I Read This!

Coffee

2014-04-22T13:00:00.001-07:00

Coffee

by Jourdan Cameron

I watched him every morning from the alley. He’d arrive in his suit, coffee and half-eaten sandwich in hand, and leave the latter atop the gray trash can that stood against the once-red brick wall. With no other ritual or ceremony, he’d walk away every day, sun or rain. Whenever he left, I’d come out from the shadows and be the first to grab what he’d left behind. I had to be quick; opportunities in the city are snatched up almost before they’re made. What’s it matter where it comes from? A chance is a chance, especially when you’re a wanderer like me.
Besides, I liked to sit on the can when eating the sandwich. I got some funny looks from passers-by, and parents would occasionally clutch their inquisitive children a little closer, but the people leave me alone. Just the way I like it. Speaking of things I enjoy, apparently the fellow- the sandwich-leaver- he’s got a taste for ham. Every morning, ham. It’s the best part of the sandwich in my opinion- I can’t tire of the stuff.
After breakfast, I’d always roam the streets a little less hungry in search of more. Folks took pity on me- if you saw me walking down the street with my ragged gray coat and half-blind old eyes, surely you’d be inclined to help me out a little, at least? At least a little. That’s how I got by- a little from everybody. One day, though, I got a little more.
The suited man passed by the can again and deposited his sandwich in its usual spot. I crept out of the shadows and, as usual, enjoyed the ham. I suppose you could say I’ve grown a little bolder with time- I didn’t wait until the man was completely out of sight. I watched him walking down the street, coffee in hand, to eventually disappear through the thin, early morning crowd and past the buildings. “Enjoying it?” I looked up, startled by the wheezy voice above me. The man’s suit was wet, and a rather brown stain across his once-white shirt told me that he’d somehow lost his coffee.
I eyed him suspiciously; in hindsight, I needn’t have. With one big gesture, he swept me off my feet. I hadn’t the will to resist. He took me to his apartment- I no longer have to depend on the pity of others. Some nights, I get to sleep with him- he keeps me fed, warm, and dry. I don’t have a care in the world, except him.
He’s even given me a name: Coffee, the Cat.
----

I originally posted this story here on Reddit. My inspiration for the character's voice was taken from a Makoto Shinkai short,

What is Goodbye?

2013-12-17T12:40:00.003-08:00

For an assignment in my creative writing course, I had to write a piece of poetry that mashed together things I learned- I wound up with with the following piece.

What is Goodbye?
by Jourdan Cameron

I

The stars grew dim and faded from the velvety sky,
But it matters not to me.
I sought you out of obscurity and we rose to fly,
But it matters no more.
There's no reason you bore to change- why? We could've gone so high,
But it matters nothing now.
I let you hold our heart in your hands, and you neglected it and left it to die.
But it mattered more then.
They couldn't see us and they couldn't care less, we could've let the world go by,
But it matters less now.
I watched you change and fall and lie, you left me alone- l could but cry,
Those moments you missed, they matter.
There's no way to know what all those moments meant to you- can we see eye-to-eye?
You should know that I miss having them.
I don't lightly loose this bond, and I'd sooner ready my noose than friendship untie,
You know I have reasons.
A double-talk-word slipping so easy off the tongue as ripping fish-hook- it is goodbye.
But it matters not to me.

II

We did great things and dreamed yet greater,
We did great things and dreamed for later,
'Ello, nightmare.

You forgot me sleeping in the somnorium,
You forgot me sleeping in the sonorous somnorium,
Sugarcoats turned to ash insomnium.

Ours was understanding and an inner freedom,
Ours was understanding that gave us freedom,
You didn't forget, you let go.

We did great things and dreamed yet greater,
We did great things and dreamed for later,
You can't forget, you just let go.

Our house of ideas stands a monument to forever,
Our house of ideas stands for all dreaming ever,
It's our last good thing, you know?

I did what I could to be good and kind. Cruel? Never.
I did my best to be good and kind. Was I cruel? Never.
When stars fall, they dip unknowably low.

We did great things and dreamed yet greater,
We did great things and dreamed for later,
I caught your star; it burned my heart so!

III

A day with you- is it a year? It doesn't matter, both run by too fast.
I was always without fear, I found one like me to good time to share.
Your eyes are safe to stare, I often found myself getting lost there,
I could cry and you'd hear, I was important to somebody at last.

I couldn't just leave, you'd be left bewildered, broken, aghast,
Approaching night's eve, time slips away- know that I care!
As you grieve, know this wasn't a choice made easy on the air,
High your head do heave- remember forgetting your being in the past?

I imagined us forever, what a capital concept to dream!
I imagined you shared that, how logical does that seem?
Forever isn't long, for it is easy to be a star in the sky.

I imagined you'd never forget, lying in a lazy sun-beam,
I imagine I was right; you let go and woke up from our dream.
Forever wasn't long, and this means goodbye.

----

As of late, I've been tremendously busy with Me Squared- it's finally published! In case you want to read more about it, be sure to check out the official site here.

Impressions of the Etrian Odyssey Untold Demo- In Poetry

2013-09-23T13:05:00.000-07:00

In case you haven't heard the news, Atlus is holding a contest for it's latest game, Etrian Odyssey Untold: The Millenium Girl. If you're interested in winning one of their 3DS RPGs, check it out! Now, as my entry to the contest, I've decided to review the the demo- in the form of a poem, a short parody of The Raven. Here goes.

Etrian Odyssey- Plenty More
by Jourdan Cameron

Once upon an afternoon sunny, hopping the eShop like a bunny,
Over many a game I quick browsed through Nintendo's store,
Buttons clicking, screen flashing, a certain demo caught my eye-
I gasped in delight- 'twas a thing succeeding Etrian Odyssey Four!
I sighed, remembering a limitation- 'Tis a demo, nothing more.'
Not losing my eager anticipation, I downloaded it from the store.

Distinctly I remember during bright warm September,
The demo colored ember, present sitting at my 3DS door,
Only this, and nothing more!

In my excitation I unwrapped the present and soon was transported,
Taken away to some bright place of forest, near a sunlit shore?
I watched a cutscene- it was no bore!

Deep into my console I was peering, cranked up the 3D,
'Twas gorgeous as I sat staring, and soon there was a tutorial tour,
Sooner than later, I'd reached my the forest floor.

With my stylus I sat mapping,
Buttons clicking, X-Y-A-B-tapping,
Fighting monsters on the forest floor-
I had fun with this and plenty more!

Overall I love this demo- it's quite pretty,
Good looking cutscenes and dialogue that's witty,
It's sitting, waiting on Nintendo's electronic store,
If you're bored and of adventure you're dreaming,
Check out the new Etrian Odyssey- you'll be bored nevermore!

Chrysalis

2013-08-31T10:42:00.000-07:00

Chrysalis
by Jourdan Cameron

"Isaac, is that you?"
"In the flesh."
As if she were falling horizontally, the woman's frilly red skirt flowed behind her as she glided across the abandoned beach.

"I just had a feeling I'd find you here," she said breathless. "You always would come here on gloomy days like these. Nobody comes here when they expect rain except for you." She extended her hand, and he shook it gingerly.
"So," she said grinning, "what've you been up to lately? I heard you landed a role in a big movie."
He nodded. "That's correct, Natalie. I'm the lead actor in an adaptation of Bradbury's Rocket Man."
"That's so fantastic! You've always loved stories. It has been so long since I've seen you. We should go celebrate at our old place, you'll never believe what Tony did with his pizzeria-"
"Natalie." Isaac was staring out at the ocean waves as they licked the infinite sand into an unfathomable abyss. He always wondered which had come first- the sand or the waves. He always supposed that the waves came first, seeing as they at some point chewed down great mountains, that they might be swallowed and redeposited elsewhere.

"Natalie, I have a story you'll love."
"Oh?" Her voice cracked a little in anxious anticipation. "Maybe you can tell me at the restaurant?"
"It won't be long, I assure you." Isaac shifted his stare to Natalie's eyes. "Long ago, a boy found a fantastic red caterpillar- redder than the fabric of your skirt," he said, pointing.
"The boy fed it the finest leaves he could find, and he marveled as it grew larger and brighter. The boy showed it to his friends, and they all loved the caterpillar."
Natalie broke away from Isaac's dead gaze and sat on the sand to stare into the gray sea as he continued speaking.
"And so the caterpillar kept growing- and it grew sluggish. Though it was a beautiful creature, covered in strange outgrowths and incredible patterns, it began to bore the boy, who continued to feed it. One morning, though, the boy looked into the jar that bore the creature. What he found was a chrysalis. The caterpillar had hidden itself from him. And so, the boy waited."
Isaac seated himself on the sand beside Natalie, noiselessly.
"And so, the boy waited," he said with a sigh. "As he waited, he took long walks in the woods, and do you know what he found? Another caterpillar, twice as big and just as bright as his old one. Without hesitation, he took it home and tossed the old caterpillar's chrysalis into the woods. This new caterpillar crawled restlessly around the jar, refusing to all the fine leaves and vegetation the boy gave it. The creature wouldn't eat, and after a few days, it's jewel-bright colors began to fade. His conscience itching, the boy realized what he needed to do, and released the larva into the woods."

He sat silent for awhile.
"Is that the end?"
"No, it's not. While the boy was in the woods, do you know what else he found?"
Natalie shook her head.
"He found the empty chrysalis lying among dead leaves. He brought it home with him, never knowing how beautiful the butterfly that emerged from it was. He only had his memories of the larva before it destroyed it's form in pursuit of something greater."
"That's quite a story," said Natalie, glancing about the beach. "Some kid's going to learn patience from it. You writing a kid's book?"
He shrugged. "I could."
"You know, I'm friends with this one guru, she's a great artist, I could get you guys together."
"That would be nice," he said, as the two stood up. "So, what happened at Tony's lately?" Isaac took off his thin nylon jacket and draped it over Natalie's shoulders.
"You shouldn't wear such short sleeves on such chilly days, you know."
With that, the two left the beach.

----

I wrote this piece for a school assignment- it was about a secret being spoken, though not quite too obviously- rather like in the story Hills Like White Elephants; I feel that I could've benefited from a bit more subtlety here, but I still like the results.

If you're wondering about my book, Me Squared is still coming along nicely. I've already finished editing it, and I'm just getting things sorted with copyright and such. I'll be sure to post about it once I have everything together.

Thirteen Ways of Looking at Vernal Pools

2013-07-02T09:00:00.000-07:00

One of my recent school assignments was to write a poem modeled, in part, after Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird, by Wallace Stevens. Enjoy!

Thirteen Ways of Looking at Vernal Pools
by Jourdan Cameron

I
Your time has come little pool,
Spring rains bring hydration,
Very soon you shall come to life, pool,
You'll be home to larvae and frogspawn in their undulation.
II
"Somebody ought drain that squalid puddle, it breed disease!"
"You need to understand, it's vital to our ecosystem, listen please!"
"This world's creatures are none of my concern, nature's making me wheeze."
"There are things you don't know, do not tamper with them, hear me out, please."
"Tell me what the point is of keeping this infernal mud-hole!"
"It's a vernal pool that supports amphibians and dragon-flies, it plays a vital role!"
"Well, what a pity, those things make no difference to me."
"You can't see- how very blind can you possibly be?"
"Why don't you go hug some poor diseased tree?"
"Dragonflies control the mosquito population, surely that means something?"
"So does bug spray, do me a favor and get out of my way, you're annoying."
"If you destroy the pool, you'll miss so much! You'll never hear the frogs sing."
"You imbecile, frogs don't sing, are you living in some mad fantasy?"
"Shut up."
"Wha-"
"Listen."
"You're not talking."
"No. The forest is. If you open your heart, you might hear it."
III
In the heart of the forest in the place untouched by man,
Lies a body of water between a puddle and a pond- a vernal pool.
Year and again it fills with precipitation dyed by leaves a shade of tan,
It's home to many larva growing quick in the water cool.
IV
The pool has purpose plenty,
It serves some shelter and others snacks,
Low levels of liquid water it has, depth it lacks,
It is meant to be gone before great heat attacks.
V
Summer day,
All too close and far away,
The gentle buzz floats along the wind,
And quickly as it had appeared,
The sun itself leaves taking with it the day,
As the night falls so begins the old song revered,
An orchestral cacophony of chirps from every which way.
Those once-young creatures of the pool have all grown,
Spring peepers are calling, tiny tree frogs seeking one another,
Ready for the next generation's seeds to be sown.
Their love song's a lullaby, sleep bringing, from one eye to the other,
The night draws on and the sunrise makes the arrival of a new day known.
VI
A big wide hole,
A quiet dried bowl,
It played quite the role,
It gave a season it's soul.
A quiet dried bowl,
Leaf-littered hole,
Beyond grassy knoll,
It will does summer soul,
For now, a big dead hole.
VII
Two men stand near pool's shore,
Both understanding what it's for.
With great care one disturbs the surface stillness,
His net's filled with life for a camera to witness.
Soon as they came, they leave and all is quiet once more,
Those photographs are going far, with them they take the shore.
VIII
Winter comes in howling silence,
The world lies sleeping in great penance,
For now the home is frozen mud.
Bitter battering blustering squalls
Cry cacophonously, cutting calls,
For now the home is frozen mud.
Such sirenous screaming stills,
Chiming, chirping, chafing chills,
The home remains as frozen mud.
Oligarchic orchestra of otherworldly 'orrors,
Clouds cruel coldly cover, cumulonimbus encroaches!
The home is silent still.
IX
No season lasts forever, winter being no exception,
The cruel clouds that once encroached now fall to earth,
In harmony with the sun, they warm the mud, granting liberation.
Soon the pool is filled again, sitting in the earth,
With great haste come the men; they marvel at it's berth.
One snaps a shot of a water strider as across the amber edge it does surf,
They both recognize this place to be of immeasurable worth.
X
Summer days swift return and time seems to stand still,
Tiny tadpoles grew fat legs and lost their tails and gills.
With great gusto they now snap the insects from the sky,
These ectothermic acrobats from tree to tree now fly.
Far above the dried out hole they sing songs in the night,
When the dawn comes they bath amid the dew and once more take to flight.
XI
Did you hear that?
I saw nothing.
There was a flash vibrant green,
Then, nothing.
The thing I thought I had seen,
'Twasn't nothing.
It was a dragonfly, fast and mean,
Chasing something.
Those flying jaws the end of many a mosquito,
Catching something.
They, too, come from the vernal pool, snapping up smaller insects that move so slow.
They're definitely something.
XII
On and on the pool fills and goes dry,
In the forest it's unchanged as the days go by.
The cyclic chain of life and death shall eternal roll,
So many creatures grow up in that hole!
Some of the arrogant may not ignore it's value,
Yet many of shut mouths and open minds will see more than most do.
What good is a pond that's almost a mud-hole?
It grants the forest life and the summer song soul!
XIII
Maybe one day a child will visit,
His ears will catch a spring peeper's "rivet".
Maybe that child will never come back,
But for a certainty he'll keep a straight track.
He will not forget the vernal pool,
It's a memory that he'll often visit.
His mind will always take him back,
Echoing that little frog's "rivet".
Maybe one day a child will visit.

So, I wrote a book.

2013-06-25T08:57:00.001-07:00

As of late, my posts have been few and far between- I've been a very busy writer, and I'm proud to announce that I've written a book. The title of the book is Me² (sometimes written as Me Squared to prevent formatting issues with the superscripted 2). It's a book that's been sitting in my head for a very long time. It all started one night about six years ago; I was lying awake in bed, staring up at my ceiling, when I came up with the idea for a book about a kid who discovers that he has a clone. The title of the book was originally going to be Blood Brothers. What's funny is that today, I'm not sure what came first- the title, or the idea. Did I think of the name Blood Brothers and think about some way to give it meaning- maybe I thought about the book idea and thought Blood Brothers would be a fitting title.

As for the book itself, it's a little unconventional. I wanted to write an exciting book that wasn't completely composed of dumb action- not I've got anything against action, as there's plenty of it in Me²- but I wanted to make something for young audiences with depth, something that they would find engaging, thought-provoking and accessible. It's far too easy to get caught up trying to make something with a specific quality that those other vital elements of a book become lost in a sea of dry words. So while I would say that this is a thought-provoking book full of depth, it's also a fun book full of life. I think a mistake that's made too often is that when a writer wants to get a message across, or even just wants to write a story, he or she will harp on one thing, and one thing only. While I loved the central message in the movie Won't Back Down, I really hated the movie. It was well cast and all, but it only conveyed a single thing- it felt like I was being force-fed the idea that the whole educational system is broken and we need a revolution to fix it and the entire world is a villain except for anybody who's not fighting with us. While it's pretty true that there are some big issues with various school systems today, I didn't get anything else out of the movie. I couldn't be brought to care about the characters, their plight, and I certainly didn't wind up feeling whatever it was that the film's director wanted me to feel.

I think it's safe to say that I dodged that bullet with Me². While I did write with the purpose of making kids think about the ethics of such things as cloning and genetic engineering, I also worked hard to create a worthwhile story, interesting characters, and all those other things that I believe make a book worth writing and, subsequently, worth reading.

I'm very proud of my sister, Kassidy Cameron- she created the book's front cover. I told her what I wanted to see and she brought it beautifully to life. If you'd like to see more of her work and also help out our aunt, please be sure to take a look at her site!

Right now, I'm in the process of editing the book. It'll be ready... Soon. Keep an eye on this blog for news!

My Mind Ran Off

2013-05-16T12:48:00.000-07:00

My Mind Ran Off
by Jourdan Cameron

I watched my mind cut itself loose today,
I watched my mind just cut on loose,
It just dashed on off bright as a spring day.

I tried to catch it, I swear I did,
I tried to catch it, I swear couldn't,
That sucker done ran off and hid!

I took a swig and looked hither and thither,
I looked thither and hither and took a shot,
Then my eyes gave out along with my liver.
Goodness me, can a new brain be bought?

I gotta find my mind before it starts to rot!
I just need to catch my brain before it starts to rot,
The thing just liberated itself, who woulda thought?

The thing's gone on vacation, that's unacceptable,
The thing's gone on vacation, that's totally trouble,
Wherever am I to find a new one?
I can't say for sure.
Anybody know how to tie a brain lure?

My mind ran off and I just can't find it,
My mind dashed off- I can't bind it!
My mind's escaped and now I'm can't see;
I'm bumbling in the dark, I just wanna be free!

I hope it's happy, wherever it's gone,
I just hope it's satisfied, wherever it runs,
I'm not.
I know for sure that I'm not.
There's no happiness knowing it can't be caught.

My conscious is a fugitive running from the law,
My mind is a fugitive on the run from the lawman,
I just can't believe he left without so much as "tah".
No formal goodbyes were exchanged,
Boy! My mind is deranged.

I watched my mind cut itself loose today,
It dashed on off bright's a spring day,
I tried to catch it, I swear I did,
but that sucker done hid,
I looked hither, thither,
I busted up my liver,
I bet it's now a-rot,
Mind's not caught,
Didn't say bye,
"Please why?"
I can but cry.

----

Apologies for taking so long to post something- anything- I've been mad busy as of late. Something's coming. Something big. Besides that patched version of Last Days of Marconis Part II.
As for Paxcatia, it's not dead, it's just pining for the fjords. I'm going to re-read it once I'm done with the big project so that my next chapter can have an improved sense of focus.
I'll be back.

Before the Dawn the Sun Must Set

2013-01-31T12:29:00.002-08:00

Before the Dawn the Sun Must Set
by Jourdan Cameron

Before the dawn, the sun must set;
The moon will rise as stars collect.
In their places they will fall-
to one another do they call?
Here below we try to connect,
we create so much; the stars live within us all.
On the inside galaxies,
outside a blank facade;
So many are victims of their own fraud.
The universe dreams when you shut your eyes;
why is a daydream a thing to despise?
One can only surmise.
The sunrise will come and one star drowns its brothers,
warming a world of lonelies and lovers,
marking the hour in which ddreams meet chance.
Before the sun rose,
somebody thus chose a pinpoint of light;
A star for the heart to start life aright.
They say that it's always the darkest before dawn,
but it's in that liong night that our souls are switched on.
Dark as it may be,
dim as it might seem,
we can ignore pain
to watch the universe dream.

Last Days of Marconis: Part II

2012-12-31T21:34:00.000-08:00

Ladies and gentlemen, I've finished my first piece of interactive fiction! It's a sequel to an earlier story of mine, Last Days of Marconis. You can enjoy it right here. It was the last thing I made in 2012- I wanted to have it ready for the first day of 2013. Here's a table of contents in case you're feeling lost:

Last Days of Marconis
Last Days of Marconis: Part 2
Prologue/Chapter 1
What's Worse?
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Necessary Revolution
Chapter 4

Enjoy! Now, in order to enjoy my piece of interactive fiction, you'll have to download it. It's tiny- you just need to save it and open it up. It'll run in just about any web browser- I'd host it somewhere, but frankly, I'm not sure where... Have fun!

Paxcatia: Chapter 4

2012-12-05T10:31:00.000-08:00

Sorry it took so long to get chapter four out- enjoy!

Last Days of Marconis
Prologue/Chapter 1
What's Worse?
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Necessary Revolution

Chapter 4
by Jourdan Cameron

"We've been trained for this very situation, I hope you're all ready." The squad of the Paxcatian Peace Force all nodded in agreement with their chief. The Force was ready to maintain order down at the dock, which was currently in a state of turmoil. Protesters flooded the area as a lone cargo ship glided silently above the heaving crowd, the floating machine blissfully unaware of the chaos below.
Aboard the ship, however, was an uninvited crew composed of stowaways. Their intent was espionage- they needed to understand what kind of people attacked them, and they soon realized that their assignment had suddenly become much, much easier.
"This is quite the convenience, we can slip out totally unnoticed!" Katie glared harshly at Jonathan- she was still upset at him over the small fiasco he caused. Swiftly averting her eyes to the rest of her group, she proceeded to warn them.
"Just because the crowd's completely and utterly occupied doesn't mean that a team of foreigners will be automagically accepted. For all we know, this riot could turn ugly as soon as we set foot on the ground. The best thing we can do is to sneak into the crowd and try to blend in." She suddenly looked back at Jonathan. "Without a fiasco." Sheepishly, he nodded as the vessel made a final descent.
"I think there's a-" Jonathan's fearful statement on the nature of the crowd was quick cut short- a real pity, because it could've saved everybody a fair amount of trouble. His insight into the teeming mass of humanity bordered on uncanny- but that's another story.
"…Does everybody have their civilian garb at the ready? If you're planning on getting by unnoticed, you'd best be well dressed.
Within mere moments, the ship's stowaway crew became a group of ordinary, uninteresting Paxcatian citizens. Maxwell- who much preferred to be referred to as simply "Max" bore a Dumb Lummox t-shirt. Katie smirked, amused; nobody would've ever heard the sweet sounds of the quintet that no longer existed.
Before she allowed herself to be carried away by memories, Katie dove back into managing her little invading force.
"I've got a good feeling about this" piped one spy.
Jonathan made a strange, disdainful puffing noise. "Yeah, we're running right into the land overflowing with milk and honey- didn't it nearly kill me? I think you're looking at this the wrong way. These people could destroy us if we're found out, they may as well be giants. It's not like we're going to get anywhere by-"
Another harsh glare from Katie was encouragement enough to shut Jonathan up for a few precious moments. Katie addressed the rebels once more.
"Just for the record" she said "I'd like everybody to pay some attention to Caleb's enthusiasm. If something happens to me, he's running this operation. Understood?"
In the femtosecond between Katie's having spoken and the minds of her cremates having processed the meaning of her words did a silent storm of doubts, confusion and worries as to the reliability of their leader flood the minds of every Marconi spy.
The storms continued brewing as the ship touched the ground, and at the entrance to the ship, angry fists began to pound.

"Do any of you here know the story behind Paxactia's economy? Anybody? Come on, this is elementary, surely somebody cares to- excuse me. Just… Just act like I'm not here. Work on it." Mr. Xianet was pretty preoccupied. The Paxcatian professor needed his pupils to pretend as if he weren't present. David's class sighed collectively- Mr. Xianet's methods always tended towards a certain hands-off approach that seemed more bent towards his continued convenience in opposition to his students actually learning anything. He was constantly distracted by his own pursuits, or rather, it seems, the Creative Thought class that he was supposed to be teach was a mere distraction from his pursuits. David stared into the center of the circle of the youth- these types of classes always were taught in circles for some reason, and they tended to have quite the interactive dialogue- everybody contributed something to the discussion. With Xianet, that was never the case.
After a few minutes, the class was dismissed, and the students made their ways back to their respective homes. All except for David. David, on that day, took the train to Julie's neighborhood. Upon his arrival, he found everything the way he remembered it last. The sidewalks that seemed so perfectly new, bearing nary a crack in spite of their age and the perfectly aligned houses that seemed to stretch on forever into the horizon, like an endless jaw of multicolored teeth. "The one where the sun shines" David spoke by rote. "That house-"
"Is mine." David whirled around to see Julie just behind him, smiling nostalgically.
"You know, the first time I tried to find your house, I walked around the block three times- nay- four times in search of the house the sun shone upon."
Julie shrugged. "Not my fault it was overcast. Besides, I imagine you'd have gotten over it after a good ten years?"
With a sigh, the two made their way to a beige little house. Julie's father was an artist- just the same as David's. It was through their craft that they found each other and had become the best of friends, though this is a long, old story best saved for another time.
"Dave, isn't it interesting how our fathers are both artists who wound up meeting and becoming the best of friends?"
"Somewhat, I guess. Isn't that really a long story best saved for another time?"
Julie shrugged again. "Yeah, I guess so. My dad tells it all the time."
The two entered Julie's house, which was just as unexciting on the outside as on the inside.

Like a swarm of vicious insects, a thousand angry people set their sights on the ship's main unloading bay, which opened like a massive jaw unto the pummeling masses below. The cargo ship was so blissfully unaware of it's plight as in poured the fire, the hammers, the destruction… Within moments, the contents of the ship were completely wrecked, and not too long after, the ship was no longer skyworthy- never again would it sail among the clouds.
Moments before the madness, a stealthy group of shadows slipped silently outwards, smoothly blending into and escaping from the enraged mass.
The small group had convened in a clean and unusually well-lit alley, somehow having managed to escape the attention of the already overworked police forces that were attempting to restore order as best they could.
Katie stared out at the insanity. "What are they so upset over? Seriously, it's not like they have any real problems."
"I can't say that I care to know" shrugged Jonathan. "So long as it doesn't involve us."
"We're spying this place out, I think it definitely deserves our attention" piped Peak. "I bet it probably involves whatever was in those crates…"
"Well, I guess now's probably a good time for a confession" said Jonathan. "I think I might actually be omniscient."
There were a few stifled laughs in the tiny crowd. Even Katie had to try, and try hard to avoid busting out laughing. "What exactly do you mean?" She put on her harshest, coldest, staunchest voice and it was barely enough to restrain her mirth.
"Can you explain the nature of your… Ability?"
Jonathan shrugged nonchalantly. "I know what's behind walls and stuff."
This was Katie's breaking point. She bust out laughing, a quite likely was responsible for bursting eardrums within her radius.
"Alright then" she said after gaining some control over herself. Leading Jonathan out of the alley and into the street that was curiously devoid of vehicles, she made a request of Jonathan. "Stare at that building in front of you. The red one that looks like it's made of old-fashioned materials, what do you see?"
"Well" said Jonathan squinting "I see… I see points of light, like stars, they're moving around. Some are just still, though."
Katie sighed inwardly. "What are they?"
"Well, there seems to be one coming out of the front door… Wait, it's stopping and turning around and… Now it's coming out."
And right on cue, Mr. Xianet exited the school.

Through the atmosphere, a pair of machines discussed, in their own tongue, the situation and how to handle it.
"It's simple- we kill the escapee. Black Ace, what's the problem? Whatever slave was responsible for the early activation is now running wild in Paxcatia. Why not-"
"Because of Trust, Baron, that's why not."
"…Your line of reasoning seems vaguely human, it almost seems feeling." Of course, Ace was merely a complex computer system and was, to its own knowledge, unencumbered by something quite as human as emotion. Pride, greed, joy, love… None were present.
"My current directive is to ensure the happiness of the Paxcatian people. They must continue to trust, and knowledge of a breach in any capacity could jeopardize that."
"What else do you know about the stowaways?"
"Their numbers are limited, though they seem to possess specialized knowledge. These aren't escaped slaves, they're something else. I've never seen any of them until now."
"Very well. On another note, I lost four slaves from the factory, and I suspect they had with them the foreign body, as it's no longer anywhere in the factory… I only managed to kill two of the escapees. I have a party of stoats patrolling the forest, we'll know of their wherabouts soon."

Mr. Sere woke up. Nothing seemed to make much sense- it's as his world had been drowned, wrung out, left in a dark, damp place to mildew and finally exposed to the brilliance of the sun. He let out a weak groan- after opening his eyes, he was blinded and suddenly jolted about as the pair of escaped slaves carrying him through the woods rejoiced upon the realization that he'd finally regained consciousness.
Gently, the pair lowered Mr. Sere to the ground as he began using his eyes again and tried speaking.
"Wha- whe- who-" he gasped, making a few vaguely intelligible noises that could be construed as the beginnings of questions.
"My name is Marcia, Marcia Aveherb. My brother and I have been carrying you away from the factory."
The other escapee nodded at Mr. Sere. "My name's Will," he sighed, "Will Aveherb."
"You shouldn't worry about speaking yet, sir. It'll be awhile before the gas wears off."
"What gas?"
"We'll explain that later. Right now, we need to find shelter before night." Cautiously, Mr. Sere stood up- his burly legs were a bit unstable still, and a small flurry of dead leaves sprung up behind him as the siblings rushed up to support him, he gently waved them off.
"Don't worry, I need to get used to my legs again" he said weakly. "Just keep your eyes open for shelter. My name is Casey Sere, by the way" he said.
"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Sere" said Marcia. Her brother remained conspicuously silent.
"Where are your parents?" Casey asked in an attempt to break the metaphorical ice. "Are they still trapped at the factory?" Marcia stared down at the ground; it was her turn to be silent as Will spoke up.
"They died carrying you. The factory killed them."

Around the same time, a small party in Paxcatia sat down outside a quiet restaurant. The scratched wooden chairs they rested on seemed out of place, almost as much as the group of spies did. Katy, for the first time, was well-fed and somewhat nervous. The Paxcatian economy is a simple system of complex ideas, but the primary concept behind it is the idea that happiness is of greatest importance- a piece of art that makes people happy will earn an artist more merit than an artist whose work was insipid and unoriginal.
Katy was nervous- for the first time, she'd be paying out merit with an identity that was cobbled together for her by her friends back in Marconis. It had been injected by some miracle into Black Ace, and would work just fine- but there were still a thousand things that could go horribly, horribly wrong, and right know about a hundred of those things were swirling through Katie's mind.
Yet, somehow, none of them came true as she tapped out a few words on the translucent data-collection sheet handed to her by the waiter, stood up and lead her party down the well-lit streets to the nearest train station, and after a brief ride in the pods, they exited, staring silently up at the stars. The small group of strangers in a strange land were quiet for a good few moments. A few let out sighs of relief and homesickness- none of them had ever been quite this far away from home- none except for Gabriel, but his story is one for another day. Peak dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans- in spite of his tall, thin build they still seemed too tight- and pulled out a small black rectangle that glowed to life in the palm of his hand. With a few barely noticeable finger movements, the device had an objective. It glowed a bright green in one corner, pointing the group down the street towards their new home.

Elsewhere, a pair of Paxcatian youth were about to bid one another farewell.
"I've been worried about my dad lately. People aren't reacting to his art as they once did."
"I'm pretty sure it's just a weird trend" replied David. "Besides, isn't there that one guy who's always just blown away- like, completely and utterly amazed by your dad's work?"
Julie shrugged. "I guess you're right. It's just that there's not much of a demand for photorealistic oil paintings. As of late, everything's so abstract."
The two stared down the street at a small group people heading into the house next to Julie's.
"Huh" said Julie. "That house has been empty for a couple years now. Looks like somebody's moved in and I didn't even say hello."

Necessary Revolution

2012-11-13T12:12:00.001-08:00

Chapter four of Paxcatia is complete (at long last!) and will be here soon. Meanwhile, enjoy this story that's between chapters three and four- I suspect you'll enjoy it.

Last Days of Marconis
Prologue/Chapter 1
What's Worse?
Chapter 2
Chapter 3

Necessary Revolution
by Jourdan Cameron

"Throughout human history, there's been a simple pattern: revolution, upheaval, rebirth, and a gradual decline into darkness, decay, and eventually revolution once more. Our world is slipping into the brightest darkness it has yet seen- the time has come for revolution yet again." I sighed inwardly- after a couple hours of preaching to a crowd of assorted power-hungry, warmongering fools- them, along with men who could be so easily assured of their worth- these and many others like them were gathered about me in an abandoned agricultural field- my audience finally seemed to be broken down by my argument. I decided it was time to show them the way. "People of Paxcatia, you've been trapped in the darkness far too long! This period of peace, tranquility, weakness and folly- it's given us no progress. We re-package the old and sell it off as the new, as innovation as we sink deeper into the mire of our own creation. For our nation to advance, we must topple it temporarily."
"But where do we start?" My words had finally purchased their hearts.
"Well, that's an excellent question." To be honest, I hadn't been thinking of the best way to start a revolution- does anybody, really? I fumbled about for a good response to this unusually quick-witted man...
"Much like a heart attack, we must attack this nation at its arteries- we strike their primary source of power first, their-"
"Trade routes!" Somebody else in the audience shouted, and I sighed, relieved- it was much better than my initial idea. Striking children wouldn't have made me particularly popular among the populace.
"That's right" I said, "Their trade routes. Seeing as our Paxcatian economy seems to be fueled by merit, the best thing we can do is stop incoming products- the people will have nothing worth working for. Now, any recommendations as to where we strike first?"

My name is Benjamin Rice, and this is my revolution. You received this file after passing an ancient agricultural structure- or at least the ruins of a barn that was built long, long ago. Perhaps by some miracle, the technology of today that so inundates the people of Paxcatia with a constant inflow of data will still be in use into the future long enough for the short-range transmitter relaying this message to bring it to you. I don't know what kind of people will one day read this, if any, but I do know that I will be vilified to no end. Maybe that's what's going to happen to me in the end- I'll be remembered by history merely as a destructive, deluded dimwit. Whatever the case is, consider this: Do you struggle for anything at all? Do you feel as if you have something to lose if you don't work hard right now? At the same time, do you feel like you have so much more to gain if you are to simply keep going- if you keep pushing a little harder? If not, I deserve to be a villain, for I have failed.

At this point, the crowd became much more willing to listen, and stirred by thought of action they paid close attention to my next few words.
"Paxcatia and her people have become soft, uninteresting, without character... They're so completely wrapped up in their own mundane affairs that they haven't come to the realization that their leader is a giant digital nanny with a thousand eyes and no heart. Black Ace knows only directives, not compassion, not ambition and yet somehow… in spite of knowing everything, it feels nothing. How can we, the people sit by idly as the shadow of the great foot inactivity, of stagnation and of filthy decay hangs heavy above our heads?"
"We can't!" came a woman's voice.
"Indeed" I shouted from atop my crate, nearly falling to the dusty floor after leaping with fervor, "and we shan't sit idly by- we'll trigger the revolution this nation so desperately needs. Now, perhaps we may get organized?"
Within minutes, it was unanimously decided. We'd strike the transport coming in tomorrow.
"I remember hearing about what's coming in tomorrow- it's a transport full of a new type of computer" said a tall, thin man with dark hair and skin.
"Yes, it taps into a user's nervous system, gathering data, processing it and feeding it to the user. The Neo-Tiddlu party- bless their existence- had fought against the existence of this technology for years. Now, it's coming straight for the homes and the hearts of Paxcatians."
"It looks like we picked a good time to strike" piped a person.
For a couple hours, we mostly talked among ourselves before we went our separate ways, to our homes and families. I stayed behind, writing this document.

Am I mad, sitting here in the shell of an old barn, hoping that one day my words, my thoughts will be known? Perhaps I'm insane to simply contemplate the idea that I could change the world by driving people to smash things like maddened animals, but perhaps not.
Perhaps I'm simply giving too much merit to my doubts.

Whatever the case, our assault tomorrow must be swift- I already suspect Black Ace has a clue as to what's about to happen- it's only a matter of time before the Paxcatian Peace Force is prompted to launch an investigation. What happens between right now and the dawn may decide the fate of the revolution and whatever future the Paxcatian people are to have.
This barn is an unusually cozy place for an abandoned building. As far as I can discern, it was built about a century and a half ago- Paxcatia had been at peace for a solid decade and growth in every sector of the market was rapid. for the people were eager to see the fruits of their labor. The new system built on merit was in full force, and somehow a good word was enough to secure a man good things- this barn was built solidly, with good wood and good words. A man had found a technique for growing trees that would produce unusually strong wood- but he had not the means to farm these trees en masse. Yet, through the merit system, enough people recognized his techniques as valuable, and the people united to gather the resources he needed, and with his guidance, his vision (and the visions of so many others) became reality. Thus, today, I can sit in a structure built lifetimes ago, penning words that may be picked read a lifetime later.
Of course, things slowly changed. The necessities came easier- there was no real need to fight, no need to struggle, no need to innovate as Paxcatia's government began to give more and more, and the people had reason to give less and less.
I merely want to see the growth, the innovation, the unbridled and bold creativity of those days when a man's good word was enough for good things- but a man's great word was enough for great things. So many of the Paxcatian people enjoy easy luxuries by feeding the parasites- far too many people are given far too much merit for stifling what could be growth and innovation.
History, I'm sure, will not remember me in a positive light. I probably will do ruthless, regrettable things, but may I never be remembered for giving handouts to the lazy. All I want is a world that's guaranteed not to slow to a syrupy, saturated stop.

You may wonder why I'd take such a violent, destructive route to revolution- wouldn't it merely be another in a long list of bloody conflicts and citizen uprisings? Indeed, it would be. Why not simply go to the government? Paxcatia's government is open to all seeking to accomplish grand scale goals- an overhaul isn't beyond the pervasive reach of party leaders. I ask you to look through history. You'll notice that nothing worth doing is ever done without a cost. The cost of a revolution is property, security, safety and lives. I believe it's a cost worth covering.
The revolution will buy us freedom through the greatest slavery man has ever known: necessity. Necessity that propels invention, creativity, innovation. If it is necessary to work in order to exist, then the people will choose to either work hard or cease to exist- this is what the revolution will bring.
It is necessary.

----
I'm extremely proud of my sister- she's been drawing a new picture every single day for the past few months in order to help our quadriplegic aunt. If you'd like to order a commission (you can get a really awesome custom cartoon avatar for your Facebook/Twitter account), check out her blog right over here.

Book Review: Kepler's Dream

2012-08-31T06:42:00.003-07:00

I suppose that it isn't too often that I find myself picking up a relatively ordinary YA novel these days, really- do you know how many dystopias mine eyes hath borne witness to? Too many. Far too many, which is why picking up Kepler's Dream, by Juliet Bell, was something of a relief.
Kepler's Dream is about a girl named Ella. Her parents are divorced, and Ella often finds herself supporting her mother. You see, Ella's mother suffers from cancer, and she's about to undergo an especially intense (and potentially deadly) treatment that leaves her incapable of watching Ella during the summer. Ella gets sent away to her paternal grandmother, who to Ella is a complete and utter stranger. Not only is she a stranger, she's very strange because- wait, that's incorrect- she's eccentric, mostly because she has an endearing way of being unusual. One way it manifests itself is through her strict adherence to perfect grammar, her slightly less than subtle contempt for anybody who fails to behave according to her preferences, and of course her massive collection of rare books. The book is centered around the theft of Somnium, which the book refers to as Kepler's Dream, which is essentially what one man believed life on the moon would look like prior to stronger telescopes. Through the book, Ella discovers friends, tries to solve the mystery of the missing book and learns the joys of collecting antiquarian literature.

From the outset, this book displays plenty of character. It would appear that Bell is carrying on in the tradition of Judy Blume- her protagonist, Ella, is certainly one I felt I could relate to in spite of never really being in her situation any time within my conscious memory. In fact, the book's humor and writing style are also very "Blume-esque", and while the book aims for a fifth-grade audience, I (a somewhat older person) found the book pretty hard to put down. Bell's an excellent writer, and she has a certain realness about her characters- sure, where haven't we heard this before? A girl gets sent off to camp (in Ella's case, it's what she referred to as "Broken Family Camp"), and it's there that she discovers friends in spite of awkward circumstances that she eventually grows used to and she comes to realize that she's been having a great summer and goes home fully of joy. It's a definitely a familiar premise, but I have to say that Bell's execution of it is absolutely impeccable.

My only gripe (a minor one, really) is that the book's endearing quality, its "Blume-esque" humor that assigns special names to most things, sometimes seems to go a little too far- it can be slightly annoying sometimes, but it's worth enduring- I just thought that the book could've done with a little less of it.

Overall, I'd definitely recommend this book. It's very engaging, full of character and absolutely worth a read. I know it's something of a summer novel (I suppose publishing my review on the last day of August was awkward timing?), but maybe it can drag a little sunshine into your autumn.
----
While we're on the subject of cancer, I'd like to take a moment to talk about my aunt Jacqueline. She's a cancer survivor (yay!) but at current, she's paralyzed on account of the tumor that was lodged in her spine. Right now, we're looking into getting a few things for her that will improve her life. One of them is physical therapy, which can help her to regain some use of her body. The other is a specially equipped van that will allow her to go out more- she spends much of her time in bed- getting her the van built to accommodate a wheelchair would make it much easier to move her.

This brings me to my little sister- she's started an art blog and will accept commissions. Want a cartoonized version of yourself? She can do it, and the money will go straight to helping somebody in need- check out the blog right here.

Captain Tory

2012-07-26T21:47:00.000-07:00

Captain Tory
by Jourdan Cameron

"Am I really going to see my her today?"
The old Captain sighed- the boy didn't believe him yet. "Boy" he said in his grizzled old sailor's voice "It's as true as the sea is blue." The boy stared at the approaching schooner that made its way towards the harbor. Through the mist, everything seemed cold, gray, making things feel... Unsure.
The old man held the lantern high above his head and the ship turned into the nearest dock- the same dock where, three years ago, the boy cried goodbye.
The schooner approached the jetty, and its bow neared, the boy caught sight of what could've been a flame burning bright at the fore of the boat.
Though it was hard to tell, the old man bore a smile somewhere deep within his wrinkles. Extinguishing the signaling lantern, he made his way over to the slowly unloading ship that carried with it the hopes and dreams of a thousand days. He shed a silent tear as mother embraced son, and for a moment, all was right in the world
The old man spoke. "Anya, I take it you succeeded?" The red haired woman nodded. At her side was a briefcase that she picked up and, striding up to the old man, opened just a crack for his wearied eyes. The old man grinned, bobbing his head in approval. As quickly as the briefcase was opened, it was shut. "We'd best get this inside" she said "lest we draw any... Unwanted attention." The old man agreed, and the trio made their way through the seaside town to a run-down apartment building three stories high. The old brick building had clearly seen better days, and through the fog its bulk seemed all the more ominous.
The young boy spoke up as the old Captain opened the door of the building and beckoned the pair inside.
"Mother, what's in the briefcase?"
The woman gently tousled her son's hair. "Isn't it obvious? It's a surprise." Slowly and assuredly, the three walked up a couple flights of stairs until they were standing just outside the Captain's apartment, where he and the boy spent the last few years.
"So Captain, still no lighthouse?"
"Nay, Anya, it's as if they want an old man like me swinging a lantern to fro."
The boy hurried inside the apartment as soon as the door had been opened and peeled back the curtains on the far side of the room. Gray light came pouring in, and it soon became evident that the Captain wasn't the most competent of housekeepers. A thin layer of fine dust coated various knick-knacks and tschotskies, mementos of a life at sea. The boy's swift movements seemed to bathe him in a cloud of particulate matter. Politely, Anya averted her attention to the Captain.
"Please, just put the briefcase on the table" he told her. Carefully, she placed the angular luggage the square, squat, wooden table that lay in the center of the room atop a round, threadbare rug. She barely resisted the urge to dust off the table.
"It's quite the precious cargo- I need to get it to the city right away."
"Relax, we have time. We should celebrate, eh? Dinner's on me tonight. Anya sighed, but before she could object, the young boy in the room took the chance to interject.
"Wait, what are we celebrating?"
"The greatest achievement the world of zoology will ever know- it's bigger than the platypus." The Captain seemed serious for a moment, though the boy could tell he was simply putting on airs.
"Max, what Captain Tory's trying to tell you is that we found it."
The boy's eyes grew wide in shocked amazement. He nearly yelped, but was only able to produce a weak whimper. Inwardly, he sighed with relief. Those years- those three years- they were worth it.
After a moment of swapping smiles, the trio left the little abode in search of a celebratory meal. Safe within, the brown little briefcase lay silent atop the wood table.
After a few moments of excruciating boredom, the briefcase managed to toss itself from the table and onto the floor, and its contents crawled out from underneath and headed for the door.

----
I wrote this story some while back for a contest at my local library. I got third place! Sorry I've been taking so long to post the next chapter of Paxcatia- it's coming. I've just been crazy busy, and Lyme disease seems to do a fantastic job at sucking my creative juices dry. The depression that seems to accompany it is really quite an annoyance. Rest assured- I'm still working hard.

Book Review: Rural Wealth

2012-05-06T14:00:00.002-07:00

Some days, I wish I could go back in time. Far enough back to just enjoy life as it was before things grew... Complicated.
Enough about my life, I suppose I should just tell you about Rural Wealth, a book by Ray Kwiatkowski.

Rural Wealth is a relatively brief but moving collection of poetry and images of life out in the country. Kwiatkowski's style, in its straightforwardness, is reminiscent of Robert Frost. His work is bursting at the seams with beautiful metaphors, and going through his book almost feels like traversing the memories of somebody's life. Whose mind it is I do not know, however I do know that this book is really quite lovely. There's something inviting about it that I can't quite put a finger on- it's certainly a piece worth having on your coffee table. While there was one minor typo (an extra capitalized letter), the book is mostly perfect. My favorite image- Shear Avoidance- was the penultimate picture and it felt like a fitting ending to what had been a brief sojourn across another life.
Overall, it's definitely worth picking up. This book is conversation fuel for your coffee table, and will probably warm your heart. If this Rural Wealth's combination of beautiful imagery and poetry fails to warm your heart, please see a cardiologist.

Honesty

2012-04-15T14:50:00.002-07:00

Honesty
by Jourdan Cameron

You've stood beside me for countless years,
Resolute and upright throughout the seasons.
We knew well the laughs between siblings,
So few have been the flowing tears,
the cutting words,
so little pain.
We were freer,
We hadn't worries or blinding fears,
We could speak and smile and share important things,
There weren't any of the hurtful reasons,
Just the little childish tussle here and there.

Time and seasons took their toll,
Into densest darkness I had to fall.
Death gripped and crushed slowly, and I quit struggling.
Shout of salvation came by the siren's call,
Upon breaking death's grip I was free,
Yet I continued to fall.
Going nowhere.
Merely existing as a passenger,
I could only roam the hall.

My limbs were numbed by Death,
and as I made my perilous crawl,
a thousand hands I shook that lay just beyond the wall.
As feeling slowly returned, all seemed good, all seemed well,
for a little while, all was as there was no fall.

One day, I couldn't feel you at my side.
What happened? Did I scare you?
Had you purpose to hide?
For some reason,
You flew.
More than a season,
I hadn't a place to confide,
Where did you go? Was our bond true?
I wish I knew that you had died.

Those kids we knew are dead- they simply had to depart,
their ashes to the wind, they live only in your heart.
The siblings I spoke of are no longer walking,
They're children gone forever,
Their phantoms now remain,
One was once wholly insane,
That one pursued the other,
Though it could be caught never.
Eventually, it became a new child, and among the rest took up walking,
Its newborn heart was dulled by stalking, and to insult injury was missing a vital part!
On a dark day, though, it was once more made whole.

This new boy, sprung from the ashes of the old,
still sees the phantom- it seems distant, lonely, cold-
he cannot grasp it.
The boy still misses his dear dead friend,
but he recognizes what is now a dead end,
he looks away from it.
From day to day, he bears regrets about the things he wishes he had told,
he still holds out some hope that one day, the phantom will materialize and make a decision bold,
but it's only a hope that could die.

Sometimes the boy wonders if what he believed was true-
that if you try hard enough, you can bring a person back.
Hard as he's tried, those children are still dead,
the phantom still intangible,
and all the memories fled.
Sometimes, the boy wonders if his sibling was honest,
that maybe, just maybe, the boy failed some unspoken test,
but time and again, he knew that he'd intentionally overlooked the pivotal clue.

Today to this fact he can attest:
Where there is no closure, there is no rest.
When the daylight fades and the shadows grow long,
somebody needs to state what's right and wrong.
You need not worry for the boy-
Death keeps at a distance,
he has new siblings,
they share valuable things.
In these, the boy found his healing.
At long last, he can walk down the hall,
he can shake the hand with feeling,
he can stand tall.

You might see me one day, as I occasionally visit the graveyard,
I know that what I once was is buried there, slaughtered by a time too hard,
I can only look on and smile.
Buried together are those two siblings, each one at the others side.
Those dead can feel nothing at all,
I know this quite well.
Yet somewhere deep within,
I can hear them- to each other they call.

Truth be told, their bond was honest,
It stood simply to spite every trial and test,
I can now only hope and wait and see,
whether the frozen phantom will ever break free.
The chains are swift growing icy.
Whether or not it occurs, I'm still happy, for I am free.
My heart is whole, I've got friends, you see.
Where my soul could only take up lodging as a guest,
it has found a peaceful home in which to rest.
Trees will drown their golden crowns,
the bitter winter wind will weep and howl,
yet against it all is the unbridled heart,
the drumbeat of a glorious start.

----
To my readers: Apologies for taking so long with the next chapter of Paxcatia, it'll be here soon. Meanwhile, enjoy the lengthy poetry!

Paxcatia: Chapter 3

2012-02-18T15:44:00.000-08:00

Well, can you believe it's been a year of me writing Paxcatia and I'm only on chapter 3? I should speed things up a little...
Here's a table of contents to make things easier:
Last Days of Marconis
Prologue/Chapter 1
What's Worse?
Chapter 2

Paxcatia
Chapter 3

Paxcatia
by Jourdan Cameron

Chapter 3
"Right here is where we part ways, Ms. Powton."
"What? Aren't you coming with us?"
"Nope, I've got a different assignment- observe and record working conditions in the factory. Now go on, and be careful. If there's danger-"
Katy laughed a bit at his last statement, and Casey rolled his eyes. "Yes, there's always danger" he continued.
"I know what you mean" replied Katy. She hid her disheartenment well- she'd miss Casey on the mission; he'd been an uncle to her.
"Well good, because if anything happens to you, your old man will murder me. Do we really want murder, Katy?"
"Only if completely necessary."
Even under cover of darkness, Casey's grin was visible. The team was currently waiting atop a roof for a transport ship that could be heard somewhere in the distance. As it approached the simple, circular docking station, its massive, cylindrical base opened, and like a remora sucking to shark skin, the ship attached itself to the docking station. Casey approached the massive tube, which was twice as tall as he was, and walked around it, urging the rest of the team come forward, and quickly. There was an opening on the other side, just large enough to fit a person through. Katy stared down at the crate that seemed to be moving upwards, almost imperceptibly, through the tube. Some invisible force brought it upwards, and Katy climbed quietly onto it.
"Don't forget to-"
"Right, almost forgot." Glancing momentarily at her hands, she clapped them together. Her gloves began glowing, the soft white light illuminating the shaft around her. It was a simple, gray place, boring and steely. A couple other rebels hurriedly made their way onto the surface of the hard, black crate, and soon, the small squad was in the ship's cargo hold. It was somewhat cramped, since it was never built to carry people. Still, as the invisible force carried the crates all the way to the end of the gigantic room, it organized the crates so that there'd be alleys just large enough for a person to squeeze through. The massive, black crates were quite wide but not all that tall, so the massive hold of the ship remained traversable.
This was the beginning of a long, boring trip over an ocean.
“Hey, do they have bathrooms on this thing?” Katy sighed- she wasn’t quite sure why Jonathan was part of this mission to begin with- he’d be nothing but trouble, as he’d always been.
“No, Jonathan, this ship was not built to transport humans.”
"Well are there any holes or something?"
"You mean the airlock, Johnny?" Mr. Peak seemed serious. He always seemed so serious, so sullen, so mysterious to the most of the other rebels that they got so caught up in trying to unravel the enigma behind his eyes, those two windows into the soul that everybody looked up into and managed to get lost. Perhaps that's why almost nobody knew his first name, and thus referred to him as Mr. Peak?
"Uh, I think I'll just hold it until we-"
"Don't you have to go so badly though? You're better off just opening the airlock and-" Johnny's face had quickly become a reddened mask of horror and embarrassment- was Peak serious or joking or seriously joking? He may have even been jokingly serious, for all Johnny could discern.
"Don't worry Mr. Peak, I think I'll be alright until we get there" said the stocky blonde spy.
"Alright" replied Mr. Peak, who began walking back towards the other end of the dim cargo hold, presumably to learn more about its contents.
"That's one scary dude."
Katy sighed. She suspected that this would be the longest ride, most monotonous ride of her life. She walked away from Johnny and the other rebels- something about Mr. Peak had piqued her interest.

"You have arrived at your destination. Thank you for riding with us!" David sighed- he sort of wished the ride could've been longer. It was nice and quiet inside the car. Stepping off the train, he found himself staring up at the massive red building. He remembered, vaguely, how it had been modeled after schoolhouses of old, complete with an odd pointed roof and windows framed with white, with odd bars running through them. As he entered the building, however, it was clear that this place was neither ancient nor outdated.
In fact, it felt very new. Unlike most of the cold, white, sterile institutions of learning, this one was different. David stared up at the ceiling of the great sunlit foyer- the walls were decorated with grand paintings, memories of a time long forgotten...
David decided to stop reminiscing and get about to finding his class. He pulled out his little device, the Unleash, and stared down at the luminous little red arrow that now floated a few centimeters above his palm.

"Guys, come look at this!" Maxwell Robinson had made a discovery aboard the dim cargo hold. He buried an arm in the crate and retrieved a white box of similar composition to the black crate. Robinson lay a hand atop the small container as it slowly seemed to dissolve into the air. The small white box glowed gently as Robinson pulled out what appeared to be a pill no larger than a tooth.
"Welcome to the final frontier" spoke a disembodied voice. The pill pulsed with white light as the words the voice spoke floated in the air, a few inches above Robinson's hand. "We have experienced so much in our lifetimes" the deep, vaguely feminine voice continued. "Is there anything we haven't explored?"
Katy bristled. She had a vague clue as to just where this single-sided conversation was headed.
"Our minds are the last frontier. Are you ready to re-percieve reality? Escape with me..." The voice trailed off as the little white pill abruptly stopped glowing. The word "me" seemed to fade away into white smoke as though this invitation was the last time the pill would dare beckon you forth into whatever world would be created deep within your head.
"Quite the siren's call" sighed Robinson as he dropped the pill back into the little box. Slowly, it re-materialized a cover and grew dark once more.
"What do you think it does?" Mr. Peak was standing a few feet away- nobody had noticed his form in the dim light of the cargo hold.
"I'm not quite sure" replied Robinson as he shoved the box into one of his jacket pockets. "Something tells me we shouldn't-" The same strange voice was speaking up again. It seemed to be coming from the other side of the cargo hold. Robinson gasped- and Katy dashed to the other side of the ship, towards the voice.
She arrived in time to watch Jonathan swallow the pill, surrounded by a few other rebels who watched with wide eyes and eagerly clenched fists.
Jonathan collapsed, his limp form laying still at the base of the big, black crate he was sitting on.

"David, you're late. Ah well, it's your first time here, isn't it?" A wrinkled gray old woman sat behind a large, brown desk. Disregarding the urge to restrain himself, David touched the striated surface- it was real wood. The woman behind the desk sighed. "Why does everybody do that?" David, startled from his trance, decided to sit down. He stared out at the classroom- there were five other youth staring back at him. Well, they weren't staring at him so much as through him. Their attention was focused quite closely on the actor standing inches away from David's doe-eyed wonder.
David walked right on through the educational illusion into his chair- it was comfortable, and from what he'd heard, the least accurate part of the whole experience.
"Begin" the old woman said, as the actor began moving. The man's face was covered in makeup- his face was pure red, his nose black.
"Now" the woman said "Who can tell me about how the art of postmodern street performance began anew?"
One of David's classmates at the far end of the room piped up. "Wasn't it after the anti-fantasy movements?"
The teacher nodded, the bun in her hair seemingly bouncing in agreement.
"Now, what other movements co-incided with the anti-fantasy movement? Julie, perhaps you can explain how the March towards Militarism set the ball rolling?"
Unlike the first student to speak, this one stared down at her fingers, nervously fidgeting. David sighed, and began. "The March towards Militarism marked a period of animosity towards any art that wasn't firmly rooted in the very reality that was driving the early Paxcatian Empire forward..." David's voice trailed off as he stared back towards Julie.
"The emperor thus decided that it was the people's imagination that spurred the growth of new weapons, and thus he decided to halt the March before the arts were wiped out altogether."
Julie's ears stuck out as bright red against her black hair- she was never a big fan of public speaking. Even though she was acquainted with everybody in the room, she just didn't feel comfortable in such a formal setting. After speaking, she stared down at her desk's blank surface. The teacher sighed quietly- she'd been trying to help the girl get over her fear, albeit with little success.

"An early activation?"
"That's correct, Ace, and it come from the transport ship mere minutes ago." Black Ace and Red Baron were communicating again, this time over the matter of an unusually early product activation.
"Can you get a visual?"
"No, the activator is still unconscious."
"I'll have the transport intercepted once it reaches the ground."
Near instantly, the command went out to Paxcatia's Defense Squad in the city of Nauda- an attack may be inbound on a transport ship. They were to be ready to defend their homeland with any means necessary.
"Have the slaves been behaving? There may have been an escapee."
"I haven't overlooked the possibility, which is why I ran a thourough scan of the facility a few minutes ago. One foreign body was detected and destroyed."
"Keep me informed of any further developments."

An ocean away, a group of slaves stood huddled around the body of a man they didn't know. One of them wept gently. With foolhardy hope, she put a finger to his neck, and gasped dramatically- "He's still got a heartbeat" she shouted. The man's bluish skin slowly regained color as one of the other slaves began breathing life into him anew.
In the corner of the garishly bright room sulked a weathered old man. "It's pointless" he sighed.
"What? How could you say that, this man's going to live!" The old man sighed again.
"When Red Baron finds him during the next sweep, he's going to get another does of the gas. He won't survive a second round."
A hush descended upon the small group- somehow, this man had gotten himself into the factory, and the slaves had no idea how to get him out.

Back in the transport ship, another group was huddled around a body. This body, though, had managed to sit up and whine about being crowded.
"Do you feel different?" "Why did you take it?" "Did you see anything?"
Jonathan stared dumbly into the the curious, concerned faces. One seemed kind of angry- he averted his gaze swfitly.
"I don't feel much different" he replied with a shrug. "Could you guys give me some room? I can hardly breathe with you guys pressing in so close."
"Jonathan, we're almost at the drop point." The angry face spoke to him. "Jonathan do you recognize me? It's Katy. You need to snap out of it!"
"I'm with you, don't worry" he replied quickly. Katy breathed a sigh of relief- annoying as he could be, he was like a younger brother to her. Katy could hardly believe it had been a mere couple of years since she'd joined the rebels with her father.
"Johnny, get ready to jump. And please, don't do anything that stupid again."
Jonathan stared back at her and nodded.
He wasn't looking at her. He was looking through the crate behind her. He could see its contents and he wasn't sure why, though he suspected it had something to do with the pill he swallowed.

2011- 'Twas a Good Year Writing

2011-12-31T00:00:00.000-08:00

Ah, the passing of time. Makes a man wax poetic on the nature of existence, doesn't it? As I contemplate the complex implications of... Never mind. I just wanted to thank all my readers this year, along with several other people who helped me write harder, better, faster and stronger over 2011. One of them is a wonderful librarian, Mrs. Fisher- she's responsible for much of what goes on at my local library. This includes the writing club, and the production of our magazine, The Aura. She's been a great help and encouragement to both myself and the members of the club, and I cannot thank her enough for giving me something to look forward too every month.
I'd also like to thank Wesley Long, the owner of http://blackmannrobin.com- it's from that website that I really got to experience life as a video game reviewer. His encouragement and feedback has made me a better writer, and it's nice to have him, and the staff of BNR on my side.
This year, I made great friends, and they too have just been so motivating- these people just make me want to keep living, keep getting better. They're inspirational. Inspirational!
My family most certainly deserves a mention as well- they constantly encourage me to keep writing and moving forward. My mother in particular is currently helping me edit and publish my first fantasy novel- keep your eyes open for it!
I could go on and on and on about all the great people who made me a better writer, who made 2011 one of the best years of my life and who made me a better person. Regrettably, the length of the article could potentially crash thousands of servers worldwide, thus resulting in chaos, so I won't do that. Instead, I'm just throwing out one big thank you.

THANK YOU EVERYBODY. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.

Paxcatia: Chapter 2

2011-11-14T10:37:00.001-08:00

Paxcatia
by Jourdan Cameron
CC-BY-NC. Details here:
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0/

Chapter 2

In a forest of Markonis, not too far from Ace's factory, two men were having a discussion.

“I tell you, she already pulled her weight.”

“Which is precisely why she'll be fighting.”

“No, she's done enough, I think that now she needs a break.”

The larger man sighed. “Vinny, I know she's young. I know she's already seen enough. But think, man, we need her!”

“Casey” sighed Vinny “I don't want to see her get hurt. She's my daughter.”

“And I'll care for her like my own. But why don't you think about what we means, why don't you?”

Vinny looked around. They were mostly alone in the forest, but about a half mile behind them lay the rebel encampment, made up of the strongest, smartest rebels. It was a relatively small; about eighty people inhabited it. It was mobile, made up of the massive, rolling battle-tents. Each “tent” was made if titanium a couple inches thick, and was like a massive centipede on treads, heavily armed, and home to ten rebels, complete with hammocks strung from the ceilings and refrigeration for perishable items. Each was gray, inside and out, and was twice as tall as the soldiers they contained, though they were also much wider than tall, thus they didn't usually tip over.

Inside, they were relatively bright, their control panels flashing and flickering, with rows of simple, black, plastic seats, ready to load groups upon groups of troops, taking them deep into the heart of battle.

Overall, it was a machine to be feared. Several of a rebel army's finest were calling it home.

These rebels were mostly survivors of Paxcatia's invasion who escaped slavery chose to fight. Many had been revolting against the crooked government in Markonis. They'd chosen to run when Paxcatian forces attacked, rather than stand and fight. Most had been rioting in the streets against a government that no longer exists. Indeed, in a twist of poetic justice, the former leader of said government now works as a slave, mistreated alongside his corrupt police force and sham election organizers.

“It's been five years, Vin. She's grown now.”

“She's still my daughter.” Vincent ran a hand through his dark, messy hair. Mr. Sere was right, of course; Katy was a woman now. Decisions were hers to make. He just didn't like the idea of sending her on such a dangerous mission.

“And we're still hiding, running, and scared at night, Vincent. Do you think other daughters, other sons, deserve to grow up like that? Do you think I want to spend the rest of my life like this? Growing old, watching the young go to their graves before I do?”

Vincent stared down at his shoes. They were in shabby shape, and at one point they were brand new running shoes, white and contoured. Now, they were barely recognizable, a tattered pair of duct-tape tubes. The black tape that held theme together was beginning to show its age, faded and brittle in some spots.

In all, the two men, in their beaten attire, were quite a sight. Their conversation, however, was far more interesting.

“Tell me the plan again.”

“We go to Paxcatia, we spy on the land, find a weakness, and return with results. We'll launch a full assault in a year.”

“You can take her” said Vincent after a while. “Just bring her back breathing.”

Casey nodded, a leaf falling from his greasy brown hair, deciding to change the subject.

“So did you hear? They found a stockpile of shampoo. It's great stuff from what I heard, smells like coconut.”

“Doesn't that stuff dry out your hair?”

“Really? I could probably use that right about now” he lamented, rubbing a hand against the back of his head. The two returned to their camp. It was in a clearing, one large enough for the battle-tents to be hidden safely, yet still small enough that the light coming in was somewhat dappled, the dim light gently bouncing off the metal surfaces of the tanks. Leaning against a tree was Katy. Her dirty blonde hair in a bun behind her head, and she was wearing the standard rebel army uniform. The simple dark green canvas shirts, pants, and shoes that were practical, easily obtained, and relatively comfortable now adorned Vincent's daughter. A single red band encircled her right sleeve along the bicep.

“Well?” she asked. She seemed slightly excited. Not entirely out of character, really, though her level of enthusiasm wasn't exactly common among the rebels.

“Just like when she was little” thought her father. Markonis as it once was certainly had problems; a bad educational system, however, was not one of them. The educators, who'd spent most of their time carefully explaining things to other children found that such cautious teaching methods weren't needed with young Katy. She advanced at frightening speeds, excelling in lessons requiring complex strategies, doing things and saying things that seven year olds ordinarily wouldn't. Her teachers, quite simply put, loved her.

She loved them back, and it showed in her work ethic.

“You're going to have to be careful” said Vinny, watching his daughter grin for but a moment, returning immediately being serious, intense.

“Under no circumstances should you take any unnecessary risks, and if you feel like you're in danger, you get out.”

She nodded. “Understood” she replied.

“Casey, brief her please.”

“Katy, you're going to be an integral part of this mission. You need to perform like you never have before. Here's what we'll need you to do...”

A mere few miles away was a factory, the workers within manufacturing goods, primarily putting together control panels for Ferroform surfaces, large ones used in stylish restaurants, bars, and every so often by artists.

A group of these workers sat in a gray, dimly lit room, hunched over a wooden table, each with a slightly different piece of black plastic and glass. These were their creations, their ideas for control panels; one was a simple elongated box with a glass covered surface. Another was quite similar, but it had rounded corners. Yet another was arch shaped, something users would reach into.

Only one of these, however, would be used by Ace as a design. The creator of the winning design would receive the most coveted prize of all: a day off from toiling beneath the machines! Instead of laboring, soldering pieces of metal, one to the other, they'd have the opportunity to sit back and watch their friends working to assemble their creation. Quite a grand prospect!

“Do you have any questions?”

“When do I get to go to Paxcatia?” she grinned.

“In a mere few days” replied Mr. Sere.

“Yes mom, I'll be home on time tonight, you don't need to worry.”

The streets of Paxcatia were among the safest in the world. David strolled down them, heading away from his home to the nearest train station. Like many things in Paxcatia, transportation was mostly free; a network of trains, simple silent steel tubes criss-crossed the nation.

The street David traveled along was peaceful and mostly quiet. The sidewalk was simple, gray concrete; it never seemed to change, age, and almost never seemed dirty. This was due to the rather high number of those willing to clean it, maintain and upkeep it. The work was somewhat challenging due to the amount of debris that tends follow gravity, but the work was considered important and thus payed well. David smirked whenever he thought about how seriously the job of keeping concrete clean was taken. Sure, it looked nice, but there were some bigger things to be cared for.

For starters, the trails through Paxcatia's forests were barely maintained, and were typically overgrown and impassible. Sure, they were barely used, but David had a special affinity for nature, and he enjoyed retreating to the forest from time to time. Unfortunately, much of it was inaccessible. The thought of the forest was enough to make him sigh; why didn't more Paxcatian citizens take interest in nature? They all seem so preoccupied with the constant shipments of devices everybody already seemed to own. Nobody really cared that most 'new' gadgets were just repackaged, rebodied versions of old machines, they simply consumed, seemingly stuck in an endless cycle of purchasing, updating, mindlessly.

David wondered, but never quite enough to put any serious effort into finding out who owned the the companies that were always importing, never looking past the highfalutin legal terms that enshrouded the terms of use of so many tiny machines, the complex legal language that seemed in itself a heavy padlock over the general understandability of the nature of a device's existence.

David never followed his curiosity quite far enough.

Soon he was walking up a hill, flanked by bright, glassy, and supposedly 'modern' buildings. He glanced into the window of one and could see brightly coloured electronic wares contrasting heavily with the minimalistic motif established in the shop. His view was suddenly blocked by the back of an employee as he shifted his gaze back towards his goal. The train station near, and he could just make out the faint murmur of human voices on the air.

In what seemed to be no time, he was standing in the shade of the large booth that was next to the track. The train track was a simple, smooth metallic surface, just as clean as the sidewalks. It was about one hundred feet long in either direction, and at either end was a hole that lead the train back underground. The track rose up through holes at either end, where the train surfaced and picked up passengers.

David braced himself as a telltale rumble made the ground beneath his feet vibrate, and the crowd around him seemed suddenly prepared. Like a massive steel earthworm, the train came into view, tunneling upwards, headfirst. It was a simple, elongated cylinder, but broken into individual cars, little joints where the train bent and twisted through the subterranean tunnels.

The crowd eagerly spread out alongside the thirty-foot serpent and waited, impatient for the doors to swing open. Each segment on the train had a simple door, rather silvery from the outside, but as they slid open, would reveal a simple, comfortable seat made of some strange, silky black material. As David sat in one at the end of the train, the door slid shut as he stared back out at the buildings along the street; the doors were transparent from within. In a few short moments, the train began to move, and David relaxed in his seat as simple black walls of the car began glowing a gentle black, and what appeared to be a row of multicolored symbols made their way across the top.

“Ah, a classic” he remarked, as he stuffed a hand into the right pocket of his jeans, extracting a black device roughly the size of his palm.

“The Ardonap Unleash” he mused to himself, opening the clamshell-styled machine to reveal a keyboard flanked by flat black control pads on either side. David loved this little device; it had been created by an independent company on the other side of the country. Ardonap, the company responsible, wasn't quite like the other faceless Paxcatian megacorporations: its founder lived a relatively normal life among the Paxcatian people, choosing to create among the masses rather than for the masses. Needless to say, his devices weren't very popular, but David didn't really care. He was just glad to know where something came from.

He relaxed in his seat as the jewel-bright invaders began converging on the car's door, then blitzing towards him. He grinned, and with a few quick keystrokes, was ready to play. Pointing his device at one of the symbols shaped rather like the letter 'M', slid his thumb down the right control pad of his device as a beam of light sliced the 'M' in half.

“This never seems to get old” he thought aloud.

A half world away in Markonis, a small group of people trod through a forest, speaking among themselves.

“So when did we find out about the factory?”

“A couple months ago. We'd have spoken about it sooner, but there's the matter of the...”

“The slaves?”

“Yeah, that. We'd only draw attention to ourselves if we overran the factory and cut everybody loose.”

“I understand, so you kept quiet about it as a preventative measure against vigilantism. Completely logical.”

The group advanced towards the factory, their practical black clothing contrasting sharply against the greens and browns of the forest around them. Their march was rather like a funeral procession, quiet and solemn. Much like those marching in a black parade so were these people, mere shadows of the loud, joyous Markonis natives who once roamed this land, lived in it and loved it. Those people had been forced into hiding deep within themselves.

Soon, they neared the gray, concrete bulk of the factory. It was a simple, oblong block full of misery, mistreatment and mostly hard labor. The flat roof doubled as a docking station: when a transport arrived, it would rise, the cargo being pulled into the belly of the ship by powerful magnets.

After that, the ship would shut its hull and fly back to Paxcatia. The process took mere seconds, and involved no humans; it was completely automated.

“So why do we have to climb the building, exactly?” A random rebel dissented. “Wouldn't it have been easier to just use Flights?”

“Wouldn't have been easier to just show up with a marching band?”

“But Commander Sere, Flights are so quiet!”

“They also show up as generating a massive electro-magnetic pulse, just the kind of thing we don't want on a reconnaissance mission!”

“Can we just get this over with?”

One rebel stepped out of the crowd. He surveyed the wall, feeling it, smacking his palms against it and considering it for a good thirty seconds before he finally reached into one of the many compartments of his black, heavy jacket and removed what appeared to be a handful of long, thick, white nails, the type used for building things. Casey smirked- he'd been to some of the more rural areas of Markonis where things were still being built with wood. Wood.

“How times have changed” he thought to himself, as his comrade loaded the nails into what looked like some sort of small, orange pistol. The rebel took a shot at the wall and a nail sunk itself halfway into the concrete with little more than a click and a scrape.

The process was repeated, and the man proceeded to stand on the two nails he'd placed. He then created a pair of handholds above himself, climbed onto these, and continued until he'd reached the top of the simple, flat roof. Katherine could hear her heart pulsing in her head- this felt different, definitely different from rushing into battle. This was slow, deliberate and dangerous, and it didn't seem to sit well with her. She glanced back into the forest, away from the building- surely Mr. Sere would understand if she wanted to go home, wouldn't he? The mission could continue.

“What's the point of this miss-” Somehow, she'd managed to cut herself of in mid-thought. She knew precisely what the point of the mission was. A great injustice had occurred- it affected her, and her family and all the already oppressed citizens of Markonis. This was not the time for looking back in fear- it was the time for action.

“I'll go next” she said, making quick strides towards the makeshift ladder.

The Hunger Games Trailer- It's finally here, and I'm very, very happy.

2011-11-14T06:20:00.001-08:00

Well, it looks like I'll be counting down days 'till March 23rd, because that's when The Hunger Games comes out!

I'm sorry I haven't updated this blog in such a long while, life has been mad busy, but do not despair! Work on the next chapter of Paxcatia is still underway, stick with me!

Wanna help me raise some money for charity?

2011-09-29T10:52:00.000-07:00

&lt;p&gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;a href="http://www.extra-life.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=donorDrive.team&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;teamID=6435"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;Make a Donation!&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&lt;/p&gt;Dear Readers,

I'm going to be spending a weekend gaming (rest assured I'll spend much time working on Paxcatia's second chapter soon after) for charity. It'll be part this year's Gaming and Giving for Good, and I'll be on team Blackman'N Robin. Just for clarification, BNR is actually a website, and I primarily write reviews over there. But enough about my (awesome) personal life, would you like to help us out? It's easy. Just click on the button above this link to visit our team's page and sponsor one of us, or, if for some reason the button doesn't work, use this link: http://extra-life.org/team/BNR
Next, choose a gamer to sponsor, and give out of the goodness of your heart. Each dollar you give will bring BNR closer to its goal of $100. Will we pass $100 this year? Let's find out.
Thanks for reading guys, please help us out. The money will be going to the Children's Miracle Network of hospitals, and yes, the donations are tax-deductible.
Don't wait, give today!

The Capitol is now open

2011-09-08T10:59:00.000-07:00

Looks like advertising for the upcoming Hunger Games film adaptation is now open; thecapitol.pn now assigns you to a district (here's hoping you wind up in a good one).

Check it out now!

Source:

New Milford Library Teen Blog: The Hunger Games Opens the Capital

What's worse?

2011-09-07T08:06:00.000-07:00

Entry 1
Journal of Maxwell Robinsion

"S-s-so tell me what's worse, being held at gunpoint or having a bullet in the cerebellum?'
"Killing me proves difficult, doesn't it?"
"K-killing you will be the easy part."
I've discovered a few fascinating things during my relatively brief existence. Fear, I've discovered is a wonderful motivator.
"You realize that if I'm dead, we can't be friends?"
"You... Y-you haven't answered my question yet!"
"Well I suppose it depends, really. How likely am I to be shot?"
For a moment, her gaze faltered; it was all I needed. Deftly, I pulled the gun straight from her hands and discharged it into the treetops.
Something else I realized is that Jo, my best friend since childhood, has the somewhat normal tendency to stutter whenever she's afraid of something. Right now, it seems to be losing me.
"You said you wouldn't leave me" she said softly. "Why'd you go away, Max? You lef- you left me for days!"
"Jo, I went away for fifteen minutes to find firewood."
Maybe you'll want to know more about me. Well, honestly, there isn't much to tell. I was born in Markonis, spent a few years between nannies. When I was of age, I got shipped off to boarding school. I suppose you could say I've had an average childhood thus far. Average seeing as my father was the leader of our country. Pretty normal, knowing he wanted nothing to do with me. I guess I'm just like all the others, homeless now after the invasion. The boarding school was burned to the ground by the Paxcatian drones, and I barely escaped with my life. My possessions, any trace of my old life, that's gone now.
I guess Jo lost more. She lost her sanity.
For a while, we wandered. We dodged the drones and avoided becoming slaves, and eventually, we found a small camp. We found friends, allies, people who'd avoided becoming slaves.
I found a purpose.
"A-are you mad with me?"
I dropped the pistol into the dead leaves below. I hugged her, holding her quaking form close. She'd grown awfully skinny. Her dark brown skin seemed to swallow the setting sun's orange glow.
"Jo? Where did you get the gun?"
"I found it."
"Just where exactly did you find it?"
"Isn't it r-really obvious?"
"No, you're not making it so."
"It was underneath Mr. Sere's pillow.
"What were you doing there?"
"I'm not sure. myself."
I sighed.
"Can I have it back now?"
"You have to give it back to Casey, Jo."
"I know."
I picked up the gun and handed it back to her, albeit slowly. It was an old fashioned weapon, a rather elegant weapon that looked out of place with our utilitarian, makeshift lasers, our electrical weapons, so unpolished. It was nearly a pretty thing to look at, with its silvery, simple surfaces. It almost seemed ornate, the ax of a wealthy executioner.
"I'll give it back, Max. I promise."
I nodded as we made our way back to the camp.
"So why did you take me out here, anyway?" She'd recommended we take a walk; she usually only does this when there's something she needs to tell me.
"Because Mr. Sere has a message for you" she said.
"Oh? What is it?"
"That you'll be going on a very, very special mission."
"And?"
Jo stopped suddenly. Her mood, upbeat, cheerful moments ago, suddenly seemed to collapse to the forest floor.
"It's a long trip, far away. You might not return."
"How far?"
"Paxcatia."
"And I take it that he-"
"He didn't invite me."
"Then I'm not going."
"I think we both know why I'm not going with you."
"And that's exactly why I'm staying here with you."
"Max, I'm afraid for you but... But I've been thinking. It's selfish of me to keep you here. Markonis- the real Markonis- needs you. I'm afraid for everybody."
We trod towards the camp in silence for a while. There really wasn't much more to be added.
As I've said before, fear is one of the, if not the best motivator of all. It was enough to make Jo walk into camp, and enough to make her approach Mr. Sere.
It was enough to make her point the pistol at Mr. Sere, to make her offer him one last choice.
"Take me away from here. Far away from Max, far away from it all, take me back home" she yelled.
This was the last I heard from her. I came running to find her, only to discover her limp in Mr. Sere's arms.
"She fainted" he explained quickly. I trusted that she had. Mr. Sere slung her over his shoulder and carried her away, into the brig. I caught a glimpse of a smile on her face. Our brig, our improvised prison, is essentially a big, plastic box on the end of our convoy. We've never had to use it before.
Later that night, Mr. Sere took me aside. He explained to me everything I knew: Jo wasn't stable, and for the sake of our ultimate goal, he thought it'd be best if I went away for awhile.
I cried a little after that conversation. We both understood what Jo did. She was afraid, not for herself but for everyone around us and she knew just what I could do, what I needed to do. She understood. She just needed to get me away, and she found out how to do it.
She's the best friend I've ever had.
I'm about to go off to Paxcatia now, as you may surmise, and I've said goodbye to Jo for what may be the last time. She kept telling me not to worry, she kept begging me not to be scared for her. She promised that we'd be together again, soon. I think she was right, and I suppose she's in good hands, but I don't think I'll ever stop fearing for her. I guess it's because we're almost siblings, and I can't stand the thought of being away from her for so long...
"Hey, do you remember that game we used to play?" she asked me shortly before my leaving from within her plastic prison.
"Which?"
"The one with the rich grandmother, she died and left clues to her fortune."
I smiled a little; that scenario was pretty much the product of our upbringing here in Markonis.
"Yes, I remember, her name was Evelyn."
"You do remember" Jo beamed.
"Remember how we tried to organize a-"
Mr. Sere cut me off. It was time to go. Right now, I'm sitting on a fallen log with my comrades. We're about to sneak across an ocean, and quite frankly I have no idea when I'll be able to write again. If there's one thing I do know for certain, however, it's that I'm going to see Jo again, and secretly, I'm proud of her. She made a dangerous, foolish decision.
It was the right one.

----
Alright, I finished another short story in Markonis, sort of a prequel to the next chapter (still a WIP!).
This story was actually a very clever analogy for something. I don't like to refer to my own work so haughtily, but today I'll make an exception. Will people understand what else this story means? Here's hoping.

Review - Fahrenheit 451

2011-08-31T19:30:00.000-07:00

“It’s not books you need, it’s some the things that were once in books… The same infinite detail and awareness could be projected through the radios and the televisors but is not… Take it where you can find it… Books were only one type of receptacle where we stored a lot of things we were afraid we might forget.” Faber, in Fahrenheit 451 Recently, I had the great pleasure to read Ray Bradbury’s brilliant novella Fahrenheit 451. This is a book that deals, interestingly enough, with the subject of book burning, with implications that reach far beyond destruction of literature. In this classic dystopian tale of censorship and suppression, Bradbury follows the life and goings-on of the central protagonist, a fireman named Guy Montag. Overall, Guy enjoys his job. Burning books is quite an honor, and indeed, it’s his duty to burn the homes of those who unrepentantly hoard books, those who choose to swallow the seeds of insurrection, planting dissent and cultivating the forbidden knowledge in the deep corners of their minds. Montag unflinchingly goes about his duty, never wasting time to question, disregarding doubt and ignoring any ill-borne ideas.

All this changes when Guy meets Clarisse. She’s his new next door neighbor, she’s seventeen, and she’s crazy. Indeed, she’s quite strange, choosing to care about thing’s nobody seems to notice. Guy finds her upbeat, anomolic personality enlightening. She caused him to begin wondering. Pondering. Considering.

This marked a turning point in his life, and he begins to call into question the very nature of his existence.

Personally, I absolutely loved Bradbury’s writing style. It was ornate and heavily stylized. Powerful. Reading Bradbury’s work was like gazing into The Garden of Earthly Delights, by Bosch, but instead of feeling so insanely overwhelmed by the sheer level of detail, I felt as if I could understand everything at once, I could inhale the information and felt impelled, as if the book insisted that I keep moving.

Initially, the messages about censorship did feel a little heavy handed sometimes, but they did seem to relax as the book advanced; the book never loses its message, however.

Overall, it was quite an enjoyable read, one I can especially recommend to lovers of dystopias, lovers of books, people who love prose bordering on poetry, and essentially anybody taking in any sort of media at all. The idea of stopping ideas, stopping the free flow of information and ripping the human element out of art is a rather universally frightening idea, and it's one that Bradbury explores with bold confidence.

Ender's Game Review

2011-08-17T16:36:00.000-07:00

Ender’s Game, by Orson Scott Card, is a sci-fi novel set about a century into the future. The main protagonist, Ender Wiggin, is what’s known as a Third; an extra, unwanted child, illegal at the time due to population limitation laws.

Ender is young, brilliant, and needed. Humanity is at war with another species, the Formics (typically referred to as ‘Buggers’), and they’re desperate. They need strategists, and little Ender is full of promise. He’s also six years old.

The novel details his journey through Battle School as he trains to become the soldier Earth needs. He must not only overcome hurdles in his education, but also step over social barriers as well: being an extremely gifted child isn’t without its rewards, and it certainly isn’t without hazards.

Overall, I found this novel to be quite engaging; Card managed to create a likeable protagonist with whom I empathize easily. In short, whatever Ender felt, I felt too. The characters were all well developed, having depth and personality, often leaving you wondering what they’ll do next. They really progress, growing and changing as the book advances. I really like the fact that while there are clearly defined ‘good’ and ‘bad’ characters, Card isn’t afraid to have characters that seem to fall somewhere in between.

The story was quite interesting as well, and with Card there’s never a dull moment. He struck a fine balance between capturing the life and emotions of the protagonist with the actions of the other characters. Also put to fine use are the relationships between characters, such as that between Ender and his two siblings, Peter and Valentine.

I found it quite interesting the way Card used video games as a plot device, and having read the book and already being an avid gamer, I wonder how many developers were inspired by it. While I’d honestly hate to give out too much information as to just how they were used, there was one fantasy game in particular, a world where Ender was free to roam about a world that was constantly changing, decaying and growing. How Card came up with it, I may never know. At the time the book was written, I honestly can’t think of a game that fits its description regarding complexity. I know it doesn’t, and indeed can’t for the sake of spoilers have much to do with this review, but it certainly leaves me wondering about whether or not Card should actually try developing the game he described.

In all honesty, though, sometimes it felt like there were blanks to fill in, areas in the book that just didn’t seem to be described in any level of detail, simply unexplained rooms or undescribed people. In spite of this, however, the book still shines.

Well, sure you wonder I was, don’t you my dear readers? Rest assured I am safe and in relatively good health, however, my internet’s been down for quite a while, thus getting online using my cell phone as a modem has been… A challenge. I’ve been averaging about 4kb/s. Needless to say, some things have been difficult, and accessing Blogger’s publishing tools? Forget it. Accessing the mobile version of Facebook takes several minutes too long.

Anyhow, the next chapter of Paxcatia is coming, and very soon at that, so stay tuned!

Sapphique

2011-07-07T13:39:00.000-07:00

Sapphique, by Catherine Fisher, the sequel to the critically acclaimed Incarceron. Picking up where the first novel left off, readers once again find themselves in an fantastical, immersive world fraught with danger and intrigue. If there's anything to be said about this book, it's that there's so much detail that you'll often find yourself looking up just to check that you haven't been transported to the vast expanse that is the Prison. If you haven't read the first book, I advise you read my review of it for the sake of avoiding spoilers.

Starting from the end of the first, you're plunged into a dank alleyway, following closely behind Attia. As fate would have it, she's found herself an occupation. She still isn't free of the prison, though she trusts that some day now, Finn will free her. Some day...

Meanwhile, Finn wrestles with a pair of identities. Is he really the lost prince? He left me full of his own doubt, and his day to day difficulties as the new prince (the struggle reminded me of what happened when Miss Watson tried to "sivilize" Huckleberry Finn), trapped between his old nature and his new life gets stuck between the two, completely unsure of what to do. He's always contending with the nagging idea that somebody else, somewhere, is. He reasons that even if he is the lost prince, that he's no longer fit for the position, having been scarred, broken and wiped by life in the prison.

Claudia, the Warden's daughter, tries desperately to redeem Finn as Giles, prince of the Havaarnas, all the while trying to protect herself from whatever the wicked queen has in mind.

I'd hate to give too much away, so I'll stop myself here. I must say that this is one of the most satisfying sequels I've run across in quite a while. The book was quite descriptive, and I almost feel as if I've already seen the book as a film. For the record, this is a good feeling. Fisher has created interesting, multidimensional characters that twist, turn, and behave realistically. Also adding to the realist is the way that Fisher describes environments and events. You'll hear the crowds gasp, and feel... Well, I can't quite tell you everything you'll feel for the sake of spoilers, but nonetheless, this book is engaging, exciting, and fascinating. Politics seem to play a lesser role, which is somewhat regrettable, since it was really a big plus in the last book, just watching how the people were influenced by Protocol. On the other hand, we're given a greater glimpse into the role Protocol plays in the lives of not only the richer citizens, aristocrats etc., but also how it affects the poorer classes. Just for the record, Protocol plays a huge part in moving the story forward, essentially being an enforced lack of technology, forcing people to live in a false seventeenth century.

In all, I enjoyed this book even more than the original, and my only regret is that this is the final book in the series. That being said, it's a series worth looking into if you're looking for a good science fantasy novel, if you just enjoy adventures, or if you're just looking for a fun book in general.

Official Website: http://www.sapphiquebook.com/