Three women dance. Their dresses spin and twirl. They move around the room, and their beauty cuts. Every eye in the dance hall is upon them.
One by one, partners leap out to join the women, sharing a moment of the dance. The women seem to be
Hellen Jo
sisters, dark of eye and light of hair.
Suddenly, the music stops.
The dancers stumble and cease. Their partners leave the dance floor, turning their backs to the sisters.
A gleaming knight strides forward with three veils. One by one, he covers the face of each dancer. The sisters stand, heads bowed and do not move.
The knight claps his iron hands, and it is the peal of a bell.
The other people move across the dance floor, carefully stepping around the veiled sisters. The knight nods in satisfaction, then strides away.
The old gnome dashes through the throng of people, and pulls the veil from the first sister.
Ananda smiles down at him, her spectacles shining. The white ribbons threaded through the piercings along her brow — shining like silk worms in her long dark hair.
“Ah, at last you’ve reached out to me — what took you so long, Carbunkle?”
He never talks about it — and my guardian, Alvin, never talks about it, but I know it’s true.
That’s what keeps him so busy — why he can’t live with me and Alvin. The monsters he fights would chew
us up! I asked my Uncle Jonas if I could help him fight the monsters. He laughed and said I wasn’t quite ready for the Big Monsters — but I could probably handle the Purple Wumpus.
Yun Byoung Chul PENE MENN
The Purple Wumpus is a tiny little monster that hides behind your head, and no matter how fast you turn he stays right behind you! Uncle Jonas loves to point behind me and tell me all of the silly things that the Purple Wumpus is doing. Like singing a song and standing on its head – or brushing my hair for me when I’m too busy – or one time the Purple Wumpus stole a bunch of cookies from the kitchen! Uncle Jonas reached behind my head, and snatched them right away from that little monster. I asked if Alvin would be mad, and my uncle said that WE hadn’t stolen the cookies, so how could he be mad?
I wasn’t sure — and thought about it for a long time — but Uncle had already eaten three cookies, so I decided it was probably all right.
I asked Alvin one time why Uncle never slept when he visited. I could see the light under his door on every time I woke up. Alvin said that Uncle Jonas was a very busy man, and he always had lots of work to do.
I asked my Uncle if I could help him with his work, so he could take a nap. He just gave me a big hug, and told me that he had to stay up late to keep the Purple Wumpus from causing mischief like stealing all of my toys or running around tipping over all the crockery in the pantry. I asked him if we could take turns — he said it was a job for grownups, and I wouldn’t have to worry about it for a long, long time.
I can’t wait until I’m grown up, so I can go on adventures with my Uncle Jonas! Watch out Purple Wumpus — I’m getting faster every day!
[This is from a scene where various characters were telling stories around a campfire — Talitha is nine and awesome.]
If you’re plumber, you fix your friends’ showers. If you’re a mechanic, you fix your friends’ cars. If you’re a baker — guess you’re going to be making cupcakes for your tribe pretty regularly.
But, if you’re a writer — sometimes your friends ask you to come up with burlesque performer names.
Don’t look at me weird – it’s Athens.
What? Doesn’t your town have it’s own, personal burlesque troupe?
Anyway.
So, I came up with a whole bunch of performer names – I’m going to put them below the jump, because they are NAUGHTY. NAUGHTY, NAUGHTY, NAUGHTY. Do not click through if you are an impressionable youth or hate bad puns
Quill Wielder thinks I’m awesome. That’s what this boils down to. Thank you so much for the appreciation and support, QW. You are also shiny and made of moonbeams. Go over to her blog now. It’s a moral imperative.
The Award: The Liebster Blog Award is given to up coming bloggers who have less than 200 followers.
Liebster is German and means sweetest, kindest, nicest,dearest, beloved, lovely, kindly, pleasant, valued, cute, endearing, and welcome.
The rules for the Liebster Blog Award are:
Thank your Liebster Blog Award presenter on your blog.
Link back to the blogger who awarded you.
Copy & paste the blog award on your blog
Reveal your 5 blog picks.
Let them know you choose them by leaving a comment on their blog.
I’m a total WordPress neophyte, and I’m not totally sure how to figure out how many followers another blog has, unless it’s explicitly listed on their homepage. So, if you’re a WP rockstar and have 5 bajillion followers, and I missed it – I apologize for giving you this crayon scrawled award. You can throw it away after I leave. [sniffle]
So here they are:
The Jargon Journalist– A news focused blog, written by a serious dork. Well written articles and video production. Chelsea’s also pretty funny.
Drawceraptor – Jeff’s art is freaking great. Subject matter is reasonably nerdy — but the technique and aesthetics are top notch.
H.N. Sieverding – I am completely in awe of the amount of content that H.N. has on display here. Really inspiring for me, just starting out writing my own stuff seriously. Great feedback, and a ray of sunshine.
Robotic Rhetoric – Weird kid from the UK who makes me laugh. Very solid writer – though some of his more angsty posts remind me of my misspent youth.
The Death of Glitter – This blog is infinitely more hip, stylish, well-written, insightful and clever than I will ever manage. I just wish CookieGeisha posted more.
Congratulations to all of you, consider yourself hearted. Intensely hearted.
Hey, I wrote some fresh stuff for the blog – honest to god, typed up today — bristling with new-osity.
I’ve added a new Category “Fresh” for pieces like that, that are written and posted in the same day — I hope to do a lot more of them when my life settles down.
“Something there is to a task done well, a true task, a right task. The door-knob turns, and knows that is is doing exactly what it was made for.”
“Are you drunk?” Simon asked, waggling his empty wooden tankard.
Merridew glared across the table, bushy white eyebrows standing at attention. The elderly Yad-Elf
Artist Unknown
gripped a silver gravy-boat, clearly intended to sail the seas of a king’s banquet table. It was mostly empty, Merridew corrected this – refilling from a dark brown keg that kept the third chair occupied. He took a quick swallow from the business end of the container, all while continuing to glare at the gray-coated rogue sitting across from him.
“Cause you sound drunk. You’re talking about doorknobs. Knobs on doors – the little turny things.” Simon continued.
“That is not my point at all, you besotted simpleton. This is why I despise drinking with humans.” the elf said.
“I’m drunk. See? I said it. Feels good to say it. It is totally fine for you to admit that you’re drunk.” the rogue held his tankard to the keg, hand wavering.
Merridew sat the gravy-boat down, and massaged his temples with long, knobby fingers.
“I’m just saying that doorknobs have a clear purpose. A design suited for one action — and I was musing –”
Simon burped.
“– MUSING that it has to be a nice feeling. Knowing that what you’re doing is exactly what you’re supposed to be doing.” Merridew pointed across the table accusingly
The rogue chuckled, and sipped from his newly filled tankard. He managed to look contrite, and nodded seriously at the elf’s expression.
The old wood elf sighed, and spread his fingers across the top of the gravy-boat. He stared down through the spaces between, watching the foam settle on the dark amber liquid.
“There’s been a few times, I’ve felt it myself. The door-knob turn in my heart.”
Simon continued to nod seriously, and made a twisting gesture with his free hand. His serious expression was marred by the slurping noise as he gulped down ale.
“Door-knob. Got it.” Simon slammed the empty tankard down.
“I hate you.” Merridew said.
The old elf stood, and walked over to the closest door. He poured a generous serving of ale onto the pitted brass doorknob. Then he kept pouring until the gravy-boat was empty. He solemnly hung the empty silver bowl on the knob.
Simon rubbed his face and snorted.
“I’ll get a mop, old man. Unless you want to baptize the lamps?”
Merridew did not reply. He wrapped his long fingers around the brass knob and turned it swiftly.
Once. Twice. A third time.
The old elf smiled, his fingertips resting on the brass.
That’s kind of awesome – I wonder who those six people are. Did they like it? Are we best friends now? AM I INVITED TO THEIR BIRTHDAY PARTY?!?
I know this is silly, getting excited about something like that — especially because that story is right over there under the Microfiction tab — but it jazzes me up. TO THE MAX.
Well, maybe not to the max — but in the near vicinity of the max.
1. Every action has a consequence.
2. The unexplored world will not announce itself.
3. The beautiful moment succeeds.
4. Whimsy is a precious flower. Plant liberally.
5. Obstacles are rarely insurmountable.
6. People are not just signposts.
7. The journey is the largest tree in the garden, but the rain falls everywhere.
8. Glory is bought with blood.
9. Dull questions breed dull answers.
10. A single twig announces the tiger.
Over the past year of Lodestar, I’ve tried to establish a simple rubric for most of my storytelling decisions. And because I’m an incredibly pompous sort, I codified them into these ten dictum.
Thoughts? What rules – unspoken or otherwise – guide your writing?
spell-sword.com 