Alison Meehan

Book One, Chapter Four: Fairies, Fairies, Everywhere Fairies

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 12 Dec 2013 02:26:00 +0000

At 151 Sweet Briar Avenue, Doctor Linda Abbott spoke with the police for the tenth time that day. They had searched everywhere for her. She sent Peter and Richard out into the woods to search for signs and tracks. They whistled for her by forming a cup with their hands and making a dove-like call. Jessie normally returned the call and ran home promptly. But not this time. They gave up on the dove call and shouted through a neighbor’s bullhorn.

She called the police at 1 p.m. when it became clear Jessica wouldn’t return home to help her bake the birthday cake. She prayed she went to visit a friend and forgot to mention it.

She wondered if Jessica's biological parents came to claim her. It seemed the most unlikely possibility of all. They'd left their own baby alone in the woods, wrapped only in a thin cotton shawl. She didn't think they'd suddenly, twelve years later, want her back.

The birthday guests would arrive soon. She phoned the girls whose numbers she had. Jessie's best friend, Eva, put a message on the Facebook page telling everyone the party was off. She hoped they received the message but that was the least of her worries.

* * *

Jessica stood, frozen on the rock with her t-shirt torn to shreds, waiting for the horrible creature to arrive. What could scare off the flesh-eating flower babies, after all?

She felt a wave of relief when a beautiful lady glided down the path towards her. The woman wore a shimmering dress that blended in with her sparkling skin. On top of the lady’s head rested a crown of crystal. Colorful flowers seemed to grow in her long, silver hair.

It almost seemed like they grew before Jessica’s very own eyes. But that's impossible. In a matter of seconds, the lady floated to the edge of the plant wall. She lifted one delicate hand and waved it. The plants shriveled back into the ground. The trapped flower baby took this opportunity to flee to the safety of the bushes.

Now, Jessica could see the woman more completely. The lady studied her for a moment too, eyeing her necklace impassively. She realized she must have seen this strange woman before, maybe in another dream. Something about her seemed familiar and in the dream . . .

She leaned to the side to see the woman at a different angle. Sure enough. Nearly transparent wings were folded behind the lady, just like in her other dream. Cool. This didn't seem like a dream, but sometimes she'd have realistic dreams like this.

“Welcome to Zatar, Child!” The lady spoke in a soprano, sing-song voice as she reached her hands out to touch her face.

She had to restrain herself from jerking back. It was all too strange. A lady in the forest, with sparkly skin and a sparkly dress and wings too she . . . felt like Halloween had descended upon her in the forest. “Who are you? What is Zatar?” She tried to keep her tone light.

“You may call me Aletta. And this . . . ” she waved one hand through the air and spun around in a circle, before returning her gaze to Jessica. “ . . . is Zatar. A land apart and a land within.”

"What does that mean? Do you mean I'm dreaming?"

"No, you are not dreaming. You are fully awake."

She didn't buy it but she didn't say so. Aletta looked down at Jessica’s injured leg, “Now, let’s see that bite.” She had forgotten about the wound already. She now could feel blood oozing down onto her sock, though she could hardly feel any pain. She wondered if the flower’s teeth were venomous. “Come sit down and we’ll clean this up.”

She convinced herself that this was a dream and swallowed her fear as she stuck her leg out. A couple other fairies appeared to help clean and wrap the wound. A fairy with bright green wings brought some unusual looking leaves and mashed them up on a rock. The poultice made her uneasy, but she didn’t voice her concerns.

“I know you just answered, sorta, but I don’t understand. What is Zatar? How did I get here?”

Aletta glanced up, her face unreadable. “Oh, dear child. You poor thing. You’re so young. Zatar is an island in the Bosdrian Sea.” Aletta glanced down at her leg, which now had been wrapped up and felt much better. Then, turning to one of the other fairies she said, “Precious Gilmore, could you please go tell Ragnar it has begun. I’m sure he already knows, but he will appreciate the courtesy.”

Jessica glanced around. She saw thousands of other fairies who must have been with Aletta the whole time. She could hear their wings hitting leaves and fluttering. They ranged from two inches to six feet tall.

The fairies finished with her leg at last. “Come,” Aletta said. “I want to show you something.”

She could now see that Aletta’s eyes were silver, more transparent than her hair but still danced with reflective specks. Confused about the situation, though sure of her own mind, Jessica shook her head. “No. I have to go home. My mother is expecting me and it’s my birthday.”

The woman’s high pitched laugh resounded, hitting almost beyond the audible range. It may have been pleasant in any other circumstance. To Jessica, it seemed mocking. “You cannot go home.”

She took an involuntary step back. “I’m sorry. I can’t go with you, though I do appreciate the offer. Really. I’m on my way home now. My family is expecting me.” She walked back to the path she had followed earlier that day to return home.

“Damia.” It was a command.

She stopped in her tracks, a frown forming on her face. She had only been called Damia by one other. She felt her eyebrows draw in and creases form on her forehead, a habit she tried to stop because it’d surely cause wrinkles over time.

“Please, child. It is imperative that you stick to my side. You cannot return home today. The portal has already closed.” Her statement sounded firm, one that couldn’t be argued with.

Somehow, Aletta’s words reminded her of the way Snowglare had led her down the path. Persistent determination. Jessica whipped around, troubled and breathing in shallow bursts. Aletta held out one elegant hand. An ornate, silver ring clung to her forefinger. “Why must I come with you? Who are you?”

“I am the Queen of the Fairies. There will be a time for explanations. We need to leave this part of the forest now. It isn’t safe for any of us at night. The sun is setting. You have made your decision to come to Zatar already. You have no choice now.”

“But it wasn’t a decision I made. I didn’t do or decide anything.” Confused tears filled her eyes. But she knew instinctively that Aletta spoke the truth, which meant she was stuck. Her mistake had been following a white deer with red eyes. Oh, what have I done?

She looked at Aletta’s derisive expression. Her hand still stretched towards her. She reached out and took the Queen’s cool hand in hers. She didn’t know the way out and the sun’s rays had already hit the horizon. The sun moved unusually fast. They walked along the pool of water a little ways and then turned onto a trail she hadn’t observed before.

“Please, you first.” Queen Aletta stood to the side to let her pass. “I will tell you if you need to turn.”

She felt trapped while curious at the same time. She was only dreaming, right? So why did it matter? Maybe she ought to just enjoy herself. The beautiful forest spread out around her. Deciduous trees held leaves as broad as she stood tall. On the path grew pretty bright mosses and an occasional blue or yellow mushroom.

She had trouble keeping a good pace with her sore leg. She thought maybe they could talk while walking. What did Aletta hide? Where did she lure her and should she really believe her? Maybe she ought to duck into the shrubs and run like Snowglare had earlier.

“Excuse me.” She turned to Aletta. “But what has begun?”

“The revolution.” Aletta put a gentle hand on her shoulder to encourage her to keep moving.

“The revolution?”

“You truly have been told nothing, child?”

“Umm . . . ”

“Well, don’t worry about it now. Let’s just keep walking until we get to our campsite. I will lead for a while.” Aletta glided ahead.

Over time, she realized she held the Queen back. Of course, fairies didn’t need to walk, they flew. She saw that the woman’s feet were an inch above the ground and her wings beat nonstop, making them almost invisible. Jessica became content with walking a distance behind Aletta.

Looking around, she saw the strange faces and bright colors of other fairies. They dashed from tree to tree, leaf to leaf. They seemed to be shy folk. Sometimes she could hear their nervous, high-pitched giggles. The bright colors of their wings reminded her of moths on display at a natural history museum in Paris. She had told her father they looked like fairies and her father surprised her when he agreed, rather than telling her fairies were make believe like her mom would say.

The forest on either side of the path grew more and more dense. A gentle mist had settled in that seemed to be growing thicker. Jessica struggled to see her way through. One minute she still saw Aletta, the next she the Queen had vanished. Luckily, she could still hear the buzzing of fairy wings and the squeaks of voices. Jessica kept moving.

The path forked several times. She chose the most worn one each time – though since fairies did not walk, she couldn’t follow their foot prints. At one point, Jessica couldn’t hear the fluttering of wings or the giggles of fairies anymore. She stopped walking and spun around in fear. “Hello?” she called. She couldn’t hear a sound anywhere and she couldn’t see more than a foot in front of her because of the mist. “Help! I don’t know where I am!”

“Hello,” a voice said. She looked around and saw a small, male fairy. “It is this way.” The fairy led her down the same path. Apparently she had chosen the right way after all. “You may call me Kamali.”

She was happy she now had someone to talk to. “Hi, Kamali. I’m Jessica. So tell me . . . when will Aletta take me home?”

“Umm . . . I'm sorry. I do not know the answer to your question.”

“Okay. Well, maybe you can explain who Ragnar is for me?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, yes. That I can do. Ragnar is a wise, old man. He is a teacher. A mage,” Kamali said simply.

“Where are we going?”

“Into the mists. You’ll be safe there.”

She wanted to press for more though they came to an area where the underbrush disappeared and the mist thinned. Ground covered with soft grass spread out in front of her. Several large trees, similar to redwoods, towered overhead.

In the center of the open area sat a large bed with gleaming white blankets and sheets. The bed held up a lacy, white mosquito netting draped over the four bed posts and dropping down to the grass. An elegantly carved cherry table sat a few feet away from the base of the bed. She had never camped like this before. Never in her life had she seen such a dazzling sight. She thought that maybe, just maybe she could get used to this.

Queen Aletta sailed over to her. “Welcome to our camp for this evening. We should be safe enough here. I hope we will be able to satisfy all of your needs. Please ask for assistance if you ever need it, from any one of us at any time. I’m sure you must be hungry and thirsty. Some of my friends will be arriving shortly with your meal. Meanwhile, I can answer any questions you may have.”

All thoughts of going home flew out of her mind. “How did you get this bed here?”

“Oh, that’s a little a gift we fairies have.”

Magic. Of all the dreams she'd ever had, this certainly would make the top ten list. She smiled as she glanced around. Her smile turned into a frown as she thought about how her parents must already worry about her and her guests might be showing up right at this very moment.

Several tiny fairies carried a large bowl and fruits of different shapes, sizes, and colors. They placed the bowl on the table and the fruits inside. Several more carried a pitcher of water and a glass. Others brought dozens of nuts and some rocks to break them open with.

“Wow,” she exclaimed. “I recognize these.”

“Why, yes.” Aletta picked up a pear and turned it. “Many of the plants in Zatar and Earth are the same. The two worlds are paired. Zatar is the highly magical one while Earth only has the kind of magic that can cross from Zatar to Earth. The two worlds were once the same, but with the arrival of certain beliefs and practices, the magical creatures such as ourselves,” she waved her hand to indicate the fairies, “had to flee to a distant land. We created Zatar as our safe haven.”

“Come, let’s eat.” Aletta glided over to the table, her long, sparkling hair streaming behind her. “What would you like?”

“Umm . . . ” She worried too much about her parents at home to feel hungry. “Well . . . how about a mango . . . this one.” Jessica looked the fruit over. It appeared safe enough, but she had read enough fairy tales involving poisoned fruit. No, Jessica thought, fairies according to legend were often tricksters but without truly evil intentions. But could she really go off stories she had heard?

“Would you like me to peel that mango for you?” Kamali asked.

“Okay, sure. Thank you.” She watched Kamali and one of his friends peel the mango deftly. Kamali held the knife on the mango while his friend turned the mango around. The peel fell off in no time.

With a giggle at her shocked expression, Kamali handed the mango over. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” She looked back at the Fairy Queen. For some reason, the others watched her closely. Not only Aletta, but just about every fairy she could see stared at her, as if waiting for something. “Umm . . . " What’s going on? “You all don’t have to stand around and stare at me. Please eat too so I don’t feel so self-conscious.”

Within no time, the fairies raced to the fruit and nuts and began to eat as if ravenous. Some of them fought over the quickly diminishing food.

She studied the peeled mango. Since everyone else ate enthusiastically, it made her hungry. And, besides, if they were all eating the food, it couldn’t be poison. She bit into the best tasting mango she had ever eaten. She savored each juicy mouthful.

She pulled out her Hershey's chocolate bar since no meal was ever complete without chocolate. She ate a few squares. She wanted to save some just in case she didn't make it home tomorrow.

She felt tired from the day’s strange events. All she wanted was to crawl in bed, but it seemed she would not be able to slip by the fairies without being noticed. Several fairies asked her if she needed help changing into a dazzling white nightgown that looked more like a wedding dress than something to sleep in. She refused vehemently several times before they backed off. But, she ended up getting caught inside the gown somewhere between the waistline and the armpits.

“Do you desire assistance?” Kamali asked.

“No thanks.” But she still could not pull the gown on, much to her embarrassment.

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, all right. You may help.” But not only Kamali rushed over to help. About ten other fairies did too. After that, she decided if they asked if she needed help again, she would let them. They obviously wanted to help her and denying them seemed almost cruel.

As she collapsed into bed, her pillow emitted a perfume of lavender and rosemary. Around her, four fairies stayed awake, guarding each bed post. The others settled down on the moss floor, on tree leaves, and on top of the bed quilt. She didn’t have time to think over the day’s events before sleep took her. But, her dreams were wild and ominous. She dreamt some of her brother, Peter, and her best friend, Eva. They came to Zatar to rescue her from the Fairy Queen and bring her back home. Back to Virginia. Maybe she dreamt of Zatar . . . but on the other hand maybe Virginia had been the dream.

* * *

“Mom! We need to bake the cake before my guests arrive,” Jessica mumbled before she woke up fully.

"Good morning. I'm glad you're finally awake. We have long way to go today."

She heard the voice and recognized it, but it took her several moments to process what that meant. "What? Why are you still here? This dream is supposed to be over!"

"It isn't a dream," Aletta said impatiently.

She bit her lip. Her poor parents. They would be angry with her for disappearing. How would she ever return home?

Once again, she lost track of time as the sun moved through the sky. She thought they were going deeper into the forest. The thicket became even more dense and a dark haze descended over them, blocking out some of the sunlight. It seemed like a black sheet rested on the trees. The day dragged on and on, and the sun never set. Jessica didn’t have a watch on and her cell phone had died so she could be sure of the time.

She hoped time passed in such a way in Zatar that she would get back in time for her birthday despite everything else.

“Queen Aletta, please let me go home,” Jessica cried, before she realized she had even thought the words. Her legs and feet were tired and she felt dizzy.

Aletta turned to stare at her. She raised her eyebrows as if to say, you are tougher than this.

She heard little squeaks and distant laughs that sounded like bells. The fairies were mocking her. Their muffled voices sounded far away. She saw their quick movements, an arm here, and a wing there. She would occasionally hear a voice and see a curious, pale face.

After miles upon miles of dark thickets, the forest finally opened up. There still were trees but they stood apart and beneath them were mosses and ferns rather than dense bushes and briars.

She could sense movement all around her, but every time she turned, the figure would disappear behind a large tree trunk. The trees looked like giant sequoias with their needle leaves and majestic, furry boles.

Finally, what looked like a village appeared. Aletta led her to a clearing with several shelters built of wood. She went to one building and pushed open a door of twine, weaved together. It appeared larger inside than Jessica thought it would be.

The floors and walls were empty until a Queen sized bed appeared out of the air without a sound, like it had been there all along and Jessica had only missed it. The sheets reflected pure white and had a crocheted canopy on top. A bedside table appeared next to the bed, with a porcelain bowl and a pitcher filled with lavender fragranced water.

“Please wash up and get some rest. You’re going to need it. And what would you like to eat?”

“Nothing, please. I’m fine.” Really, her stomach ached, but she felt too exhausted to eat. Plus her body felt tense from nerves.

Aletta peered at her, assessing. “I’ll have some food brought to you just in case you change your mind.”

“Thank you.”

When she lay down without undressing, the pillows released the sweet smell of lavender, sage and sweet mint. She supposed the herbs the fairies put in the pillows were supposed to help her sleep since she drifted off to sleep before her head sank all the way into the soft cushion.

* * *

On Sweet Briar Avenue, Dr. Linda Abbott’s screams of hysteria could be heard all the way down the street. Richard Abbott remained calm. He tried to soothe his family with gentle words. “Sweetie, I’ll do everything I can to get her back. You know that. Everything will be fine. We’ll find her.”

Linda nodded through her tears.

Peter remained sitting at the kitchen table, unmoving, with a blank stare on his face. He hadn’t played a single computer game in two weeks. He had flunked every single final exam for the school year. Until the day it happened, the day she vanished, he hadn’t realized how much his little sister meant to him. His father’s words washed over him though he couldn’t make any sense of them. He thought his parents had both lost their minds. Jessie was gone.

Chapter 3 – Whispering Waters (Book One)

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 29 Nov 2013 22:19:00 +0000

Queen Desdemona stood in her favorite steeple in Zatar Palace, staring at the snowy Jaspian Mountain peaks. The snow never melted completely from the highest peak, Mount Solaha. The snow melt formed seasonal streams which helped farmers through dry summers. Even, she thought bitterly, farmers that fought against her sovereignty.

She could not stop the snow melt, perhaps, but precipitation could be controlled. She stroked the pendants that hung on a chain around her neck. A gold and obsidian bee. A golden tree frog with emerald spots.

She turned to the chalk board that stood against one wall and wiped it clean. Then she wrote, “Where is the dragonfly charm now?”

Lines of white chalk formed, showing the answer for the first time ever. A smile spread across her face. The image showed the entire Land of Zatar. On the map, two hills appeared and then a building. It looked like Agnof Keep in the Sunken Valley, where a stream disappeared into a sink hole. The karst terrain spread through much of that region, forming hidden caves, tunnels and underground waterways.

The picture of a waterfall appeared southward of Agnof Keep, along the fringe of Hallam Woods. The amulet must be there, she thought. Queen Desdemona headed for the palace courtyard, laughing in excitement.

* * *

The waterfall splattered against the pool in front of her. The cascade of water looked like something from a fairy tale, with its moss covered rocks and flowers blooming out of every nook and cranny.

And the water. It looks so clean. She ran over to it and took a sip without even thinking. She instantly regretted it. Her dad warned her, lectured her repeatedly about Giardia. He would tell a lengthy tale of how he caught the protozoan parasite one time while hiking the Appalachian Trial for a month with his buddies. They became so sick they had to end their trip early.

How could she forget? But, maybe the clear blue water was as pure as it appeared. She’d know by tomorrow.

The water seemed to be calling to her, making her decide to postpone her return home. It would only take a couple minutes, and then she would run all the way back. Besides, she would be a little late no matter what.

She slipped off her running shoes and socks and dipped her feet in the water, admiring the moss-covered rocks all around the pool. On the opposite side a steep, slanted cliff jutted out of the earth, reaching thirty feet at its highest point. She could walk to the top of the waterfall by climbing around the pool up a gentle, grassy slope that became the steep cliff.

The sparkling water continued to taunt her and she couldn’t pull herself away. She thought she felt someone’s eyes on her, but she often had that eerie feeling when alone in the woods. “Hello?”

No one answered.

She took off her t-shirt and then her khaki shorts, leaving only her necklace and swim suit. Her father had given the necklace to her and made her promise to always wear it close to her heart. She kept it hidden under a t-shirt so it would not be stolen. The golden chain held a large golden dragonfly. An emerald gem stone shone from the center of its thorax and two small ones glittered from each eye. In order to please him, she heeded his words as best she could by almost never removing it.

She took a deep breath and dove in. Ahh. It feels so cool. So nice. She practiced her strokes. Butterfly became her favorite stroke last year when she finally perfected the technique well enough to go for an entire lap. It still wore her out since it required more strength than any of the other strokes.

She stood up on the rock in the middle of the pool, under the waterfall. It showered onto her gently, unlike what she expected from the loud noise the water made. She felt the weight of her long wet hair on her back.

After some time, she swam back to a large rock on the edge, knowing she needed to head home. She meant to dress immediately, truly, she did. But she caught sight of an enormous, yellow flower growing close to the edge of the pool. It looked cute, but flowers can’t be cute.

The floppy, colorful petals held her in a trance, drawing her closer. She walked toward the flower while dressing. The round center of the flower turned into a face as she came closer. Yes, it looked like two large, round eyes were there and a little mouth and nose. She laughed at herself, knowing how the forest inflamed her imagination as it dampened her reasoning. Awww . . . How adorable.

What looked like eyes opened, and the deep blue discs stared at her. Then, the flower moved forward, revealing an infant-like body. The large, yellow petals flopped as the creature stood up. I must be dreaming. She had fallen asleep on the moss by the spring many times before. Normally she’d dream strange dreams of winged people and wake up surrounded by birds chirping.

“Aww . . .” she said out loud. “Hello. You’re a cute little fellow, aren’t you?” Jessica bent down to see if the petals were real just as the baby grew large, sharp teeth. And two of its thorny leaves stretched out like hands. It growled and snapped its sharp teeth and she felt thorns scratch across her skin.

She screamed and jumped onto the mossy rock by the water. More flower babies joined the first. She hoped her parents or a neighbor would hear her. The flower babies surrounded her on three sides and started crawling up the rock.

At first, she didn’t want to hurt the babies. But that was silly. These weren’t babies, these were little monsters. She began knocking them off the rock with her t-shirt. When more and more kept coming, she became ruthless. She kicked them with her running shoes right in their big, round faces. But, there were too many of them. Once she knocked one off, it would be replaced. She was surrounded.

She needed to escape into the water since surely they could not swim. But, as she turned to dive, bamboo-like plants sprouted all around her on top of the mossy rock. She kept kicking the babies to get them on the other side of the strange plants. Unfortunately, one pink flower baby dove through the plants aiming for her left calf. She swung her shirt at it, but the fabric whizzed by. She had swung a second too late. The creature sunk its pointy canines into her left calf.

“YOW!” She tried repeatedly to pry the baby’s jaw from her leg, but to no avail. She became desperate. She felt tears of rage and pain running down her face as Jessica looked up into the sky. “Help! Help!”

And then, all at once, all the flower babies fled back to the bushes in unison. All except for the one on her leg. The baby monster loosened its grip and stared ahead, its eyes growing wide in fear.

More About the Author

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 28 Nov 2013 05:00:00 +0000

I live with my husband, our baby girl, Claire, our terrier, Benji, and, for the moment, two stray cats in Richmond, Virginia close enough into the city where we can walk or bike to several parks, the library, and farmer's markets. Before becoming pregnant with Claire, I biked to work almost everyday since it was only 3.5 miles. It's the most wonderful feeling to get into working knowing you've already accomplished something - part of your day's exercise routine.

Before Claire came along, I'd spend most of my time exercising. I'd often run or walk during my lunch break at work, then bike home. I'd play Ultimate Frisbee up to three times a week. And, I'd lift weights at least once. I kind-of laugh now when I think about it. Eventually I realized not only was I overdoing it, but I needed to accomplish more in my life than just being fit. So, I sat down and finished my first novel, Book One. I gained ten pounds in the process, but it was totally worth it. Still, I'm striving to maintain a better balance of work, play, and fitness.

This is my husband and my daughter, Claire, on Halloween night 2013.

Claire and Me

Two Stray Kittens We Found on Our Street

Chapter Two: Birthday (Dragonfly Series, Book One)

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 27 Nov 2013 01:12:00 +0000

Chapter Two: Birthday

Lightness of day, fullness of hour
Time opens portal of tulip flower.
The girl stirs, slips out at last
One hour to enter the past.

A mother finds her daughter sneaks
Along logs and watery creaks.
Away from home, into the trees
Across swamp and forest leaves.

Flowers bloom, buds burst
Animals drink to quell their thirst.
Demeter mourns, Persephone weeps
The sun rises and the moon sleeps.

The next morning, Jessica woke up early, as she often did, but especially today since it was her birthday. The stairs creaked as she tiptoed down them. They were carpeted but still made some noise since her grandparents had built the house over fifty years ago.

She slipped into the kitchen and turned on the electric kettle for her energizing morning tea. She drank a cup of tea from various wild plants each day. Stinging nettle filled up the most space in the mix, which she and her mom grew and harvested themselves each year. The herb hurt their hands to collect, wash, and dry because the stems and leaves had small, hollow hairs that inject chemicals that cause paresthesia. Once dried, the nettles don’t sting so much and, according to her mom, it is worth every sting due to the health benefits.

While the water heated up, she checked her cell phone for messages. None. Of course. All her friends slept in late and she had checked it late last night. She hoped Eva was holding up okay. She figured she would. This was not her first break up after all.

She looked out the kitchen window into the backyard. Her mom often woke up early, making it was one of the few things they had in common. She scanned the vegetable rows. Sure enough, her mom stood by the strawberry plants, watering faithfully, her straight, blond hair glimmering in the morning sun. The wind took a sudden turn and sprayed water on her mom’s face, causing Jessica to smile.

The electric kettle whistled, forcing her to jump up and make her tea. She sat down again holding her steaming cup gingerly between her fingers. It was too hot to drink so she scarfed down her bowl of whole grain Honey Rings instead.

The back door screeched as she pushed it out, though she did not need to be quiet on account of her dad and Peter. They slept soundly and wouldn’t hear her. She edged along one side of the property, admiring a trellis with wisteria sprawling haphazardly along each post. The flower buds just opened up that morning to show their brilliant, purple petals. They were blooming just on time. She hid behind one vine and pulled out her spiral bound notebook and a pencil. She jotted “May 1 - Backyard” at the top, then “wisteria flowers blooming, just started.”

Her backyard represented her own, special paradise and she loved learning new things about it. The more she learned, the more she realized she needed to learn. After she memorized when the plants in her yard bloomed last year, she realized she could learn which insect liked to feed off of each flower. Then there were thousands of things to learn about each insect. But she felt content most of the time just to observe and take notes. The amount of knowledge she wanted to absorb didn’t stress her out, though she knew the natural world held more secrets than she could ever learn in her lifetime. She enjoyed the challenge.

After finishing her notation, she glanced across the garden to make sure her mother still hadn’t caught sight of her. Her mom continued to water the strawberries. She stood in between two apple trees that had been there since her grandparents planted them more than thirty years ago.

When her mom faced the other direction completely, she slipped behind the shed and kept walking steadily, watching her mom only with the corner of her eye, her peripheral vision. As soon as she made it into the woods, she bolted. She ran like a fawn, weaving in between trees and over roots. Her worn out sneakers were quiet, though it was her running style that helped the most. It had taken her years to perfect the silent running form of a Native American scout. Level head, bent knees, toes first.

Her father taught her this skill during the summer after her sixth birthday. She recalled he abruptly shut the book he was reading, startling her so badly she choked on her glass of lemonade.

“Jessie, come on outside with me.” She followed hesitantly, anticipating another one of his lessons. “I just learned how Native Americans walk silently. You put the outside of your pinky toe down first, then roll to the big toe, and then to the heel. The goal is to keep your head level. Let’s try it!”

They first walked back and forth. When they thought they had it down, they ran back and forth across the grass in the front yard, barefoot. Jessica remembered that day, in particular, because for one stretch, she outran her father, who ran marathons.

“Wow you’re getting too fast for me!” Her father exclaimed. “Now maybe you can catch the deer in the forest.”

Although she knew he had let her win, her father had started something important that day. From that moment onward, she would indeed try to outrun the deer in the forest. And not just outrun them, but catch up to them so that if she stretched out her hands, she could touch their furry backs. Then, she could run beside them through the trees. She held outrunning the deer as her greatest ambition, though so far the running style only helped her see wild animals, not catch or touch them.

The blue sky stretched above the trees with only a few white, puffy clouds floating merrily. The birds sang cheerful tunes into the warm air. She felt happy. Sometimes her moods were so closely linked to the natural world she couldn’t be sure which controlled which.

She slowed down to a walk. She liked to stop every now and then to watch a downy woodpecker or a band of dark-eyed juncos when in the forest. She knew the calls of all her favorite birds, almost too well. When she fell deep in thought, the sharp “pike” of a woodpecker or the rattle of a kingfisher would shock her out of her reverie.

But today the birds were strangely quiet for this hour. She believed it was due to the chill air blowing through the trees. The gentle breeze teased her long hair. By the time she returned home, her hair would be falling out of her pony tail in a tangled mess. Her friends would preen over her if she didn’t do something with it before the party. They all thought she was a freak for enjoying nature and hiking. She wished they were more open to it so she could have companions on her adventures.

She jumped over a little creek. It ran clear today. She wrote that down in her notebook. She heard a squirrel shout, “Hawk.” It really sounded more like one, quick “chee.” She looked up until she found a broad-winged hawk circling overheard. She made more notes in her notebook.

She waited there, by a white cedar tree until the threat was gone and the animals became comfortable again. It took a long time.

She took a step forward and a squirrel alarmed. She had to stop so he didn’t warn the whole forest of her presence. She stood for another minute or two. Then she took a slow step. This was how she passed through unnoticed, or at the very least ignored. She had spent years learning this skill.

She balanced on a fallen butternut hickory tree, dotted with bright orange winter mushrooms. She jumped off and slid into an earthy pit. The base of the tree now towered above her like the back of a magical throne. She curled up and leaned against the roots.

She often returned to this spot in the forest, especially each year on this particular day, Beltane. People of the old religions celebrated the day by dancing around May poles. For her, the day brought emptiness and longing that not even her party could fill. On May 1^st, 16 years ago, her biological parents left her to die.

Seldom did she think about her sad, mysterious past. She forced herself not to dwell on it though sometimes the hurt feelings crept up on her. A few years ago, she vowed to protect her emotional self by limiting her thoughts of her biological parents to this day alone, the day her parents chose to celebrate her birthday. Her parents weren’t sure what day she’d been born on but this day marked the start of her new life with them. Jessica didn’t even know her exact age.

Why would her parents choose to abandon her like that? Did they not want her? Could they not afford her? Why didn’t they drop her off at a hospital?

The night her parents left her had been unusually cold for the season. Richard Abbott, who by coincidence, had also been orphaned as a young boy, heard her cries while on his morning run and found her wrapped in a soaked, cotton shawl sheltered by the same roots that held her now. Her adopted parents still to this day marveled at how she had survived the thirty degree Fahrenheit temperatures so exposed.

She used to make up stories about how her parents sacrificed her, their only baby, in order to save the forest and the swamp. But, baby Jessica managed to escape death because the world needed her for some heroic purpose later on – perhaps guarding the forest for years to come. Although she had almost died in these woods, she still felt safe here. It felt like home.

She stood up and pushed through the forest underbrush following a deer trail, pondering the meaning of Beltane. She knew people celebrated spring crops and fertility. But would someone really sacrifice a baby for that? She didn’t think so.

The forest litter gave way to a patch of bare earth. She studied a tiny hand print that looked almost like something a human child would make, except for the deep nail prints. A second print lay beside the first. This formed a shape more like a tiny human footprint. Five toes on each print. These marks had been made by a raccoon recently. Detail was still unblemished in the tracks.

Jessica pulled out her tiny notebook and pencil and spent a few minutes drawing the prints and measuring them with her hands. She wrote “Procyon lotor - In soft mud in Little Swamp, 5:30 a.m.” at the top. Procyon lotor was the Latin name for raccoon. She didn’t know all of the Latin names for each animal in her area, but her mother kept telling her it would be useful if she learned them now since she planned to study wildlife science in college, when she would need to memorize all of the Latin names of the plants and animals.

Her mother studied biology in undergraduate school and then focused on botany for her master’s degree. Her job as a professor seemed like a really cool choice to Jessica, the teaching part anyway.

She walked on and looked for the prints of other animals. Lines of deer tracks weaved through the mud and leaves. They were easy to see. She could not decipher the prints made from one deer versus those from other deer, but she still tried.

She wrote down more in her book. She wrote the Latin name for deer, Odocoileus virginianus. Then she pulled out a small measuring tape. The prints each had two tear-shaped toes and two circles behind them. They were two hoof marks overlapping each other. Twenty-two inches later, there were two more. It went on like that for a ways. She measured the distance of a few of the pairs, wrote them all down, and then calculated the average, which was 21.5 inches. She also wrote down that she believed the prints had been made at dusk yesterday.

She shoved her notebook in her bag and walked on. The slope of the land increased as Jessica neared the small pool created by a spring. She could hear the soft trickle of water running over rocks and roots before she could see it. Her face felt cool from the excess moisture in the air.

When the pool stood in front of her, she sat down on a mossy rock so she could see the water below. Later, she would go swimming. The water felt unusually warm here, and she always wore her bathing suit into the woods in case she felt like taking a dip.

An albino deer she called Snowglare had come a few times to drink from the pool. She would sit for hours just to see him. It never grew old to watch the beautiful creature. And, as far as she knew, only she had seen the animal, though he glimmered like a bright beacon. She wondered why his eyes were so dark red. Albino animals have pink eyes, not red eyes.

She did a sense meditation, starting by counting ten sounds. She heard a few songbirds farther away that she couldn’t place by their voices alone. The leaves rattled in the wind and an occasional tree creaked. The water made a lovely trickling sound. And the quietest of all was the crinkling of dry leaves on the ground around her as insects crawled through them.

While maintaining her awareness of the sounds around her, she opened her mouth breathed in through her nose to smell the wet soil and new leaves. She could smell a hint of flowers so lovely, she wanted to open her eyes to see what they looked like. Sometimes that would pull her out of her meditation. This time she resisted. The soil smelled rich after the rain the night before. She could also smell an unmistakable, sweet smell that shouted spring.

She made sure she held all the sounds and smells at the same time before moving on to her sense of touch. Touch was easy for her. Every time the wind blew, she would remember to pay attention to it. The ground felt cool beneath her, but not unpleasant. And the sun that had only just risen, peered through the trees. She felt a hint of warmth from the sunlight playing on her face.

Before she even opened her eyes, she felt something. Eyes boring into her back? A heady smell? She felt rather than heard or smelled it. Slowly, she opened her eyes and even more slowly turned to look over her shoulder.

There, in a sliver of light sneaking through the trees, stood Snowglare. He seemed unafraid and calm, more like a beam of bright light than his solid form. Jessica tried to be the same. Breathe. She stayed in her sense meditation, trying to maintain her awareness of the forest around her.

She tried not to look right at the buck, but just beyond him. Looking right at a wild creature would scare it away. But Snowglare stared back at her unflinching, with his strange, crimson eyes.

He stepped closer, making her pulse quicken in fear. Why would a deer approach a human? Rabies? Food? Ah, she did have an apple. Very slowly, she pulled the apple out of her bag. Even more slowly, she moved her hand inch by inch to place it down as far as she could reach in front of her. Snowglare walked up boldly and bowed his head as if in thanks. Then he took one more step forward until he stood in front of the food. He bit down with a sharp crack.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Relax, breathe. She'd never been closer to a wild deer. He stood so close, she could reach out and touch his hoof or his muzzle. She saw scars and sharp nicks cut deeply into his antlers, as though he never hesitated to use them in a fight. He could butt her with them and kill her in an instant.

The buck finished his snack and licked his lips. He lifted his long neck and head, then walked a few steps uphill. Rather than fleeing as he normally did, he paused and turned to look back at her. He took a few more steps, then looked back again.

He looks almost humanlike with his gestures. Or maybe like a dog pleading for me to come.

Snowglare took a couple more steps forward, and then turned back again. He stomped one forefoot on the ground as if in frustration, making her jump in surprise. So much for keeping perfectly still. She feared he'd bolt because of her reaction, but he froze instead.

She felt a shiver run down her spine. Rather than give in to her fear, she bravely stood up to follow.

Wait a minute, did he just nod? Curious, she used her quiet walk to avoid startling him. She followed him up the hill to the top, where soft grass spread out on the forest floor. She passed by a tall oak tree she loved more than any other. She had spent hours upon hours sitting beneath its branches, trying to tempt song birds to feed from her hands.

The buck led her down a narrow path. White pine trees grew on either side, making the path seem enclosed, almost claustrophobic. She could walk noiselessly without much effort on the soft needles. It was her favorite part of the forest since her father would take her here to practice the art of silent walking in an ideal location.

She crossed under a tulip poplar tree that grew straight up from the base of the trunk but then curved down to form a living arch. She had never noticed this before and she wondered how the arch formed. She watched Snowglare step under the arch and then turn around to glance back, as though making sure she still followed.

Yes, I’m coming.

She ran her fingers along a cedar trunk next to the path, noticing for the first time that the trees became hairier and larger with each step in this part of the forest. The trees also grew farther and farther apart.

How strange! She felt annoyed with herself that she hadn’t noticed this before. These trees looked almost like a different species than regular white cedars. She carried a small guide to plants and animals in Virginia in her bag, so she pulled it out, still trying to keep Snowglare in sight. She wished she could stop and draw a picture of the delicate cedar leaves.

She thumbed quickly through the book. She couldn’t find any cedars with a two inch cone. The tree wasn’t there. Am I missing something? Have I discovered a new species? She imagined a tree named after her. She would call it Chamaecyparis abbotus. She giggled at the thought. She would have to check more field guides when she returned home.

She walked on for a long time in a daze. She lost track of the hour, and then, the sun shone down from directly overhead. She needed to hurry back to be home in time to help her mom make her birthday cake.

But nothing could be as exciting as being led into the forest by a deer! Torn between duty and the thrill of the moment, she stopped walking to see how the buck would react if she refused to follow.

Snowglare stopped too, and turned around. His glance asked, “What is it?” She could almost hear a soft, airy whisper in her head. She felt her vision blur. Yes, I still have plenty of time. This is too exciting to quit now . . . just a little bit farther. Her feet carried her forward, as if by some force outside of herself.

She felt like time played a trick on her. Her legs felt heavy, but it seemed as if she had been walking an hour, tops. Her head felt weird and empty . . . like she moved through a cloud. Then, without warning, Snowglare jumped over a briar bush and dashed into the woods.

She felt her head clear instantly. What’s wrong with me? Am I coming down with something? Am I dehydrated? She turned to look for Snowglare, but he had evaporated. The stillness of the forest made her feel suddenly lonely and cold.

But what an incredible experience! She hadn’t exactly “caught” a deer by running, as had been her long-standing ambition, but this had been just as cool. Perhaps even more so. She had been led through the forest by a large, majestic buck.

She felt a little turned around but she could hear a soft trickle of water. If she hurried, she could still find her way back home in time for lunch. Good thing she’d already cleaned the house for the party. Her mom couldn't be too angry with her.

The path forked several times, so she used the sound of flowing water to guide her. The sound of water became louder and louder, too loud for any of the streams in this forest. After rounding a bend in the path, she saw a twenty foot waterfall up ahead.

Her eyes grew big to take it in. The most gorgeous waterfall cascaded onto a rock in the middle of a clear blue pool, a rainbow of colors shining from every droplet of water.

You can also download Chapter Two.

Who is the Main Character in the Dragonfly Series?

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 26 Nov 2013 21:08:00 +0000

Many people who know me personally who read my Dragonfly series will immediately think the main character, Jessica, is me. This isn’t exactly true. I did come up with the general story line and the world, Nimbe, when I was fourteen with my best friend, Linsey, and we/I had the plot include the two of us. However, I changed Jessica’s character somewhat to be more suitable for where I want the story to go. Mostly, Jessica is who I aspire to be. Jessica is an extravert whereas I’m an introvert. This means she’s far more vocal than I would be in similar situations. She also has more knowledge about the natural world than I did at that age. There are also little changes in what she likes. She plays the flute and I play the piano. She plays soccer on a team and I never did.

But there are also some similarities. I used to sneak out early in the morning to go to a swampy woods near my house to track animals and watch the birds when I was seventeen. I also would build shelters and attempt to sleep out there over night. My father didn’t mind this activity, but my mother would often send my father after me because she worried about crazy people lurking around. Also, my father got me interested in wilderness survival skills just like Jessica’s father did.

Also, I kept a journal starting at the age of seven and added a separate, nature journal sometime in high school. In college, I discovered other people wrote notes in a small notebook throughout the day and then added them to a special, tidy notebook at night. I adopted this and maintained it though college. I didn't have Jessica's knowledge of the natural world or study habits until sometime in college, when I was 18 or 19.

Me at age 18.

Dragonfly: The First Spring (Book One)

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 26 Nov 2013 18:47:00 +0000

Chapter One: Suburbia

The crimson eyes of the beast peered across the garden into the window of 151 Sweet Briar Avenue, Virginia. The girl’s image appeared on the other side; the one who wore the dragonfly necklace. The beast sent a message the girl would think of as her own, “I will wake up at dawn tomorrow and go for a walk in the woods.”

When the beast felt her receive the message, he faded back into shadows, scattering birds and squirrels farther into hiding with each step.

Jessica’s vision blurred and her mind emptied of all thoughts. It lasted only a moment, and then, she felt like herself again. She shook her head, thinking she must be coming down with something, and hoping she was not. She was not going to cancel her party tomorrow.

She glanced out the kitchen window, alerted by a group of blue jays screaming in terror. A dozen song birds flew wildly towards the house as though narrowly escaping death. She scanned the field and forest edge but didn’t see any hawks, cats, or foxes. Either she couldn’t see the danger, or it was a false alarm. A human might even cause such a reaction.

Her phone buzzed. She felt a pang of sympathy as she read that the boy her best friend, Eva, had been dating broke up with her. The text had been short and to the point, but she knew the truth. She and Ryan had gone out for almost six months and her friend had loved him.

But now, Eva could come to her sleepover party. She needed to be there. All of their other friends would be there and they didn’t often have large parties such as this.

She opened the closet filled with cleaning supplies. Her mom wouldn’t be home for another hour to help and she hoped she would have time to finish everything. Her brother had refused repeatedly to vacuum. “It’s your birthday,” he told her. “You do it.” He killed time playing war games on the computer, but she couldn’t force him. He was two years older.

She wished her dad was home. He would have cured Peter’s laziness somehow. Jessica responded to Eva’s text, “OMG! That’s 2 bad! Wanna come over?” She hoped it sounded supportive enough.

Her friend started dating in sixth grade, and Jessica tried not to be jealous. Eva always managed to flirt with all the cutest boys and then within days, they became an item. Her friend was attractive, nice, and good at keeping a conversation interesting. She, on the other hand, had never dated. Boys didn’t look twice at her. Their eyes normally passed right over her and glued themselves onto Eva’s curvy figure and pretty face.

She could live vicariously through her friend most of the time. She could accept that, for now. But one day, very soon, she hoped to meet the right boy.

Eva sent her another message. “Yes, I want to. Can I bike over now?”

“Sure tho I hafta vacuum,” she replied. That meant she would have to hurry. She pulled out the vacuum and worked as fast as she could.

She only had the upstairs to finish when Eva opened the front door and walked in without knocking. Her family had befriended the Mitchell’s the day they moved in years ago and had been close ever since. It had been tough for them as the first African-American family in the neighborhood. “Hey!” Eva called.

“Be right there.” Jessica skipped down the stairs, but her face fell when she saw the tears streaked down Eva’s cheeks.

“Come, let’s sit down on the couch,” her voice had softened. She had to run to pull her flute off the couch before Eva sat down and crushed it. She pulled the instrument apart, piece by piece, and stored it back.

“So . . . how did it happen?”

“I don’t know,” Eva cried. “I thought everything was going fine. Then, he said he needed a break. He didn’t want to be tied down over summer break. It just doesn’t make sense to me. I really liked Ryan.” It had been her longest relationship yet.

“I know.”

“I think it’s over for good. Besides, even if I could get him back, I’ve heard it’s bad to be with a guy you keep breaking up with. This isn’t our first break-up, after all.”

“You’ll find someone better. I know you will. Didn’t you always say he criticized you a lot anyway?”

“Yeah, you’re right . . . ” She paused for a long moment. “We don’t have to talk about him.” She looked around the house. “It looks really neat in here. What happened?”

Jessica laughed. “I’m cleaning. I have to – for the slumber party tomorrow.” Her parents weren’t the neatest people in the world. They both worked demanding jobs that didn’t have set hours.

“Right. I guess Sarah and Jasmine have maids so they would be horrified if it were messy.”

“Exactly.”

“So do you need me to do anything to help? Please don’t make me clean though. Ugh . . . But I have some board games I could bring.”

“Sure, games would be good. And can you come over early and help us decorate? My mom is buying balloons and some other stuff.”

Eva grinned. “I feel like I’m eight all over again.”

“Hey! Come on, we can still have birthday parties. Why not? Everyone is excited about it. Want to see the Facebook page?”

“I’ve seen it - you’re right. I’m just messing with you.”

They heard the front door swing open. “Hi girls.” Doctor Linda Abbott, her mom, carried in a box of papers to grade. “I have more stuff in the car. Can you go grab it, Jessie?”

“Sure thing.” Jessica jumped up and went out to the car. Eva followed. They carried in pink and purple balloons and a sign that read, “Happy Birthday!” She grabbed her mom’s laptop too, and put it in the office, where her brother still sat at the computer.

“Peter!” She said in a disapproving tone. “You’ve been on there all day.”

“No I haven’t.” He replied in a monotone voice that meant he concentrated more on his game than on speaking. He sounded a bit uncertain when he asked, “I went to school today, didn’t I?”

“Grrr . . .” She stomped her feet out of the room. She had wanted to use the computer to check her e-mail and Facebook, but he’d hogged it all afternoon.

Eva laughed at her when she walked back into the living room, still looking angry. “Boys never grow up, do they?”

They heard a buzzing noise and both pulled out their phones at the same time.

Eva said, “It’s dad. I’d better go.”

“Okay. And don’t worry about Ryan, okay? You'll find someone better - probably next week.”

Eva gave her a hug. “Thanks for letting me come over on such short notice.”

Her friend left and Jessica sighed. Poor Eva.

She climbed the stairs to her room and sat down at her desk. She pulled open the top drawer and took out a black book. Inside, colorful drawings of leaves, flowers, feathers, skulls, and animals filled the first half of the book.

She grabbed a small spiral bound notepad out of her back pocket. It had notes of observations she had made that day. She copied her notes from the little spiral bound book, to the unlined, black book. She wrote the date on the top of the page then drew a picture of the clouds that day. Then she wrote about a mockingbird she had seen steal bread from a trash can outside of her middle-school campus. She included the calls it had made as best as she could transcribe to English. The bird had repeated each call at least three times before moving on to the next phrase.

She swiveled her chair and ran her finger along a bookshelf crammed full of colorful field guides. She pulled one out on bird behavior. After finding what she searched for, she wrote in her book, “Mimus polyglottos,” the Latin name for mockingbird, and “Male, likely calling to attract a mate or warning other birds to stay away from its territory. Note: During mating season, only the male mockingbird sings.”

The front door swung open again. Her father, Richard Abbott, walked in with dinner. The smell of Chinese take-out wafted through the air. “I hope you all are hungry,” he called so enthusiastically, she could hear him even from her bedroom upstairs. She heard Peter groan loudly from the office.

She joined her parents in the kitchen.

“So I sold one today, Linda.” Her dad worked as a real estate agent and each sale was an exciting event to him.

“Oh, that’s wonderful, Darling.”

Jessica poured water for the whole family and sat down at the kitchen table. Her stomach growled plus she wanted to hurry up and eat so she could use the computer before Peter finished doing the dishes – not that he ever finished chores quickly.

“Peter,” her mom called.

No answer.

“Peter! Dinner!”

“Just a minute,” he responded. The clock ticked by. Jessica and her parents dished out the food and started eating. Her brother often joined them for dinner late so they learned long ago to start eating without him. Fifteen minutes later, Peter slouched onto his chair.

“Are you ready for your exams, Jessica?” Her dad asked her since her brother received straight A’s without her parents egging him on. She never understood how he did it when he wasted almost all his free time on the computer.

“Well . . . I need to study,” she replied honestly. “That’s what Sunday is for, right? It’s my birthday tomorrow.” She looked across the table at her father’s hazel eyes.

“Yes, that’s fine. Your grades have been good so far this year. I was just trying to make conversation. On a different note . . . I’ve signed us all up for the wilderness survival camp again this summer. It will be just like the one last year . . . a week of outdoor adventures. No computers. No phones. No television.”

“Dad!” Peter pushed back his chair. “Why do we have to do this every year? I told you. I don’t want to go!”

“Peter, these are important skills to know!”

“For who?”

“For backpackers, campers, hikers, bikers, and travelers, for instance. And it’s important for us too. Even if we never have to use these skills in a life or death situation, it still builds character and confidence.”

Their mom added, “Besides, it’s the one time each year that we really get to spend time with each other. As a family.”

“It’s fun,” Jessica pleaded. “We can make it fun.” She hated it that her brother rebelled so hard against their family vacations each year. But their trips were particularly unusual . . . it wasn’t just camping. They attended a series of courses on how to live in the wilderness. They learned how to make knives, pottery, and leather . . . how to purify water, build shelters, and start fires without matches or lighters. And, they would learn how to find and prepare food in the wild. There would be several instructors from the area and other nature-loving families attending.

She couldn’t believe Peter didn’t like the courses. She added, “Come on. Any other boy would love that stuff.”

“I doubt it,” he shot back. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the subject matter. It was that he didn’t like being cooped up with his family, and other Neanderthals, as he called them, for a whole week and isolated from his computer games.

They finished their meal in silence.

Should You Use a Pen Name?

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 26 Nov 2013 18:32:00 +0000

I quit my day job, which was working as an environmental planner for the State of Virginia with the National Flood Insurance Program, which means I feel more able to use my actual name for my writing. My reasoning probably wasn't sound in the first place . . . before I left, I told several colleagues that I wrote teen fantasy novels and most of them thought it was cool and told me it was a popular genre to pick. A few people who already didn't like me thought it was unprofessional, but now I realize WHO CARES? Everyone has hobbies. This is mine.

But now that I'm missing out on my half of our household income, we're all kind-of feeling the financial crunch. I either have to make money writing, go back to a different job, or we need to move. Since none of us want me to go back to a full-time job, my focus is on writing, though we'll probably move too.

Book Two - The Opening

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 13 Nov 2013 20:57:00 +0000

Eva woke up and cried. Today, one year ago, her best friend, Jessica, vanished. Today also was Jessica’s fifteenth birthday – or would have been. Everyone believed she had been kidnapped, murdered, and buried in the muck of the swamp somewhere.

She rolled out of bed. She and Peter, Jessie’s adopted brother, planned to go to Jessica’s favorite spot in the woods in remembrance. Before she left the house, she splashed water on her face to remove any trace of tears on her dark skin. She had to act strong for Peter. She needed to help him move on.

“Nooo!” Jessica stood in the Sahl Desert watching in outrage as Ragnar, who she had believed to be an ally, lifted her dragonfly necklace over his head. She’d made the stupid mistake of believing him. He told her his necklace was the real one and that hers was a fake replica – whatever that meant. A necklace was a necklace and they had looked identical to her . . . until his necklace dissolved into black dust in her hands.

Next to her, ready to spring into action, stood four Nighthawks, who were a band of warriors fighting against Queen Desdemona. Those same Nighthawks had brought her to meet Ragnar, she believed, so he could be her teacher, but it seemed they didn’t know him as well as they thought. Naomi, her closest friend at the moment and Tiergan’s sister, stood away from all the commotion.

She stepped forward to wrestle her necklace from the traitor’s grasp, but Tiergan beat her to it. His hand snaked out and gripped Ragnar’s wrist. “Don’t you dare, old man. It belongs to her.”

A second later, Faolan, her fox companion, leaped into the air, snatched the necklace in his teeth, and landed gracefully on the ground. He trotted up to Jessica with the gold chain secured in his mouth, his silver tail swooshing back and forth in pride.

“Thank you, Little One.” She dropped the necklace back where it belonged . . . around her neck, as she created some distance between herself and Ragnar. She felt like an idiot. Her father had warned her never to remove the necklace. She hadn’t known at the time what he meant. She assumed he’d only acted melodramatic to make his gift seem more than cheap jewelry.

She surveyed the group. The Nighthawks looked tense, but since they were warriors, that was their typical state. Ragnar had a smirk on his face as he watched Jessica glare back at him. Tiergan still stood about an inch away from the old man and looked about ready to rip his throat out. “Thanks, Tiergan. Your coddling is always most welcome.”

He glanced at her, and the tension seemed to break. He stepped back and winked at her in response, which Jessica was unhappy to note caused an odd flutter in her chest. She and Tiergan had an awkward relationship. He attempted to kill the boy she was in love with, he claimed in order to save her life. She had yet to see whether that was true or not, but he definitely saved her life when hunters chased her and he did heal Faolan of a broken bone. She hated the fact that he always appeared when she found herself in a sticky situation.

Still laughing, Ragnar said, “At least she has protective friends, though slow to act they may be.”

Tiergan put his arm across her shoulders, which made her feel small and violated. She forced herself to stay rooted where she stood. “Jessica will do well at Ashrogof. She is incredibly bright and I’ve watched her do amazing things. Please give her a chance.”

Ragnar turned his icy gaze to Jessica. “Do you agree, young lady?”

“No. I don’t want to stay here in this barren land with you,” she retorted. Was Ragnar against them or not? He certainly looked creepy with a crooked grin and long, yellow teeth.

Derek broke his usual silence, “If I may say so, Sir, she hasn’t been very long in this world. She is weary from her long journey and doesn’t know anything about Ashrogof. She needs our protection and encouragement. Any youth that goes through as many near death situations as she has of late will be a little shaken. In a safe, comfortable environment, I know she will thrive.”

Jessica glanced at Derek, surprised that he, too, wanted her to stay with Ragnar. She liked the older man, but why was he treating her like a child now? So what if there was some truth to his statement?

“Enough. This is my life, we’re talking about. All I have wanted to do since coming to Zatar is return home, but what you’re saying is that I’m supposed to be here? My adopted father is actually my biological father and he wants me to be here? Why didn’t he tell me? And where is my biological mother?”

She had only been in Zatar for a few months and she never even meant to come here. She went for a walk on her birthday in Virginia through the woods, where she’d been abandoned as a baby. An albino deer, Snowglare, led her through a portal to Zatar, another realm. Her life had been one constant roller coaster since entering the strange world.

Ragnar replied, “Yes, your father meant for you to come here. Your biological mother is here, in Zatar.”

“She is? Where?” She glanced around as though she might be hiding behind one of the stone and clay buildings.

“She isn’t in the Sahl Desert but you will meet her if you agree to stay.”

She glared at him again. How dare he taunt her like that? She recalled a prediction Lady Foxgloves had given her during her stay at Agnof Keep. She told her she would be reunited with loved ones. That could mean her biological mother. She wondered if her mother looked like her. Did they share similar interests and personalities? She knew absolutely nothing about her, yet the father who raised her could have told her. He’d been lying to her the entire time. She felt angry at her dad, but mostly confused.

“There is much we can teach you . . . we will focus using the paranormal arts in the natural world. You will meet others with your abilities, but training with us won’t be easy. Our teaching methods are not for the feint of heart. You must show commitment and persistence. You must keep your body and mind sharp. If you fail to progress, you will be asked to leave.”

Jessica always loved a good challenge. She turned to look up at Tiergan. Why, she didn't know. His opinion hardly mattered to her.

He answered before her mouth formed the question. “I studied with Ragnar, Jessica. He’s the best teacher anywhere.” He looked as though he wanted to say more, but held is tongue.

She caught Umi’s gaze and she nodded at her in support. Naomi looked warily back at Jessica. This was her first time meeting Ragnar as well.

She sighed. “Fine. I’ll stay. It isn’t exactly like I have a choice anyway . . . ”

Ragnar said, “That isn’t good enough. You have to want to stay.”

She glanced at Derek and he seemed to be trying to signal to her. She wanted to meet her mother, and if she needed to stay to do that, then she would. “I do want to stay.”

Ragnar stroked his white beard.

“You will wake up before the sun rises every day. You will talk when I say talk and be silent when I say silence. You will not complain or protest. You will be pushed to great extremes . . . those of the body and of the mind. Are you sure you’re prepared? Do you promise to obey my every command and those of the other instructors?”

She lifted her eyebrows at him in disbelief. “Yes, I will.” As long as you are not unreasonable.

“All right. That will have to do for now. Please keep in mind you will not be officially accepted into my mentoring program until you go through the trial and the ceremony. Bring the horses this way.”

Happiness

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 11 Apr 2013 02:05:00 +0000

I stumbled across an article about happiness today while trying to find a PBS film to watch. It’s interesting because every time I read about happiness, I’m surprised by how counter-intuitive it is. One thing an article said is, to reach happiness, it’s best to pursue happiness as a goal rather than pursuing success. Also, a happier brain leads to a more successful person. I like this quote: “Happiness is not something that happens to you. Happiness is created.”
The article recommends doing five things to improve happiness for the next 3 weeks. I’m going to try it.

Write down three different things each day that you’re grateful for.
Spend two minutes a day writing about one positive experience you had during the previous 24 hours.
Exercise for at least 10 minutes a day.
Meditate (or sit quietly, away from work) for two minutes, focusing on your breath going in and out.
Send one quick email first thing in the morning thanking or praising someone in social support network.

Here’s a link to the article:
http://www.nextavenue.org/blog/scientific-proof-happiness-choice

Rescued a Dog

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 04 Apr 2013 15:58:00 +0000

My husband brought home a dog, Joe-Joe, the other day that he found on the street. We were luckily able to find his owner. Claire had a good time while he was at our house, though. She LOVES dogs. She gets very excited every time she sees even our own dog, though sometimes he isn't very nice to her and knocks her over.

Claire chasing Joe-Joe.

I find this picture cute, though I don't like it when Claire does this!

Joe-Joe

Writing Projects

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 03 Apr 2013 01:28:00 +0000

I have lots of novel ideas, but I want to make sure I'm writing books people are interested in reading too. I love to write and it doesn't matter too much what I'm writing about.

Publishing

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 01:56:00 +0000

I've decided that before I try to publish another book, I'm going to makes sure I have an agent lined up. Before I do that, thought, I'm going to pursue blogging as a fun, writing hobby and to encourage me to write every day. It's working so far. Teen fantasy books are fun to write, but you aren't connected to your readers, generally. I'll postpone novels for a while.

Dragonfly: The First Spring

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 01:48:00 +0000

Gluten Free and Dairy Free

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 01:46:00 +0000

I probably never mentioned this, but I'm gluten free and dairy free. It's strange to put food in a novel that I can't eat. Claire, my daughter, seems to be allergic to gluten and eggs. I hope she grows out of it!

Simpliflying

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 01:41:00 +0000

As I try to clean up and minimize my belongings to prepare to move to a teepee, I'm finding my house is very nice and comfortable. After hauling out several trash bags of junk, hiring Junk King to come and take things away for us, and filling 2 trash bags of give away clothes, our house is looking pretty neat. It wasn't easy to part with some t-shirts, jeans, and dress shirts, mind you. I'm considering hiring someone to help organize and simplify our belongings for us. I could definitely use some help.

It might be difficult to leave, but worth it I think. Though, there are downsides to every location. The trains are noisy, the neighborhood across the street from us seems dangerous and it's impossible to get a good nights' sleep in a tent here - I've tried. The cops, fire trucks, and blaring radios woke me up throughout the night.

Moving into a teepee will help connect us to nature. The woods sounds beautiful on my parents' property.

Good Film on Climate Change / Global Warming

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 01:38:00 +0000

I haven’t seen this film yet, but it should be good. I’ll be sure to do a review of it after I’ve seen it.

Greedylyingbastards.com

The Wild Life

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 01:38:00 +0000

Hey, I have good news! This has been done before! A man went for a year eating only wild food. Well that’s a huge relief!
http://www.thebushcraftstore.co.uk/the-wild-life—a-year-of-living-on-wild-food-3196-p.asp

Scene Sample

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 19:02:00 +0000

Arawyn shifted his ax in his hands and took another swing. The peaceful tête-à-tête between leaders had turned so quickly to violence, he’d almost let his guard down. He felt sorry for the young knight when his blade connected fully with his thigh. The boy looked younger even than his own son. He watched the lad crunch to the ground, screaming in agony.

And then, the six Nighthawks were surrounded. The rest of the Order of the Falcon charged in to join their brave leader at last.

He lifted his hands, knowing defeat inevitable. “We surrender! Please take pity on us for we are mere farmers and tradesmen, not trained warriors like yourselves.

The knights stopped their attack, waiting for a cue from their commander.

“Where is Jessica?” Braeden spat into the earth.

“As I explained, she is well cared for now that we rescued her. We did not want Her Majesty the Queen to murder her for a crime she did not commit. I know you care about her . . . We do too. We have much to gain from an alliance. Once again, I beg that we forge a treaty.”

Braeden caught the gaze of one of his fellow knights and jerked his head. The knight proceeded to bind each Nighthawk. “You will come with us to Zatar Palace so that you may pay for your crimes – that of kidnapping and treason against the Crown!”

Arawyn glanced at each Nighthawk member in turn. Reese had a sweetheart at home. Her young face looked stricken with terror.

And Awena. She had three adolescent daughters that needed her.

Rhodri and Siarl were young and strong. The Nighthawks had rescued them from the Queen’s court where they’d been tried for treason. But he knew they could commit no evil; they joined the Nighthawk force most passionately, showing kindness and loyalty to each and every member.

Cariad had a wife with a baby growing in her belly. He must be there to see his first child born.

“Take me.” Arawyn stepped forward. “And me alone for I am their chief and they have only done as I commanded.”

“You know I cannot.” Braeden struggled to his feet. Blood seeped from the rents in his armor.

“Please, Sir Braeden. You know Her Majesty will have us killed. These men and women have loved ones at home. Have you no compassion in your heart?”

Braeden scoffed, “What need have I for compassion when you are the murderers of my beloved?”

Dragonfly Poem

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 18:29:00 +0000

Lightness of day, fullness of hour

Time opens portal of tulip flower.

The girl stirs, slips out at last

One hour to enter the past.

A mother finds her daughter sneaks

Along logs and watery creaks.

Away from home, into the trees

Across swamp and forest leaves.

Flowers bloom, buds burst

Animals drink to quell their thirst.

Demeter mourns, Persephone weeps

The sun rises and the moon sleeps.

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 18:08:00 +0000

Dragonfly - The Opening

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 17:41:00 +0000

Chapter One – Birthday

Before she even opened her eyes, she felt something. Eyes boring into her back? A heady smell? She felt rather than heard or smelled it. Slowly, she opened her eyes and even more slowly turned to look over her shoulder.

There, in a sliver of light sneaking through the trees, stood Snowglare. He seemed unafraid and calm, more like a beam of bright light than his solid form. Jessica tried to be the same. Breathe. She stayed in her sense meditation, trying maintain her awareness of the forest around her.

She tried not to look right at the buck, but just beyond him. Looking right at a wild creature would scare it away. But Snowglare stared back at her unflinching, with his strange, crimson eyes.

He stepped closer, making her pulse quicken in fear. Why would a deer approach a human? Rabies? Food? Ah, she did have an apple. Very slowly, she pulled the apple out of her bag. Even more slowly, she moved her hand inch by inch to place it down as far as she could reach in front of her. Snowglare walked up boldly and bowed his head as if in thanks. Then he took one more step forward until he stood in front of the food. He bit down with a sharp crack.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Relax, breathe. She'd never been closer to a wild deer. He stood so close, she could reach out and touch his hoof or his muzzle. She saw scars and sharp nicks cut deeply into his antlers, as though he never hesitated to use them in a fight. He could butt her with them and kill her in an instant.

The buck finished his snack and licked his lips. He lifted his long neck and head, then walked a few steps uphill. Rather than fleeing as he normally did, he paused and turned to look back at her. He took a few more steps, then looked back again. He looks almost humanlike with his gestures. Or maybe like a dog pleading for me to come.

She felt a shiver run down her spine. Rather than give in to her fear, she bravely stood up to follow.

Wait a minute, did he just nod? Curious, she used her quiet walk to avoid startling him. They walked up the hill to the top, where soft grass spread out on the forest floor, passing a tall oak tree she loved more than any other. She had spent hours upon hours sitting beneath its branches, trying to tempt song birds to feed from her hands.
The buck led her down a narrow path. White pine trees grew on either side, making the path seem enclosed, almost claustrophobic. She could walk noiselessly without much effort on the soft needles. It was her favorite part of the forest since her father would take her here to practice the art of silent walking in an ideal location.

They crossed under a tulip poplar tree that grew straight up from the base of the trunk but then curved down to form a living arch. Jessica had never noticed this before and she wondered how the arch formed. Snowglare stepped under the arch and kept going a few paces before turning around to make sure Jessica still followed. Yes, I’m coming.

She ran her fingers along a cedar trunk, noticing for the first time that the trees became hairier and larger with each step in this part of the forest. She bite her lip in confusion. The trees also grew farther and farther apart with each step.

How strange. She momentarily felt frustrated that she had not noticed this before. These trees looked almost like a different species than regular white cedars. But, she carried a small guide to plants and animals in Virginia in her bag. She pulled it out while walking. She wished she could stop and draw a picture of the delicate cedar leaves, but she worried she’d lose sight of Snowglare.

She flipped quickly through the book. She couldn’t find any cedars with a two inch cone. The tree wasn’t there. Am I missing something? Have I discovered a new species? She imagined a tree named after her. She would call it Chamaecyparis abbotus. She giggled at the thought. She would have to check more field guides when she returned home.

She walked on for some time in a daze. Later, she'd only remember Snowglare's bright form guiding her onward. And then the sun shone down from directly overhead. Jessica needed to hurry back to be home in time to help her mom make her birthday cake. She and her mom planned to start baking after lunch. She had ten of her closest friends coming over in the evening for a sleepover party.

But nothing could be as exciting as being led into the forest by a deer! Torn between duty and the thrill of the moment, she stopped walking to see how the buck would react if she refused to follow.

Snowglare stopped too, and turned around. His glance asked, “What is it?” She could almost hear a soft, airy whisper in her head. Her eyes glazed over a moment. Yes, I still have plenty of time. This is too exciting to quit now . . . just a little bit farther. Her feet carried her forward, as if by some force outside of herself.

Time played tricks on her. Her legs felt heavy, but it seemed as if she had been walking an hour, tops. Her head felt weird and empty . . . like she moved through a cloud. Then, without warning, Snowglare jumped over a briar bush and dashed into the woods.

Jessica felt her head clear instantly.
What’s wrong with me? Am I coming down with something? And where did Snowglare go? She turned to look for him, but he had evaporated. Jessica felt alone and confused. Though exhilarated too! She hadn’t exactly “caught” a deer by running, as had been her silly, childish ambition, but this had been just as cool. Perhaps even more so. She had been led through the forest by a large, majestic buck.

She felt a little turned around but she could hear a soft trickle of water. Maybe she could still find her way back home in time for lunch. Good thing had already cleaned the house for the party. Her mom couldn't be too angry with her.

Her eyes grew big to take it in. The most gorgeous waterfall cascaded onto a rock in the middle of a clear blue pool, a rainbow of colors shining from every droplet of water.

Status of Dragonfly, Book Two

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 17:35:00 +0000

I am one-third of the way through my second book, though there is still a lot to be done. I need to add in character development, micro tension, and some scenes I skimmed over. I have the beginning, middle and end already. Filling in is harder but at least I have the end in mind. For Book One, my approach was a little different and more organic, but I had to spent months editing and re-writing. I'm trying to avoid that as much as I can, but I think most of my creativity comes from re-reading my work and dreaming about the story at night.

If I read a scene I want to work on, I'll wake up knowing exactly what I want to write.

Skunk Tracks

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 13 Feb 2011 01:50:00 +0000

These tracks were along a stream and it's not often I find such perfectly formed prints here. The water level must have been just right. Each print is about 1.5 inches across and 1 3/4 inches long.

First Blog

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 13 Feb 2011 01:13:00 +0000

Hi Everyone. I am going to use this blog to post my writings and nature discoveries.

I have finished my first young adult fantasy book, which is part of a long series. I'm hoping to get it published in the next year, but I won't delay on Book Two.

As for the nature part, I have kept a paper journal for some time, but since I'm becoming more digital this just makes sense. I can post pictures on here of animal tracks, plants, birds, clouds, etc. I go to a sit spot in the woods next to my house to study bird language, animal behavior, plants, and to become more in tuned with myself and the world.