Tag Archives: Writing

Nostalgia

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For #LineByLineTime

I’ve been reading a thread on food banks today. It reminded me of the times of food shortages in my family. My parents worked hard, both of them, but poverty is harder. My dad was a dead shot, but had no money to buy a gun or bullets. He didn’t know how to make traps. One very low point for the family came when we no longer had chickens or rabbits to eat. We could not afford larger animals. We could not afford seeds to grow vegetables or fruits. There were no wild plants to harvest.

Just as we were getting desperate, my mother discovered several gallon jars in the back of a closet that held giant pickles. The year before, a farmer had given Mom a bushel of overgrown cucumbers, too large and tough to sell. She didn’t have much time to do anything to preserve them before they spoiled, so she jammed them into the gallon jars she collected somewhere and poured vinegar over them, screwed the lids on, and shoved them into the closet out of the way.

We lived for a month eating nothing but half of one of those giant pickles in the morning and the other half in the evening. It was boring, but it filled our bellies. Our hair and nails looked great (if you know, you know) and we were healthy despite the monotonous diet.

At the end of the month, the pickles were finished. My dad found a job again and we were able to go to the store and buy staple foods again. We went through lean times later, but never so drastic as that.

Excerpt from “Project Burning Bush”

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For #LineByLineTime : “Exercise”

Nita watched with raised eyebrows as Minji stretched in the brightening light as the sun rose over the horizon. “Why are you moving in slow motion?”

Minji rolled her eyes as she flowed into different positions. “This is tai chi. It is exercise, martial art, and good for improving overall health. I am stiff and sore after sleeping on that hard ground, so I am stretching.”

“Huh,” Nita muttered and began her own set of movements.

Harper tilted his head. “If Dragonlady is doing tai chi, what are you doing?”

“Yoga, mostly. I got dragged to an old ladies’ exercise class a couple of times a week. At first I was mad, but it did make me feel better, so I kept it up.”

Luthor pulled his teeshirt off and hung it carefully on a branch. “Yoga’s good: so is tai chi. I do a lot of weightlifting, but regular calisthenics as well to keep limber. You need to do some exercising, Harper, to at least keep from getting sore.” He dropped to the ground and began doing pushups.

“I don’t know,” Harper sighed. “It’s hard without music.”

“Music? Why do you need music?” Nita scoffed from her tripod headstand.

“I just find it easier to practice my ballet movements if music is playing.”

The other three teens froze. “Ballet? You do ballet?” Luthor choked out.

Harper sniffed. “Nah, I’m just messing with you.” He started giggling, then progressed to howls of laughter. “The looks on your faces!”

Excerpt from “Chronicles of Dark Moon”

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for #LineByLineTime : “Enter the Bad Guy”

Marie glanced at the door as it opened. The monster across from her scowled at the person entering, then changed his expression to a twisted attempt at a smile, before settling into a nervous blinking.

“Mr. Bennett! Good to see you! Have any questions for our guest?” The monster tried to sound welcoming, but his fear expressed itself in his hands leaving sweat stains on his pants as he rubbed his thighs and shuffled his feet.

Bennett met her uninterested eyes with a flat stare. Marie suddenly felt her memories slide into her present. The jihadists who had kept her prisoner for two years had the same empty expression, a soulless lack of interest in her health, emotions, or future. Maybe this one will just kill me, she thought. Maybe I’ll get lucky. What could they want me for?

“He IS a disposable lackey,” the man said abruptly. He laid a pistol on the table in front of Marie. “Dispose of him.”

“Hey!” the monster yelped.

Bennett flicked his eyes over the other man. “She was right. You killed her husband without permission because you’re stupid. You got rid of someone we could have used to control her. I don’t keep stupid people around.” He looked back at Marie. “He’s all yours.”

Marie sneered. “I stopped killing on order when I became a teacher. You take out your own trash.”

Bennett shrugged. “Fine.” He picked up the pistol and shot the monster between the eyes. The impact flipped the monster’s chair backward and dumped his corpse on the floor, his too-slow unspoken protest only in his expression.

Bennett looked up at the camera. “Get a cleaning crew in here.” He headed for the door. “Follow me. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

“Why do you need to keep a recently widowed teacher captive?”

“I have an interest in some of your students. And who knows, I may need you to teach a few classes.”

Excerpt from WIP “Voice of the Dragon”

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For #LineByLineTime : First Ten Lines

“Do they always stare at you like that when you relieve yourself?”

His brother twisted his head from side to side, looking over both shoulders. “Who is staring?” He finished and refastened his leggings. “Everyone here knows better than to stare at the king when you relieve yourself, not to mention me.”

The king straightened his clothing. “Not your men. THEM.” He jerked his head up. The Dragonlord followed his gaze. His jaw dropped as he met the hostile stares of the dragons perched on the slate roof of the building across the courtyard.

Excerpt: Voice of the Dragon

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For #LineByLineTime : “Pogey Bait”

The kitchen door flew open before Hannah’s outstretched arms. Bestia squawked over the girl’s head as she bounced in the backpack. Mrs. Fredrick looked around , her eyes wide.

“What on earth, child?”

Hannah came to an abrupt halt, bouncing in place. Bestia squawked again and flapped her wings. She thumped the top of Hannah’s head with her chin in rebuke. Hannah stilled and offered a stroke of her hand in apology. Bestia calmed and rested her head on the girl’s.

“Now what has you bouncing that poor dragonet all about, girl?” the woman demanded.

“Gerald said you bought honey from the palace beekeeper! Will you make candy? Did you? Can I have some, pleeeease?” Hannah clasped her hands under her chin and stared at the Dragonmaster’s wife with her best begging expression.

“Tsk! I told that boy to keep his mouth shut about that. I’ll have everybody in the Dragonhold in here begging now. What makes you think you deserve candy, hmm?”

Hannah blinked and dropped to her knees. “Oh, Mrs. Fredrick, I don’t deserve any, I know, but I would be ever so grateful if you gave me some! I’ll do anything you ask! Anything!”

“That sweet tooth of yours will get you in trouble someday, Hannah. Never tell anybody what your weakness is. I could make you do something really nasty, the way you talk.”

Hannah grinned. “Only you and Gerald know, I swear! And you won’t make me do anything truly awful, will you?”

“You’ll owe me until I think of something, how’s that? I’m too busy to have you underfoot today.” She turned away and reached into a bowl on the table. “Here. A piece for you. Take this one to Gerald. Make sure it gets to him, hear me? I’ll find out.” She raised an eyebrow as Bestia sniffed at the candy Hannah was about to shove in her mouth. “Think she wants a piece?”

“Don’ know,” Hannah mumbled around her treat. “Don’ thing she ‘ver had any.”

“Hmm. Why don’t we see?” She picked up a fragment of the crystallized honey and offered it on the palm of her hand to the tiny dragon.

Hannah turned her head to watch her companion wrap her tongue around the candy. The dragonet suddenly spat it across the room where it bounced off the wall and landed in the fireplace. It caramelized in the fire and quickly vanished. The dragonet flapped her wings and her tongue and made disgusted noises.

Both humans laughed heartily. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that one stealing your candy, Hannah!”

Excerpt from “Voice of the Dragon”

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( A Work in Progress)

Gerald thought he was having a nightmare as he felt a hand press over his mouth.

He prayed it was a nightmare as his eyes snapped open to see his stepbrother grinning down at him.

“You’ve been a bad boy,” the nightmare whispered. “Time for you to confess!”

Gerald tried to scream for help, but his stepbrother just pinched his nose closed until he felt darkness crowding back in. His stepbrother almost crushed his jaw as he whispered in the smaller boy’s ear. “Silence, wretch, or I’ll pound you ’til you wish you were dead! The archbishop has determined you are to be punished for shunning your confessions and the services. I’m going to enjoy every moment of it. He has promised I can wield the whip for part of it.”

His victim fell limp, too terrified to resist any longer. There was no help to be found. He didn’t even bother praying. God had abandoned him when his father died.

Hugo dragged his stepbrother outside through the open window. He paused and looked around. “Thomas! Henry? Where did you go? Cowards! They probably ran back to the archbishop, afraid of the dragons. As if they were any threat to a real man! Hah!”

He shoved Gerald before him, his big calloused hand still crushing Gerald’s jaw. “Move, piglet! There’s plenty of pain for you before dawn!”

Gerald struggled to breathe through the nostrils quickly swelling from Hugo’s pinch. His eyes were blurry and barely noticed a shadow on the flagstone beneath him before his ears registered a splash and he felt hot liquid on his bare feet.

Hugo jerked him to a halt as his expensive boots splashed in the dark puddle. “What the -? That had better not be dragon piss, or I’ll make you lick it off my boots!”

Gerald stumbled sideways as Hugo stepped back onto dry pavement. His tormentor paused again as a wet thump sounded behind them. Spinning them both around, he and Gerald both stared at the bloody head slowly rolling to a halt. There was another wet splash, and the body once attached to the head landed beside it. A whimper sounded above them. They both looked up.

Hugo’s hand shook as it fell away from Gerald’s mouth. “Thomas?” he whispered.

Thomas whimpered again as he swung slowly in the air, upside down at rooftop height, the Hordemaster’s tail tightly coiled around him, covering his mouth with the triangular tip. Sulfur tainted the air around them as the huge dragon bared his fangs and exhaled over them.

“The Hordemaster does not approve of kidnappers of children.” Gerald’s eyes finally moved from the Hordemaster’s giant fangs and focused on Hannah perched on the dragon’s head, silhouetted by moonlight. She leaned forward. “Henry tried to hit me. The dragons don’t like that. They don’t like to see any child hurt. Thomas hasn’t done anything, but he shouldn’t be here at all. Neither should you. You’ve hurt Gerald. You’re young, so the Hordemaster hasn’t decided what to do with you, but you will be punished. If you ever come back here, he might decide to eat you!”

Hugo screamed and shoved Gerald away as he ran. But he only managed a few feet before a scaly tail coiled around his feet, yanking him upside down and swinging him through the air. He screamed again and thrashed, but the tail did not loosen. Instead, it swung him with a loud thud against the rock wall of the dragons’ den. He fell silent and hung limply, unconscious.

Gerald tracked the tail to the dragon it was attached to. The Hordemaster’s mate Caldea was gazing at his stepbrother as if wondering if he would make a decent meal. “Don’t eat him,” Gerald croaked. “He’d probably poison you.”

Torches and alarmed men swarmed the courtyard. “What is going on out here?” Frederick bellowed at the front of the crowd. “What – who is that? Who are those two? Why are the dragons holding them?” He grabbed the loose head by the hair and held it up away from him as it dripped. “Gerald! Hannah! Explain this!” But before they could, he waved the head at the men holding torches and swords. “Get this mess cleaned up before the flies descend!”

Excerpt from Voice of the Dragon

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For #LineByLineTime : “Reverie”

Gerald stared out at the palace grounds from his perch on top of the dragon stables. The view was extensive from this height, but not as vast as seen from the back of a flying dragon. He sighed quietly, thinking of the Dragon Master’s words to him earlier that day.

“I know you’d like to fly with us on patrol, son, but you’re just not big enough. It takes muscle to control these dragons. You’re the youngest we’ve ever had sent to us, and even the full-grown lads had to work on building their bodies before we could even start to train them. You just have to wait and grow and learn what you can along the way. As it is, you’ll be ahead of many of the grown men we’ll get.”

Gerald remembered his argument. “But Hannah is smaller than me and she flies all the time!”

The Dragon Master had smiled kindly, if a little ruefully. “But she doesn’t control them, does she? She just goes wherever they decide to go.”

That was certainly true, Gerald thought. It didn’t bother Hannah at all to not be in control. Gerald hated not being in control. His whole life was controlled by others. He’d like to make the decisions about his life just once in a while.

A noise behind him made him turn his head just as Grunther thrust his scaly head over Gerald’s shoulder and settled its weight on the boy. Gerald froze. Normally when the young dragon got this close, he was snapping and huffing at him. But the dragon did not move, except to heave what sounded very much like a human sigh as he, too, stared out at the grounds.

Gerald dared to lay a hand on the dragon’s neck and stroked it slowly. The dragon’s jaw dipped to lay on Gerald’s chest, until a flight of dragons passed overhead. Grunther raised his chin and watched them until they were out of sight, then made a mournful sound and dropped his head again.

Enlightenment struck the boy. “You, too?” he whispered. It felt like a moment for whispers. “They told you that you were too young and small, too, didn’t they? You know just how I feel.” Grunther tilted his head just enough for his double-lidded eye to stare at Gerald for an instant before his breath gusted out in a sulfurous wind, and he dropped his head to lie across the boy’s chest again.

The human resumed stroking his companion and leaned his head against the creature he once feared. They were two of a kind after all, and understood each other. Gerald still regretted not being allowed to ride patrol yet, but at least now there was some company in his misery.

Excerpt from Voice of the Dragon

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For #LineByLineTime : Autumn

Gerald swiveled his head, taking in the brilliant colors of the trees on both sides of the road. His stepfather’s guard held his horse’s lead rope. They probably didn’t trust him not to make a run for freedom. That was wise of them.

He sighed quietly. This time of year had always been his favorite. His father would take him on overnight hunting trips out in the woods, just father and son together. His father had taught him so much on those trips. How to hunt, cook game meat over a campfire he had built himself, how to chop wood. What species the trees were, what each was best for. How to identify them by their leaves, even after they fell. How to predict the weather by smelling the wind, how to prepare for an autumn storm. Autumn had always been the most vivid time of each year of his young life.

Now he would likely never see these colors again, never feel the cool breezes, never smell the autumn smells, just like he would never see his father again. He swallowed hard, blinking fiercely before any of the guards, or worse, his stepbrother or stepfather, saw his tears. His back still stung from the last whipping.

His stepbrother was on his way to a favored position with the archbishop at the palace. He was being forced to work as a caretaker for the dragon guard, which his stepbrother had delighted in telling him meant that he would be shoveling dragon droppings from the stables and grounds. His stepfather had sneered. He believed Gerald would soon be a dragon snack, or perhaps a small pile of ash.

Voice of the Dragon: Excerpt

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For #LineByLineTime : Creation

“What are you making?” Gerald twisted his head as he tried to make sense of what he was looking at.

Hannah laid fur over the leather and picked up an awl they used for making and mending harnesses for the dragons. “It’s a pouch to hold Bestia on my back. Since she can’t walk or fly, she can get around with me. It’s like the baby bags mothers use for little ones while they work. I just have to remember to leave a hole for her tail and two for her wings.” She grunted as she tried to drive the tool through both layers. “Gosh, this is tough material! Give me a hand here!”

Gerald had never sewn anything in his life and had not been taught to mend a harness yet, much less make it. When he said so, Hannah waved away his objections. “Just drive this through where I show you. You have bigger muscles than I do. I’ll thread the leather strip through. Go, start there!” She tapped her finger on the material and stared at him.

Gerald wasn’t sure if he felt flattered she thought him strong, or at least stronger than her, or annoyed at how she always bossed him around. He sighed and punched the needle through both layers. He grinned slightly as the little girl cheered and showed him where to put the next hole.

When they were finished, his hand and arm were sore and tired, but he could now see what Hannah had been describing. A backpack with straps lay before them. He helped Hannah fit it before they added straps across the front to secure it. “Bestia!” Hannah yelled, racing toward the hatchery. “We did it! I can carry you around now!” Gerald sighed again and ran after her, realizing he would have to place the little dragonette in the pack.

The Warlord’s Heart

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excerpt for #LineByLineTime : “Competition”

“How does it feel?” the General asked.

Edward swung the sword gently. “Like an extension of my arm. The balance is perfect.”

Whether it was the cadet’s expressions, their gasps, or the whistle of splitting air behind him, he spun around and met the Warlord’s attack with his blade. The Warlord gave him no time to do anything but defend himself. He barely noticed the cadets moving to the sides of the spacious room.

The two men moved lightly across the floor, the only noise the crashing of the two great swords meeting in midair as they dueled.

“Enough dancing!” the General barked. “Fight like you mean it!”

They didn’t look around but proved they heard her by switching to a two-handed grip on their hilts and slamming the blades together with a power that made objects in the room shudder. Several cadets had their hands across their mouths, terrified of distracting the men with their cries.

“This is why I appointed Edward as an instructor in swordsmanship instead of just a student. He would kill any of you just by sheer reflex,” the General stated.

“What – what about Betsy? Why make her an instructor?” Marissa stammered.

Betsy grinned at the men. “The Warlord likes to use a short blade sometimes. It doesn’t make us equal, but it helps.”

Benedict stared at her, then switched his gaze quickly back to the duel. “You spar with the Warlord?” His deep voice almost squeaked.

Betsy nodded. “And the General, and the Royal Guard. Anyone, really, who is willing to meet me. It helps keep me sharp on assorted styles of fighting and different weapons.”

The contest continued until sweat poured off the two men and their blows slowed, without losing much power as they impacted each other.

Finally, the General bellowed, “HOLD!” and the two froze, their swords stopping just before crashing together once more. The sword points dipped to rest on the floor. The men’s chests heaved. The cadets’ mouths dropped open in shock as the duellists grinned and gripped each other’s forearm in a warrior’s clasp.

The Warlord dipped his head to Edward. “My thanks for not holding back. It’s rare to have anyone besides the General and Betsy to give me an honest workout, and they are both too short to allow me to use my broadsword the way I prefer.” He ignored the General’s rude noise.

Edward straightened his shoulders and saluted. “It would be a dishonor to give you anything but my best.”

The Warlord thumped the younger man’s shoulder. “It’s clear to see how you have survived ten years on the front lines.”