tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79673665470000689162024-03-14T05:21:40.232-05:00The Scholarly ScribeBlog entries by David Wiley pertaining to writing, literature, journalism, as well as containing original poems and stories.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-13304524084692277532012-04-29T17:35:00.001-05:002012-04-29T17:35:33.278-05:00The Curse of Fierabras - Part V<i>In case you didn't know, check out the new location of my blog over at <a href="http://scholarlyscribe.wordpress.com/">Wordpress</a></i>. <i>In a few weeks I'll only be posting over there. Also, things like this serial novel are much easier to navigate over there with the links to each part along the top of the page.</i><br />
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<i><b>Part V - The Conquest of the Emperor</b></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You
founded the Restoration?” Dante asks.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Aye,
lad,” Jerek answers as he gets to his feet. “Do you remember what things were
like before the Emperor took control?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Dante
shakes his head. He has heard stories from some of the villagers back home, but
he was too young to remember anything prior to the Emperor. “No, but I’ve heard
stories. It is hard to believe they were true.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“About
how there was peace and prosperity?” Jerek asks, turning to gaze out the
window.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah,”
Dante says. “Are they true?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“They
are true. Twenty years ago we were enjoying the longest stretch of peace and
prosperity that the seven kingdoms had ever seen. Roads were being built to
connect us all, speeding along commerce and boosting the economies of all the
kingdoms. Soldiers were fighting together as one unit to fend off the barbarian
hordes landing on the coast. The seven kings came together regularly to discuss
the future of our land.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“The
peace had lasted so long that people became lax in their security. Young men
wanted to become soldiers because it had become an easy job, requiring no
training or skill. The kings stopped traveling with fully armed escorts. It
became common to see foreigners in every major city and kingdom across the
land. City defenses became neglected as everyone poured their gold into other
profitable ventures.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“No
one expected things to change.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Jerek
looks down at his feet, a beam of moonlight splashing across his face. He licks
his lips and turns toward Dante, a look of anger in his eyes. “The Emperor
conquered the kingdoms, one by one. He timed it when a massive barbarian fleet
landed on the shores, drawing away the only real army we had. He met minimal
resistance. Those who did stand in his way were either untrained or
out-of-practice.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“He
allowed no survivors to escape to warn the other kingdoms. The roads that we
had poured so much gold into allowed him to move from one to the next with
incredible speed. With each victory his army grew larger, and soon even the trained
army wouldn’t have stood a chance against him. Yet we tried to stop him,
outnumbered and weary from the battle with the barbarians.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“That
day we learned that the Emperor had discovered a dark magic that hadn’t been around
for a thousand years. He had learned the art of Necromancy, commanding an army
of the undead. Every soldier that died in battle that day became one of his
army. Brother fought against brother, and many found they could not strike a
fatal blow against a loved one, even one they knew to be dead.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Jerek
kicks the bucket across the room. The water remaining in the bottom splashes
onto the stone wall, trickling down to the floor. Dante remains seated, trying
to process what he is hearing. If the Emperor commands the dead then there is
no chance of defeating him. There can be no war waged against him. The Emperor
would want a war, increasing his own army while diminishing the opposition.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“A
few of us managed to escape from the slaughter with our lives,” Jerek
continues. “We hid ourselves among the other six kingdoms, continuing to hang
onto the hope that someday we’d be able to strike back. Over the past twenty
years we have trained ourselves, and others, in the ancient warrior arts. While
the Emperor has gotten lax in his own defenses, entertaining himself with
diversions like this coliseum, we have been honing our skills and building our
own force.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“We’ve
watched family and friends get killed or taken away for no reason. We’ve seen
our people struggle to survive as the Emperor’s minions have caused our fields
and our forests to wither and die. We have stood by and watched the hope of
life get sucked out of every city and kingdom. We live our lives as slaves to a
tyrant who values no life beyond his own. But the time to strike back is
coming.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“So
how did you end up in here?” Dante asks. Jerek sighs heavily and sits back down
across from his cellmate.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I
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us and raised an alarm. My horse was shot as we were making our escape two
weeks ago. I’ve been down here ever since.”</span></div>
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Some of the story fits with the rumors he had heard in his village, but a lot
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hordes of undead chasing after him.</span></div>
<i><b> </b> </i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-72180745374070065952012-04-27T17:00:00.000-05:002012-04-27T17:00:06.111-05:00Story - Crisis Averted<div>
<em>This story was written using the prompt: “He was sitting on a park bench reading a newspaper” from <a href="http://studio30plus.com/">Studio 30 Plus</a>. This was an unexpected venture into Science Fiction, but I enjoyed seeing what I could do in under 500 words. I’d love to hear what you think!</em><br />
<br />
<strong><em>Also, don't forget to check out my new blog location at <a href="http://scholarlyscribe.wordpress.com/">http://scholarlyscribe.wordpress.com/</a>, where you can read (and comment on) this story as well.</em></strong><br />
<br />
He was sitting on a park bench reading a newspaper, trying to blend in. At first glance he seemed like anyone else you might see sitting in the park. His attire might be a little unusual, but the fashion on this planet is so diverse that it wouldn’t be completely unheard of for someone to wear fuzzy slippers, black slacks, and a yellow rubber raincoat. It was the upside down newspaper that was generating startled stares.<br />
<br />
Lufain had come to this planet upon hearing a rumor that the most nefarious villain in the universe, Baron Von Munchausin, was here on Earth. This was likely another diabolical scheme to destroy a galaxy. Lufain had stopped him before, but this time he felt out of sorts. He had forgotten to bring his towel. No proper space traveler left home without one, but he was in such a rush that he forgot his back on Delta IV.<br />
<br />
His Evil Tracker 4000 had led Lufain to this park. The Baron was close. He could smell the evil aura in the air. His usually steady hands started to shake. He wasn’t ready for another showdown with the Baron, but he had no choice. This young planet needed to be saved, even if they had no idea of the danger lurking among them.<br />
<br />
Lufain glanced over the top of the newspaper and spotted the Baron across the street. He was heading straight toward him. His hands started to shake even more. He reached to his side for his towel, but his hand grasped empty air. He couldn’t face the Baron without it. He knew that now.<br />
<br />
He took a deep breath and glanced back over the paper. He could see the red fire burning in the eyes of the Baron as he got closer. It wouldn’t be long now before he was forced into action. He fumbled with the handle of his Oblit-O-Matic and dropped it on the ground. He bent over to pick it up and froze. The Baron was right in front of him, glaring at him with those fiery eyes.<br />
<br />
Lufain licked his lips, knowing that this time the Baron would be getting the better of him. He braced himself for the fate. He was outplayed. His career had come to an end.<br />
<br />
Crunch.<br />
<br />
Lufain opened his eyes to see the crushed remains of Baron Von Munchausin on the sidewalk in front of him. The heel of a child’s shoe had crushed his invertebrate body, putting an end to one of the universe’s most wanted villains. Lufain wondered why he never considered that approach before. He looks around to see if anyone noticed, but everything seems normal. Crisis averted. He leans back on the bench, reading the newspaper upside down and trying to blend in.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-18697364521729310512012-04-26T17:22:00.001-05:002012-04-26T17:22:41.006-05:00Going Live on WordpressToday's short blog post (on Blogger) is simply to announce the launch of my Wordpress location! I've finally got things fairly organized and laid out the way I want it. So please update your links & follow:<br />
<br />
http://scholarlyscribe.wordpress.com<br />
<br />
I'll be dual-posting for at least another two weeks to catch those who don't check back very often. But I'd love for everyone to read and comment at the new location. Let me know what you think. Personally, I like having the pages along the top where you can access my poems, short stories, and each part of my serial novel with ease.<br />
<br />
Tune in Saturday for the next installment of The Curse of Fierabras!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-45089724676104532192012-04-25T20:28:00.000-05:002012-04-25T20:28:07.235-05:00Story - The Bone-Jarring TackleI think I'm just about done prepping my Wordpress location for this blog. I'm pretty sure I'll be ready to begin directing everyone there sometime this weekend, even though it probably won't be 100% ready. As I mentioned before, I will still post in both places for a few weeks and will include a link to the new location with each post. Make sure you follow that blog once I start those announcements because, eventually, this one will become obsolete.<br />
<br />
Thank you all for your support so far. This blog has been more successful than I ever anticipated at this point! Tonight I'm sharing a short story memoir that I finished writing for one of my classes. I'd love to hear what you think of it.<br />
<br />
------------------------<br />
<br />
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<br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
Bone-Jarring Tackle</span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Tell Mom that I’m in the field
playing a game of football,” I say to my sister as I hurry down the stairs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Okay,” she says without looking up
from her book.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I round the corner while putting on
my Cris Carter jersey. He is my favorite player ever, number eighty for the
Minnesota Vikings. When I wear this jersey I feel like I can catch any pass
that is thrown my way. While my thoughts are wandering I run into my younger
brother, Michael, and he falls to the ground.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Watch out,” I tell him as I hurry past.
I don’t want to be the last one to the field, or else my first game with these
guys might be my last one, too.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m coming, too,” he says as he
gets up from the floor. He brushes some lint from his bright orange John Elway
jersey.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No, you’re not,” I say as I stop in
my tracks. There is no way my little brother is tagging along for this game. He
is five years younger than me and will get massacred by the high school guys. Besides,
they wouldn’t like him tagging along.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“If you don’t take me, I’ll call
Mom,” he says.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“She wouldn’t let you play, either,”
I say.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I don’t have to tell her it is to
play football,” he says. “She’ll make you take me.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You are such a brat sometimes,” I
say. “I wish you had never been adopted.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I know that will get him upset. My
sister and I have teased him about this for years, even though we know it isn’t
true, because he is the only one in the family with blond hair. It has the
desired results. His face gets bright red and tears well in his eyes. His voice
gets shrill and he screams at me, even though I’m right in front of him. “I’m
not adopted. I’m telling Mom when she gets home.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He stomps all the way upstairs to
his room and slams the door several times. Little flakes from the ceiling
popcorn fall to the ground as he stomps across his room. My sister sits in the chair,
unfazed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’d better go before Mom gets home,”
Jessica says without looking up from her book. She is reading <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone</i>,
which must be interesting because she hasn’t put it down since she got home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah, I’ll be home before dinner,”
I say as I walk into the kitchen. I grab a couple of Oreos and head out the
door. The brisk autumn air welcomes me as I cross our massive green deck. Leaves
of red and orange decorate the branches of the tree in our backyard, stretching
above the garage. Bees hover from flower to flower, gathering stores of pollen
before the winter comes. The grass in the neighboring yards is fading to a dull
brown, but our yard is still a vibrant green.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I cut through the back yard and
enter the field. It stretches east for a mile, covered in grass and flowers and
the occasional weed. In the center is a tall fence that the neighborhood kids
play baseball around. Many times I’ve walked past them, wishing I could be a
part of their game even though I am terrible at baseball. A three-foot wide
creek cuts through the center of the field, running east to west. On the south
side of the creek is a paved trail that runs parallel to its bending path. At
the east end is a covered shelter with a few picnic tables. This is my
destination.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A rabbit is startled from the grass
as I jog past. The songs of various birds fill the air as they stop in our
trees along their flight south for the winter. In several different places groups
of children chase each other in games of tag, their laughter echoing in the
air. A mother jogs along the path pushing a red and black stroller. On the
other side of the path an elderly couple walks side by side, the fingers of
their hands interlocked.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Most of the guys are already around
the picnic area. A football is tossed around among them, spiraling perfectly as
it cuts through the air. Conversation and laughter flows freely from the group.
They welcome me as I arrive, tossing me the ball. I am not expecting the ball,
so it slips through my hands and tumbles away. I mentally curse at myself for
being so clumsy. I pick up the football and throw it to the next guy. It falls
short and hops into his hands. I can tell my stock is falling already.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The focus has already moved off of
me and onto the last two to arrive. One is tall, the other short like me. They
both appear to be athletic, which means they’ll be among the first picked. The
taller one is wearing long sleeves and jeans even though it is in the low
sixties. The shorter one is wearing a blue soccer jersey and shorts. They are
welcomed with a chorus of greetings, and the game can now begin.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The captains of the team must have
been predetermined because two of the guys step forward and declare themselves
as being the captains. No one voices dissent. The two athletic guys,
unsurprisingly, are the first two selected for the teams. Four down, eight to
go. The next four chosen are the ones who were proficiently throwing the ball
around before I came along and dropped it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I glance at the guys standing next
to me to see my competition. I’m by no means physically fit, but I am in better
shape than at least two of them and the third has on glasses. I like my odds at
being picked next. Surprise overwhelms me when the kid with the glasses is
chosen next. And then one of the out-of-shape guys is picked. This always
happens.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I’m always picked last. It has been
that way since the early years of elementary school. I was short and shy. I was
clumsy at times. I played the least important positions in team sports, like
outfield and center. I am suddenly reminded why I only like watching sports. No
one gives me a chance because of first impressions, so I never get a chance to
get better.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>These guys don’t know that I usually
have the hands of Cris Carter and can catch the ball. They don’t know that I
can be a shut-down safety like Robert Griffith. I already can tell they’ll have
me run routes and not throw me the ball. They’ll have me be the one to shadow
the quarterback and force him to throw the ball early. They will never know any
differently, and I’ll never be invited to play another game.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I accept my inevitable fate. I am
the last person left, going to the team with the shorter, fit guy. He tells me
his name is J.J., and the other guys ask him why the tall guy is wearing long
sleeves on a nice day. He tells us his name is Jon and he moved here from South
Carolina. I guess they aren’t used to this kind of weather.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The other team punts the ball to us
to start the game and J.J. hops in front of me to grab the ball. He takes off
like a bullet, darting in and out of defenders as he crosses the field. He
seems to be too fast to be stopped, but Jon comes up and tackles him. We get
the ball at midfield. In the huddle I am told to go long. I am always going
long. That means nothing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The ball is hiked and I run past
everyone. No one pays attention to me. Instead they direct two of the guys to
guard J.J., leaving me wide open in the end zone. The ball is thrown to J.J.
and the other team intercepts it, running the ball back for a touchdown. That
team celebrates the score while we huddle back at the other end of the field.
When I mention that I was wide open, the guy throwing the ball said he never
saw me. He promises to look next time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We get the ball back and our guy
goes down quickly. We have a long field ahead of us. We huddle and I’m told to
line up behind the quarterback and he’ll hand me the ball to run it. Here is my
chance. I’m ready to run like Robert Smith, dodging and spinning past
defenders. He hikes the ball and turns to hand it off to me. I reach to grab
it, but he pulls the ball back in and bootlegs the opposite direction. I’m left
running out for a pass, confused by this change of events. He passes the ball
and we get a touchdown because someone was left undefended. I don’t care. I
wanted the ball.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Flashbacks of flag football come to
mind. I played on a team for two years. I didn’t get to play quarterback or
running back or wide receiver. I didn’t get to be a good position. I was chosen
to play the center. My duties consisted of hiking the ball and running a short
route for a pass that rarely came. I ran so many button hooks that I could
still run that route perfectly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>In two years I never scored a
touchdown for that team. I was rarely thrown to, and was usually caught soon
after since I ran a short route in the middle of the field. But one game I had
my chance. I got the ball and spun past the first defender with a move that
would make any player envious. I turned to the end zone and charged forward. I
was unstoppable for a play. I reached the end zone and was ready to celebrate
my first touchdown.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And then I heard the refs whistle.
There was a penalty on the play. Our quarterback did an illegal block. The
touchdown didn’t count. My chance at doing something great for the team
vanished as quickly as it had arrived.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We kick the ball back to the other
team and get a chance to play some defense. If I can’t be Cris Carter or Robert
Smith for my team, the least I can do is play defense like Robert Griffith.
I’ll be the best safety they’ve ever seen, and word of my defensive talent will
spread and the high school team will want me to play. They’ll see that I can
play.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They hike the ball and I drop back,
watching the quarterback. I see one of the guys break free from the defender
and so I start running that way to cover him. I leap for the ball as it flies
by, but I’m too short to reach it. He catches the ball and makes it into the
end zone. I sigh and accept the fact that my size is not doing any favors for
the team. If I were six inches taller, that pass would have been mine. But I’m
not.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The game runs on and I get a chance
to catch a few passes every now and then, and even manage to deflect a pass or
two. The game is nearing its end, since dinner will be served for most of them
in a matter of minutes. We have time for one last drive. I’m running a cross
pattern down the field. The ball is hiked. I take off and cut to the right. The
ball is in the air. I leap for it and pull in the pass. Wham! I’m hit mid-jump
by Jon. I flip in the air and land on my back. The air is knocked from my
lungs. My vision gets blurry. The ball is still in my hands.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I lay in the grass, too stunned to
think for a moment. Then reality sets in and I realize that I caught the ball.
Against all odds, I made a great play. The aching in my chest is a constant
reminder of the hard tackle. It hurts with each breath I take. I can hear
commotion from the other guys and I know this is my chance to make an
impression. Their attention is fixed on me and how I react will probably impact
how they perceive me in the future.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>People start to crowd around me. I
brush aside the inconvenient pain and get to my feet, laughing. The thrill of
catching the pass fuels my adrenaline. I can tell this isn’t what they were
expecting. Anyone else would be lying on the ground still, in too much pain to
get up. Or at the very least gasping for air. I am doing neither of those
things.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That was fun,” I proclaim as I toss
the ball to our quarterback. “Let’s do it again.” A few people voice their
concern but I brush that aside. The catch and my reaction have done something.
It has won some respect. They won’t avoid giving me the ball any longer. I have
been accepted as an equal, at least for one day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">We get back to playing, but the game
doesn’t last much longer. The sun is getting low in the sky and the sound of
crickets starts to echo through the field. I get a few more passes thrown my
way and the other team makes sure I am covered. I manage to leap and deflect a
pass, too. I never score a touchdown in the game, but it doesn’t matter
anymore. I’ve proven myself worthy of belonging on the team.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>After the game ends I head over to
J.J.’s house, along with Jon and J.J. We sit outside on his front porch talking
about football. We laugh about the catch and the tackle. It was a moment we
wouldn’t forget anytime soon. Jon tells me he never expected anyone to pop back
up like that laughing. At that moment he knew I was a cool guy. J.J. nods in
agreement.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Do you play video games?” Jon asks
me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Of course,” I say. “I grew up
playing Mario and Zelda when I was little.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“My favorite game is Dragon Warrior
IV,” he says. “Have you ever played that game?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I love that game!” I say in response.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The three of us continue to talk for
a while as the sun gets lower in the sky. We find that we have a lot of the
same interests. Jon mentions that he doesn’t have many friends since he moved
here in January from South Carolina. He has become good friends with J.J.
because they are neighbors, but beyond that it is a challenge. He says it is
hard to leave behind friends he knew for his entire life and move across the
country. I understand the feeling because I moved back to Altoona two years
ago. I had lived here for most of elementary school but missed out on Junior
High, where many friendships are initially formed. We’re both trying to find a
way to fit in and be accepted.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I head home as the streetlights are
coming on for the night. Dinner is cold, but I don’t mind because I had fun. My
brother told my mom that I wouldn’t let him come, but she told him that he
couldn’t go play football with us because he’d get hurt. He didn’t like that,
but I secretly enjoyed hearing that. It turned out to be a great day, and I had
gained two new friends.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Almost thirteen years later I am
still friends with Jon. We’ve hung out a lot, played many video games together,
watched lots of football, built a poker table, and many other things. We spent
almost two years as roommates. Sometimes it is hard making new friends. Other
times it is as easy as playing a game of football with someone you don’t know.</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-37701619388829828722012-04-23T21:08:00.000-05:002012-04-23T21:08:35.923-05:00Monday Listicles - Books<span id="internal-source-marker_0.4239484351391336" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Today is the first annual </span><a href="http://www.us.worldbooknight.org/">World Book Night</a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> in the United States. Unfortunately, I knew nothing of this event until today so I’m not able to be a participant in this great event. I applaud whoever came up with the idea to give away free paperback books to encourage reading among adults. I’ve been an avid reader from childhood and, as an English major, I am a huge advocate this sort of thing. I’m marking my 2013 calendars now for this event so I can help give away some books!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I follow a handful of blogs that post every Monday on this </span><a href="http://www.northwestmommy.com/category/monday-listicles"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Monday Listicles</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> event. This morning I was pleased to find that this week’s listicle is about books. This is a topic I can easily go on about. I’ve read hundreds of them that I can remember (and probably hundreds from my younger days that I can’t). I’m reading books each semester for my college classes. I read across several genres and indulge in many classics.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I’d like to think I’m an unofficial authority on this particular subject.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">While I’d love to be selfish and encourage you to read my </span><a href="http://scholarlyscribe.blogspot.com/2012/03/serial-novel-part-one.html"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Serial Novel</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> as one of the ten books, I will refrain from doing so. It hasn’t progressed far enough to be considered a novel, or even a novella as of yet (I’ve written 4 parts so far). I will direct you to my post where I shared my poem, </span><a href="http://scholarlyscribe.blogspot.com/2012/01/poem-thrill-of-books.html"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Thrill of Books</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">. I believe some other avid readers will be able to relate to that poem.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I thought about doing a list of my ten favorite books. I’ll probably do that list at some point in time, but I think that I will take a different approach to this. I’m going to do a list of ten books that, in my opinion, are must-reads:</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">1. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Dragon and the Unicorn</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> by A.A. Attanasio – In the realm of King Arthur books, this one is by far the most unique approach I have encountered. There are four books in this series which is, disappointingly, difficult to find. I scavenged bookstores frequently for years before finally buying them all online. It is not a book that you can plow through quickly, but the angle this takes makes it worth every minute spent reading this book.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">2. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Count of Monte Cristo</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> by Alexandre Dumas – I remember in high school being told that there are so many plot and character twists that we would have to diagram them all out on the board. Dumas wrote some excellent novels, including </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Three Musketeers</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">, but I feel this one outshines them all.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">3. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Hamlet</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> by William Shakespeare – What better way to honor the Bard than by promoting his longest play on the day of his birth (and death)? I’d wager almost everyone has read </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Romeo and Juliet</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> at some point, whether by choice or because they had to. I’ve read this play many times over the years and I find that my appreciation for it increases as I get older.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">4. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Sonnets from the Portuguese</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> by Elizabeth Barrett Browning – Everyone knows the poem “How do I love thee/let me count the ways” but few people have read the collection that it comes from. This is a collection of over 40 sonnets that Elizabeth wrote for Robert Browning over the course of two years. She gave this to him as a wedding present, and you can see how her feelings develop over time until she reaches the point of that famous poem (which is the second to last).</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">5. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Ender’s Game</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> by Orson Scott Card – I was pleased to see this is one of the novels being distributed for World Book Night. Even if you aren’t big into Science Fiction, this is a novel that you would probably enjoy. I fell in love with this book back in high school, and I still enjoy reading this novel every time.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">6. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Eats, Shoots and Leaves</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> by Lynne Truss – I know the odds of convincing most people to read a book about punctuation is about the same as winning the lottery, but her sense of humor makes this book enjoyable and memorable. And in this digital age the importance of punctuation and grammar has never been greater. Grandmothers everywhere will be thankful that you know to write “Let’s eat, grandma!” instead of “Let’s eat grandma!”</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">7. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle – I’m currently making my way through the entire collection of Holmes stories/novels and they have not disappointed. While the vast collection might be unreasonable to expect you to read, this is perhaps the best set of short stories that I’ve come across so far.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">8. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Bridge to Terabithia </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">by Katherine Patterson – I can do no justice to this book by trying to express how wonderful it is. The ending makes me teary-eyed every time I read it. I still refuse to watch the movie because I don’t want to risk the chance of a bad film tarnishing my love for this story. This is one of the best books ever written in my opinion.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">9. <i>Watership Down</i> by Richard Adams - Who doesn't like books where animals talk? While novels like <i>Charlotte's Web</i> and <i>Animal Farm</i> are excellent, this is better than any of them. I've read this book several times and I am still amazed at how wonderful this story is. This is perfect for anyone who loves reading books from the young adult section.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">10. <i>Queen of Camelot</i> by Nancy McKenzie - I wasn't going to do a second King Arthur-related novel on this list, but I couldn't imagine leaving off either of them. This is perhaps the book I've recommended the most over the years. So far everyone who has read it upon my suggestion has loved it, even if they weren't huge fans of the King Arthur stories like I am. Therefore I am going to say that if you read no other book from this list, you should read this one. You won't be disappointed.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Comment and let me know if you, too, have enjoyed reading any of these books. Comment if you don't like any of these books. Or, better yet, comment after reading any of these upon my recommendation. I'd love to know what you think of these books. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I'd love to know that you are reading.</span><br />
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</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-71880122632668611192012-04-21T11:08:00.000-05:002012-04-24T09:06:57.128-05:00The Curse of Fierabras - Part Four<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Part IV - Jerek</b></div>
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<span id="internal-source-marker_0.19670574975423682" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> The desperation thrust misses its mark and Dante stumbles past the guard, tripping over his feet. He skids across the dirt floor of the arena. Dirt clings to the open wounds in his side and his thigh, intensifying the sensation of pain. Dante braces himself for the killing blow that will put an end to his agonizing pain. It never comes.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> A stone pillar comes crashing down on top of the guard behind Dante, crushing him. Fragments of the pillar scatter in every direction. The last remaining guard pauses his advance, uncertain about his odds for success. Jerek steps forward with a sword in one hand and a broken dagger in the other.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> “Stay down,” Jerek says as he advances toward the center of the arena. He crouches down low like a cat, ready to pounce. The soldier thrusts with his spear and Jerek pivots to the right. Jerek counters with a quick dagger thrust and the guard shuffles back a few steps to avoid the attack. Jerek presses forward, feinting with the dagger and striking with the sword. The guard continues to give ground, trying to place some distance between them, but Jerek remains in close.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> The figures get smaller as Dante watches the battle unfold between them. Jerek fluidly moves from one attack into the next, keeping the guard off balance. Dante wonders how many men lost their lives to capture Jerek. Nobody could stand a chance in single combat against this swordsman. Jerek backs the guard into a pillar and the guard makes a desperation attack, much like Dante had done moments ago. It was the window of opportunity that Jerek must have been waiting for. The broken dagger pierces into the guard’s shoulder while the sword slices across his midsection. The guard falls to his knees, the spear dropping from his hands.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> A mixture of boos and cheers fill the arena. Small scuffles break out among the crowd. Dante gets to his feet, his muscles aching and sweat dripping down his face. Jerek crosses back over, slipping the sword into an abandoned scabbard. Two dozen of the king’s soldiers come into the arena and encircle the two victorious men. They take Jerek’s sword bind him in chains. Rage flashes in his eyes but he submits to the imprisonment. They chain Dante and then lead the two men back into their cell.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Neither man says a word as they are placed into the cell and their chains removed. An hour later a loaf of hard bread and a bucket of tepid water are placed in their cell. Both men tear into the food and Dante finally breaks the silence.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> “I’ve never seen anyone fight like you.”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> “Thanks,” Jerek says between mouthfuls of bread.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> “I want to thank you,” Dante looks down at his reflection in the bucket. “If you hadn’t toppled that pillar I would be dead now.”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> “You ever been in a fight, lad?” Dante looks up at Jerek, caught off guard by his question.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> “I’ve sparred in the practice ring back home, but nothing like this.”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Jerek nods and bends down to take a long drink from the bucket. He looks back up at Dante, droplets of water running down his chin. “What’s your story?”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> “I shouldn’t be here,” Dante says.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> “None of us should. These are bad times we’re living in.”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Dante nods as he swallows another bite of bread. “About a week ago the Emperor’s army passed through our town. They stayed for two days, eating our food and drinking our ale. All the young men followed them around and staged mock battles, hoping to get drafted into the army. I kept to myself and tended my wares. When they prepared to leave, they told several of the men that they were part of the Emperor’s army now. When they told me that, I refused their offer.”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Jerek raises an eyebrow at this, pausing mid-bite. “And they didn’t care for that, right?”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> “I was rewarded by being backhanded and then chained up. They brought me here, accusing me of being a member of the Reformation and inciting riotous behavior.”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> “And now you are going to die, here in this arena, because you didn’t want to wear the royal uniform. Why didn’t you accept? They’d at least be giving you better meals than this.”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> “I don’t know, exactly,” says Dante. He had been wondering that same thing ever since they led him to the capital. Why did he refuse? Few people had anything negative to say about the Emperor, and those who did were usually gone by the next day. “I don’t think the Emperor is as good as we’re led to believe. Towns are being found deserted, crops are scarce everywhere, people go missing and no one seems to notice. But he never tries to fix these problems.”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> “So you think they are hiding something?”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> “Yeah, I suppose I do. I’ve heard stories about what things used to be like, back before the Emperor.” The problem is that no one believes those stories. The Emperor has been reigning for as long as most people can remember. The few who do remember usually keep quiet about that. Those who don’t usually go missing, or end up hanging from a tree alongside a road. “What do you think, Jerek?”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> “Things were better before he came along, that’s for sure,” Dante stoops down to take a drink from the bucket. “That’s why I helped start the Restoration.” Dante coughs mid-swallow, unable to believe what he just heard.</span><b> </b><br />
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Go To: <a href="http://scholarlyscribe.blogspot.com/2012/04/curse-of-fierabras-part-three.html">Part Three - The First Battle</a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-33879011728050752892012-04-17T22:29:00.000-05:002012-04-17T22:29:57.078-05:00The First Three MonthsReflecting back upon the day I began this blog, it amazes me to think of how things have surpassed my expectations. I figured this would be a small blog where a few family and friends would read occasionally because they feel the need to be kind and read a post or two. That was the status of my previous attempt at a blog almost two years ago. I think that one made it a month before it died off, much like my attempt at creating a website.<br />
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That tends to happen a lot. The grand visions fizzle out when the initial excitement wears off.<br />
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The excitement for this one hasn't fizzled yet. Instead it is exceeding what I aspired to accomplish when I created Scholarly Scribe. So, in celebration of reaching this first minor milestone, I will answer a few questions that were put forward by some of the readers of my <a href="http://scholarlyscribe.blogspot.com/2012/04/guys-night.html">Guys' Night</a> post on Friday.<br />
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The following questions were asked by <a href="http://www.youngmanbrown.com/">Youngman Brown</a>:<br />
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1. What was your original reason for starting a blog?<br />
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My original reason for starting a blog was actually highlighted in my first post, <a href="http://scholarlyscribe.blogspot.com/2012/01/why-i-write.html">Why I Write</a>. I created this as a place to share my thoughts on writing and being a writer. I wanted to be able to share some literary opinions and make book recommendations for other readers (which I still haven't done!). And, most importantly, I wanted a place to share my writing with the world.<br />
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Like I mentioned in that post, I don't care whether or not I become a rich or famous writer. I write because I want to share my poems and stories with others. If I were to measure the success of that over the past three months, I would have to say I've succeeded. I've had almost 800 page views in three months. That is much better than I anticipated, and a lot of that is courtesy of <a href="http://yeahwrite.me/">Yeah Write</a>. But people are reading some of these posts, which means I've met that goal.<br />
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2. Have you always been interested in writing/sharing your life, or was it something encouraged by others?<br />
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I have been interested in writing itself since about my Sophomore year of high school. That would date around 1999 or so. My earliest poems and stories come from that time frame, and some of them are still among my favorites. For years I have dreamed of getting things published so others could read what I've written. I have made websites and a blog over the past few years where I would tease with a portion of a story, or with some of my poems that I didn't expect to submit.<br />
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I was worried about First Electronic Rights for future submissions. So I posted subpar material or general blogs with my thoughts on a certain topic. But I never really shared the ones that I loved. That ended when I started this blog. I've shared a few of my favorites so far, and have even more to come (and others that I've yet to write!)<br />
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3. And would you say that now, three months later, that your motivation for blogging has stayed the same or has it changed?<br />
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I would say that it has evolved. Originally my intent was to do nothing but post short stories and poems and occasionally throw in something blogish, like my post <a href="http://scholarlyscribe.blogspot.com/2012/03/from-skeptical-to-faithful.html">From Skeptical to Faithful</a>. Today I still have some original writings, such as <a href="http://scholarlyscribe.blogspot.com/2012/03/serial-novel-part-one.html">my Serial Novel</a> that I started a few weeks ago, but I also have a fair mix of regular blog posts about my life or my thoughts on certain topics. I'm sure over the next nine months it will continue to evolve as I find my style and my voice as a blogger.<br />
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But I don't think I'll ever lose my desire to share my writing with everyone. I love getting feedback on poems and stories. The good and the bad. Those comments help me to continuously grow as a writer and hone my skills.<br />
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The next set of questions come from <a href="http://www.shiftlessmommie.com/">Shiftless Mommie</a>:<br />
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1. What were your biggest concerns when you first got started?<br />
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I was concerned about several things when I first started this blog. The first concern was that I would lost interest, yet again, in an attempt to share my thoughts and writing with others. As I mentioned above, I have had several failed attempts at starting blogs and websites with a similar purpose in mind. Thankfully it only takes one exception to break the cycle, and I think that is going to happen with Scholarly Scribe.<br />
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My second concern was that no one would take notice. My blog is still small enough and new enough that I get a sense of excitement when I see any new comment, or notice that any single post is getting a fair number of views. It gives me a feeling of accomplishment that aligns with the goals that I had for this blog. As long as I continue to get some views and some comments, I believe I'll continue to have a reason to post.<br />
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My third concern was that my greatest fears would become realized. My self-confidence would take a beating. The comments I would get would all be negative and along the lines of telling me to stick to a real job and that I couldn't make it as a writer. Finding acceptance and a sense of belonging never really came easy to me growing up. For the most part I have left that sense of insecurity in the past, but it is always ready to sprout up at the (not so) perfect moment and crush my hopes.<br />
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2. What is drawing you to WordPress?<br />
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Comparitively there aren't many major differences between Blogger and Wordpress. At least that is what I have been led to believe from the bit of research I have done into the matter. Blogger is newbie-friendly and has some great features. Wordpress, from what I have read and seen so far, takes most things a little bit further in what you can do. I like the designs offered on Wordpress, and they have a free account that gives the same sort of address choice that Blogger allows.<br />
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In the end it is just those minor things that Blogger doesn't do that draws me to try it out. I think the biggest appeal is the ability to create Pages, which will make it easy for readers to access each part of my Serial Novel. I'm 98% certain I'm going to enjoy the change to Wordpress and stay there for a long time. Now I just need to get enough skill to create a passable-looking banner for the top of my blog. I've never been able to do things in Paint, much less any of the more advanced photo/image creation/modification programs.<br />
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Many thanks to the two bloggers who presented some questions. Any others that happen to pop up over the next few days will be addressed in a future blog post. Feedback is always welcome, as are any other questions you may have thought of!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-90467395896728248852012-04-15T23:29:00.001-05:002012-04-24T09:06:18.689-05:00The Curse of Fierabras - Part Three<div align="center">
<strong>Part III - The First Battle</strong></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The blade of the saber slices through the air. Dante crouches down, shifting his momentum and leaping back to avoid the fatal blow. The soldier’s force carries his weight forward and his sword cuts into the ground. Dante runs from the man as he struggles to remove his weapon from the arena floor. With his eyesight finally adjusted, Dante is able to look around and see what he is facing.</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A dozen pillars are scattered throughout the arena, most of them broken and worn down with time. Several large pieces of pillar lie among scattered rubble and debris from the prior battles. The floor of the arena is coated with a thin layer of reddish dirt intermixed with coarse sand. A few broken weapons have been left abandoned around the arena, many coated with a layer of dust. A few spears and an axe are lodged in the wall encircling the arena.</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Half a dozen men, including the one Dante evaded, are their opponents. Each one is wearing the same gold armor on their upper torso and is wearing a pair of gold greaves on their legs. Their feet are sandaled. Each appears to carry two weapons with them: a sword being paired with shield, spear, or mace. The four prisoners are outnumbered and outmatched, just like he was told they would be. The other three aren’t faring much better, either.</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Dante turns back to check on the location of his opponent. There is a large gash in the ground where the sword became lodged, but neither man nor saber is anywhere to be seen. Dante steps around a stone pillar, determined to locate this missing soldier. A large piece of stone falls to the ground in front of him, sliding into the pillar. Dante looks over and sees the soldier reaching down to grab another stone to hurl.</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Dante notices a splintered shaft of wood on the ground a few feet away from the soldier. The man is taking aim with another stone. Dante charges forward, sidestepping the projectile as it flies through the air. The soldier picks up his sword and plants his feet, bracing himself to meet the attack. Dante slides along the ground, his fingers grasping the fragment of a wooden handle. Dust stirs in the air. The soldier swings his sword in a powerful cut, but the shaft of wood has better reach and pierces the soldier’s exposed shoulder.</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The sword drops to the ground and the soldier staggers back a step. His left arm dangles uselessly at his side. Dante gets to his feet and grabs the dropped sword. He swings wildly, cutting through the air. The wounded soldier easily dodges a few attacks. Dante rushes forward with a feint, but the soldier trips him up.</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Dante slides along the ground, his lungs filling with dust. He rolls over in time to see the soldier pull the splintered stick from his shoulder, blood oozing from the wound. Dante scrambles backward, sword still clutched in his hand. The sun gleams on the golden armor as his opponent readies the makeshift weapon for a fatal blow. He pulls the weapon back for a powerful thrust. Dante brings his arms up over his face and braces himself for the upcoming pain. Instead of being skewered, the soldier falls to the ground, his neck twisted.</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Dante looks up to see Slate standing over him, arm extended to help him up. He is covered in cuts and scrapes. His one good eye is slowly swelling shut. His breathing is ragged. The corpses of two soldiers are behind him. Hoggle is pinned to the wall of the arena by a spear through his chest. Jerek is nowhere to be seen. The remaining three guards are advancing quickly on Dante and Slate. Dante grips the saber in his hand and Slate picks up a massive stone.</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Slate times his throw perfectly, but the three soldiers scatter before it hits them. The stone shatters into a dozen smaller pieces, flying in various directions. Most bounce harmlessly off the greaves, but a few cut through skin and one lodges itself in the foot of a soldier. Dante swings his sword at the nearest soldier. It is easily deflected off a large brass shield and the soldier thrusts with a counter-strike. Dante steps aside to avoid the blow but the sword catches his side, leaving a narrow gash in its wake.</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The soldier presses the attack on Dante, slashing and striking relentlessly. Dante backpedals, struggling to keep up with each attack. His breathing becomes heavy and sweat pours down his face. The soldier sees the sign of slowing and presses with renewed vigor. Dante parries a thrust, ducks under a slash. The soldier sweeps at Dante’s feet with his shield. Dante jumps to avoid the blow. The soldier anticipates this and stabs Dante’s thigh.</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The crowd frantically cheers for the soldiers. Dante is exhausted and wounded. Slate takes the mace from one soldier and crushes his skull with it, but the other soldier takes advantage and runs Slate through the chest with his sword. Jerek is still nowhere to be seen. The other soldier picks up a discarded spear and starts toward Dante. Pain shoots through his left leg from the wound, but Dante tries to ignore it while fending off the swordsman. His reactions are getting slower and the attacks are getting closer to striking a lethal blow. Dante closes his eyes and makes a desperate thrust, praying for a miracle.</div>
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Go To: <a href="http://scholarlyscribe.blogspot.com/2012/04/serial-novel-part-two.html">Part Two - Cellmates</a> Go To: <a href="http://scholarlyscribe.blogspot.com/2012/04/curse-of-fierabras-part-four.html">Part Four - Jerek</a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-56386095782899801072012-04-13T21:59:00.000-05:002012-04-16T23:24:39.530-05:00Guys' NightBefore I begin my post for today, I'm going to make three announcements:<br />
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1. Tonight I've been busy with babysitting and homework, so I'm pushing back my third installment of my Serial Novel until Sunday night.<br />
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2. April 17 marks the three-month anniversary of this blog. It has far surpassed my expectations, so I will be making a special post on Tuesday night where I will answer some questions about me. They can be about who I am, the blog, my writing...anything, really. The only condition is that I need <b>you</b> to post some questions in the comments of this post and I will answer them all on Tuesday. Don't feel like asking a question? Leave a writing prompt instead and I will hit that sometime in the next week or two (time permitting).<br />
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3. I am considering making a transition from Blogger to WordPress in the near future. At some point, once I have things in a format I like over there, I will provide a link to the future site and post on both for 2-3 weeks before I make the move for good. Any tips about WordPress are welcome!<br />
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Almost a week ago my fiancee and I decided to bring a child into our home. Her cousin has been rehabilitating from a surgery and there is no telling how soon she'll be able to take care of her three children. Prior to Saturday the extent of our help in all of this was praying for them and visiting a few times during the week. We agreed to watch her six-month old boy, Michael, for a night. It is almost a week later and he is still here.<br />
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He is such a happy, smiling boy. It is impossible not to fall in love with him almost immediately. He is a lot of fun to have around in spite of our busy (and unusual) schedules. We've found ways to juggle things adequately enough to continue our activities like normal. But I have to confess that it is tough going from no baby to having one around without much notice or time to mentally (and emotionally) prepare for the task.<br />
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A few weeks ago my fiancee signed up to attend a women's function at our church with one of her friends. That meant she would be away all evening, leaving me alone with Michael at home. It has been years since I've watched a baby for any amount of time. Being alone with him for hours tonight was, on some level, a scary thought. But I mustered enough courage to encourage her to go anyway.<br />
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So we've enjoyed guys' night tonight. We played on the floor and in his walker. We had Avatar: The Last Airbender playing in the background, which is a fitting cartoon for the guys' night. We've danced and sang and tickled. We've pet the cats (one of them finally warmed up to him enough tonight to let him pet her. She did good, even when he grabbed a handful of fur) and had raspberries blown on his tummy. He had a bath and got ready for bed. He got his nightly dose of Albuterol with the respiration machine. Many nights he screams and fights that. Not tonight.<br />
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Tonight he fell asleep during it. He was so tired that he stayed asleep when I set him down in the car seat long enough to make his bottle. He has been sleeping sound for almost two hours no. This was, by far, the easiest night for getting him to sleep.<br />
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Maybe we just played too hard and had too much fun for him to stay awake and fight his sleep. We enjoyed getting to bond tonight. I love this baby and now I can't wait for us to have some of our own filling up our house.<br />
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Maybe we should have guys' night more often. I think he'd like that. What do you think?<br />
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<a href="http://yeahwrite.me/53-open/"><img src="http://yeahwrite.me/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/readerbadge_250.png" /></a></div>
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<em>Entering this post in Yeah Write #53 this week. Stop by and check out all the awesome blogs. I'm sure you'll find at least one you like.</em></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-10440252976007865872012-04-06T17:46:00.000-05:002012-04-24T09:01:29.182-05:00The Curse of Fierabras - Part Two<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Part II - Cellmates</b></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Dante wakes when a bucket of cold water is splashed on his face. One of the guards spits at him and they walk out the door, locking him in. The room is dark and has a musty smell. Rough, dirty clumps of straw are scattered about on the stone floor. A single torch burns out in the corridor on the other side of the door, granting a small amount of light for him to see. His chains are gone and he rubs his wrists. Dante winces in pain as his hands pass over cuts from the metal bonds. His legs have cuts and scrapes everywhere from being dragged to this cell.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br /><span style="color: black;"> Dante struggles to his feet, reeling back as a wave of light-headedness sweeps over him. A pair of rough, calloused hands grabs his shoulders and helps to steady him. He turns around and finds himself face to face with a giant. The tall man stares at him with his one remaining eye, frowning. Behind him are two others cowering against the wall.</span><br /><span style="color: black;"> “You picked a bad day to come here,” says the giant. “It is our day to perform.”</span><br /><span style="color: black;"> A frail old man begins to chuckle nervously. His long, white beard sways as the man laughs. He has two teeth left in his mouth, both yellow and rotten. He has a wild look in his eyes and he skitters forward to get a better look at Dante.</span><br /><span style="color: black;"> “Hoggle thinks you’re not going to last,” the old man says.</span><br /><span style="color: black;"> A short, heavy-set man looks at Dante with a hard glint in his eye. “He’ll outlast you, old man,” he says.</span><br /><span style="color: black;"> “Hoggle will live,” the old man snaps. “New boy doesn’t know what is coming. He will be the first to die.”</span><br /><span style="color: black;"> Dante is confused and irate at the exchange between these two. “What do you mean by perform?” he asks the giant man.</span><br /><span style="color: black;"> “That coliseum above us isn’t just for appearances,” he answers. “Each week they pick a cell to fight up there, and bring the others up to watch. Today is our day to fight.”</span><br /><span style="color: black;"> “Fight against whom?” Dante asks as he swats a fly.</span><br /><span style="color: black;"> “Depends,” the short man answers. “Some days it is the Emperor’s Royal Guard. Sometimes mercenaries paid to fight. Sometimes wild beasts.”</span><br /><span style="color: black;"> “No matter who it is, the odds are against us,” the tall man says.</span><br /><span style="color: black;"> Dante turns and takes a step toward the door, looking at the ground. “In what way?”</span><br /><span style="color: black;"> “Our opponents have weapons,” the short man says, “while we get a dull knife or a knotted stick if we’re lucky.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Jerek is right,” the giant man says. “Few survive their first battle in the coliseum.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Dante sighs and turns around. “There has to be a way to get out of this.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hoggle thinks you are fool if you think of escape,” says Hoggle.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“There is no escape,” Jerek says. “There is one chance of being released, but no one has ever managed it” The giant turns his head and glares at Jerek. “I’m telling him the truth, Slate, and you know it.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No sense getting the kid’s hopes up,” Slate says.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What is it?” Dante asks.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Slate looks back at Dante and shakes his head. “Anyone who wins five battles gets an audience with the Emperor. He is the only one who can release us, but he won’t.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“He seems like a good man,” Dante says, taking a step forward with a glint of hope in his eye.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>All three men laugh hysterically. The laughter dies down when Hoggle coughs violently, spraying a light mist of blood. Dante wants to ask them what is so funny, but the sound of footsteps approaching turns their attention to the door. Two dozen armed guards crowd the hallway outside the door as the captain turns the key. All four men are shackled without attempting to resist. Dante begins to understand why escape seems impossible.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They are led through musty corridors, past dozens of cells holding prisoners. Everyone has the same look of despondency. They all expect to die soon, and have resigned themselves to that fate. Dante tells himself he won’t let himself fall into that same state. No one will escape if they don’t try.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The cheers of thousands of people reach his ears as they reach the surface. Sunlight floods into the eyes of the men as they march forward. Dante brings his hands up to shield his eyes as they try to adjust. The guards fall in behind them, forming a defensive barrier to prevent escape. The chains are removed from the four men and they are shoved through a doorway.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The cheers become a chorus of jeers when they see the prisoners step outside. The door they came through slams shut and is locked behind them. Dante tries to see the surroundings, but his vision is still blurred from the sunlight. His three companions take off in different directions, seeking weapons or shelter, while Dante is still trying to adjust. A gate across the arena opens up and the crowd cheers. Dante struggles to make out the forms coming out of the gate, his impaired vision still creating problems for him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Dante runs to his left, rubbing his eyes frantically to get them to adjust. He sprints past a large stone pillar in the ground. A spear flies past, inches from his face, and secures itself in the wall. Dante turns to see a large, muscular man dressed in gold armor standing five feet away from him. The man swings a giant sabre at Dante as the crowd cheers him on.</span></div>
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<br />Go To: <a href="http://scholarlyscribe.blogspot.com/2012/03/serial-novel-part-one.html">Part One - Into the Capital</a> Go To: <a href="http://scholarlyscribe.blogspot.com/2012/04/curse-of-fierabras-part-three.html">Part Three - The First Battle</a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-26170817800640400322012-04-02T07:26:00.000-05:002012-04-03T16:33:42.958-05:00The Princess and the PoetToday I celebrate the birth of my better half, Nicole. Words can't do justice to how much I love her and how blessed my life has become since she became a part of it. In celebration of this great day I thought I would share the story of my proposal to her last year.<br />
<br />
It started by me asking her parents to eat lunch with me once I purchased the ring. We ate at a sushi place in West Des Moines and I asked their permission to marry their daughter. They gave me permission, and that night I came home and we were both doing homework. The whole time I was mulling over how to propose. I knew one thing was certain:<br />
<br />
She didn't want any sort of public proposal. She had mentioned that before in passing.<br />
<br />
I kept coming up with all these grand, elaborate ideas like proposing after going skydiving. But the more I thought about it the more I realized I didn't want to wait any longer. I wanted to ask her that night.<br />
<br />
And then it hit me: I should propose in a story.<br />
<br />
And so I wrote a short story and, when she was done with her homework I asked her if she would let me read her a story and tell me what she thought about it.<br />
<br />
And here is how it goes:<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Once upon a time there was a beautiful young princess who was the envy of the kingdom. She had long brown hair and a smile that could melt any man’s heart. Her brown eyes sparkled brighter than any star in the sky. Her skin was smooth and fair in complexion and as soft as silk. When she sang it left men enchanted by her angelic voice. She had a great many suitors during the prime years of her youth, but she never met a prince in the four corners of the earth that could win her heart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>One day a young poet was in the courtyard when he heard the young princess singing. It filled him with such rapture that words flowed freely from his quill onto the parchment, filling it with such perfect lines of poetry that he became convinced that he must meet the source of such a sweet melody. Every day he came back to the same courtyard, hoping to hear that sweet voice. Nearly a week passed until he once again heard the wonderful singing, and although his urge to write inspired poetry was great, he instead followed the sound of the voice until he came across its source.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When he first laid eyes on the young princess he instantly believed that she was an angel sent from heaven, so great was her beauty to match her voice. He admired her from behind a bush, and watched as several men tried in vain to get her attention. She ignored them all and continued singing, and the poet had an idea and began to write a new poem. When the singing ceased, and the men all dispersed, he walked over toward the window where she had stood and began to recite his poem.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The young princess had never heard words filled with such fire and emotion, so she came to the window to see what manner of prince was making these claims. When she saw the poor poet, she took an instant liking to him because he was nothing like all the boring princes she had rejected. For over a year the two continued to meet in secret, since it was forbidden for the young princess to take an interest in anyone but a prince. Yet her heart sang every time she was with the poet, and the poet’s soul was filled with such sweet verse that neither one wanted things to come to an end.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>One warm spring day the poet professed his undying love to the young princess, saying he wanted her to run away with him and live down by the sea in his hut. While she loved the poet, she could not bear to leave her family and her castle behind. She ached to do as he asked, but before she could give up her life she decided to test the poet to determine his commitment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The next day, when the poet came and proclaimed his love for the princess and once more asked her to run away with him, she presented her challenge to him. He had thirty days to prove to her his love and, if he could do this, she would run away with him. If he could not do this, she would have no choice but to accept he did not love her and they would never speak to each other again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Over the next twenty-nine days the poor poet tried everything he could think of. He wrote her songs and poems about his love for her, but that could not move the princess to be convinced of his commitment. He brought her jewels and flowers, but she was still not convinced. He begged and pleaded for her to change her mind, or to give him a hint, but she stood firm by her decision. On the final day of the test, the princess woke up feeling sick with despair, knowing that this might be the day she would have to say good bye to the poet forever. While her heart ached to consider the idea, she knew she could never leave her life behind. She put on her best dress and went to her window, and there was the poor poet waiting for her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He looked up into her eyes and smiled, certain he had finally figured out what he needed to do. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small box and opened it up, dropping to one knee as he spoke to her, saying:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You are a wonderful woman and I am so happy to be with you. I am so happy you are a part of my life and I want you to be part of my life forever. I love you so much. Would you do me the absolute honor of marrying me?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">At this point I was on one knee with the ring in my hand as I said that last paragraph. She cried and said yes. And then we tried taking a good picture of the ring for about half an hour. It was dark and the flash wasn't cooperating. Then we watched her favorite movie: Twilight.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Ten months later we're still happily engaged and celebrating her birthday today. I love her so much and can't wait to find out where our lives will take us as we journey together. Forever.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Happy Birthday Nicole. I love you. :)</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-89771842576917972122012-03-30T19:16:00.000-05:002012-04-24T08:56:17.510-05:00The Curse of Fierabras - Part One<br />
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<img src="http://img821.imageshack.us/img821/9083/daretoshare.jpg" /></div>
<br />
I've decided to try my hand at writing a serial novel. My intent is post every Friday with a continuation of the story, so be sure to check back each week for the next installment. Feedback is strongly encouraged, so please let me know what you think in the comments below. I do not have a title for this yet, but I hope to come up with one before next week.<br />
<br />
Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy and encourage you to share with anyone you think might enjoy reading this as well!<br />
<br />
--------------------<br />
<br />
<b>Part I - Into the Capital</b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> <span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Dante has always wanted to see the capital in person, but he never imagined for his first visit he would be bound in chains. The rusty metal links rattle every time he shuffles his feet along the dirt road. The thick bars of iron cut into his flesh every time he lifts his feet too high or takes too large of a step. He has to move fast in order to keep up with the guards surrounding him. They won’t stop for him if he falls. He learned that two days ago when they dragged him along the road for over a mile.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; line-height: 200%;"> His lips are cracked and his skin is caked with dirt. Dante tries to rub the dirt from his eyes but he only manages to irritate them further. The heat from marching under the sun has his brown hair slick with sweat. He tries to catch the droplets with his tongue as they roll down his face. His body is in dire need of hydration.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; line-height: 200%;"> Dante’s mind, distracted by the physical discomfort, is still in awe of the vast walls surrounding the capital. They stretch in all directions as far as he can see with hundreds of buildings crowding together inside of them. Thousands of people swarm through the streets and stand in doorways, most of them dressed in torn and dirty clothing. His appearance right now blends in perfectly with the crowd of citizens, apart from the chains around his hands and feet. The stench of the unsanitary living conditions threatens to knock him off his feet, but the guards around him seem unfazed by it. He reaches up to cover his nose but a guard tugs on the chain and forces his hands down by his side. He supposes the smell is to be part of his punishment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; line-height: 200%;"> As they navigate the labyrinthine twists and turns of the outer city the swarms of people begin to thin out. He can smell fresh fruits and meats and the aroma of burning coals in the furnaces of blacksmiths. Peddlers are stationed alongside wooden carts, holding up their wares to try and attract customers. The ragged clothing of the outer city has been replaced by vibrant colors and smooth layers of cloth. This part of town seems more alive, even though there are fewer people crowding the streets.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; line-height: 200%;"> <span style="color: black;"> The further they travel into the city the more open space they encounter. Houses and buildings become scarce, replaced by flowering trees and flowing fountains. Thick tufts of green grass are sprouting everywhere and extinct birds and animals are present among them. Everything he has ever been told about the capital and the Emperor don’t fit with this image of beauty. Why would the Emperor destroy everything out there while maintaining this paradise outside the palace?</span></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: small;"> A sharp jab from the blunt end of a spear disrupts his thoughts and gets his feet moving again. Suddenly the decisions that have led him to this situation no longer seem to be the right choices. Maybe his family and friends were wrong; maybe the Emperor was trying to restore peace and prosperity to the land and everyone rebelling was preventing his success. Maybe he should have chosen differently.</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: small;"> The guards bring him to a halt in front of a massive coliseum. White marble pillars gleam in the sunlight. Beds of vibrant-colored flowers encircle the base of each massive column. Dozens of arches lead into the building, each opening as wide as a dozen people. Stone steps are chiseled into the structure, leading up and down into hundreds of rows of seats. All the people in his hometown, combined with all the neighboring villages, couldn’t fill up a fraction of the seats in this coliseum. The enormity of the structure leaves him in awe of the place.</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: small;"> All around them are soldiers dressed in short crimson tunics over a thin coat of chain mail. A black raven is embroidered on the left shoulder of each tunic. Each soldier has at least a small sword sheathed at their waist and a longbow strapped to their back. Many others also carry a variety of spears or maces, and a few have massive battle axes. All of them salute the man seated in front of the prisoner and his accompaniment of guards.</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: small;"> The captain appears bored as he rustles through a few scrolls of parchment. He scratches his gray beard as his eyes glance up at the prisoner. He frowns and grasps a black quill and a blank roll of parchment.</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: small;"> “Name?” he says without looking back up. The prisoner is hit upside the head from a gauntleted hand of the guard next to him. His vision blurs and he stumbles over his words as he attempts to answer the captain.</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: small;"> “My name is Dante Silverstar,” he says. The captain jots the name down without looking up.</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: small;"> “Crime?” he asks. Dante starts to answer, but one of his guards cuts him off and answers for him.</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: small;"> “The prisoner is guilty of open defiance of the Emperor, inciting rebellious activity, and being in league with The Restoration.”</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: small;"> Dante furrows his eyebrows and tries to step forward but the guard behind him kicks him in the back of his knee. He falls down on his knees, inhaling a cloud of dust that stirs from the impact. “I did no such thing,” he says.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: small; line-height: 200%;"> “Guilty,” the captain says.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: small; line-height: 200%;"> “Because I refused to join the Emperor’s army?”</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: small; line-height: 200%;"> “Guilty,” the captain says again as he stifles a yawn. “Take the prisoner to the pit.”</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: small; line-height: 200%;"> “But I…” are the last words Dante says before the world goes black and the guards drag the unconscious prisoner into the depths of the coliseum.</span></div>
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Go To: <a href="http://scholarlyscribe.blogspot.com/2012/04/serial-novel-part-two.html">Part II - Cellmates</a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-15539203139516675192012-03-27T06:55:00.003-05:002012-03-27T07:12:45.106-05:00Reject ThisAt the end of the week I had something arrive in the mail that I forgot even existed. Last year I had entered some of my writing into the Des Moines Area Community College writing contest and my essay took first place. I opened up a packet from DMACC and inside were two copies of the West Campus publication that had winning writings from 2009-2011. I finally held in my hands a printed, published copy of my writing.<br />
<br />
That feeling was inspiring. I have felt the urge to write and submit some more. I've decided to put pen to paper and start writing more new things. And this motivation came at the perfect time...<br />
<br />
Because yesterday I got an email back from Poetry magazine with a polite rejection of the poems I submitted to them.<br />
<br />
Normally I would go through a phase of lost motivation because I sent them what I felt was the best of the best. But today I really feel like just submitting even more things.<br />
<br />
Because I know my writing is good enough for publication. I have physical proof of that on my desk right now. If it is good enough for one, it is good enough for others. I just have to find the right place at the right time.<br />
<br />
So I'm going to send out a flood of submissions this week. And if I get a flood of rejections, hopefully there will be at least one pearl that washes up with an acceptance.<br />
<br />
And those publications who reject me have only strengthened my resolve to continue writing. And inspired this poem:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Reject This</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Reject this poem</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Like you have rejected many others,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You aren't rejecting me;</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I am not this poem.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Reject this poem</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
So that it can move on</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
To be rejected again and again<i>;</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
That is its fate.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
For if a thousand publications</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
All read this and reject it,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
At least it will be read a thousand times.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> </i> And the reason I write</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Is so that others can read, so</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Reject this poem.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>I'm linking this post up with <a href="http://yeahwrite.me/">Yeah Write</a></i> <i>this week so they can all read and reject this poem, too. Feel free to share this with others so that it can get rejected 1,000 times! :)</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://yeahwrite.me/50-open/"><img src="http://yeahwrite.me/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/addictbadge.png" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-73541563106066513882012-03-17T22:04:00.002-05:002012-03-18T08:00:45.330-05:00From Skeptical to FaithfulFor most of the 27 years of my life I tried to avoid religion. My mind was unable to wrap around the abstract notion of faith. I could not comprehend the importance of or need for religion. I wasn't atheist because I believed in the possibility, but I was more of agnostic. That basically means I was skeptical about the ability to know or not know about the existence of a deity.<br />
<br />
A few years ago my life was stuck in an endless, destructive cycle. I spent all of my free time playing video games for hours and hours upon end. I was working 60-80 hours per week in a salaried job that I had grown to hate. There were a few times I even worked 24 hours straight for that job. I had always thought that was the career I was destined for because I didn't have a college degree.<br />
<br />
But I desperately needed a change.<br />
<br />
One day I had the sudden inspiration to look into the local community college. I barely made the deadline to sign up for that term's spring classes and enrolled in one course that was completely online. It was the first change in my life that would lead me down a new path.<br />
<br />
That summer I stepped down from my salaried position and transferred to a different store. I was going to work evenings and take full-time classes during the day. That fall I met my fiancee through one of those classes, and we also realized we both worked evenings at the same store. We hit it off immediately and my life has become better ever since.<br />
<br />
We occasionally went to her old church across town with her Grandma. While I enjoyed seeing her family, things never really changed for me while attending there. I still wasn't certain of my ability to believe, to have faith.<br />
<br />
Seven months ago we decided to try and find a church nearby because she believed it would be important to belong to a church that we can attend as a family when we have children. I was willing to look around and we went to a few churches around town. We didn't go back to any of them a second time.<br />
<br />
Then we attended a church called Point of Grace. She thought I might like the rock band-style music, and she was right about that. We also enjoyed the sermon given by the pastors. It was the most interesting church service I had ever been to, and we agreed to attend again the next weekend. We've gone every Sunday ever since, and I can officially say that I feel as though I belong to a church.<br />
<br />
But there was more in store for me.<br />
<br />
I've been reading a few pages each day from the Bible. We've become involved in some premarital events and some small group sessions. One of these is known as Pursuit. It is an eight-week course where we attempt to "See God as He is SO we can see ourselves as He sees us SO we can see others as He sees them". Wednesday was the sixth lesson in the course, and it seriously changed me.<br />
<br />
Something that night struck a chord with me on a whole other level that I didn't even know existed. It is like a faith switch was suddenly flipped. I have been inspired to pray every morning and night since that session, as well as a few times during the day when I feel inspired to. I've become more open in talking about my new-found faith. I've started posting a bible verse each day on Facebook with the hope that it helps someone in some small way. If it inspires or encourages at least one person, then it was worth it.<br />
<br />
Driving to work on Thursday morning I had the urge to turn the radio to Christian music. It has been there ever since.<br />
<br />
A few weeks ago a family member needed to find a new job, which came at a bad time because she is getting married next month and had just put in an offer for a house. I started praying for her to find a job and yesterday I saw a Facebook post that she got a job.<br />
<br />
My fiancee was suffering from jolts of pain yesterday. Last night I prayed for them to be healed. This morning they were gone.<br />
<br />
A year ago I would have argued that this was coincidence. Today I believe there was a higher power at work. <br />
<br />
I'm not here to preach and try to convert anyone. But I am here to let the world know that I am a true believer now. It took a long time, but I have finally found my faith. And I can't wait to find out where it is going to take me in my life.<br />
<br />
<i>Linking up with The Lightning and the Lightning Bug for the Dare to Share: Brave. This has always been a topic I've had trouble talking about and it feels great to finally be able to share it with others.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<i> </i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-11000465595510912332012-03-11T19:52:00.000-05:002012-03-11T19:52:50.136-05:00Achievement Unlocked: Reading MarathonI'm not afraid of reading long books. A few summers ago I enjoyed <i>Atlas Shrugged </i>and <i>It</i>. Last year I read <i>Don Quixote</i>. One of my favorite series, <i>The Sword of Truth</i>, has eleven books that are 700-1000 pages long. I don't mind novels that draw near a thousand pages. Many times I end up enjoying these books. The problem comes when time is a factor.<br />
<br />
A month ago we had to read <i>Vanity Fair</i> in the two weeks between my class, The Long Century. It was the second of six novels we're reading this semester for the course and it was a challenge to get through the novel. Especially since about 300 pages could have been removed without losing a lot of story. There was a ton of repetition.<br />
<br />
Now I have entered the two week period where I get the challenge of reading <i>Middlemarch</i> inside of a two week period. This is a 900-page behemoth of a Victorian-era novel. To top things off my other class also is having me finish the last 200 pages of <i>Angela's Ashes</i> in the same two week period. Holy crap that is a lot of reading in a short span of time. I feel like I'm running a literature marathon here.<br />
<br />
<br />
Now that the spring semester is closing in near the end, I'm trying to figure out my own reading goal list for the summer. I'm trying to keep in mind that next spring I'll be doing my Senior Project and what I might do for that. A 25 page paper sounds like a lot, but I'm sure I can easily eclipse that mark if I get a great topic that encompasses some awesome literature.<br />
<br />
My initial thoughts are either comparisons of some of the major King Arthur novels (<i>Le Morte d'Artur, The Once and Future King, The Mists of Avalon</i>, <i>Idylls of the King</i> come to mind immediately for that) or something like the evolution of the "hero" in novels (starting with something like <i>Beowulf</i>, hitting novels like <i>Odyssey, The Three Musketeers</i>, could hit an Arthur/Lancelot novel, and then some more recent works like <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> and some other current fantasy novels).<br />
<br />
I'd like to hear some opinions on what might be good books to look into for either of those topics. I've got an impossibly long list of books I want to read someday, and there are probably many I wouldn't think to look into. Suggestions?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-87322049822653549092012-03-05T19:39:00.000-06:002012-03-05T19:48:39.728-06:005 Songs That Made Me Want To Play GuitarOne of the blogs that I follow is <a href="http://icantbrain.com/2012/03/05/5-songs-that-made-me-want-to-play-guitar/">I Can't Brain Today</a>, and today's post covered the five songs that made him want to play guitar. It was great to get a chance to read what songs have inspired him musically, and it got me to thinking about some of the songs that stick out in my mind. Before I get into the songs, I'll give a little bit of background.<br />
<br />
No, I don't currently own a guitar. I borrowed one for a few weeks last year and enjoyed it in the brief time I could spare between work and homework, and it confirmed my belief that I want to learn to play and someday get decent at it. And I'm sure I won't surprise too many people when I declare that Guitar Hero really is what got me to thinking about playing the instrument.<br />
<br />
I spent months of agony going from struggling on Medium difficulty, moving into frustration by adding the fifth fret, and eventually getting to the point where I could hold my own on Expert with most songs. It comes as no surprise that, during the course of the day, three of the five songs that have stuck for this list were featured in the first Guitar Hero game. It really sparked my desire to play the guitar, and all three of the songs are old classic rock songs.<br />
<br />
Hopefully by this time next year I'll be able to write about learning to play the guitar on a real instrument. At this point I'm not picky between Acoustic or Electric, although ultimately I'll be getting an Electric Guitar to rock out on.<br />
<br />
I think when we buy a house it'll have to have good insulation in at least one room...<br />
<br />
5. Smoke on the Water - Deep Purple<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/s1sAkZF7SCQ" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
This was the song that inspired me to pick up the Guitar Hero instrument and give the game a chance. The intro to this song is recognizable to almost anyone who has listened to any Classic Rock. In the short time I was borrowing a guitar, I learned those chords and enjoyed playing just a few seconds of the awesomeness that is this song. I can hardly wait until the day when I can play the full song. Then I will know that the Guitar Hero has been replaced by a real Guitarist.<br />
<br />
4. Cocaine - Eric Clapton<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/48nHEKXDKdc" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
Eric Clapton is one of the greatest guitar geniuses to ever live. In my early years I had a cassette of Slowhand, and I played the first side of it to death. This song is anti-drug if you listen to the lyrics, the guitar in it is memorable, and the solo is fantastic.<br />
<br />
3. Comfortably Numb - Pink Floyd<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/gs3lQVyZPVg" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
It is hard to choose a favorite Pink Floyd song, but the guitar solos on this song have always been something I was fond of. I have to confess that I've tried to vocally imitate the guitar solos when driving in the car, or while listening to this song while home alone.<br />
<br />
2. Texas Flood - Stevie Ray Vaughn<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/wWu01J39YG4" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
This is a slow, bluesy song by another one of my favorite guitarists. But if you listen to how fast some of those guitar parts are, you realize his fingers are blazing even on this song. If I had to pick a favorite song overall by Stevie Ray Vaughn it would be Pride and Joy, but even the guitar part on that can't compare to this one. This was probably my second-most played song on Guitar Hero, and I loved every minute of frantic struggle to hit all the colored frets almost as much as when I played...<br />
<br />
1. Crossroads - Cream<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/becWr0vc6cA" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
Yes, this is another great guitar part by Eric Clapton. His early years were absolutely brilliant, and his solos reflected how great his talent was. I've read that Cream was marketed to be a band that was better live than in album. Which is probably why a fair portion of their "Wheels of Fire" album contains live tracks, including this song. If you like great guitar solos, you can't go wrong with live versions of Cream because they are all incredible.<br />
<br />
So there you have it, the five songs that have inspired me more than any others to learn the guitar. It surprised me, when I got to thinking about it, that my favorite two Bands/Artists didn't make the cut with any of their tracks, but David Bowie and Queen don't need epic guitar parts to make great music.<br />
<br />
What are some of the songs whose guitar parts stick out to you?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-72388322693580276902012-03-02T19:26:00.001-06:002012-03-02T19:27:14.076-06:00Hero Wanted?I love the Fantasy genre. I love knights and dragons and magic and elves and all of that stuff. I love the idea that one person, or a small group of people, can help save the world. Even the most unlikely person could end up being a hero, like Frodo and Sam. Maybe part of me hopes that I can accomplish similar deeds in today's world.<br />
<br />
But then I got to thinking about something while I was working out at Planet Fitness today: I'd never make it as a hero.<br />
<br />
I'm out of shape. I don't eat very well some days and my daily fitness regiment is more like an "on occasion" affair. Which usually means a week or two of doing it and then a month or two of not. It is a lot easier to just enjoy life and utilize that hour doing other things.<br />
<br />
Like reading or video games or watching The Biggest Loser. Great choice, trading active for sedentary.<br />
<br />
Everyone knows the Number One rule in Zombieland:<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Yc2ruNX8QebUSSvwJnjme9ViZIa9YS3eIOe9WAEXnyJdCT43-JrRxLDKdY2182eIJjOb0RvEUMhINRyIUrbNSSaBo6rm1jXfdQ2T8-V09-wODYj51b41sVTZpmx9-eurjy-qKAHGxCI/s1600/169fd9184c4711e19e4a12313813ffc0_6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Yc2ruNX8QebUSSvwJnjme9ViZIa9YS3eIOe9WAEXnyJdCT43-JrRxLDKdY2182eIJjOb0RvEUMhINRyIUrbNSSaBo6rm1jXfdQ2T8-V09-wODYj51b41sVTZpmx9-eurjy-qKAHGxCI/s200/169fd9184c4711e19e4a12313813ffc0_6.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
And I know I wouldn't last if the zombie apocalypse occurred today.<br />
<br />
If the world needed me to strap on a suit of armor and ride a horse for miles and then face off with an evil wizard, I would probably fail somewhere between putting on armor and riding the first mile on a horse. If I had to fight with a sword for more than a minute or two I'd probably end up dropping my sword from exhaustion.<br />
<br />
Goblin Horde: 1, Knight David: 0<br />
<br />
I'm not anywhere near the physical shape I should be. I'm overweight and at the rate I'm going I am more likely to look like this <br />
<br />
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Than I am to look like this<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixZ6OiraWZOJnDcZtZNw_k3nsXRQ6EBjrxA4ZiOQzxBoh76yqrDkFylo5W8gOGbPposMW8mObrHkeXyOPlmUEgLBAN-3Ph9exY1QwWH5Pc6TQOgF5wUok-wujzMObzVd0P88QlG2Srh2k/s1600/51pbxuNg7FL._SL500_AA280_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixZ6OiraWZOJnDcZtZNw_k3nsXRQ6EBjrxA4ZiOQzxBoh76yqrDkFylo5W8gOGbPposMW8mObrHkeXyOPlmUEgLBAN-3Ph9exY1QwWH5Pc6TQOgF5wUok-wujzMObzVd0P88QlG2Srh2k/s200/51pbxuNg7FL._SL500_AA280_.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
Is this madness? No, this is the sad reality of life as it stands. And I know I'm not the only one struggling with the same problems. Unhealthy lifestyles have become an epidemic in this nation, from what I can see. And I won't stand for it any more.<br />
<br />
In July I might not look quite as good as Leonidas or any of the Spartans did. But I intend to look more like that than someone who belongs on The Biggest Loser.<br />
<br />
And if I can complete this quest, maybe slaying a dragon or saving the world won't be such a challenge in comparison.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-87800499058375257932012-02-27T23:04:00.003-06:002012-02-27T23:04:23.464-06:00On EducationI wish I would have listened to my dad years ago when he emphasized the importance of doing good in school. It was a topic he brought up several times during my high school years, and each time I simply heard the words without the importance sinking in. I didn't really see the need.<br />
<br />
I didn't understand how much of a difference it would be to get an 'A' instead of a 'B'. The former would require effort to obtain, while the latter I could get without studying or applying myself beyond showing up for class and doing homework at the last possible minute.<br />
<br />
Then I went to college for a semester. One miserable semester where I felt overwhelmed and inferior. Suddenly those 'B' grades were becoming 'C' grades. I didn't get dumber overnight. The material and the grading standards simply increased. I did not return to Simpson College for the Spring semester in 2003.<br />
<br />
I kicked myself for years after that. I tried to succeed in life with what skills and opportunities presented themselves to me. I did manage to thrive for a few years until I had a life-changing realization: I hated my job and the industry I was working in.<br />
<br />
I needed a change.<br />
<br />
At the time I was single, living with my best friend, so I really had nothing to lose by taking a pay cut and returning to the college world. I enrolled at the local community college and came to another realization: "just enough" wasn't good enough for me.<br />
<br />
My dad's advice finally made sense.<br />
<br />
Over the past three years I've been paving my way toward a college education that I could have obtained years ago. Last May I graduated from Des Moines Area Community College with an Associate of Arts degree. I was inducted into the Phi Theta Kappa honor society. I graduated with honors. <br />
<br />
All while working full-time.<br />
<br />
I decided last fall to return to Simpson College. Yes, the same place I departed from after a lackluster 2002 Fall term. Then I learned I would retain my GPA and the credits earned from that semester. Yikes!<br />
<br />
But I've viewed this as an opportunity to repair the error in my past and finish what I started. And I fully intend to finish in 2013 with honors, in spite of the obstacle.<br />
<br />
With this resurgence of focus on education in my life recently, I've paid particular attention to that topic with Obama's current presidency and what the possible Republican candidates have said. And something I read tonight really bothered me.<br />
<br />
Rick Santorum came out and said that Obama is a "snob" because he encourages everyone in America to go to college.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.forbes.com/sites/johnmcquaid/2012/02/25/santorums-unwise-war-on-higher-education/">An article on Forbes</a> quotes another part of Santorum's speech: “There are good, decent men and women who work hard every day and put
their skills to the test that aren’t taught by some liberal college
professor… That’s why he wants you to go to college. He wants to remake
you in his image,” Santorum said. “I want to create jobs so people can
remake their children into their image, not his.”<br />
<br />
Wait a minute, Obama wants us to go to college so we can be remade in his image? Really?<br />
<br />
And then I do some more digging into Santorum's educational views. I don't like what I'm finding. He believes that we should reduce government funding for public education and revert to homeschooling.<br />
<br />
I don't want to see the quality of education decline.<br />
<br />
I value education. It is a value that I hope to foster in my children when my fiancee and I begin to have a family. It is something I encourage everyone to value, because I feel it is important. It is something that President Obama supports, and it is something that the current governor of Iowa supports as well.<br />
<br />
And I like that.<br />
<br />
What I don't like is being hearing that a possible candidate for the Presidency does not value it. He would probably not get my vote if he beats Romney.<br />
<br />
Because I think a quality education is that important in today's world.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-88242664271666878972012-02-25T22:11:00.000-06:002012-04-17T22:50:18.681-05:00Writing Goal TrackerAn odd set of coincidences has convinced me to create this post. A few nights ago I was falling asleep and thought about making a blog post to establish my writing-related goals for 2012. I figured this would be a way of keeping myself accountable, since I would have my readers to encourage me to achieve these goals.<br />
<br />
The next morning there was a prompt on <a href="http://thewriteandthewrongword.blogspot.com/2012/02/flicker-of-inspiration-prompt-39.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+TheLightningAndTheLightning-bug+%28The+Lightning+and+the+Lightning-Bug%29">The Lightning and the Lightning Bug </a>for "Commitment Device". Coincidence? I hardly believe it could be. It was certainly a sign to get motivated and put an action plan into words.<br />
<br />
For those who read my last post about the fear of submission, I will provide a status update. I got a response for three of the seven poems I submitted. They were all rejected by an "Emerging Writers" publication. The kicker? Two were rejected solely because they rhyme even though the submission guidelines mentioned <b>nothing</b> about not wanting rhyming poems.<br />
<br />
They don't deserve to publish my poems anyway.<br />
<br />
I've decided to break this down into six categories: books read, poems written, stories written, works submitted, works accepted, and works rejected.<br />
<br />
An important part of being a writer is reading a lot as well. It helps us to grow and develop ideas and voice in our own writing. This is never an issue for me because I love to read. I decided to finally create a <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/7910145-david-wiley">GoodReads</a> account last night, where you can see my collection and which books I've read this year.<br />
<br />
I tend to write a lot more poems than stories, but I think it would be best for me to continue to generate new work in both categories. That is why there will be a lot more poems than stories for the goals, and for these categories I'm tracking from today through 12/31/2012.<br />
<br />
For the submission-related ones, the reason should be fairly self-explanatory. I'll never become published if I don't submit, and I'll hopefully <b>fail</b> to meet my rejection goal.<br />
<br />
Check back often because I'll be editing this page every time any of these numbers change!<br />
<br />
-----------------------<br />
<br />
Books Read: 17/52 Last Book Completed: The Importance of Being Earnest and Four Other Plays by Oscar Wilde<br />
<br />
Poems Written: 2/65<br />
<br />
Stories Written: 1/12<br />
<br />
Works Submitted: 17/100<br />
<br />
Works Accepted: 0/5<br />
<br />
Works Rejected: 10/95<br />
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<a href="http://thewriteandthewrongword.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://img407.imageshack.us/img407/1093/flickerbutton.jpg" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-72997919948387783892012-02-21T07:15:00.001-06:002012-02-21T08:56:12.836-06:00Poem - Facing Fear<div style="text-align: center;">
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<i>Last night, during the breaks in my class, I submitted 7 poems for publication. This marked the first time in over a year that I finally broke down and submitted my writing. For some reason the idea of facing another rejection was something I was intimidated by. Last night, while falling asleep, I had the spark of an idea for this poem. It is unedited, in its purest form. It may not be perfect, but that is facing yet another fear. I want things to be perfect before I share them. But sometimes you just have to jump in and do it anyway.</i></div>
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<i>Facing Fear</i> </div>
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A shadow freezes the blood</div>
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Flowing through my veins,</div>
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Giving my hand pause as my</div>
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Mind dwells upon dark fears.</div>
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Hesitation lurks around the corner,</div>
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Always there to comfort me with</div>
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A pessimistic perspective.</div>
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I can't do it. I'm not good enough.</div>
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Who would take them, anyway?</div>
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You really think it is worth</div>
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The monetary prize?</div>
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<br /></div>
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For each thrust from the</div>
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Pessimist my mind attempts to</div>
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Counter with a quick parry</div>
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To drive back this gloomy fog that</div>
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I have succumbed to so easily.</div>
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This is what I am meant to do.</div>
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It is my hobby, my passion, the one thing</div>
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That is my calling in life.</div>
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I am a writer, not some novice who</div>
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Quivers in intimidation and</div>
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Cowers in the corner with a tail</div>
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Between my legs.</div>
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<br /></div>
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This fear that threatens me daily is</div>
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Not something new; it is merely taking</div>
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A new form. I have always sought</div>
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Acceptance, encouragement, success</div>
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And hoped to avoid failure.</div>
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It took the form of isolation from intimacy,</div>
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Keeping me locked in bad relationships</div>
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That never should have thrived.</div>
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It took the form of hesitation to leave a job</div>
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That I loathed, dreaded, hated</div>
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Each day. I forced myself to get up and return</div>
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To the grind of a retail void where</div>
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Creativity and motivation where sucked</div>
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Out and replaced with the possibility</div>
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Of becoming a mindless zombie.</div>
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I hate the struggle with this fear,</div>
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But I know that it is as normal</div>
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As the breath I take each moment.</div>
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It is there for me to overcome</div>
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And push to greater heights. It is His will</div>
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That I grow to greater heights</div>
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By triumphing over this inner demon</div>
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That haunts me at every turn.</div>
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Each time I've surpassed the barrier</div>
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In the past my life has inevitably become</div>
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Better by an unmeasurable quantity.</div>
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This will be the same because I know</div>
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That God has a purpose for these obstacles,</div>
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These fear which dwell upon my mind</div>
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And freeze me with doubt.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I will succeed. He has seen it happen</div>
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Because He knows me and knows what</div>
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I am capable of. He bestowed this talent</div>
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Upon me when He molded me in His likeness.</div>
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I understand why the fear was placed before me;</div>
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If this came too easily I would take it </div>
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For granted and gain nothing. To finally</div>
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Get past rejection, and my fears of failure,</div>
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And become a published author will be</div>
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A sweet victory that I can relish</div>
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And revel in. I will have earned my place</div>
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Among the others before me who have</div>
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Earned the right to have their name published</div>
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Alongside their writing.</div>
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<br /></div>
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All I need to do is take the first step.</div>
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I need to send my beloved pieces</div>
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Out for judgment by the editor. And as I</div>
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Hit submit I feel peace, knowing that even if</div>
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The result is rejection, my will is strong and</div>
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In my heart I know that it was all part of</div>
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His plan for me. Because I am a writer</div>
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And I will become published.</div>
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Someday.</div>
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<b>This post is being submitted for consideration in Yeah Write #45. This marks the third week taking place in this exciting contest! Check it out and enjoy reading all 50 blog posts.</b></div>
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<a href="http://yeahwrite.me/45-open/"><img src="http://yeahwrite.me/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/addictbadge.png" /></a></div>
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-60412057230300442072012-02-17T07:15:00.000-06:002012-02-17T07:15:29.072-06:00Poem - Drifting PeacefullyTwitter has an interesting trend that I discovered only last week: Follow Friday I'm relatively new to Twitter, having really only used it the past few months as a requirement for class. I realize that puts me about 15 light years behind the trend. Which is slightly closer that the 16 light years from just now really making headway on a blog. But I love the idea of tagging people you feel are worthy of your friends and followers' attention, and so I hope to do the same here on Fridays with my blog.<br />
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And if you want to just skip right over this and get to <i>my writing</i>, then that is certainly your choice. But before I include my poem for the day, I want to make mention to my three blogs of the day.<br />
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The first blog I will mention is <a href="http://www.chickennoodlegravy.com/">Chicken Noodle Gravy</a>. I discovered this particular blog through the <a href="http://yeahwrite.me/">Yeah Write</a> contest, which is an awesome community of bloggers who take the time each week to read 50 blog posts, comment on them, and then vote for their favorites. Two weeks in a row now this blog has gotten one of my votes. She is a talented writer and I'm glad I found another writer who I can model my own blog after.<br />
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The second blog is <a href="http://icantbrain.com/">I Can't Brain Today; I Have the Dumb</a>. I actually came across and began to follow this blog near the end of February when I read his post about how his father, through Dungeons and Dragons, was his greatest influence as a writer. It was extremely well-written. Then a little over a week ago I discovered <a href="http://yeahwrite.me/">Yeah Write</a> through my interest in one of his posts where he answered 33 questions and was going to tag everyone who entered into Yeah Write that week. Unfortunately he was unable to participate due to time constraints, therefore was unable to tag people, but I gained something even better as a result.<br />
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The third one is <a href="http://4theluvofwriting.blogspot.com/">For the Love of Writing. </a>This is another gem I've begun following thanks to <a href="http://yeahwrite.me/">Yeah Write</a> (notice a trend here. Seriously check it out and read some of these blogs each week. They are filled with awesome blogs and bloggers). She has a sense of humor in her writing that I enjoy, and I believe you would too if you take the time to read her blog.<br />
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So now that you've clicked all those links to those other blogs and have them open in new windows or tabs, I'll let you read my poem. You did click those, didn't you?<br />
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Drifting
Peacefully</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">You lay next to me, drifting off</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Into a peaceful slumber while</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I remain awake, reading. The warmth</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Radiating from you comforts me,</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Putting me at ease. Your breathing</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Becomes heavy, growing slower with</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Each moment that passes by. My</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Book fails to maintain my interest, </span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Instead I find myself listening closely,</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Laying still as a stone.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Every breath you take makes my</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Smile grow. Every time I feel your </span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Body shift, snuggling closer, it makes</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Me love you more. You must feel secure</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">To be with me, so close together, wanting</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">To touch at all times as you fall into</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The realm of dreams. I hear the gentle</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Rhythm of your snoring begin to emerge</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">And I turn to hold you close.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I whisper softly in your ear</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The thoughts that cross my mind</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">As I listen to your sweet</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Slumber. You are so beautiful,</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">So soft, so warm and gentle.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I want to hold you in my</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Arms every night. I can’t believe</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">How lucky I am to have a </span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Woman as wonderful as you</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">In my life.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Sleep soon catches up with me</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">As though it were a contagious</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Infection spreading. My eyes grow</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Heavy as I think of you and</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Smile, knowing I will dream </span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Of you and soon enough will be</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Waking next to you. This last thought</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Makes me smile as I begin my</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Drifting peacefully, happily, with you here</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Sleeping next to me.</span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-33415678724194797522012-02-13T18:01:00.000-06:002012-02-14T06:05:54.675-06:00Thoughts Upon a Valentine<div _fallwcm="1" class="bdyItmPrt" id="divBdy">
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;"><span dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. The day that people celebrate the love they share for each other by purchasing cards, flowers, chocolates, and waiting three hours to get a table for dinner. The day that some single people lovingly refer to as a “Hallmark Holiday”. There was a time when I was alone and bitter and felt that way about this holiday. Maybe I was alone </span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>because</b></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> I was bitter. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;"><span dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I am blessed to have such a wonderful woman to share this holiday with. I am a better person today because she has been a part of my life, and I look forward to many great memories that we’ll share together in the year 2012. She is my valentine every day for the rest of my life. I can’t wait to marry her this summer.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;"><span dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Writing can be a very solitary craft. Even when you have the support of someone else, it can still feel that way when you only hear “I love it!” about everything you write. I do hear my share of positive feedback from her, but she also is not afraid to let me know when something isn’t quite right. If she can’t understand something, I usually wording things poorly or assumed that people would know certain tidbits of information. She keeps my words concise and my focus grounded. She is the best support system I could ask for.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;"><span dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">She understands me in a way that no one else has. She might not understand why I get excited about the next installment in the Zelda series, or why I absolutely </span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>have</b></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> to get a 4.0 GPA every semester, but she understands that these things are important to me. This weekend she gave me my valentine/birthday present: a Playstation 3 and Final Fantasy XIII-2. I didn’t even have to hint at a game; she knew the right one to get me.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;"><span dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">She encourages me to get homework done even though I know she’d prefer to have me sitting by her side on the couch, watching Twilight for the hundredth time. She tells me to play my games on our only television and that she wants to watch me play, even though I know that it can’t be that interesting to watch another person playing a RPG. She encourages me to write and to submit things even when I feel like I can’t write or that my writing will never get published.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;"><span dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">For the record, I’ve only seen rejection letters; however, I’ve only submitted a handful of things over the years. I’m sure I’d be published by now if I submitted more often.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;"><span dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">She makes me feel special because she supports the little things that are important to me. I know she doesn’t really want to see Star Wars in 3D, especially after hearing that the 3D is nearly non-existent. But she still declared we are going to see it anyway.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;"><span dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">These are a few of the reasons why I love her. The list could go on forever. She is probably the best care provider for children that I’ll ever meet. She will be an incredible mother, and I can’t wait to start our branch of a family together. She wants to make life better for everyone.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;"><span dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">She has made my life better.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;"><span dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I’ve finally found who I am through her guidance. I’m not as overweight as I used to be. I don’t play video games for hours every day and spend my days off glued to the games. I have found faith in God for the first time because of her, and can see His blessings in my life that led me on the path to her and the blessings that have come since I’ve found her.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;"><span dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I could never fully express how much I love her. It would never be enough. She has changed my life and who I am, and given me more joy than I knew could be possible. </span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">That is why I help with things around the house. That is why I randomly surprise her with flowers on days that do not fall on February 14. That is why I will remain devoted to her for eternity. For richer or poorer. In sickness and in health. For better or for worse.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;"><span dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;"><span dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">But no matter what happens, things will always be better than they were before she came into my life.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;"><span dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Tell me about <b>your</b> valentine. What makes them special for you?</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;"><span dir="ltr"><b>This post submitted to Yeah Write #44. Check out the great community of bloggers taking place in this weekly contest every Tuesday.</b> <br />
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<a href="http://yeahwrite.me/2012/02/44-open/"><img height="266" src="http://yeahwrite.me/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/addictbadge.png" width="320" /></a><br />
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-58916951494098114612012-02-11T21:32:00.002-06:002012-02-14T06:05:10.394-06:00I Can't Write<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz2CJ0r-2vL0uAYyIzxsttxByd0OaLfkoo7kE9MECRv0TwTQstxmWSTKLvrcN8dxWLUHyMKaE1UBP5Ci1Zv75Mo4wTpJ3NY5kaRVCqmIeWfD4aqBVge8MnBYIznXTN8ERW5mHx7GI_uzU/s1600/post888.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz2CJ0r-2vL0uAYyIzxsttxByd0OaLfkoo7kE9MECRv0TwTQstxmWSTKLvrcN8dxWLUHyMKaE1UBP5Ci1Zv75Mo4wTpJ3NY5kaRVCqmIeWfD4aqBVge8MnBYIznXTN8ERW5mHx7GI_uzU/s1600/post888.jpg" /></a></div>I can't write today. There is too much to do. Laundry needs folded, dishes need washed, cats need fed, the house needs cleaned. The snow won't shovel itself. The cats won't clean their litter box when they are done. The fridge won't fill itself with groceries. I'm much too busy to write.<br />
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I can't write today. There is too much to watch. All of my favorite shows are on and I can't miss a minute. Biggest Loser comes on soon. No, I'm not being lazy while watching the show. I'm doing arm curls while watching the show every time I eat a cookie. And I'm burning calories when I chew. I'm much too busy to write.<br />
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I can't write today. I've got to farm on Facebook and manage my mafia. Someone just posted links to a dozen music videos that I simply must watch. I've got to tweet on Twitter and manage my Pinterest. Time to describe my day in 140 characters or less: "Writer's block rears its ugly head. My story seems to go nowhere. I simply can't write today. #notwriting #fail". I'm much too busy to write.<br />
<br />
I can't write today. My internal editor won't stop shouting. The comma needs to come out of my poem. Later this afternoon it will demand its return. It grinds my flow of words to a halt as it inspects each word and phrase with intense scrutiny. Revising this poem will take all day. I'm much too busy to write.<br />
<br />
I can't write today. Nothing is going my way. I woke up late. My shower was cold. My shoe got wet. I burnt my lunch. My car won't start. My hair has a mind of its own. The whole world stands against me. The stars are not aligned in my favor today. Facing the zombie apocalypse would be a better day than today has been. Sitting in this corner, in the fetal position, is the safest way to pass my day. I'm much too busy to write.<br />
<br />
I can't write today. The ideas in my mind have become stagnant and dull. The poetic prose which flows from my pen has passed. The main characters of my story have decided to take a vacation week. The blank white sheet intimidates me and haunts me in my sleep. My words stumble and stutter and fail to evoke emotion. It is far better to wait until tomorrow. I'm much too busy to...<br />
<br />
Wait.<br />
<br />
I guess I could write today. All I had to do was start.<br />
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<i>Photo courtesy of Creative Commons.</i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-43441462378682401082012-02-07T21:20:00.001-06:002012-02-07T21:31:30.209-06:00Poem - Thoughts Evoked by Keats' FearsPoetry is dying. It has been on a slow, but steady, decline for over a century. Who buys a book of poetry anymore unless it is required for a class? What book publisher would want to market a book of poems by one author, unless that author is one of the greats from the past? Does poetry matter anymore?<br />
<br />
It is arguable that poetry certainly has been in a state of decline from the popularity it once possessed. Back in the 1700s, poets were respected and valued. Some wonderful poetry came out of that time period, as well as the 1800s. It was the way for writers to make a living, at one point in time. Can a poet make a living anymore? Perhaps by working another job during the day.<br />
<br />
The introduction of the printing press, which led to the popularity of the novel, was the event which has bled the fame from poetry. People read novels all the time. Aspiring writers dream of writing the 'next great novel' not the next bestselling book of poetry. The <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/best-sellers-books/overview.html">New York Times Best Sellers list</a> doesn't even list poetry as a category. It lists manga, paperback graphic novel and hardcover graphic novel. Not poetry.<br />
<br />
Maybe I am the rarity who loves to read poetry. I would love to become a renowned poet. I look to the work of the Romantics for inspiration: Keats, Wordsworth, Shelley. They could command emotion. They could make a place come to life with their poems. The abstract could become concrete. Their poetry has been an inspiration for my own poems during the past few years.<br />
<br />
One of the problems that I think people have with poetry is that it defies their logic. They want to read a line at a time, and then get confused when things don't seem to flow together. Yes, there are many poems where the poet intentionally makes the end of each line a stop. If you read poetry from many of the great poets of the past, this will not always be the case. Instead you read by following the punctuation to indicate the pauses, and the flow will follow naturally. My best advice is to read the poem aloud. It is a form of writing that is meant to be spoken and shared. A poem that seems bland in your mind could become vibrant simply by vocalizing it and adding inflection upon words and phrases. <br />
<br />
The poem for today's entry was inspired by a <a href="http://www.bartleby.com/126/52.html">poem of John Keats</a>. I tried to imitate the same form he used in his poem. Try reading this poem, as well as the Keats poem I linked to above, both to yourself in your mind and then aloud. See if it makes a difference. I promise you it will be better when you say the words.<br />
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Thoughts Evoked by Keats’ Fears</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">When I have fears that I may cease to be</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Before my dreams can come to fruition,</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">It gives me pause for a moment, that we</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Shall never see my name’s publication.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">The untold tales are forever lost</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Leaving behind no trace of legacy,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">No more time with loved ones is quite a cost,</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">To see them no more would be a tragedy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">To depart from this world having tasted,</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">But never fully enjoyed, the blissful effects</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Of finding my one true love</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Who completes my heart and soul.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Alone with these thoughts I sit and wonder</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Until these dark shades drift asunder.</span><br />
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<a href="http://yeahwrite.me/2012/02/43-open/"><img src="http://yeahwrite.me/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/bluebadge43.png" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967366547000068916.post-86066667336147454742012-02-01T07:34:00.000-06:002012-02-01T07:34:31.141-06:00Story - Keeper of the Woodland CreaturesI'm currently without internet at home so I'm out supporting my local bookstore/coffee shop and enjoying their free WiFi in the process. I have to admit it is a nice little place, and I think I should set aside a small portion of my spending money this month to purchase a book from them in return. Right now I will find out how good their coffee is.<br />
<br />
I've begun a little bit of work on my future entry into the Writers of the Future contest. I think I like where my mind has decided to take things, but so far it isn't coming out as brilliant as I imagine. Such is the nature of a first draft. I just need to set my writing perfectionism aside long enough to get the entire story onto the computer before I begin to revise. I'm sure I am not the only one who feels that is easier said than done sometimes.<br />
<br />
The story I am going to share with you today came about from an offhand comment once from my fiancee, Nicole. I am rather pleased with the resulting story, and hope you enjoy reading it. This is certainly one of the things at the top of my list to submit for publication somewhere. She thinks I should try and get it published as a children's story. What do you think?<br />
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
Keeper of the Woodland Creatures</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I wonder where all the animals go
when the rain falls and the winds blow?” says Terra, watching the clouds fill
the sky. Her hands play with the pink ribbon in her wavy brown hair. A boy,
standing next to her, gazes out the window. His face crinkles with lines as he thinks.
His blue eyes widen and his face lights up as he finds an answer.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“They go to the Keeper, of course,”
he says. Terra frowns, picking her answer carefully.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Who is this Keeper, and why have I
never heard of him?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Her,” he corrects Terra. “She is
the Keeper of the Woodland Creatures and she cares for all the animals in the
world.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That is crazy, Nathan. How can she
care for all the animals when the wolf hunts the deer and the hawk hunts the
mouse?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“They are all welcome under her care
and protected from all harm. Not even a lion would dare to hunt while in her
care.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The rain comes down in dripping droplets.
Nathan and Terra play all afternoon without a thought toward their talk of the
Keeper. It is much later before it crosses their minds again. The two children,
sitting on the couch with their parents after eating a large dinner, are
watching the news. The weather reporter comes on with his yellow rain coat and
his muddy galoshes, reporting heavy rain and high winds tonight. He advises anyone
going outside to be careful, and that sparks a question again in Terra.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Mommy, where do all the animals go
when the rain falls and the winds blow?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I don’t know,” answers Mother, her
eyes fixed upon the television. “They probably hide in the rocks or trees.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I think,” Nathan starts but he is
cut off by a shush from Father, who turns the volume up. Their evening passes
without word about the Keeper. Later that night, after the children are in bed,
Terra rolls over and asks Nathan about it again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Do you think she is real?” asks
Terra.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I know she is. I saw her with my
own eyes.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Really?” asks Terra in a loud
voice. Nathan glares at his sister but the sound of footsteps in the hall
forces them both to feign sleep. The door creeps open a crack, a narrow beam of
light cutting through the darkness. Several minutes of silence passes after the
door shuts. As the children are lying there, listening to the rain and the wind
pound on the house, Nathan gets an idea.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Come see, Terra. I bet there are
animals crossing into the forest right now.” The children slip out of bed and
walk to the window. Even through the rainy darkness they think they can see
three deer and a burrow of bunnies scampering into the trees behind the house.
A flash of lightning shows birds diving into the trees, their paths erratic as
they fly into the wind.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“We’ve got to follow them,” says
Terra. Nathan nods and they go to their closets and arm themselves with what
they think they need. Nathan grabs his Spider-Man rain coat and matching rubber
boots. He stuffs his Batman backpack with a flashlight and a dozen toys he
thinks the animals might enjoy. Terra grabs her Tinkerbell rain coat and
umbrella, along with her favorite pink rain boots. She places her brush and
many ribbons into her purple purse, hoping to give some makeovers to the animals.
The children look at each other and nod, ready to go. First they have to get downstairs
without being caught.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Nathan goes first, flashlight in his
hand. He opens the door, freezing at every sound made. Finally he has it open
far enough to wiggle out the door and they sneak out of the room. They push the
door shut with equal care but the only sounds reaching their ears come from their
beating hearts. They move like a pair of ninjas down the hall, counting the
stairs as they descend. Terra loses track and sets her foot down on the seventh
stair. The stair moans under the weight of her foot and the children stop.
Their father lets out a loud snore from the bedroom. Terra whimpers in fear,
biting down hard on her lip to prevent another sound. The two children feel
relief when the sound of deep breathing resumes from Father. They sneak down
the stairs and dash out the kitchen door.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Nathan steps onto the deck and is
blown over by the wind. He grabs the rail and pulls himself up, but gets startled
when Terra’s umbrella flies into his face. It blows into the forest and Terra
sprints after it. The wind pushes at her back, adding speed as she chases her
umbrella. Nathan lets go of the deck and runs after her as she disappears into
the forest.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The trees crowd around the children,
the branches shifting closer to block the wind and rain. Terra gasps when she
looks back and notices this. Nathan shouts that he sees her umbrella and they
race deeper into the woods. The umbrella rolls and bounces across the path and
neither child notices that the trees are getting sparse and the air is lighter.
They can no longer hear the sound of rain or wind present, but neither Nathan
nor Terra realizes this. They glimpse spotted owls and scurrying squirrels and
prancing ponies as they race through the woods. The sound of soft, graceful
singing reaches their ears.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Oh
where do they go</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">When
bad weather blows?</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">When
rain floods the seas</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">And
the wind bends the trees;</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">When
the snow blankets grass</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">And
storm clouds won’t pass.</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">They
don’t hide in bush, vine, or creeper;</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">They
gather here with the Keeper.</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
mouse is most fun</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">To
watch as he runs,</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
thrush and the owl</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Are
among most beloved fowl,</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
wolf and the deer</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Play
together in here.</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">You’ll
never learn this from teachers</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">But
children will find—</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">This
place is one of a kind—</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
grove of the Keeper of Creatures.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Nathan and Terra step into a
clearing. Everywhere they look there are animals. Bears are chasing antelope in
a game of tag. Instead of growls and snarls they hear laughter from the animals
involved. Several squirrels scamper up a tree, leaping branch to branch ahead
of a spotted leopard. Frogs sing in harmony with the buzzing of flies and bees.
Amidst all these playful animals sits the Keeper.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Fireflies dance around her and
animals approach her in turn. She bows her head to each animal as they come,
the silver curls of her hair dangling. She places a hand on their heads and,
though no words are spoken, the children understand that she is communicating
with them. The children lose track of time as they stand watching all the
wondrous creatures. Eventually no more animals approach the Keeper and the
children notice she has turned to gaze at them. Nathan and Terra come forward, being
beckoned by the old woman in front of them. Her lips move and the singing voice
echoes into the forest again.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Many
seasons have long passed</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Since
humans have ventured last,</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">For
among the creatures, great and small,</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Mankind
is the most dangerous of all.</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Their
fears are now at an ease</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">But
there is a task to appease;</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">For
trust in people is hard to see,</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">And if
you pass we’ll welcome thee.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Nathan and Terra exchange a glance
that speaks more than words could. Nathan bows as he responds. “Keeper of the
Woodland Creatures, we will accept the task.” The woman smiles and a few of the
animals crowd in closer. The Keeper springs to her feet, a flower-print dress
dancing in the wind as she waltzes through the clearing, singing a new song.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Far to
the left, past many a tree,</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Caught
in the bushes you may see</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">One
small bunny, white spots on black;</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">This
is your task: to bring him back.</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
storm rages on ‘round the poor lad,</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">If he
stays stuck his life will end bad;</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Hurry
my children, no time to waste!</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Why
are you standing? Away! Make haste!</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The Keeper finishes her rhyme and an
aging fox, with specks of gray mixed with his red fur, steps forward and bows
before the Keeper. He backs away and, to the children’s surprise, he speaks in
a clear voice.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Mistress, worry not about the dear
old bunny. I shall delight in the task of finding him and breaking his bonds.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The fox vanishes into the trees and
Nathan grins at Terra. “I guess we no longer need to go, huh? We can just stay
here.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Terra hits Nathan’s arm. Nathan
recoils in pain, rubbing his arm. “If you trust that fox,” Terra says, “you are
a bigger fool than I thought.”</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
fox is a creature most cunning and sly,</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He’ll
tell a truth and hide a big lie;</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
safety of the bunny is no longer clear,</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">A
dinner he’ll make for the fox, I fear.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Terra grabs Nathan’s arm and pulls
him into the forest. They follow the trail as it twists and turns between trees
and bushes. As they get further from the grove they can hear the raging storm
again. The children nearly tumble down a slope but Nathan notices the path
turning in time. But no matter how fast the children hurry down the path, they
are unable to catch up to the fox.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They come across the biggest thorn
bush either of them has ever seen. The fox is sitting nearby, trying to bite a
thorn from his paw. The bunny is laying motionless deep within a tangle of
brambles. Several deep cuts are still bleeding as he sits there.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh, good, you’ve finally arrived,”
says the fox. “Help me with this thorn and then we can free the dinner. Bunny.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Dinner, huh?” says Terra.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“A thorn is less than you deserve,
Mr. Fox,” says Nathan.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Terra kneels by the rabbit,
untangling the animal from the thorny mess. She pulls the final branch as the
fox frees his final thorn from his paw. The fox makes a quick leap at the
rabbit, jaws snapping. Terra moves the injured bunny out of the way, and the
fox tumbles into the thorns head-first, yowling in pain and in rage. The
children get up and walk away when he calls out to them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Wait! Don’t leave me here to die.
I’ll never eat another animal!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“How can we trust you?” asks Terra.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I swear by the good name of the
Keeper, no animal shall suffer harm from my jaws or claws.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Let him rot,” says Nathan. “He got
what he deserved.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“He is sincere,” Terra says. “I
forgive him. Let him be free.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The fox whimpers in pain as Nathan
removes the thorns from the fox. The fox leaps from the brambles as soon as he
is free and darts off down the road. The children follow after him with the
small bunny in their care.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The Keeper, and all the gathered
creatures, celebrates their return. A feast of honey and bread and fruits and
nuts is laid out for all to enjoy while the storm blows around them. With their
bellies full, the children lean against a tree to take a short nap before
heading home. The sounds of the Keeper singing and the merriment of the animals
fill their minds as they fall asleep.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They wake the next morning in their
beds, the sun shining bright in their eyes. Nathan and Terra sit up with a
start and look at each other.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Was it all just a wonderful dream?”
Nathan asks.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Terra thinks for a moment and
answers. “No, I don’t think so. She is the Keeper of all Creatures, and she
took care of us, too.”</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16951730788196973441noreply@blogger.com0