The Path of Continues On

There are certain experiences that provide you with perspective. Then there are still more that provide you with a wall to crash headlong into and then figure out if you've learned anything yet. No perspective that's immediately discernible. Well, that is unless you count the throbbing headache you've got when it's all said and done. 

There also seems to be a decent amount of irony that comes with life. I know, you're probably thinking 'well no sh*t Sherlock, where are you going with this?' Follow me for a moment. 

Within the last two weeks, I've had some personal revelations and some global tragedies effect my life and the lives of my family members. There is nothing that provides you with more needed perspective than having your security questioned and your life thrown so far off track, you can't see the damned thing anymore.

There was no warning. There were no flashing lights or signals. 

The last two weeks have changed me. I've cried openly, I have believed that there is good in strangers, I couldn't take it anymore, and I carried on. I've lost an amazing friend to unnecessary events. My sense security has been compromised. But I carry on. 

The situations have also taught me a lot about myself as well. My capacity to care, my limitations, and my ability to recover. 

I can breathe again. Maybe not easily just yet, but I did pause in the fresh air and simply appreciate that act. 

I will carry on. 

For those of you that do read me regularly, I will be picking my schedule back up this week. Monday, Wednesday and Friday will be new blogs. I will spend the interim building up my reserves of fiction and getting back to the 'me' that I used to know. 

With hope, 

Jessi

Boston Strong: A Personal Reflection

It’s been almost a week.

For those of you that haven’t been following the news or anything of the like, Monday will mark one week since the Boston Marathon was heinously attacked. I live in Massachusetts and have a large amount of family (both biological and other) that either lives, or works in Boston. For a moment; time froze. There is nothing that will ever ease the news of our states home city being savagely attacked.  I waited with baited breath for phone calls, social media updates, and any sign that those I loved were ok. Thankfully, no one that I knew was injured. So many others were however, somewhere around 200 families (biological and other) felt the shock of domestic terror.

I was angry. So angry I saw red. I wanted the ones responsible dead.

Then I sat back and waited for more news. I saw one of them was no more than 19, the same age as my little sister. I wondered what happened, and for a moment, felt something I wasn’t familiar with. It was an emotion I certainly wasn’t ready for.

Remorse.

Remorse for wishing someone who is just starting out on his life; dead. Remorse for his family.

I became angry with myself when that happened. He acted without any remorse. Why did he deserve mine?

I couldn’t answer that. Not readily. But come Friday, sitting watching again as the state came to a stand still for a third time, he was caught. Lying on a boat, alone, and bleeding badly. He would live to answer for his crimes.

I breathed deep as he was caught and rushed to a hospital. For the first time in a week, I realized that it was going to be ok again.

For now.  This reality of bombs and terrorists is a day to day reality for so many across the world. Syria, Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, and so many others. Realizing just how unsafe I felt for a week as news continued to pour in about my beloved Umass Dartmouth and the victims from the marathon, brought more than one tear to my eyes. I cried. And I sobbed. Not only for the events of Monday  but for all those that felt that there is no other way to change our world than through acts of considerable violence.

And then it hit me. Love. Compassion. Kindness of strangers. These are things that spring up in the darkest of situations. Random people reaching out, helping their fellow man; running into the war zone to break down barricades, tearing off their clothes to make tourniquets and save strangers limbs.  I cried because not only because did Boston see the worst of two individuals, but it saw the best of hundreds of them.

There is still much to be done within the city to recover and to ensure that hospital bills are covered. I may not be a Bostonian by birth but I am Boston Strong. I am an American and most of all I will persevere, and help those continue on with their lives.

If you feel compelled to help, below are two links to ensure that the victims and their families will be able to look forward to a bright tomorrow.

Red Cross:
http://www.redcross.org/ma/boston

One Fund:
http://onefundboston.org/

Like-able Villains

Tolg slipped past the waterfall, holding his side, where that damned dwarf had actually hit him. The dragons lair lay beyond the waterfall and she looked…displeased.

                “I assume you have failed in killing them and that’s why you’re here?”

                “Apologies mistress…” He had planned to say more but the dragons scorn was enough to still his tongue.

                “Your abject failure displeases me but ultimately doesn’t shock me. You changelings are fairly worthless beings whom I shouldn’t have assumed could take care of anything properly. You are free to go. Take your cut of the pay I promised you and get out of my sight. Should I see you again expect to be killed thrice over.” The dragon sneered and flung a small bag of gold at Tolgs head. “I will take care of these foolish mortals personally.”

                “Thank you for your infinite kindness.”  Tolg muttered and caught the bag as it headed towards him. The dragon roared sending a warning to those in the other room. Tolg took his leave, shifting into an old man and sliding out the side exit.

                At a nearby township, dusk fell with seemingly no incidence. The local bar was lit up with activity, from wives pulling their drunk and disorderly husbands from the place to men pulling their wives out of the arms of another gentleman.  Tolg sat quietly in the corner and watched the evenings festivities. A dragon born walked through the doors and Tolg raised a brow thinking for a moment that the burnt red tendrils on his head looked familiar, but alas it was simply the firelight. He didn’t look forward to seeing those faces again. They burned in his mind as the only fight so far he had to walk away from. That should teach him for leaving the shadows…

                The changeling tipped back a mug of warm ale and let a small smile slip as a young couple sat arguing over something seemingly benign. “Young love will either kill itself or strike itself down in an effort to win the other…” he said muttering more under his breath than anything. Humanity amused him. Not in a sadistic sort of way but because there were so many of them. And they adapted so well to anything! Regardless the challenge. The old races could do well to learn from them but that… would most likely never happen.  They are too proud. Hell Tolg was too proud to admit his failings, and as far as he was concerned… he had none. At the moment.

                 The door opens to a teifling looking over the bar. Some time ago it had started raining, unbeknownst to the bar dwellers. Tolg stifled a chuckle looking at the drenched demon spawn. Normally these beings invoked fear in the hearts of anyone around them. To Tolg however, this one looked like a cat after a bath. Pathetic with angry eyes behind it’s drenched appearance. His white hair was stuck to his head and horns , weaving a spider-webbed appearance about the curled horns.  He walked in and  was accompanied by two bodyguard looking cloaked and equally drenched companions. The rest of the bar grew eerily silent and watched to teifling with piqued interest.  Tolg swallowed his half drunken laugh in a small effort to look like he could blend in. His drunken logic was only as sound as his weakling constitution.  Tolg smirked while the man ordered a drink at the bar. The teifling lifted his head from the freshly ordered drink and frowned at the seemingly disrespectful changeling.

                “You… laugh at a teifling. You’re either drunkenly brave or a fool.”

                “Little of column A, little of column B. Are you willing to find out which is more the case?” Tolg said smirking from behind his mug. Tolg let the smirk evolve lowing into a grin while the teifling watched. Nothing sobered him up faster than the prospect of a fight that he couldn’t, or rather ,shouldn’t be able to win. The tiefling smiled and got up motioning for his lackeys to do the same. The three moved and took chairs sitting down across the table from the doppelganger.

                “Whether it’s brains in your head or your fists I like your style.” The tiefling said extending and open hand to the doppelganger. “The name’s Gary.”

                “Tolg.”

                “Interesting name.”

                “I’m an interesting guy if you give me a chance.”

                “Are you currently employed?”

                “Sort of… I’ve got a part time thing going with a pretty major player around these parts. It’s contract though, so once it’s up I’m available… Why such an interest in my employment history?”

                “What if I were to offer you a more permanent position in an organization.”

                “Then you would have my attention…providing of course our future discussion involves another drink.” Tolg said smirking. The teifling nodded and gestured towards the bartender.

                “Another drink for my new friend.” Gary smiled. The smile sent a shudder through Tolg that he tried hard to mask but failed utterly. He inebriated state left him less convincing all around. It wasn’t an awful smile, just one that made him feel like he was making a pact with an unknown devil. He had no issues if he knew what he was getting into, this however seemed like it could be a bit more fatal all around. The drinks arrived and Gary took a sip of his blood wine.

                “Join the Deus Ex Machina Corporation and we’ll provide benefits and enough treasure to keep you happy for the rest of your life.”

                “What’s the catch?”

                “Oh the usual. Certain death around every corner, though we can bring you back to life should you die… provided one of your party members brings your corpse back.”

                “Party? I travel alone Gary. Even when I’m working under contract I work alone. No one trusts me and if they do they are foolish to.” He said shifting into an older man who clutched his side and moaned in apparent agony. One of the guards gasped at the parlor trick and as Tolg got up he shifted again into himself.  “Would you trust me with you?”

                “No but I don’t trust anyone I travel with. It makes it easier to dispose of them after.” Gary said shrugging at the whole thing. He’d seen better.  Tolg smiled and sat back down.

                “We’ve been following you Tolg Longshanks for some time. We like how you operate. Join us and we’ll begin your more extensive training in the morning back at our facility. Resist and we will have to ty to kill you.”

                “Of course.” Tolg nodded acceptingly. “You have a deal Gary.”   

New Beginnings and Old Behaviors

There are moments in my life that I wish I hadn't gone through in order to get to where I am. There are things that I’ve done, that I’m not proud of. Then again… Some of those things are things that most people wouldn't think twice about.

I’m not sorry for the people I’ve killed.

I know that’s a bit of a powerful statement, but when you’re an emissary of the gods, its part of the job.

Izri took a moment and smiled, looking down at her journal. It wasn't much but it was a start. She had begun writing at the direction of a few of the priestess’ at the temple. She’d woken here and been brought to the oracle at the temple. The woman that had been appointed to the temple was the only one to know how her exaltation, as it were, had occurred.

~*~

“You require a new name, child.”  The older woman spoke in a tone that didn't leave much room for negotiation. Tired, perhaps a bit wise, but still as compassionate as an individual could muster. Izri nodded and looked around her. Everything was white and gold with silver accents.

“Where am I, if you don’t mind…”

“Not at all, child. You are in the Temple of Iomedae. She has saved you, it appears.” The oracle stood, walking to Izri. She took her hands and traced the symbols on her hands. Izri pulled her hands back and shook her head.

“I don’t remember much about it honestly. I was facing death. Again. And then I was speaking in some… strange language… and now… I’m here.”

“Celestial by the accounts from the Andorian priests.”

“Oh gods… They’re going to be after me…”

“No. The kings guards will be.” A slight smirk emerged on the oracle’s face as she watched Izri.

“I’m glad you've maintained my sense of normal by allowing for accurate sarcasm in the conversation.” Izri rolled her eyes at the statement. She paused looking back at the oracle. “I didn't kill her.”

“I know.”

Izri paused in the walk about the room in front of a statue of Iomedae. The goddess looked cruel. It wasn't her features, perhaps just the stone she had been carved from. Izri smirked at that thought and began to think of the miracle it was that she had been saved, even if it had doomed her in the Kingdom of her birth. Andor would never welcome her home. She starred quietly at the statue, wondering about the ‘why’ of it all.

“Your thoughts cloud your vision, child. You've yet to come to a name.” As the oracle spoke, Izri thought she saw the lips of the statue move into a slight knowing smile. Izri smirked and shook her head.

“No… I have one. I don’t think I have a choice in the matter either…” She turned towards the other oracle and held her hands open, palms facing out. “My name is Mirari.”

“Miracle? Very appropriate child…” The oracle smiled and looked past Mirari to the statue.

~*~

 I have yet to set out on any journeys in the name of my Goddess, however… soon. The priestesses and priests are almost convinced that my ‘ maniacal’ past is behind me. Weird how when you represent a goddess of justice and all things white and right in the world, they frown on stumbling back into the temple right before devotionals drunk and in the arms of … someone not temple approved.

Mirari smirked and put the quill down. She bound the book quietly and tucked the quill into her up-do  She was growing tired of the temple life. Her bones itched to get out and back into the world. Or maybe that was just the clothes.

She stepped outside, the white and gold skirt flowing in the breeze. In the long side slit of the skirt, a knife sat on the oracles thigh, steel glinting in the sun. One of her religious instructors stood, waiting.

“You’re late.”

“No. I’m simply working on a different schedule than you are.”

“Given that it’s my schedule that I follow and set yours by, I’d continue with the prior statement.”

“Rigidity and I don’t get along, unless…” Mirari smirked and glanced downward to the priests groin.

“Don’t be lewd.” The priest flushed and shook his head, opening the scroll.

“Aww but it’s so much fun to watch you squirm.”  Mirari stuck her tongue out and looked around at the gardens. It was beautiful here. Mundane and beautiful. She imagined a lot of people having religious experiences here.

“Why do you enjoy making people uncomfortable?” The sword knight was frustrated with her antics.

“Because how will you know your limits if no one pushes them? You've chosen religion as your life. It’s a safe, comfortable existence. Nothing has ever been learned from safety. In order to grow, you must be uncomfortable and even hurt once in a while. Religion is supposed to be a journey. And so is life. Take it too seriously and it’ll kill you before you have any fun.” Mirari lounged on the bench, watching the priests face grow sterner. “Besides, I can’t tell if you’re more pissed off with yourself or me at this point. It’s pretty funny.” 

“You’re contemptible. An awful example of all that Iomedae holds dear. Why she chose you is beyond me. I’ve killed people for lesser offenses.”

“And I thought you didn't like me!” Mirari smirked and the sword knight rolled his eyes, beginning to read from the devotional. Her head bowed. The readings did give her a sense of peace and they reminded her that her efforts against the governments she wandered through were not in vain. There was a higher purpose to be served. Besides… a corrupt government, or god should be fearful of it’s followers and people. 

On the Road Again: A Zombie Tale

It was that moment in the afternoon where the sun wasn't quite beginning its descent but the sky had begun to change colors in preparation. For two patrons at the Silver Whistle it didn't matter. The pair sat at the mahogany bar watching the news with half-hearted interest. They both looked tired and the bartender didn't seem to care that the bar wasn't open for another two hours. He stepped forward and poured amber liquor into the glasses and refilled the remaining of the glass with a dark carbonated beverage. The woman pushed some money forward and the bartender just shook his head pushing it back.

"Thanks sweetie. I can use this."

"We all can." the bartender took the girls smile as payment and the gentleman sitting next to her smirked.

"You always do what you want, huh?" His deep brown eyes danced as he began to read his compatriots’. The woman smirked and shook her head.

"Nah... Not always." She ran a hand over her smoothed down ponytail and pulled the elastic out, letting loose her lengthy brown hair. She ruffled her hair quickly and seemed to try to ease the tension in her body. "Be a dear?" She held her hair to the side and turned so her back was towards her friend. He chuckled, took a swig of his poison and began to rub her shoulders. The bartender chuckled quietly to himself noting the sense of comfort the two had with each other. Her face relaxed momentarily. She let out a deep breath and began to understand why all these years that he had loved getting massages.

"How are things at home?" The gentleman asked quietly as he worked on her shoulders.

"What home?" She frowned and all the frustration returned to her face. She reached over to the bar and grabbed her drink, tilting her head back to down it.

"Shit..."

"Dead. Came home to find Mom, Dad, and Evey turned." Her voice was stilted. She twisted the ring on her left ring finger and looked back to her glass. Too bad it was empty. "Haven’t told Sven yet that I had to ..." Her voice broke and the gentleman’s arms went from her shoulders to her waist, pulling her close. She let out a deep sigh and sniffled, her arms resting over his.

"I'm sorry Julia..." He hugged her tight, as if she was the last real thing left in this existence. "He'll understand."

"I hope so." Julia stiffened as the TV seemed to get louder.

"The mob we've been tracking is moving towards the Taunton area, most notably near the Green. Please remain indoors. I repeat remain indoors, and allow the army to deal with the infestation." Julia started laughing a slow, unsettling guttural laugh. The gentleman with her shook his head and tapped her shoulder as he stood.

"C'mon. I've got weapons stored in your van."

"Who knew all those hours of left for dead would come in handy, Derrick " The girl smirked and stood. She pointed to the bartender. "You need a shotgun?"

"Nah I've got my own gun." He smirked and pulled out a sniper rifle, making preparations to mount it on the window. Julia nodded, clearly impressed with his choice of weapon. She pulled out her cell phone and shot off a message to her uncle, while they made their way to the car. A group of people with boards and nails began to filter into the bar.

"We're going back in there?" Derrick asked and looked over to Julia as he tossed her a loaded double barreled shot gun. Julia raised an eyebrow and looked over her sunglasses. "Right."

"On the road again..." Julia sung quietly to herself as the air grew eerily quiet. Just off in the distance you could hear the shuffling of a mob. "Just can't wait to get on the road again..." She looked down the sight to check and see where they were. Nowhere close, yet.

"Time for another drink?" Derrick smirked and she nodded. A least in all of this... she hadn't lost her sense of humor.

Dwarven Greetings

Sylvie growled, half thinking half wishing that screaming, punching a cardboard box full of packing peanuts and walking away would make her feel better. The truth being that it might but there were way too many cameras watching her. She leaned against the cold gray steel of the backroom shelves and stared out the open bay door. The snow fell softly as the calm, frozen whispers of winter graced the threshold. A shiver ran up her thin frame, prompting her to pull her sweatshirt tighter around herself.  She frowned and thought about all the different ways she could get someone fired as she approached the open door.

“Fucking people don’t even know how to close doors.” She shivered again and reached for the rope to pull down the gate. “This isn't a barn!” She tugged but the rope wouldn't give. “What the…”

“Listen, I told you we took a wrong turn at the last portal.” A light skinned woman walked forward from the open door and pointed on a map to her companion. The man frowned, though it was hard to tell through the mound of facial hair present. He took the map from her, gruffly and looked back out the bay door. Sylvie stood there, jaw hanging open, not entirely sure what to make of what was going on in front of her.

“Are you a dwarf?” She heard the words leave her mouth and then quickly regretted them. The man whirled his frame around. All… five feet of him. His long black hair fell down over his shoulders to his waist, with a beard to match. His bright green eyes glared at her and a slight snarl emerged from his lips as her breathed a reply.

“What else would I be, you daft lass?” His voice was deep and guttural, and more menacing than Slyvie had heard from anyone. The woman stepped between them and looked Sylvie over before smiling softly.

“You’ll have to excuse our companion...”

“She doesn't have to do anything but stand there like a hooked fish with her mouth hanging open, apparently!” The dwarf snapped and looked at the map. “No we’re here. This lass is the one. Let’s just get her and be off. Sylvia Cressfall, you’re now with us.” The dwarf’s snarl didn’t let up, and Sylvie’s eyes widened as he put away the map. He gestured to the woman standing between them and she winced.

“Miss Cressfall. Your hand.” The elven looking woman extended her hand. Sylvie, awestruck; put out hers and was met with the slenderest fingers she’d ever seen. As her eyes closed and consciousness flitted from her body, she focused on the dwarf, hoping for an answer. “Now lift her gently, Baldrik…”

“Gently? If she doesn't get a concussion, will that…”

“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on…” Slyvie’s voice faded as her world went black.

New Promises

It's funny that it was almost exactly a year ago that I put this blog aside.

Many things have changed in that year and still, so many are the same.

One thing I can tell you, is that as part of my resolutions, I'm picking this blog back up. I'm also going to be partnering with Kit from Goggles and Lace and a couple other bloggers to bring you an exciting new project. Details TBA.

Starting tonight I'm scheduling in time to write every day in order to meet my personal goal. I want my novel published by the time I turn 30. It's only three years off at this point so II need to get cracking. On top of that  I'm attempting to pump out more short fiction that will be available here. I've let my writing fall to the wayside over the last year, which while awful, has also let me develop a few things on the personal side, fulfilling my life that much more.  Big plans over the next year, not only for this blog but outside it as well. You'll see...

That being said: tonight I'm enacting my resolutions and beginning my journey back towards that words and stories that I have loved so much. Be on the look out for a story before midnight.

Love and letters,
Jessi