scrub away the mess that covered him. His forehead was creased, as he stared out towards the other side of the river.

“What happened in there?” Pellar asked, turning to look at her.

His brown eyes were watching her every movement, making sure she wasn’t going to lie.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know or you don’t want to tell? Those are two different things.” Pellar muttered, rubbing the rock harder over his elbows.

“I don’t… I see pictures.” Liora didn’t know what else to call them.

She looked quickly over her shoulder hoping no one else had appeared. It was already strange enough she was telling Pellar about what she was experiencing.

“Everyone does, it’s called vision.” Pellar spat.

“No, I mean…” Liora stopped for a moment, swaying back and forth on her feet trying to find the right words. How was she supposed to explain it if she didn’t know what it was?

“All I know is one minute everyone was panicking and the next everything was calm. Your eyes glassed over, and these three hours of hell ended in twelve minutes of ease. Never in my years have I seen something go so smooth. So you tell me, what happened?” Pellar sat down on the rocks, facing her as he rubbed his thumb against the rock in his hand.

“Shouldn’t you be tending to the new momma and her baby?” Liora asked, looking back at the hut.

“They’re fine, and don’t change the topic.” Pellar narrowed his eyes. “Tell me.”

Liora bit the inside of her cheek. It was strange to talk to someone about what she was seeing, but maybe Pellar knew what it was. He was a ‘healer’ in a way, and she might not have been the only person with this. Still, what she believed it was would have made her sound crazy… but Pellar was crazy anyways so he wouldn’t have been the one to judge.

“Since… I’ve been seeing things since I left home.” Liora muttered, looking at her hands. “I thought I was going crazy… but I don’t think I am.”

“How so?”

“When I touch things or people I get these flashes… like images…” Liora took a deep breath. “I can see things that happened or will happen… that’s insane, right?”

The man tilted his head side-to-side trying to find an answer. She didn’t need him to confirm what she already believed. Her mind was falling apart because of stress. The same thing happened to soldiers, such a thing wasn’t so strange to happen to a survivor.

“Everyone’s a little insane.” Pellar finally said, leaning back along the river. “Though, I don’t think you are.”

“So, you know what’s happening to me?” Liora watched the man shrug.

“Have yah heard of the thing called the veil?”

“Nana says it’s like a curtain between our world and the Gods. Certain times of the year or certain cosmic events are believed to weaken it in places.” That at least was what her nana had said during one of her many lessons. The Moon Festival was believed to be one of those events, allowing the Gods to travel from the Moon to Gaitan with ease.

It was also believed the veil was where all time was kept. The past, present and future was sealed in the veil because the Gods weren’t controlled by time. The veil allowed them to control it, and change it. It allowed them to know the future and alter the past.

“Well your nan ain’t wrong with that. It is like a curtain… but like any curtain certain people can peak behind it. Some people say they can see the veil, but it takes a really special person to actually use it.” Pellar smirked, standing from his place on the riverbank.

“So, you think I can use the veil?” Liora stood up.

“Maybe, I don’t know.” Pellar shrugged. “If you could see through time, what would you do with it?”

That was a good question. If she was able to use the veil and could see through time, like Pellar believed, what was she able to do with it?

“Don’t think too hard, Li. There’s no rush.” Pellar patted her on the head. “Make us some tea, will yah.”

With that he walked back into the hut, leaving Liora to ponder what they had just discussed. Had she survived for a reason? Was this power given to her because she had survived?

But, why me?

There were surely others worthy of living.

Turning to the campfire, Liora stirred the coals before adding a log to the flames. There was already water in the pot over the fire from when Pellar needed it for the birth. Now, Liora was to make it into tea.

Making a relaxing tea would be the best choice. Chamomile and mint, was a relaxing mix. The tea was what her nana always made, and it helped with nerves. Pellar wouldn’t need to relax but the new momma would appreciate it. The tea would also help her calm down, after the strange conversation about the veil.

“Darn it.” Liora looked into the bag of herbs. Pellar hadn’t any chamomile in his bag and he wouldn’t have been the happiest if she went back into the hut.

She was certain she was able to find some along the path back to the village. It wouldn’t take too long.

Hurrying down the gravel path, Liora looked back and forth along the road in hopes of finding the daisy like flower somewhere. It was in season, so that wasn’t the issue.

Just make another tea.

That was the logical thing. Pellar had other herbs she could use to infuse with the water, but chamomile was an essential. When there was nothing else there was chamomile. Her nana taught her so.

Pushing aside the other plants along the path, Liora began to hear a woman calling out a boy’s name.

There were no dangers in the small village. The hunters kept the larger dangers away. Maybe the woman was hurt? Had fallen or possibly got bitten by something?

Liora hurried down the path to see the woman standing in the middle of the road, her hands cupped.

“David! Davi, where are yah!?” She shouted, pausing for a moment to look around.

“Is Davi you’re son?” Liora asked, noticing the woman quickly look at her before continuing to look through the woods. The woman was holding close to a jacket in her arms. The arm was torn and a button was missing.

“He’s mine, yeah.” The woman spouted before shouting, “Davi, where are yah love!?”

Liora looked around. The boy wasn’t on this path. She felt like they were in the wrong place. The jacket held the answer. She didn’t know why she thought that, but she needed to touch the torn flannel.

Running her hand along the soft blue material, she watched the woman pull away. Everything slowed down like it had in the hut, as she couldn’t hear the woman’s insults only the slow moaning of her words. The forest froze, there was no wind. The birds in the tree slowly flapped their wings until an image appeared.

A chubby boy with freckles was running along the river’s edge. She watched him jump onto the log before losing his balance. Just as he hit the water, the image ended.

“You little thief. You were going to take my Davi’s jacket weren’t you?” The woman lifted her hand, as Liora grabbed it.

“He fell in the river. Come on.” She shouted, watching the woman’s eyes widen.

Liora pulled the woman along the path down to the river’s edge where she saw the log. It was there; down by the small wooden bridge she spotted the boy along the bank.

“There!” Liora shouted, hurrying across the uneven bank to where the boy was pinched. It was then she rolled him over and put her fingers on the side of his neck. His heart was beating strong. “He’s alive.”

Liora watched the woman wander over slowly, as she looked at the girl. She knelt down to look at her son, as the boy began to cough up water.

“You little idiot!” The woman shouted, grabbing her boy by the collar. “How many times have I told you not to go near the river?”

“I’m sorry momma.” The boy coughed, while his mother shook him. Tears rolled down her face.

“Thank you, girl. Thank the Gods for yah.” The woman cried, wrapping her boy into a hug.

Liora smiled, sitting there by the two on the river’s edge. Pellar would wonder where she went, but it was more important to make sure the boy was safe.

This was what Liora wanted to do with her powers. She would help who she could with her new ability. Her nana would have wanted that and so, that was what Liora was going to do.

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