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Learn to Dance

Once there was a girl who processed a wild spirit. From the moment she was born her mother knew that something would have to be done to focus and contain it, not only for her daughters sake, but for those around her. This girl would have to fit in their society if she was ever going to succeed. 
When she was two years old her mother gave her a pair of dance shoes. “You are a very spirited girl, and your flights of fancy are not suitable for this place. Take these shoes and will learn to dance. Through it you can create what is needed to fit in, and with your movements your spirit can be free.”

So it was that the girl learned to dance. All of her energy; all of her thoughts; all of her emotions were focused to the soles of her feet and came out through the grace of her steps and motion. Day and night, night and day, the girl would dance. Picking up the rhythm of others she came in contact with, she weaved into their pattern and melded with the tune. By the time she was a young lady even the gait of her walk had become an expression of its own. 

Once in a while she would take the stage to perform. It always drew an audience. When she danced for herself that’s when the things she kept inside were supposed to be exposed for others to see. Some people were intrigued, and others were fearful. Was this the same person who walked among them every day? No, they told themselves, the dance on stage was the act, what they saw everyday was the reality.
The truth was, that she had been dancing for so long that even she had trouble discerning once dance from another.

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Posted by on October 19, 2015 in story

 

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Summer’s Goodbye (A micro-story)

Though the sun shone brightly, and the songs of birds still filtered through the air, it was the chill in the wind that declared Summer was at an end. Mornings were brisk and the merchant pulled on his jacket while stepping on his porch, ready to start another day.

Standing on the lower porch step, looking out onto the grassy field, was a fairy. Her thinly veined pink wings shimmered in the morning light and the wind was playing with loose strands of her hair. She had first appeared to the merchant many months before – on that very step – when the snow was melting. Before that day he had only heard stories of the fairy folk. Since her arrival the merchant had a swell of luck and a companionship which had been different than others he had known. Looking at her there now he felt a weight in his stomach.

“Tell me merchant, do you feel it?” Spoke the fairy, her voice light and mixing in with the air as it always did.

The man approached her slowly, stuffing his hands into the jackets pockets. A sense of dread slowly washed over him. “Mmhm,” he nodded, looking out at the field. “The weather is changing. Autumn is here. I’m not worried. I’m more prepared this year than ever I was before.”

With a small shake, the fairy’s wings spread out to their fullest. A small jump and suddenly she was already more than a few feet away from the porch and starting upwards to the sky.

“Wait!” The merchant yelled, running after her. The fairy had come and gone many times throughout the warm seasons, but this time her leaving felt different. Permanent. “Where are you going?”

She paused in her ascent, arms spread wide as she turned around to look at him. Sprinkles of magic fanned out from her wings. “Summer is over, Merchant, I cannot stay with you any longer.”

“You can’t leave. What am I to do without you?” The weight in the merchant’s stomach increased and he reached his arms out to the fairy. She had not only brought him luck over the last few months, but he had grown attached to the mystical creature. And now she was leaving.

The fairy came down and the merchant sighed as he felt the warmth of Summer in the hands she placed on his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her. Though she smiled at him it was sad and looked out of place on that face he had – until now – always seen filled with joy. She spoke softly to him. “I am a child of Spring’s birth, and Summer heat. There is no place for me in the short days of Autumn, or the chilly world of Winter.”

He shook his head, not in disbelief, but because deep down he knew it was true. “Why did you not tell me you were leaving? Were you simply going to leave without saying goodbye?”

The fairy began to pull away, and the merchant strengthened his hold. “I won’t let you go.”

She brushed a hand over his face, and the tips of her fingers ran through his hair. “Goodbye, Merchant. I will always be with you whenever you remember the warmth of the Summer sun upon your face, and the birth of Spring in your heart.”

The merchant loosened his hold and the fairy drifted away from him, once again climbing upwards in the sky. He watched her until he saw her no more, and then he looked longer still at the sky, watching the clouds.

Though he would always remember her, the merchant never saw the fairy again.

 
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Posted by on October 16, 2015 in story, writing

 

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Short (Loki) Fiction

Fan fiction! You either love it, hate it, or you don’t care either way.  I’m one of the people who doesn’t care either way.  I support people who write fan fiction simply because it’s creative.

I have a friend who loves fan fiction, and she loves Loki.  She has been trying to get me to write a bit of fan fiction for a long time now and I’ve always found a way to weasel out of it. Until today.

At the beginning of the month she told me that February was Loki Month (http://lokimonth.tumblr.com/).  Who knew? I told her that I would do a Loki vic before the month was out.  Today is the last day of the month.  I had avoided it  for days, and now it was time to pay the piper.

Outside of the movies and the comics my knowledge about Loki was very limited and, if I was going to write a Loki-fic I wanted something more than Hollywood glitz to base his character against.

Cue internet research and Wikipedia! I found interesting articles about the myth and information about him and the other gods that I thought was a terrific story in itself.  Why didn’t Hollywood go with something like this?

My bit of fan fiction (can it still be called that if it’s based on mythology?) is taken from lines 1-5 of the Norse poem “Lokasenna”, meaning ‘Loki’s quarrel’ .

Enjoy!

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I Do What I Want: A Loki Fiction

“I shouldn’t have killed him,” Loki muttered to himself as he paced back and forth in the woods outside of the hall. Inside the gods and elves were feasting. He had been a part of the revelry until they started gaving the servants, Fimafeng and Eldir,  praise. That was where he drew the line. That they would praise a servant and treat Loki with disrespect was intolerable. He wasn’t able to kill both servants, but at least Fimafeng would not be gracing anymore halls and banquets. “I shouldn’t have killed him, and yet, someone had to die as retribution for their insufferable gloating of perfection.”

The gods had kicked him out for killing the servant, but Loki wasn’t done yet. He would enter back in again. As if almost on cue, Eldir, the servant who lived, exited the hall. In his hands was a basket and when he saw Loki, Eldir gave a momentary pause. He was alone out here. There were not any gods to protect him and Loki was eying him down. Eldir held up his free hand.  “I don’t want any trouble, Loki,” Eldir said, keeping his back to the hall door.

“Good, because I don’t want any either.” Loki replied as he approached. He took  a deep breath to calm his rage. It wouldn’t do to kill the person before he was able to get any information out of him. Loki stood very close to Eldir. Close enough that their noses were a hairsbreadth apart.

Loki raised his right hand and reached out to tap his fingers against the door. “What are they talking about in there?” The calm in Loki’s voice was thin. “Are they still getting a rise out of my earlier display?”

Eldir leaned his head back and felt it hit against the door. There wasn’t anywhere for him to go, and for the moment he was speechless.

Loki would not be ignored by a servant and his calm shattered. “ANSWER ME!” He yelled at Eldir, spraying the man’s face with the force behind his words.

“Weapons!”  Eldir stammered out.  “Weapons. They are talking about the strength of their weapons and their greatness in war.” Eldir flinched as Loki draw back his arm and slammed his fist into the door. “No one has anything good to say about you, Loki.” The servant said meekly.

Loki’s face contorted in rage and his words dripped a venom as poisonous as what was born in his daughters snake form. “Do you think that I, Loki, care about what they have to say about me?” Eldir shook his head. “I will re-enter the hall, and before the end of the feast I will mix their mead with malice.”

It would have been so easy for Loki to kill Eldir right then and there, but he refrained.  Seeing the fear in the man’s eyes was enough for him. Loki threw the servant away from the door and Eldir landed hard on his side.

“Shouting and fighting with them will only bring the same to you!” Eldir warned. He had seen what happens when the gods anger has been ignited too far.

Loki swiftly turned, his cold and hardened stare boring at Eldir. “I am LOKI!” he shouted and turned back to the door. He placed both hands on the door to the hall and pushed it open with such force that it broke from its hinges. His eyes narrowed in anger and determination. With a twisted grin on his face he passed through the now broken doorway and said, “I do what I want.”

 
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Posted by on February 28, 2014 in writing

 

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When things don’t make sense

When the world doesn’t make sense it’s only natural for people to try and, well, make sense of it. We start off by examining the facts, pulling out any logical reasonings for why the events happened and if they could have gone a different way. There has to be something that we didn’t see before. Something that we’re missing. If we could simply discover what that is then maybe, just maybe, we would be able to make sense of whatever madness that has recently been tossed our way.

But the world doesn’t make sense. Like many things, there are moments – fractions in time were everything falls into order – but it doesn’t stay there for long. What is normal to the spider is chaos to the fly, isn’t that how the saying goes? If this is the case then how are we to ever make proper sense of anything?

Perhaps we’re not suppose to.

Perhaps this is the reason why people write, or loose themselves in books of fantasy and fiction. They want to escape from this complicated world and into another where they already know that the rules and boundaries of logic are part of someone’s imaginings.

What a great relief it is to sit back and know that, for awhile, you’re going to enjoy being a part of a world that’s different from your own. Virtual worlds and games, we invite our friends to join us in our indulgences so we can have someone to share with. Some of us go at it alone with only the voices in our own heads and meet like minded people along the way. We invite them into our madness, our addictions – quite possibly to help them make sense of us and not solely so we will have company.

I cannot believe that the world will ever make sense because we are all different people and we have different opinions on everything. We don’t understand things the same way, never will, and that is okay. Why then is it that some factions of society try to get people to think the same way about everything? Forcing their agendas as a new standard norm that can be accepted blindly. They try to crush out individuality and, consequently, creativity.

People should never feel out of place, or bad, for not being like everyone else in the room. A nation of people who don’t know how to think for themselves, suppressing original thoughts and ideas of others. Or trying.

When the world doesn’t make sense, when all the facts and figures and fragments of logic fail to come together, people get creative. They either find a way to make it make sense, or they create their own rules and work in those bounds.

 
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Posted by on January 28, 2014 in ramblings

 

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Don’t give up on your dreams

Ever since I was a little girl I’ve always wanted to write a book. It has been a dream of mine to one day see ThorLokiBooksomething that I’ve written in the hands of another person. Not only that, but to know that they are enjoying what they are reading. To provide a retreat, even if it is only for a few minutes out of the day, where they can go to get away from the daily grind is what I have always wanted to do with my writing.

It has taken a while and the journey to get here hasn’t been an easy one. There have been late nights, caffeine overloads, self-doubt, anguish, an overwhelming urge to destroy my computer (good thing I didn’t listen to the voice that gave me that advice…), but through it all I kept going. That is what matters. That is what counts. When you set your feet on a path to where you want to go, and towards the things that you want to do, you have to have the strength to keep going.

Life isn’t fair. Life will toss everything it can at you to take you from your goal. It will dangle temptations in front of you and put them right within your reach. If you’re distracted, just a little bit, from your path and start to veer off, then it is easier for another distraction to come along and, when it does, it pulls you a bit further from your path. You can get so distracted with everything else that life is putting in front of you that sooner or later your path is so far away and you have to wade through a bunch of nonsense, things that don’t really matter, simply to get back to it.

It’s okay if you get distracted. It’s okay if you get pulled off of your path to venture down another. It’s not okay if you never get back, or you forget, what it is that you really wanted to do and where you were going.

Thor and Loki guarding the advanced copy of 'Past's Prologue'

Thor and Loki guarding the advanced copy of ‘Past’s Prologue’

I got distracted. With my family to take care of and a household to run, there are countless things that always need my attention. I did not forget my goal, but I had a hard time getting to my goal. I never gave up though, and now I am rewarded with having my first book in print. I sent one of my good friends an advanced copy of the book, and she was kind enough to send me a picture of it on her desk.  It’s being guarded by Thor and Loki, no less!

Simply because it is done, does not mean that the process is over.  Not by a long shot. There’s always another step to take, more ground to cover, one more thing that has to be done.

Here’s to not giving up on your dreams.  Here’s to having the courage to take one more step.

Interested in getting your hands on a copy of Past’s Prologue, or want to know more about it? Check out the following links below!

Remember, one of the best things you can give an author is a review!

 

 
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Posted by on January 16, 2014 in Inspiration, writing

 

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The Quiet

The holidays are a very ‘noisy’ time for me. There’s so much to do, so many things to get ready for, and all the time that I have seems to be taken up doing things for everyone else. When I finally find the time to have a little peace and quiet I’m too worn out to enjoy it.

This does nothing for my creative state of mind and often leads to burn out. Staring blankly at the computer screen and listlessly scrolling through random things on Pinterest, having very basic conversations and giving rote replies, that’s how burn out begins for me. I found myself doing exactly that not moments ago.

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Currently it is very quiet in my house. The only sounds you can hear are the clicking of the keys as I type and the humming of the refrigerator. I’m not counting the sounds the house randomly makes on its own. (No one is going up, or down, the steps so why are you creaking!?!) It is quiet enough that I can hear the voices in my head.

I’ve never fully understood the people who have to have some noise in the background. I admit, from time to time I can be found with headphones in my ears or the TV turned down and on some random station simply so there can be noise. However, this often leads to me listening to whatever it is and having to split my attention. Especially if there is talking involved.whispering to each other as they craft their next ploy. It is quiet enough that I can my various trains of thought leaving their stations full of ideas that I haven’t had the time to think about due to the noise of the season.

So, sometimes, to avoid burn out and get back to being my normal self, I have to sit in the quiet. A lot can be learned in silence.

 
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Posted by on December 27, 2013 in ramblings, writing

 

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Lost Keys and Internal Dialogue

Do I talk to myself? Yes, yes I do. Does that make me crazy? Normal society may say yes, but who has time for anything normal? Better yet, who wants to be normal? I don’t! Anyway, recently I lost my keys and, during yet another search of the house, one of my voices decided to speak up. What you see next is the dialogue that followed. Enjoy my crazy.

 

I’ve looked for them everywhere. Yes, even in that hard to reach spot and the spots that don’t make any sense. Everywhere, and I can’t find them.

Well, you know, if you had looked everywhere then you would have found them.

I wasn’t talking to you, thank you very much.

Oh, you weren’t? I don’t see anyone else around here to listen to your ranting.

If you want to get technical about it, then you’re not here either. You’re just one of the voices in my head.

I know you didn’t say what I heard you say . . .

….That.. you’re just a voice in my head?

Ya-huh.

Well . . . you are.

I see. That’s the thanks that I get for coming all the way down here, stoping what I was doing, so I could come and keep you company. The nerve.

If anything you are being more of a hinderance, than a help, to me finding my missing keys!

Always asking for help, and then when it shows up you ignore it.

I’m not ignoring anything but maybe your lack of common sense.

Even has to throw insults at me.

Ugh. Look. Okay. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot and —

Now you want to apologize?

…… Sure.

That’s more like it. I have better things to do than sit around trying to help you remember something so trivial as where you put your car keys. So, did you check your bag?

Of course I checked my bag.

Are you sure?

Positive. I checked it twice, even turned the whole thing inside out.

Did you check the drawer?

Yes.

Did you check under the couch.

Yes. I even checked in the pan in the closet, and you know that I never go up there.

Hmm, I see. Well, I hate to tell you this, but your keys are lost.

I never would have guessed…

Don’t get cheeky on my now or I won’t offer my help. I’ll talk to the other Voices and see if any of them can remember anything about what you did when you came home. You were so frazzled that day most of us were simply trying to stay out of your way.

Thanks?

You’re welcome. It may take another day, but we’ll find the keys and we’ll let you know where to look when we do. RIght now, stop thinking about it and do something that doesn’t require any thinking at all.

Gotcha. I’ll just be over here, doing nothing.

Glad we understand each other.

 
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Posted by on December 9, 2013 in writing

 

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