Joann Hamann-Buchanan

Angelic Knight Press: I Am Wolf-By Joann H. Buchanan

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 19:11:00 +0000

Angelic Knight Press: I Am Wolf-By Joann H. Buchanan: https://www.facebook.com/theEAC1 I don't do a lot of reviews, but I loved Joann H. Buchanan's first book "Soulless Light," and when she a...

Writer Wed for Sept 21

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Thu, 29 Sep 2011 05:07:00 +0000

New theme for Writer WED. Write a small piece of flash fiction(500-1000 words) This can be a dream of your own, a character's dream or even the dream of a tree. As long as it is a dream. Also don't forget to send them to theEAC1@yahoo.com with the words Writer WED and the date in the subject line.

The posts will be up next week for this week. Theme is DREAM.

The Theme for OCT 6th is What is in the round box?

Also if you have a novel coming out and this is from that novel make sure to tell me.

The following is a list of people whose work was read today.

Elizabeth Kolodziej
E. A. Irwin
Missy Davis
Blaze Mc Rob
Joann H. Buchanan

I'm looking forward to seeing what's coming next!!

Literally

By Elizabeth J Kolodziej

Looking below I wondered if I should go face down or face up. With the later I could look up into the angry storm clouds above. They seemed ready to burst; ready to let the rain fall, but to my discontent the only thing wet was the air. Though, the thunder continued to be menacing while the lightning stayed enticing.

Tapping my finger to my chin I continued the discussion in my head.

If I went face down I would only get to see the emptiness of a dimly lit street below me. It had to be past three in the morning by now. I had come up here at two and due to my indecisiveness I couldn’t settle on whether I should just let myself fall. Or how. Both were decisions that really needed to be thought through before committing to.

Always known for getting back up, landing on feet, going forward, never letting anything keep me down and all those other clichés. What people never seem to understand is that I am tired of having to get back up. I’m tired of always, eventually…falling.

And I’m not talking about a hiccup in the road or stumbling a little over a stupid pebble. No. I’m talking about falling so deep down in that hole that your fingers bleed while you pull yourself back up. Because when I fall I make sure I fall profoundly.

And so, I have fallen yet again, into that philosophical, reflective, empty, endless pool of a hole. Yes, I could go get help, a friend or a psychologist to talk to…but. But something in me is tired of talking. Even when I have something to say I don’t speak out loud anymore. Maybe because speaking is what gets you to fall? You say the wrong thing to a friend’s new girlfriend, or cuss in front of your boss, tell the truth to a family member. And that whole saying…er, not saying…what was it?

When all is said and done.

Yes. That’s exactly how I feel. I have said and done everything I want to. Want to.

Shuffling my feet a little on the ledge I saw the irony of the whole situation. Well, if you look at it from my twisted view that is. I felt like I was falling. Yet! I was standing on top of a five-story building. The falling, thus far, only being figurative. The height, at the moment, being reality.

Well, not that I wasn’t, in a way, at the bottom of a dark hole.

Still falling.

But that even though I was, me literally falling wasn’t reality. Not thus far.

All-though, if something is metaphoric then someone could just step away from it since it isn’t real. Is that why people always commented on how resilient I am? Because I stepped out of a metaphorical hole I was falling down? But in reality I was able to actually stand up tall above others like I am doing now. Or is it all just figurative?

Or could I make them both reality and fall. Face up of course. I finally decided at least that. I didn’t want to miss the sight of all that lightning on this crisp autumn night of morning.

I didn’t want to miss that… So many things I could miss if I let myself fall. Literally.

I See The Aroma Of Love

Blaze McRob

I see the aroma of love, intense, so satisfying, hearing her lips touch mine as the sweet taste of the inferno blazing deep within her envelops us both. Our arms encircle each other, and we hear the passion inside us, knowing our bodies can not long resist the visions our souls already see within the tastes of our bondage to one another.

We draw in to each other, our clothing confining the wondrous sounds of enveloping smells hidden within, screaming out for release, demanding a proper airing of feelings for tastes to see.

I take her down onto the bed so I can smell her precious, angelic body next to mine, catching her every sigh on my tongue, to roll around with delight born of supreme pleasure. She responds to me, hearing my throbbing body react to the feelings of my vision.

The very air is charged with the taste of electricity fathomed from within the consciousness of desires heard within our souls. We see the feelings of ecstasy approaching, waiting to smell the rapturous delights awaiting the de-flowering of the innocence of pure love.

She knows the time is now, tasting the rapid sound of my beating heart, smelling my body respond to the sight of her warmth. We part slightly, only enough to remove the confining constraints keeping us from the fulfillment of touching the sounds of bliss we will see upon tasting Nirvana.

I feel the miraculous taste of the Nectar of the Gods, urging us to embark on a voyage to see the aromas of ecstasy displayed in all the senses we possess, telling us to blur the lines between them and to embrace them as one. We listen to the voices, forming a union of love, coupling sight and sound, taste and smell, creating a feeling of euphoria unable to be felt in any other way.

We freely taste the sights of orgasmic aromas heard through the feelings of our heightened arousal and explode together in a dizzying elevation of before un-known spiritual and physical euphoria.

I hold her close. We fall: fall deeply into the magic of our senses.

I see the aroma of love.

Frozen

by E. A. Irwin

Wind rocked my car,

buffeting with the ferocity

of an angry Tempestarii

flying through the air,

grabbing elements for

his use as he began his

assault on the earth.

His voice howled through my head,

making his foul mood known,

splintering my thoughts

until I was left dazed and distraught

from the encroaching demon.

I’d watched the flakes fall,

their luminescence appeared

ghostly and bleached against

the world of quickening black,

as if the sky shook goose feathers

upon the ground, where they lay

in silent sheeted sureness.

Desperation clung like

ugly second skin,

its frozen blanket numbing

my body and existence alike.

Thoughts turned to icy fog,

giving the frigid wasteland

of my brain atmosphere to enjoy

while the onslaught of winter’s

torment beat the land.

What would they say as another

hundred years closed its doors?

Was this the worst season of brutal

weather nature could serve?

Panic seared through my veins,

heating the fragile remainder

of what I was, until it too

succumbed to the knowledge

of relinquished life to the

Tempestarii’s enveloping revenge.

Yes, this was the worst winter had to offer.

And, as the layers of frozen wonder

drifted higher, my vision grew hazy,

tempted by the villain of sleep.

My numbed finger dragged

against icy glass one last time

before finding its rest.

Closing my eyes, I dreamed of summer,

remembering my last words

written into eternity.

I was here.

©E. A. Irwin

The Fall

By Melissa Davis

The leaves were turning auburn when she got the news in the fall. She had held her breath and crossed her fingers before she dared dream this moment would come, but it had. The moment she found out about the little one growing inside her, her dreams spread wings and flew higher than she ever imagined. She almost had given up on this lifetime. She knew that her past lives were filled with desperation as she had never had the joy of a child in any of them. She was not going to let this one go. She would do whatever she could to make sure this one survived.

She did everything she was supposed to and then some. She cut out all the caffeine, even though she had guzzled it down since she had entered college. She avoided the lunchmeat, the pineapples, even the peanut butter. She took all her vitamins each day just as she should. She did it all with a grace and love that came so easy to her. She wanted more than anything to hold a child of her own.

Her life before was traumatic. There was no other way to describe it. When she had the chance to leave it all behind she left and never came back to where it started. She met a truly wonderful man that loved her more than she ever thought she deserved. They had come together so easily and their differences made them closer. He was everything she needed and sometimes more than she ever thought she would ever have. They even had the fairytale wedding that she never let herself imagine. When she was finally safe, she had done so much healing so that someday she would be a better mother. She wanted her child to never feel afraid, to be safe in her own skin and know that she was more than good enough, she was everything.

The day her water broke she entered the hospital excited to be there, happy to greet the nurses, and anxious to get the show on the road. She stayed calm, as calm as still water on a morning lake. A few hours of pitocin, the repeated placement of the epidurals, none of these things ruined her calm. She would have a child, she would not let her past lives predict her future. When she was finally ready to push, she pushed with every breath in her body, but it was not enough. Her child was not going to come out naturally. The doctor was called and she was prepped for her first major surgery of her life.

She held her breath when her child was pulled out of her. She tensed up waiting for the most important sound in the world. She almost cried when she heard it. The first audible wail from her tiny little girl. She was so beautiful, tiny and wrinkled. It was never so easy to fall in love, but this little miracle was lifetimes of dreams and she was worth every one. Dreams do come true. They mold and shape and turn into things you never imagined and sent you down paths you were afraid to walk. She would never let her past define her future again.

BLOG HOP!!!

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Mon, 26 Sep 2011 13:26:00 +0000

Join the blog hop!!

http://www.bloodandmagickseries.com

http://theeclecticartistcave.blogspot.com/

Click HERE to enter

Click HERE to get the code.

Fallen

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Fri, 23 Sep 2011 06:04:00 +0000

I sleep alone every night
I live alone with you
The shells beneath
My feet are cracking
Soon I will fall through.

Not a word of tenderness
Do you give
And
Yet
I wait

For what

Tis not wasted time I seek
But something

Real.

Oh so tired

Dear God please
Just give me peace.

Let not more days
My penitence take.

Have I paid enough
For my accidental
Existance?

I am alone. Please no more.
I have fallen.
Help
I have fallen.

The Mask

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Thu, 08 Sep 2011 02:34:00 +0000

A mask is an article normally worn on the face, typically for protection, disguise, performance or entertainment. Masks have been used since antiquity for both ceremonial and practical purposes. They are usually worn on the face.

Jenni with an “I” had to laugh a little when her teacher read the definition in class. They are invisible, she said aloud.

“I’m sorry, Jenni, did you have something to add?” her teacher Mrs. Wheatcroft asked. Her bright colored moo moo danced across her body when she waddled towards Jenni.

Jenni looked up from her paper. “I said they are invisible,” she replied in almost a whisper.

“Why would you say that?” Mrs Wheatcroft asked.

“My mama wears one all the time. You folks never see it, but I do,” she said.

“Why would you say such a horrible thing about your mom? She has been a wonderful help in this class room,” Mrs. Wheatcroft said.

“Of course, that’s the mask,” Jenni replied.

“You can go to the principal’s office until you decide to apologize about the statements made about your mother and stop interrupting this class,” Mrs. Wheatcroft said in a huff.

The fat woman pointed towards the door. Jenni smiled, “I didn’t want to have your fat ass as a teacher anyways,” Jenni responded on her way out the door.

She heard Mrs.Wheatcroft tell the class to finish copying the definitions from the book.

She made her way down the hall, not really sure why she spoke up in class. She just knew what she said was true. Just the other day, Jenni was given a simple chore to do, take the trash out. The job itself, simple. Take the bag out of the trash can, walk it out to the dumpster in the alley and toss the bag in, replace the removed bag in the trashcan.

Simple enough, even a toddler could do it. Jenni lost her way though. On her way to the dumpster she ran into Suzy from down the street. Jenni loved playing with Suzy. Suzy had a shiny pink new bike and her mom always had snacks ready for her when she got home. Jenni didn’t remember a single time she heard Suzy’s mom yell or scream. Suzy had pretty blond hair that her mother curled and oh man was it ever pretty, as Jenni would say.

“Wanna ride bikes?” Suzy asked.

“Mine is broke,” Jenni said.

“That’s ok, I’ll ride the scooter and you can ride my bike,” Suzy said.

Jenni’s eyes brightened and her heart raced a little with anticipation. “Really? Your mom won’t mind?”

“Why would she, it’s my bike,” Suzy stated.

“Sure, “ she shut the lid to the trashcan and raced off with Suzy.

Just the thought of riding a shiny new bike, one that wasn’t some hand me down or picked up from the dump was too much temptation to walk away from. To have something new, even if just for a moment oh the sweet joy of it caused her heart to flutter and her mind to wander. The final part of her chore, putting a new bag in the trash can, skipped like a rock skipping across the pond.

They arrived at Suzy’s house. There was a small wicker table and chair set sitting on the porch a few feet away from the front door. On the table was a small plate of cheese and crackers and two glasses of milk.

“Thanks mom, “Suzy yelled in the screen door.

“Stay around this block,” Suzy’s mom said through the screen.

“Will do,” Suzy replied. “Here have one, “ she handed Jenni a cracker with cheese in the middle along with a glass of milk.

Jenni smiled, “Thank you. Is your mom always like this?”

“Yes, isn’t yours?”

“No,”

“What is she like?”

“You don’t want to know. Come on let’s go riding,” Jenni said, avoiding the question.

Suzy climbed on the scooter and just like she said, Jenni was able to get on the shiny new bike. The pink bike had glittering tassels flowing out from the handle bars. They danced in the wind and brushed against Jenni’s arm. The pedals glided with ease. Up. . . Down. . . Up… Down. The wind passed through her hair and for the first time in Jenni’s life, she felt a freedom she had never known.

“I could use this to leave everyone behind,” she thought. “That would be stealing though,”

The sun began to settle beyond the horizon creating an orange hue across the sky. “We better get back home, “Suzy said.

Jenni’s heart dropped. “Yeah, I know. Thanks for letting me ride your pretty new bike,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” Suzy answered.

“Oh no! I forgot the bag!” Jenni yelled out.

She raced Suzy’s bike back to her house. “I have to get home,” she told Suzy.

“What bag?” Suzy asked.

“The trash bag,” Jenni responded. She felt the blood rush out of her face. If her mom already knew-

Jenny raced off without explanation. She ran in through the side door of the house, the one closest to the kitchen an reached into the drawer for the box of trash bags.

“Looking for these?” Jenni jumped at the voice.

The box of trash bags slammed down on her head. The first try met with such a force, it was like a brick had stuck her.

Some slammed into her side causing Jenni’s mind to blacken in pain. Terror masked the pain and adrenaline of surviving kicked in. Jenni backed away from the crazed woman with the box, fashioned as a weapon of discipline. The door bell rang. Her mom stopped the box from slamming down on her in mid air.

“I’ll be back to finish this in a minute. Don’t even think of moving,” her mom said.

Jenni watched her mom brush her hair in place with both hands. She heard her mom open the door, wearing the mask she always wore when people were around.

“Can I help you?”

“My mom said Jenni could come over for smore’s we’re doing them in the back yard. Can she come?”

Jenni recognized Suzy’s voice and wanted to scream out for her to run. She didn’t though. She stayed silent, on the floor against the cabinets. She did as she was told.

A tingling sensation trickled down her face. Jenni reached up to touch it and brought into her eyesight Blood soaked finger tips. Her head ached from the slight touch. Her head had been gouged just above the hair line. Her arms had scratches from the heavy box.

A few moments later her mom came back. “I bet you never forget to put a trash bag in the trash can again,” she said. “Go clean yourself up and get to bed. I don’t want to see you again.”

Jenni rushed up the stairs and into the bathroom. She turned the shower, took her clothes off and stepped inside. The running water muffled her silent sobs. The water blood mixed at the bottom of the shower. Her body racked with bruises, scratches and her head pounded.

There were so many times she wanted to say please, it isn’t safe. Can I come home with you?

She thought about it on the way to the principal’s office. She knew though, no one would believe her. The invisible mask her mom wore in the world was made of sweet invisible honey that was sour to the taste and painful to the touch.

In-Ah From Night Walkers

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Wed, 24 Aug 2011 06:23:00 +0000

I melt every time I hear the song of love. That bastard entity who makes me want to run screaming into the night lurks in my heart. He carries your voice to me and I am held back. Time oh what a folly you bring me in this strange moment of my life.

Do you even know where my heart rests? How could you? There are things unspoken and that is best. But oh how my heart waits to hear you sing those three little words. On a daily basis I wait. I listen and they never come. What a bastard love is. How cruel and unkind. Why would he do that to me? Just when life is almost perfect, a choice is set before me and though I'm torn in two, I must do what is right. No pain will I cause anyone accept myself. I wait for words that will never come. That bastard of love. That sweet tender joy. That the restless nights feed off of. What more can the demon want. The love. The tender mercy. The distance and life passes and time as well. I know. You know. We know and yet here are the silent words we don't dare speak.

I'll accept what I have in hopes that the bastard of love doesn't leave me in this torturous state too long. Life passes as time and when oh when it does. I am mine and yours and no one else can say but we are the ones who wonder in the darkness of the night. The fated ones. The distance untraveled and In-Ah yes I am.

Jade

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Sun, 21 Aug 2011 02:37:00 +0000

Complete Rewrite on I AM WOLF

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Wed, 17 Aug 2011 06:14:00 +0000

For those who have sent me countless messages wanting to know when I AM WOLF is going to rear its head. I wanted to let you know that I'm working on a complete rewrite on it. No longer is it going to be in 3rd person and it's not going to be YA anymore. I'm going darker and I have to say that DAM I LOVE IT...mwhahahaha.

On another note, I was told by my publisher today that Soulless Light should be released soon. Sometime in the next few weeks. I'm soooooo excited about this!! I hope this answers the other questions I have been receiving. I thought this would be easier than answering hundreds of emails with the same question...lol.

For those who have sent me other questions, I'm working on getting to those as soon as possible. Thank you for your patients and for thinking of me. Huge hugs to all and well hell, I'm tired so I'm heading to bed.

Sweet dreams all and may your nightmares be in the books you read....not the reality you live. Much love and peace out!

Muse, To love or Hate

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Sat, 16 Jul 2011 19:50:00 +0000

The muse of my mine is a snarky bitch. She peeks in while I'm asleep and wraps me up in a vale of words. She leaves me drowning in my desires and scoffs when I ask for help. I'm left to fill the void with the creations of my own making and still, they are not enough. I race in the darkness to catch her and she flees like an untouchable shadow. When she's sure I've been taught a lesson, she reaches out and hands me a small note. Inside, a single sentence. I'm loaning this world to you. She is my muse. Coming and going as she pleases, never on command. Dam sometimes I hate that snarky bitch.

The Butcher's Man A mini-series PT1

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Sat, 02 Jul 2011 16:14:00 +0000

‘I dance with the devil in the silver light. On a duel sided blade I stand. I run like the wind in the

dead of the night. You can’t catch me; I’m the butcher’s man.’

To look long into the abyss means the abyss will be the only place you can look out from. It will engulf the soul and erupt from with in at the same time. It waits patient, unwearied by the dying of the majestic moonlight that filled the sky once every month. The sound of a chopper rumbled in the distant, it carried a distinct noise, like an AK-47 firing round after round. A tall dark figure killed the engine on his motor cycle and pulled out his cross bow with silver tipped arrows and waited. He was the hunter-the Butcher’s man. He knew all too well what was happening in the woods. His leather jacket, adorned with silver stakes, and a leather belt with more silver tipped arrows glittered in the silver moonlight. On his wrist was a watch with a digital timer, counting down.

‘Three hours left until the serum wears off. It’s gonna be a long night.’

The hunter listened to the large deep voices of the hounds bellowing through the trees, tracking an odd dangerous scent. He knew the men wouldn’t be able to track the beast-not because they didn’t want to find it, but because they didn’t believe in what they hunted. So he waited to hear the screams of terror echo in the night.

Silence. Erie. Hush. The dogs yelped in the distance filling the hunter’s ears, followed by high pitched yelps. Gunshots thrashed through the silent night. Shocked high pitched shrills and unbelievable banshee screams followed the sounds of bones being crushed by a thing that time didn’t really erase. It still existed…werewolf. A creature of myth and legend that had long since been thought to be nothing more than a scary story…something created to bring thrill to most otherwise boring movies.

With his cross-bow in hand, he made his way to the sounds he waited for. He stepped down the path with ease, like he had been there before. He knew the woods in the park all to well, perhaps it was because he had hunted here before. A head rolled towards him. On any other night, he would have punted it like a soccer ball then laughed, saying, “I’m the Butcher’s man.”

He hunted the beast. The thing not quite a man nor animal but a monster none the less and it needed to die. With stealth, he moved through the woods, careful not to step on anything that would make a sound. A flash of the beast appeared to the left of him. The hunter hid behind a tree and waited. ‘It’s close.’

His rapid heart beat pounded against his chest. The hunter crossed himself then rounded the tree, aiming the crossbow at an empty space. The beast darted past him. One of the arrows the hunter shot nailed a tree. The beast looked him in the eyes and howled towards the moon. The blood from his last unsuspecting victims still dripped from his mouth. In a single motion, the hunter shot again, hitting him in the arm. Smoke rose from the injury. It penetrated the air around the hunter, filling his nasal passages with a disgusting smell of burned flesh. The beast howled again then like a flash, it charged towards him. The hunter aimed his crossbow, but the beast moved between the trees.

“I’m the Butcher’s man! Do you hear me beast? You will taste the tip of my arrows with your mouth.” the hunter yelled.

The beast howled at the moon again, giving the hunter the position of his prey. Quiet. Calm. Still. The hunter slowed his heart with deep breaths and closed eyes. He sensed everything around him from the gentle breeze brushing past him to the leaves floating across the ground. In his mind’s eye he saw the beast of the night standing behind the bushes to the left, waiting for the hunter to come into view. The hunter backed towards the bushes and turned at the last moment. He rolled to the ground and aimed the crossbow towards the beasts head. More smoke filled the air. This time his mouth filled with an acrid taste as if acid had been lit on fire. The hunter pulled out his machete and hacked the beasts head off. The now dead werewolf melted into the human body it cursed. The head now had blue eyes and blond hair.

The hunter tossed the head aside and lit a cigarette. “I dance with the devil in the silver light. On a duel sided blade I stand. I run like the wind in the dead if night. You can’t catch me, I’m the butcher’s man,” he said then took a drag.

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, “Hey, it’s Shax, come pick me up. I won’t have enough time to get back,” he said, looking at his watch. He kissed the cross around his neck then knelt down to thank God for letting him live to kill the beast.

Shax walked around to make sure none of the victims would come back as werewolves. He was almost a little relieved when he found all the heads of the victims were severed. He walked back to his motorcycle and waited, reflecting back to a simpler time.

There are some things in life you take to the grave, little secrets that though wouldn’t hurt anyone, you keep to yourself just because they’re yours. Shax real name, Julian Masson, was such a secret. He had a wife, a daughter and one on the way. He lived in a small three bedroom home in a nice suburban neighborhood. All the yards were green and mowed to perfection. All the mailboxes stood in a perfect line down the street. Each of the houses had a cookie cutter feel to them. It was, for a lack of better words, a preplanned neighborhood. In the sea of preplanned shit, there was actually an awesome thing, he loved it . Every part of it. The earth he lived on was his. The house he came home to every night belonged to him. There was a mortgage on it, but no one could kick him out of it. He didn’t have much of a belief system at the time, nor was he superstitious. To him, yes, there was a God, but what of it? If someone told him a year ago werewolves, or Lycanthropes really existed, he would have told them they were crazy by waving his finger in a circle motion by his head, then walked away.

Things were different now, his life, what he did and who he was…all different. It happened when he went to the park to jog on the evening of a full moon. He was attacked by a werewolf. Attacked but not bitten. He somehow escaped and ran home. The thing must have had his scent because it followed him. While he was in the bathroom cleaning up the scratch, the beast entered his house and killed his family. Right when it charged the upstairs bathroom door, the hunters arrived. They tracked it to his home and killed it. That was six months ago. Since then he joined a team of hunters. A girl named Kit-Kat just joined them. He found her standing with the beasts head in her hand. She had blood dripping from her arm and her pink died hair was blood soaked from the fight she had just been in. She looked up at Shaxe with a very calm look. “I knew they were real,” she said when she dropped the head.

He took a drag off his smoke, and opened his cell.

“Hey, it’s me. He’s dead. I’ve got about half an hour before it wears off. Come get me will ya?” he said.

He took a drag off the cigarette in his blood stained hands. ’It never comes off.’

A few minutes later a black semi truck with a matching black trailer pulled into the park. The crew consisted of four people. Yeager, an old man who had been a hunter for about ten years he didn’t know much about him accept he was an ex-ranger. Other than that he knew the man had seen more than his fair share of death. Something like that leaves a mark on a body. It’s seen in the eyes. There isn’t any way to hide it. Then there was Kit-Kat. She always had her hair died a different color. She seemed to adapt to the life well. Shaxe didn’t know if he did her a favor by saving her life, but he knew then he couldn’t look into her eyes and let her fall.

A woman named Q-girl, “Q” for short, who was a chemist and himself. Not much was known about Q-girl except she was ex-military ex-biological chemist. He understood it was something big. What he didn’t know was why she left. There were times when he wondered of either of them had left…actually.

“Good, you’re alive. Grab the bike. Yeager is waiting for you inside with the cage and the serum,” Kit-Kat said.

She had a tattoo of a wolf clawing it’s way out of her skin on her arm. It covered the scar from her attack. She too was just scratched. The danger was in the bite. As long as it was just a scratch, you wouldn’t transform all the way into a beast. The ones with scratches were what hunters deemed “skin-walkers” -they wouldn’t change…just become more enraged on the night of a full moon. The serum Q created worked to suppress the virus. Most of the time it worked. When they were hunting though, he had a smaller dosage so he could tap into the virus and use it for his own purposes.

Q stood in the trailer with a needle in her hand. “Here. Give me your arm. I have what you need,” she said.

“Thanks,” Shaxe said.

“Not a problem,” she said.

“What did you do to yourself anyways. Look at you, you’re a mess,” she told him.

“I know. Well the dam thing didn’t want to go down. I told it to,” he said.

Yeager, a tall burly man with a short sliver beard, a scar on the right side of his face and a special forces tattoo on his arm, entered the trailer. “Patch ‘em, drug ‘em and cage ‘em. We gotta go. There’s another one just a few miles away from here. We won’t get ‘em tonight but the orders are clear,” he said.

“Got it,” she said.

“Cage? Really? Tonight? We should go and kill the other one,” Shaxe said.

Q put the needle in his arm. “You heard him. We have orders,” she said.

“To hell with the orders. I want to kill that thing before it kills someone else,” Shaxe said.

“We aren’t the only hunters here tonight. We have to watch our backs. If any of them find out you’re scratched then they’ll do you in. Kat too. So just chill,” she said.

The veins in Shaxe’s arm began to burn. The serum had taken hold of him. He knew the drill…soon his whole body would feel like it was on fire. It didn’t last long, but long enough to feel like hell had invaded his body and using it for target practice.

He was correct when he said it was going to be a long night. He walked into the cage and laid on the cot. “I’m too tired to hunt now anyways,” he said.

The burning sensation from the full dosage of the serum began to inch it’s way through his body. He yelled out in pain and begged for water. Kit-Kat was in the next cage, going through the same thing. He looked over at her, part of his mind still aware of how much he cared for the team, began to feel sorry for her. So young and having to go through such unimaginable pain. Q brought a sedative and pumped it into the iv in their arms. She took the radio from her hip and pressed the button. “They’re out.”

The next day, Shaxe woke up and his team was down a person. Kit-Kat was missing.

“Where’s Kat?” he asked.

“She’s no longer with us,” Q said.

“Why, what happened?” he asked.

Q didn’t look at him. She just took his vitals and continued on. Shaxe grabbed her by the arm. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“We turned her over to command last night so she could be studied,” Yeager said from behind him. “Now do you mind letting go of my chemist?”

“Studied? What do you mean studied? She’s a human being, not a lab rat. Bring her back!” Shaxe said.

“You better chill out. We still have use for you. We’ve never captured a female skin-walker. We need to know what’s going to happen to her,” Yeager said.

“Command? Ex-military huh? I should of known.

Shaxe sat down in the chair. His mind flashed to the girl he had saved. The way she smiled. How she always seemed to know what was needed and especially how she never put up with his shit. He looked up at the two people he had considered his friends with contempt. Anger. Betrayal. Rage. All swelled together in the boiling pots of his veins. ‘Don’t you worry Kit-Kat. I will find you.’

Flashing streams of ghost images formed in his imagination of all the terrible things that were being done to Kat. He hated it and shut his eyes to block the images out only to have them become more prominent in his mind. Quiet. Still. Silence. Rushed through his mind and he heard her. She wasn’t crying. She paced around in a cage. He saw another boy about the same age standing in the corner of the same cell she was in.

A terrible realization rushed through him. He knew what they wanted…a child.

Soulless Light

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Fri, 03 Jun 2011 14:41:00 +0000

Haunting in my desires
Thrilled by what is flawed.
I see now that which before could not be seen.
The gray matter of us all

The soul
The light
The sparkle of the infinite night.

Seeking only to be heard
cause we are all dead or dying.
And there in lies the truth of that
which I am buying.

I'm gonna live forever
in the dark of night.

Alive but dead

Dead but alive

Does it even matter?

I'm lost now in a day dream
of my own creation.

Living

And

Dead

Am I the soulless light?

1201

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Sat, 23 Apr 2011 22:46:00 +0000

Midnight, most people think that is the point of magic where all the power of time and space unite. In fact, those people would be wrong. The real time is 12:01. That’s when the hour of power really begins. 12:01 is such a beautiful odd number.
Michael Peterson was a novelist. Not a great one, but he did well enough to afford the little house in the middle of the country and it put his children through college. His wife Crystal, passed away from complications due to the cancer she battled for the last few years. In the end there was nothing left but a frail shell, just big enough to trap her spirit.

“It’s ok, I’m going to be ok,” he said to her frail body.

Crystal looked at him with her blood shot yellow eyes. How he missed the deep green they used to be. It didn’t matter though, it was still her trapped in there. She reached over and picked up a photo of their daughter Stella.

“You want me to call her?” he asked.

As weak and frail as they were, he understood her movements. Michael knew when she needed anything from a drink of water or her bed pan changed. He hated the world around him and all he could think of was to hope for a better tomorrow and pray for a cure that would never come. He hated that more than anything. Everyday, he felt like he said good bye a thousand times. It was never enough though. In the end, his life was not about ego or numbers. It was about living on hope alone.

“She hates me. She’s never going to take my call,” he said.

Tears streamed down her face and she dropped the frame to the floor. When the glass shattered, it felt like shards of glass had entered his body and chipped his bones. There was so much pain. Too much for one person to handle. How do you hold onto hope when you know there is none? He looked at her desperate eyes. They spoke louder than any words ever could. They held the look of desperation.

“Ok, I’ll try,” he said.

She closed her eyes and faded away. He sobbed on her shoulder. He didn’t know how bad it was going to be to see that final breath leave her body. It made a distinct sound and fills the void with silence. If you listen hard enough you can feel the spirit leaving the body. It is said a body will weigh 8 ounces less than when a person passes. It‘s strange the things you think about when that final moment comes. What‘s worse are the things you don‘t consider when it happens. The feeling of stinging bees crept up on his soul and all he could do was sob. Hope was lost.

He called Stella to let her know the news. A tense silence fell between the two of them.

“When is the funeral?” Stella asked.

“It’s on Thursday,” he said.

Another hushed silence between them. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“You know she shouldn’t have died in that place, don’t you?” Stella said.

“I did what I thought was right. I hoped that with constant care by professionals, she would pull-”

“What dad? What pull through? Well she didn’t, did she? Instead she died in the one place she never wanted to be in.”

“I know, I know. Please, honey. I loved her too. You have to know-”

“We’ll be at the funeral.”

“What happens after that?” he asked.

“Who knows. Bye…Michael.”

The silence on the phone between them was louder than a freight train.

‘She called me Michael. It beats bastard I guess.’

He walked around the empty house. There were so many things he didn’t know about the place he called home. He knew where the typical things were in the house. You know, like where the towels were and where his coffee cup was located. He even knew where his clothes were. For the most part though, everything else was a blur. All his life he counted on Crystal to keep his world in order. It never dawned on him that she might not be around one day.

Through the windows, a small flock of blue jays landed on the front lawn. He looked out at them. Their beautiful blue colors mixed in with the green grass made it seem almost peaceful. Almost. There wasn’t a single thing around him that didn’t remind him of the love they had. Cliché as it may seem, it was a once in a lifetime love affair. To be in love your whole life and never want or wander what it would be like to be single again, yeah…that’s once in a lifetime.

‘Crystal would have loved this. Are they here to wish her a good send off??’ he thought looking out at the birds.

His body began to shake from the deep sobs he had shoved down into his gut for the last few years. He fell to his knees and curled up like a fetus on the floor. The knife from the open wound dug deeper into his heart. For a second he was sure his whole chest cavity was going to crush under the pressure from the built up emotions.

The phone rang. He let the machine get it. People he hadn’t talked to in years were writing letters and cards of well wishes and sorrows. The ones who didn’t send something through the mail felt it was their duty to call. The truth was Michael didn’t want to hear from a single person. He wanted to go with her. He wanted his Crystal. Life without her was not one he had ever pictured nor wanted.

Another call. ‘Mr. Pendalton, this is John Myers from the antique shop. You’re wife asked me to call if I ever found, well you’re going to have to see if for yourself. Can you please have your wife give me a call. I found it. I really found it. Call me back, 555-0138.”

The machine cut off. The message pulled Michael back from insanity. What could she have been up to? She had been in bed for the last six months. He walked over to the answering machine and pressed play. His curiosity was peaked.

“Mr. Meyers please. I’m returning a call. I’ll hold.”

A few minutes later, the man answered the phone. “Sorry about the hold. This is Mr. Meyers, how can I help you?”

“This is Michael Pendalton. You said my wife ordered something from you?”

“Yes, she ordered a jewelry box a long time ago. It matched a frame she had with her. I‘m sure you‘ll know the one I‘m talking about when you see it. It’s here. I can’t believe I actually found one in the condition this one is in. She already paid for it. I can have it dropped off tomorrow if you’d like.”

“Mr. Meyers, my wife died of cancer yesterday. She’s been in bed for the last six months. When did she buy this chest thing?”

“Yesterday? Well she called me a couple months ago and asked me to get this for her. I said I would see what I could do. I’m so sorry to hear about her passing.”

“You say you contacted you a couple months ago? I don’t understand. Are you sure you have the order right?”

“I’m sure about it sir,” Mr. Meyers said.

“Well whatever it is, please send it back.”

“Sir. It’s a nonrefundable purchase and she was pretty adamant about getting this piece.”

“What exactly is it?” Michael asked.

“It’s an old music box of sorts. It dates back to the Salem Witch Trials. She said something about having had the frame in her family for generations and knew there was a music box. I did some research and found it. Anyways, she wanted it delivered and she paid for it,” he said.

“Sell it again to someone else.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that sir. Look, I’m going to drop it off tomorrow. You can decide what to do about it then.”

“I said I don’t want it. What more do you want to know. Are you deaf or something?”

Michael slammed the phone down on the receiver. That was all he needed, another reminder of the woman who would no longer be in his life. Rage. Anger. Grief.

He walked up the stairs to their room and stopped in front of the door. His mind drifted back to one of their last times in the house together. It was long before they even thought of the word cancer, a word that should be defined as curse.

“Michael. Stella is just strong willed that’s all. She wants to live her own life. We have to let her,” Crystal said.

“I don’t care. I don’t like that guy she’s dating. What’s his name?” Michael said.

“Brian. His name is Brian and he’s really a sweet man.”

“Sweet or not. He isn’t right for her. That’s it. I’ve said what I have to say about it. I won’t bless this marriage.”

“Well, I’m afraid you and I don’t have a say in it. This is who she’s going to marry and if you keep this up, we’ll never see her or our grand children.”

“What grand children?”

“Not now dear. The ones she’s going to have later in the future. Why can’t you just be happy for her?”

“I’m getting old.” Michael let out a sigh.

“What do you mean?”

“If she goes off and gets married, well that’s it. We’re officially old. I don’t want to be old. It isn’t right that we have to get old.”

Crystal let out a little chuckle that softened his heart. Her laughs always had a way of doing that to him.

“We’re all getting old. Besides, we’ve had a good run in life. I don’t mind getting old. I think I’ve earned it,” she said.

“Says you,” he said. “Oh alright. I’ll give him a chance.”

A small smile formed across her face. It was the last real talk they had about the future. A few months after the wedding they learned what the word cancer really meant.

“There, now don’t you feel better already?”

“No, but I can pretend I guess,” Michael said.

Crystal leaned over and kissed him on the cheek like she had done so many times in their marriage. He held her close that night, breathing in the smell of her hair and watching the way she slept.

When people die, it isn’t the big things you miss. It’s the little ones that make life worth living. To Michael, it was the kisses on the cheek and the talks they had in the middle of the night when she was sound asleep. She would ramble things in her sleep and wake him up. Most of the time it was the errands she had to run the next day. There were late nights when he wished she would just shut up and let him sleep. Now though, he would give anything to hear her ramble off a list things that needed done. Anything.

The setting sun cast a shadows through the windows. The gnawing feeling of knowing the next day would be the first day he woke alone in the house without a purpose filled him with fear. So much so, it made it hard for him to sleep.

He walked down the stairs to the living room and laid on the sofa with a book in his hands hoping sleep would come soon and take him away from all the pain he felt. It didn’t work though. His favorite photo of Crystal looked like it was staring at him.

‘It matched a frame she had for generations.’

Tossing. Turning. Twitching.

“What do you want from me? I did what you asked. I’m making up with Stella,’ he said to the photo. Sleep took him in the early hours of the morning. Even fading into dreamland didn’t make him feel any better. He had gone through so much hell since the beginning of her diagnosis. In all honesty, he didn’t know what to pray for any more. He knew his faith had left him.

He woke up crying out, “No, please don’t take her. Take me!”

Hands, clutching a blanket, his body was covered in sweat, Michael got up and paced the house. So distraught by the pain, Michael didn’t realize he still had the blanket in his hands when he walked up the stairs to their room. How it hurt him so to think she would never grace their bed again. To know he would never again be able to talk to her about things that bothered him. To never again hear her laughter or even the sigh of disapproval when he was wrong, was more than his heart could bare.

Back down to the living room sofa. Once again he laid down and for what seemed like a split second, he thought he heard Crystal talking in her sleep. He dozed off.

A loud ring from the doorbell shocked his being into reality. It wasn’t something he wanted to do…wake up that is. Still, the sun brought him another unwanted day filled with too many things he didn’t want to do. Who wants to make funeral arrangements?

He opened the door to find a small wooden crate sitting on the front porch. The stamp on the front said it was from Meyers Furniture.

“Dammit all to hell. That rat bastard delivered it anyways.” he cursed out loud.

He kicked the crate into the house and slammed the door. Looking down at the small monstrosity, Michael shook his head.

“What were you up to Crystal?”

Michael dismissed the crate and walked into the kitchen to get his coffee and read the paper. He wanted to give himself some semblance of normalcy. Seemed like a small thing to ask for at the time.

Stella was coming over today. For the most part, Michael was trying to push the guilt back for not being excited about his only child’s visit. He feared her looks of disapproval and hate filled eyes almost as much as he had feared losing Crystal. So much to deal with…too much really.

The phone rang again. Once again Michael let the machine get it. “Hey buddy, it’s Chip. I’m flying in today to help you with anything you need. Oh, and the publishers are on my ass about your next book. Did you get anything done on this one. It’s the last one needed to finish out this contract. Anyways, we can talk about all that later. Look I’ll be in at 1 this afternoon.”

“Stupid money hungry bastards. All of them,” Michael shouted at the machine.

“Open me.”

Michael turned around. “Who said that?”

The phone rang again. Michael looked over at it and waved his hand at it.

“achk let the dam machine get it.”

“Dad, pick up. It’s me,” Stella’s voice said.

‘She called me dad this time.’

“You know I love you right. I just wanted to make sure I said that, ya know before the funeral and all.”

“I know you do honey. I forgive you. I’ll always forgive you. Are you and Brian on your way?”

“Yeah, just as soon as we finish changing little Robbie, we’ll be on the road. See you later tonight.” Her voice was distant and cold with a hint of sadness.

“Ok. I love you honey. Never forget that.”

The phone went silent.

‘See, I can give you what you want. Now open me. Let me breathe a little.’

Michael looked over at the crate again. It was such a little thing. Why would she order something like that? He walked into the kitchen to find a hammer. He never understood why Crystal kept the house tools in the bottom drawer. He just liked knowing where they were. That, at least hadn’t changed. He took the hammer out of the drawer and walked back into the foyer where the small crate sat on the floor.

Slam. Crack. Screech. The sound of cracking wood reminded him of bones breaking. The thing inside really wanted out and for some reason he couldn’t help but to open it. The whispered voice didn’t quell the lost void he had in his chest.

‘What if this thing was the reason my daughter called in the first place?’

He glanced towards the windows that hung horizontal by the door and paused for a moment. The sight outside was like nothing he had ever seen. His entire yard looked blue. There wasn’t a single speck of grass showing out on the lawn. The trees were also layered in blue jays. Curious.

Finally the last part of the crate was opened. Inside he found a simple looking box with a silk lining. It was beautiful in it’s simplicity. He glanced over at the frame. The wood looked to be the same. Small runes were carved into the lid of the box. They were the same ones that were on the top of the frame.

‘They match. I didn’t know there was another piece like that. What were you up to Crystal?’

A sigh went through his body. He didn’t know if it came from him or the thing in front of him. There it was. The top of the chest had an old Egyptian symbol on it. He didn’t know what it meant. It didn’t make a single sound when he opened the lid to the table. He swore when he opened it he heard music from it.

He shut the lid and pushed it to the side.

‘Why did she buy this?’

The door bell rang. Michael went to answer it. It was who he liked to call jackass. His neighbor Clark was just that. He was president of the homeowner’s association. He loved to walk along the block and let people know when their lawns were too long or their mail boxes didn’t quite match the house. His favorite thing was to pass out fines. Of course most people were nice to him. He loved the power he had over the neighborhood.

“Hello Michael. I just wanted to stop off and remind you that trash day is tomorrow and wanted to make sure you get all of it down to the curb.”

“I’ll be dealing with a funeral. So you’ll forgive me if I don’t get to that right away.”

“Crystal finally passed huh? Well, I’m sorry to hear about that. You know rules are rules and well, even in times of pain we all have to follow them.”

Michael picked up one of the sticks left over from the crate and waved it at him. “Now you listen here you dumbass. I’ll do what I dam well please. You can pass out as many fines and say what you want. But don’t be coming over here and think you’re going to get away with it.”

“Now Mr. Pendalton, there’s no reason for violence. This was just a simple reminder. I really am sorry to hear about your wife’s passing. No one seemed to notice when my little Petunia passed on.”

“You’re Petunia? Wasn’t that the name of your dog? You want to compare the passing of MY wife to the passing of that stupid little thing you called a dog. Hell she pissed on my flowers all the time. Glad to be rid of her!”

Michael slammed the door on his face and threw the stick down on the floor.

‘You want him dead don’t you?’

“I’ve always wanted that jackass dead. That’s not a secret,” Michael said.

‘I can take care of that for you.’

“Do what ever you want. I’m going to take a shower.”

The lid to the chest opened. The sound of the music played again. It filled the hall and flowed out the door through the keyhole. Michael ignored the music. He hated the pain he felt. Crystal was the only person he had ever really loved and with her passing, went his own soul. It didn’t matter to him where the music was coming from or even where it was going. All that mattered to him was the photo on the mantle. He listened to the music from the box and watched the photo on the mantle. She moved. He was sure of it. She looked right at him. The scenery behind the photo changed. It was no longer a shot of his beloved in the garden. It was the living room. She maintained a smile on her face and warmth in her eyes while the background continued to change. Now at the front door that was wide open, the background zoomed in to her right. The backside of Clark, the jackass appeared.

The photo shifted again. This time she looked right at him. “Do you want me to take care of him?”

(to be Cont’d)

Life's Debt

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Fri, 01 Apr 2011 23:12:00 +0000

Life is killing me softly,

slowly
in it's
ever reaching grip.
It uses time to take from
me and give back
never.

What are those things
that dreams are made of
impossible they seem
yet here I am
another day older
and nothing
but my dreams.

I live
I laugh
I love

I have that sense of doubt
yet life
it seems
to pass me by
a little at a time

Lessons learned
time unspent
It takes
It gives
In that I grow a debt.

I owe nothing
but what I borrow
I take nothing
unless I can give

In hope that
when my time comes,
in hopes that life can see.

Gone Swimming

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Thu, 31 Mar 2011 00:47:00 +0000

My dad went out to sea for the first time that I could remember when I was in the third grade. We lived in this apartment building in a small town in middle America, much like life is now. In the center of the complex was a pool. I loved this more than anything. I've always loved the water. I know I'm an earth sign, so I find this a weird thng, but oh well. It is what it is.

It was spring break. Of course it was cold, but I didn't care. The one thing I knew I wanted to do that week was dive into the pool and let it wash away all the crap that was going on in my life. It wasn't a gentle up bringing, that much I can tell you. Still, none of that mattered. I wanted to escape into the water and stay there as long as possible.

So I got up that morning, put on my swin suit. My heart beat so fast because I was so excited about it all. I could already feel the water rushing past me. I raced out the door and down the apartment stairs then made a mad dash to the pool.

Locked.

What?

Yes.

Locked.

Oh but I was smart and grabbed the key. See I told you I wanted to go. I even thought about it.

There I was, key in hand and all I could think was yes...the water is going to be so good. With great anticipation, I put the key in the lock. It was hard too because it didn't want to go in. I had it upside down...oops. I put the key in right and turned the lock.

Click.

Turn.

Squeak.

The door opened. I dropped my towel, took off my shoes and dove in. The cold sensation that surrounded my body felt like a milliion tiny needles. The water was freezing. I didn't care though. I stayed under as long as possible.

It was quiet, peaceful and perfect. See because under the water, I couldn't hear anyone yelling at me. I wasn't getting my head bashed in and I wasn't being told what a stupid girl I was. Under the water, I was a princess who lived in a land far away. That was the place I belonged. So I held my breath as long as possible. I held it until it hurt then held it some more.

Finally, I rose to the surface. Who did I see standing over me with a disgruntled look in her face? My mom.

"What are you doing, that water's freezing. Get the hell out of there and get your ass home."

"It isn't cold. It's perfect," I said.

I shoved my way to the center of the pool when she reached out to grab me by the head. There was no way I was going in the apartment with her in the mood she was in. Though I may not drown in the pool, there was a sure bet I was going to get a beating for being in it. I wanted to make it last as long as possible.

If there was one thing I remembered my dad telling me before he left it was this; "if you're going to get in trouble while I'm gone, just make sure it's worth it."

At that moment, I was sure no matter what I did, I was going to be in trouble, so I was going to make sure it was dam good and worth whatever beating I was going to get. Little did I know she had a new secret weapon.

Before she returned to the apartment, mom left me with these parting words. "You have to come home eventually and I'll be waiting."

Well wait then, I thought.

She was right. I had to get out and go home sooner or later. I decided to make it later, give her a chance to cool off. That didn't happen.

My stomach growled, I was so hungry. It was about lunch time and I had skipped breakfast.

She should be cooled off by now. Right? I was so wrong it wasn't funny. She had taken that time to put together the thing she was going to use to beat the crap out of me. Three wire hangers were wrapped together in formed into a loop.

You can imagine the fear that went throug my mind when she lifted that one in the air. Each strike with the new weapon felt like it struck a bone. My back felt wet again. I thought that maybe it was water dripping from my hair. I was wrong, it was blood. My shirt was now dripping with it. She had struck me long and hard. After a few blows, I passed out. I suspected she continued the beating for a while after that because when I came to, I was in the hospital. My arms were wrapped in bandages as well as my legs. I was laying on my stomach and I had an iv in my arm.

Alone. Scared. Hurt. I started crying. I didn't know what was going on. The last thing I remembered was being in trouble. I must have been whaling loud, because the nurse came in and began to talk to me in the softest kindest voice I had ever heard. I wasn't used to anyone talking to me in such a kind sweet voice.

"Shh, it's ok," she said.

"I want my daddy," I cried.

Another woman came into the room followed by a man. I was so confused and scared.

The man asked me, "Do you remember what happened?"

"I went swimming," I said.

"Anything else?" he asked.

I laid there for a minute and thought about it. I remembered every lash she gave me. The searing pain that filled my body and the sound of my flesh being ripped open from her new weapon. I remembered the hateful words she said to me. Tears streamed down my face. I didn't want to remember it anymore.

"I went swimming. No one said I couldn't," I said.

"Do you know who did this to you?"

I did. I knew exactly who did it. What would she do to me if I told them? Where would I hide if she came back? How long would it be before she got a hold of me again? So many questions I shouldn't have had to ask. So much fear that shattered me more than any of the beatings she ever gave me. That included this one.

I thought about my dad. "I will always stand by your mother."

He was out to sea. He couldn't help. Wouldn't help anyways.

"I don't know," I whispered.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I don't know anything."

I wanted to be back in the pool again. I wanted to feel the water rush around my body. I wanted to block everything out that had happened.

"I'm sure."

The nurse sent them out of the room. There were muffled voices outside my room. I knew one of them. It was her.

"What did she say?"

"She doesn't know."

"Can I see her?"

In she came. Her face looked sad but her eyes told a different story. The were cold...cold as the snow on the ground in a winter day. She looked down at me.

"I bet you come in next time," she whispered.

I looked at her. I knew I was angry. Not even an apology.

"Your life is in my hands," I said.

"What did you say to me?"

"You think I don't know that was a cop in here. I'm 9 not stupid. Say you're sorry. Tell me you're sorry you put me here."

The look on her face was one of shock. She took a step back. "I-I'm sorry."

She looked down at the ground and twirled her hair the way she did when dad yelled at her. She stood there, frozen in silence. I had won.

"Why didn't you ask to go swimmig?" she asked.

"You were asleep. I didn't want to wake you up."

"Oh," she said. Her voice had a nervous tone to it.

Still twirling her hair. She looked into my eyes. For the first time I could remember, she had a soft look on her face. Tears streamed down her face. She looked older, worn out and tired.

"I really am sorry," she said in just a whisper.

"Me to," I said.

She left the room that day. I expected her to return but she didn't. She never came back. I never knew if she was afraid of me or if she was afraid of herself. I do know my dad came home. He picked me up and hugged me when he reached the hospital. I cried and told him the whole story.

"I didn't know. God I didn't know," he cried.

He took me home that day. When he retruned to his ship, I was sent to live with my grandma. That was fine by me, she loved me more than anyone else ever had.

Restless Days

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Fri, 18 Mar 2011 13:53:00 +0000

There are sleepless nights
and restless days.
Many of which
have your face
shadowing my mind.
Your words
filling my heart.

The shutters of my soul
rest in the very knowledge
that you loved me once
and love me still.
Eyes open
I lay here
wondering
waiting
hoping
that time
will move swift.
Not because of you,
but because of me.
I don't want to disappoint.
oh how I hope
above all
not to let you down.
Let me down.
For those who
believe
go all the way.
So I lay here
in the shadows
of my sleepless nights
and restless days.
I lay here
and wait
while the hands of time
tick away.
Sleep.

The Uderlying Themes

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Tue, 15 Mar 2011 23:18:00 +0000

I AM WOLF

The underlying theme in this one is the duality of man. We all have good and evil inside us. It is often brought out through our actions. It is in those actions we should be difined by.

Ralph, my protagonist, is an already disturbed person when he comes across Tibolt's clan. He is a schizophrenic poacher who has an invisiable girlfriend. She is the reflection of what is going on in his psyche. With each change he goes through and every step he takes towards the darker side of himself, she changes. Those changes are often not so obvious in real society. I wanted him to show what evil is and can be.

The evil of this world is not always black and white. It's the little white lies we tell ourselves about our lives in order to make it bareable. For Ralph, his little white lies was simple. He was normal, it's everyone else who was crazy.

On the same token, I wanted my heros to be flawed. For this reason, Jonah is impetuious and angry. He is a teen in a new town. Even though he is from there, he doesn't remember it. I wanted to show that a hero doesn't have to be prefect. He just has to make better choices. He has to fight the darkness that is raging within his soul in order to kill that which he created.

THE KISS

This one is all about betrayal. There are so many levels of betrayal that affect us on a daily basis. Some of them we don't know about until it's too late. While others, well they are so obvious it's hard to miss them. Betrayal is something that should kill us, and yet we wake up the next day still feeling the scar. I think in a way it does. The cracks in the soul are never really repaired and the doubt that's created through the seeds are often more dramatic than the termoil that is going on around you.

In this book, my protagonist is a new comer named Cleo. She is a part of the moon clan known as the Shakya. The females of the clan have this uncanny ability to attract anyone they choose. It is from those seeds the vine of doubt sprouts from. I really wanted to explore the different levels of this single word through my characters. It is something I think we can all relate to.

We've all had friends who have betrayed us. We have all wondered if we are still sexy to our spouse. We have even told confidences we were not supposed to share. We have kept secrets from those we trust the most. Betrayal, it should kill us. I know I said that, but it really is true.

I wanted my hero in this to question his love for the girl in his life. Not because he really questioned it, but because an outside influence forced him to. Real love is never perfect. It is flawed because we are flawed. It holds onto the guilt we feel when we hurt those we love.

RENEWAL

The last book is about the renewal of faith. Faith in those around us and in ourselves. Faith in a power greater than ourselves. The whole of it all is simple. We often experience things without knowing why. Some of us learn and move on. While others fight an internal battle to free ourselves from that which has us.

My protagonist is the single entity behind all of the occurances. His name is Asmodeus. He is the demon king and the epitome of all evil. Even his love is twisted and tainted. That really is all I can say about this one. I have to write it still.

A little flash fiction from THE KISS, book 2 of I AM WOLF

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Tue, 08 Mar 2011 19:13:00 +0000

Twisting. Turning. Pulling. Blackness surrounded the clan members. A Crystal tree resting on the top of a mountain appeared in the distance. A million tiny bubbles of forgotten realms, each with a different scene floated by. They came to a bubble and were carried through a barrier into a whole new world. It was Cara’s wonderland. Her home in the night resembled a battlefield as though hell had opened up a small portal into her own mind.

I dedicated this to Piton Nv, the Hippie from FATE RADIO. The music he played while I wrote this inspired my muse in many ways. I wrote the rest of this chapter in a matter of minutes as oppose to hours. Thank you Kelly for your rockin morning show!!

An Excerpt from THE KISS book 2 of I AM WOLF

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Fri, 04 Mar 2011 15:52:00 +0000

Cleo’s Dream of New Years Day

The rolling hills and valleys captured the light in such a way it felt like heaven. Or at least what Heaven should look like. The mixture of yellows and greens and golds with bits of purple and pink tossed in made the valley look like that of a strange fairytale. The crops in the fields swayed in the wind. It set its own natural rhythm in the way all of nature did.

The laughter of children could be heard for miles around. The parade started the New Year off in the same hopeful tone it always did. Cherry Blossom petals floated the around joyous occasion as if they fell from the sky. The sound of fire crackers and music played in the background, alerted all to the presence of the Golden Dragon. Her long beautiful body swayed back and forth through the street, offering the gods her dance of good will and hope for the new year.

When the parade ended, the show started at the makeshift shadow theatre that was set up every year as a tradition for those who were far from home. A bright light shined in the background of the clouded screen. A scenery was painted along the edges for the delicate shadow puppets. The crowds took their seats while intricate music of flutes and pans played. The music stopped, letting everyone know it was time for the story to be told. A woman in dressed in an ancient robe with her hair pulled up in a soft bun began to play her pan. A small paper turtle puppet floated across the sky of the scenery, letting the people know it was a story from the time the turtle city could be seen floating across the sky. This year, the story was called The Tribes of the Moon.

As the music grew darker, the younger children could be seen covering their eyes in anticipation of what was going to happen next. The background light transformed from a bright white color to red then back to white. Small puppets of all the gods danced around the screen.

It is said, a demon named Asmodeus , the demon king, wanted to roam free on the world below so he took the body of a hunter whose heart was as black as his own. Asmodeus walked about the world in the body of the hunter and observed man in all his infinite appeal and love for violence.

Along his travels, he fell in love with a young girl in a village who was engaged to another. Asmodeus killed the man on their wedding night and sought her hand in marriage. Rather than live her life with a man she didn’t love, the girl threw herself off a cliff. Over come with grief and angered by the realization she never loved him, he decided to use his powers to enslave man.

The magical feel of the music softened allowing the movement of the puppet of Asmodeus lead the audience. A puff of smoke surrounded the Asmodeus puppet and like magic the puppet was now in the hunter‘s body. Gasps echoed through the audience at the small special effects. One little boy stood up and yelled, “Oh no” to the small stage.

With a crash on the drums, the music grew louder and more sinister again. The audience jumped when fire crackers sounded in the back ground while a wave of small army puppets marches across the stage. Asmodeus’s desire to control and enslave the people of the world grew with every conquest. His small army had grown and was threatening to take control of the emperor’s throne.

In a small pagoda on the right of the stage, the emperor kneeled in prayer to the Jade Emperor, pleading for help. The small puppets of the gods in the clouds once again floated across the stage when the music lightened. A single dancing puppet of the Monkey flipped across the clouds and knocked the Jade Emperor in the head. The whole crowd laughed and clapped. The music continued on as the Monkey King brought his hand to his ear. The prayer was intercepted by the Monkey King, the greatest prankster in all of Heaven. He jumped up and down in delight, at the thought of a small prank he could pull on man kind.

The light faded again to give the illusion of peering down at the world from above. The Monkey King called upon the single tribe of the Shakya clan and changed them into the Tribe of the Moon. The whole screen went black to show the full moon. Another puff of smoke combined with mystical music made the children once again echo joyful sounds of awe and wander.

At night when the moon was full, the people of the tribe who had reached the age of maturity changed into lions and lionesses. The Shakya clan fought a large battle against Asmodeus and his assassins and slave hunters. The whole country rejoiced when the demon known as the Asmodeus was driven away.

The Buddha took notice of the prank and the great sacrifice of the Shakya clan and appointed them as the warriors of justice. That should be the end of the story, but Asmodeus crossed the large body of water and landed on a new continent. Where the Native American’s of the land had just finished fighting the demon and the first of Tibolt’s clan was created.

When Asmodeus landed on the new land, The Great Spirit directed them drive out the evil that had invaded mother nature once again. The Buddha told the Shakya clan about the war that raged between Tibolt’s clan and the Asmodeus. Feeling like it’s their responsibility to defeat the Asmodeus, the Shakya clan traveled to the western world for the first time where they meet one of the other Tribes of the Moon, the wolf tribe known as Tibolt’s clan.

Together, the Shakya clan and Tibolt’s clan raged a war against the demon and his armies. In the end, the two clans were only able to trap Asmodeus into a cage that was sent to them by Buddha. The two clans celebrated on the night of victory. The two clans became one under the moon in the embracing ceremony.

With the beat of the Native American drums and the music of the pan, the two tribes stood side by side in honor and remembrance of all the great warriors that had fallen because of the demon. The shadow puppets graceful movements echoed the soft music as the two clans became one under the moon.

Once again, the lights faded out. When they appeared again, the scenery had changed to a small meadow where the puppet of a young girl by the name of Tai chased after the warrior Grey Ghost. The music grew sad as the warrior Tiokisan rejected her advances because he was in love with his wife. The two clans lived in harmony until the night of the next full moon. When Grey Ghost’s wife was attacked and killed by Tai in her lioness form, the same little boy stood in the audience and yelled at the lioness for her treachery. The enraged warrior set out to kill the lioness for what she had done to his wife.

The small puppet of the Jade emperor sitting on the clouds, yawned when he heard the cries of blood from the world beneath him and couldn’t be bothered. The whole audience cheered when the Monkey King, who had just learned about compassion, felt for the people and the suffering. He sent a scroll to the Jade Emperor with a plea for justice. The defenders of justice were the ones at fault. In his wisdom, he shot down the lioness and declared from that day forward, only those who were truly pure of heart were allowed to be considered for the gift of change into the mountain lion and lioness.

The stain of shame brought about by the Shakya clan was not unpunished. The whole clan was not allowed to return to China until the stain was washed away. The legend for tales of an impending war that will be raged in the future. The war will cleanse the stain from the Shakya clan, allowing all to return to their home land. On that day, the birds will fill the heaven’s and create a bridge across the ocean so they may walk home. The city on the back of the Turtle’s back will be seen again by all who believe and peace will reign among the Tribes of the Moon.

The audience cheered at the magical performance of puppeteers and the musicians who brought the myth to life. The Tribes of the Moon was one of Cleo’s favorite stories. Even though most of her heart didn’t know how much of the story was true, she had a strong connection to it because she was a part of the Shakya clan. Throughout time and history, her whole life had been reduced to a secret. It was taboo to even talk about the Shakya clan’s past. Still, all of it made her wonder if Tibolt’s clan was real, or if it was all some part of a story tellers dream.

Cleo woke up in her human form, naked and alone. She felt hope though because of her small visit to the story. She was certain she was being given a sign from the gods.

‘I must track down Tibolt’s clan. The wolf pack must still be out there.’

Letter to Mother Nature About her cruel child called Jack Frost

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Fri, 25 Feb 2011 21:03:00 +0000

Dear Mother Nature,

While I understand the need to go on vacation from time to time, I must in good conscious ask you this question. Is it necessary to leave Winter in charge? I mean really, Jack Frost has been nothing more than an unruly child with a very serious need for a time out.

I know we all raised our children as we see fit. However, mine do not feel the need to throw ice at my head nor do they feel the need to hold me hostage in my home while pelleting my house with snow.

We have a serious problem here and are in desperate need for your assistance. Please put Jack Frost in a long time out so that he may learn that everything doesn't need to be covered in ice and snow.

Though we humans do enjoy a bit of the fluffy white stuff covering the world. We do also miss the warm sun and your beautiful flowers. Please keep this in mind when you go on your next vacation.

Sincerely,

Joann (human)

HEART BEAT~~The Dance (cont'd)

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Sun, 20 Feb 2011 22:40:00 +0000

I looked into his warm deep earth green eyes. I wanted to yell at him for coming into my life. I wanted to say to him, "Why did you descend from the heavens in front of me?" I didn't though. I stood in the kitchen and waited for him to answer.

"I know you heard me, " I said. The images of him floating through the rays of light were like needles in my mind.

The words, ethereal to solid danced upon the razored edge of my mind where my own reality tried to cling on to existence. I knew what I saw and heard. He came from above and he knew my name.

He stood there calm, muscles relaxed with a bit of amusement on his face. I still wanted to scream because I knew I wasn't crazy. He moved across my kitchen floor like he was floating.

"I can't tell you," he said. "Once you know, there's no turning back."

"I'm not afraid," I said.

My heart pounded so hard and loud I'm sure it sounded like a Harley Davidson was sitting in the middle of my kitchen. Feelings of anger and desire exploded in my soul. Part of me wanted all the answers to my questions while the other part...well, it didn't care what the answers were. That part just wanted to feel his arms wrapped around me again.

"Elizabeth," he said.

"Yes," I asked.

"Can I have the water please?" he asked.

I didn't want to hear leave it alone. Why leave it alone. I knew what I saw.

"I'm not afraid you know. You can't be afraid of something if you don't believe in it," I told him.

"You don't believe in what?" he asked.

"Superstitious stuff," I told him.

He took my hand. "Close your eyes," he said.

Shocking images of a world unseen touched my soul in such a way that I shivered. I found myself standing in the middle of a mist. A fire imploded from the middle of the mist. A giant creature whose skin was the color of brazened brass and a wing span so large, I felt minuscule compared to it. It had the face of a lion and the hands of man. In it's eyes, I saw the world. Then the galaxy where our small planet resided in the stars.

Samuel wrapped his arms around my body causing my breath to leave my body. We stood a breath away and I, oh how I wanted to feel him even more. Streams of electric shock waves flowed through my veins. My body quivered.

"Is this what you want to know?" he asked. "Are you afraid now?"

I looked deep into his eyes. "I'm not afraid. I know you're a good person," I said.

"I'm not a person at all. I'm an angel. Now that you know, I mean really know. Your life will never be the same as long as I'm in it. I think it's best if I leave," he said.

He let me go. My legs barely able to hold up my body, I shook a little and tried to recover by grabbing my counter.

"Will I see you again?" I asked.

"I'll be around," he said.

He walked to my front door and walked out. He was gone in a blink, leaving me to contemplate all he had shown me. Was it all real? Did he just drug me and that was a bad trip?

Irulan, I didn't know then that there were forces so evil they could turn a soul to literal dust. I also didn't know the being I saw could swallow worlds. I knew evil existed. I mean the world was full of evil in the form of murderers, thieves and even more unimaginable human evil. The spiritual evil that existed, that was a whole other reality. My life was changed from the moment I watched Samuel descend from within the rays of light. I was never going to be the same. The dance between us began that day.

The Outsider By Jazzmyne Klear

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Tue, 15 Feb 2011 16:45:00 +0000

I'm proud to say this is my daughter. She is an awesome artist and now a poet. When she wrote this and showed it to me I almost cried. Thank you for letting me share this with the world. You are so talented. I love you girl!!

THE OUTSIDER
By Jazzmyne Klear

Help me if you can
It's just that this, this is not the way I'm wired
So could you please,

Help me understand why
You've given in to all these
Reckless dark desires

You're lying to yourself again
Suicidal imbecile
Think about it, you're pounding on the fault line
What'll it take to get it through to you precious
I'm over this. Why do you wanna throw it away like this

Such a mess. Why would I want to watch you.
Disconnect and self destruct one bullet at a time
What's your rush now, everyone will have his day to die

Medicated, drama queen, picture perfect, numb belligerence
Narcissistic, drama queen, craving fame and all its decadence

Lying through your teeth again
Suicidal imbecile
Think about it, you're pounding on the fault line
What'll it take to get it through to you precious
Go with this, why do you wanna throw it away like this

Such a mess. Why would I wanna watch you...
Disconnect and self destruct one bullet at a time

What's your rush now, everyone will have his day to die

They were right about you
They were right about you

Lying to my face again
Suicidal imbecile

Think about, you're pounding on the fault line
What'll it take to get it through to you precious
I'm over this. Why do you wanna throw it away like this
Such a mess, I'm over this, over this!

Disconnect and self destruct, one bullet at a time
What's your hurry, everyone will have his day to die
If you choose to pull the trigger, should your drama prove sincere,
Do it somewhere far away from here

Ascending with an Angel

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Mon, 14 Feb 2011 21:32:00 +0000

A soft glittering sprinkle of moon-light drifted in through the window where Kayla stood. She wore a light satin robe that just barely covered her shoulders. She lifted her hand to her lips trying to relive the long kiss she shared with the stranger from her dreams all the while wondering if he was even real. Her lips did feel like they had been kissed.

On her bed was a black bedspread with red sating embroidered paisley pattern. Giant pillows layered the head of her bed and a matching dust ruffle floated across the floor. The mocha colored walls in her room echoed shadows from the small Victorian lamp. The crystals that lined the lamp shade cast several rainbows on the walls around her.

Kayla walked back to her bed and laid down. Her mind blazed with images, trying to recall who the man was from her dreams. Every face she pictured gave her an empty feeling because she knew it wasn't him.

‘If it was real, where are you?’ she pondered out loud.

“I’m right here.” A deep sweet voice said.

A million shimmering tiny blue balls of light appeared before her. When the light faded, a tall man with eyes as green as the grass stood in front of her.

She sat up, holding her covers up to her chest. “Who are you?”

He stepped forward and sat on the edge of the bed. “I have been visiting you every night since I saw you standing by the fountain. You are the most beautiful mortal I've ever laid eyes on.”

Still unsure if what she was seeing was real, Kayla closed her eyes.

"Please be real," she whispered.

“Open your eyes,” he whispered back.

Hesitant, Kayla opened her eyes slow without looking up. She felt his finger beneath her chin pulling her head upwards. She looked up and saw a marvelous span of wings that glowed with the most beautiful golden light. Kayla took a deep breath in. She reached up to touch his wings. The tops of them were soft like the feathers of a bird. The tips of them were sharp as a razor. His skin was hot to the touch.

Kayla held her breath. “Are they real? Are you real?”

“Yes,” he said.

The soft glow from his wings ran up her arm. She felt a rush of warmth and excitement flash in her body. Lost in a trance, Kayla looked deep into his eyes and wavered a little. She had never seen anything so beautiful in her life.
He brought her hand to his lips. She brushed off the feeling of her quickening pulse. Electric. Hot. Soft.

“Why?” she asked.

“You felt me. No one ever feels me,” he replied.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“Nothing you don’t want to give,” he replied.

She looked deep into his eyes. There was a whole eternity of good and evil locked inside them. They held a wealth of love and even moments of deep pain. So much of everything…too much all at the same time. She leaned in towards him. ‘Are you real? Am I dreaming? You have so much love and danger locked inside your eyes.’ Her body quivered with excitement. Every pore had a longing to feel more of him.

He leaned in, they were a breath away. Her mind filled with want and desire. He closed in on her mouth. Such a sweet taste of honey and strawberries filled her senses. He kissed her neck hard and deep with passion. She moaned with joy and longing. He ran his hand along her thigh and she wanted more. With his mouth, he suckled her breast sending s streak of lightening through her very soul. When he came down on her, she was sure she was going to explode.

Both of them moved together, sending her deeper and deeper into the throngs of pleasure and pain. Her mind exploded with adrenaline and she raised up to cover his mouth again. Passion, more than she even knew, filled her body and she let loose all she had inside. Oh such sweet joy from the moment filled her soul. She never felt anyone like she felt him. She cried tears of joy from the pleasure he brought her.

He rolled over onto the bed. His body had a silver moon light sparkle to it. He kissed her once more, sending electric shocks of passion through her body. Such sweet wonderful joy was given to Kayla, one like she had never known. Her whole life she had been waiting for passion to take her away.

He took her by the hand and lead her off the bed then wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her off the ground. Together they flew out of the window. Soaring high into the night sky, Kayla looked down at the ground and for a moment, she felt small in the world.

The wind brushed through her hair from the flight. He took her higher and higher into the air and stopped just above the clouds. A whole other world surrounded her, covered in white. Kayla felt him staring at her. He stretched his wings out and they floated down towards her window. He placed her on the bed. She looked up at him.
“Will I see you again?” she asked.

“I'm always here,” he said.

The alarm clock went off at six am on the dot. She was sure it was all a dream when she opened her eyes. When she got out of bed to take a shower, a golden feather fell on the floor. Kayla sat down in shock with one thing on her mind.

‘It was real.’

Heart BeatThe Dance

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Fri, 11 Feb 2011 16:41:00 +0000

Sweet gentle snow fell like a million white feathers from the sky on the second night I had a run in with your father. There are no words to express how many butterflies raced through my body. He came up behind me when I was unlocking the door to my apartment. I jumped and dropped my keys when I heard the deep calm voice that sent an electric shock through my system.

Blushing. Embarrassed. Shocked. I turned around to greet the angel whose face and voice I couldn't get out of my mind. I chided myself on more than one occasion about this.

"Oh, it's you. Hello," I said in a cold voice.

What I really wanted to do was run into his arms, but I didn't. I played it cool. I knew what I saw and I didn't want to be reminded of how stupid I sounded when it came out.

"Yep, it's me," he said, bending over to pick up my keys.

His green eyes shined bright in the darkened night, so much so that I almost melted when I looked into them. I avoided eye contact for that reason. Instead, I fidgeted with the keys in my hand. I was so annoyed with the fact that I wanted to behave like a silly swooning school girl. How could I let myself fall for this man who wasn't a man? Why would he even want me? There wasn't anything special about me. I was short. I didn't have pretty blue eyes, nope, I had brown. I also didn't have that "grace" some other women had when they walked into a room. I was not someone an angel would be interested in.

"What are you doing, stalking me now?" I asked.

"No. I just wanted to see you again. We didn't end on a good note the other day," he said.

"Well, I know what I saw. So as long as you're willing to say it was all in my head, that's how it's going to be," I told him.

I heard my own voice yell in my head. What are you crazy? He's handsome. Sweet. Gorgeous and an angel so he probably can't or won't hurt you.

I ignored the voice and turned the key in the lock. "Well, it's cold out here. I'm going to go inside. Is there anything else?"

A smile formed on his face as if I amused him on some level. Thanking my lucky stars it was night, I blushed again. The fluffy snow blanketed my feet.

"I would prefer to talk in private. If that's ok with you?" he asked. His mannerisms were slow and calm.

I thought about it for a second. What could he tell me that I didn't already know and how would I know if what he said was true? A sense of self doubt filled my soul. I knew who I was and here Samuel was making me question my own instincts. I hated that more than anything else.

A chill filled my body and my teeth began to chatter. "Ok, fine. You can come in, but if you make one wrong move, I have to warn you, I have a gun," I told him.

He laughed at that, but stepped into the door behind me. I turned the light on and hung my coat up. My heart pounded so hard and loud, I was sure again that he could hear it. My mind fell apart for a moment. All I could thing of was what it would be like to touch his hand or have him hold me in his arms again like he had in the field the day we met.

He stood next to the door with his long black coat on without saying a word. For a second I thought maybe he was just unsure of what to do. I put my keys on the small antique table next to the door. The walked into the kitchen. "So, do angels eat or drink?" I asked.

A smile formed on his face, "I don't know about that, but water would be good," he said.

"Fine," I said. "Water it is."
"I'm not going to get you to admit you were just faint and passed out, am I?" he asked.

"No. It's just, I know I'm not crazy," I said.

"No one would believe you," he said.

"I wasn't going to say anything. I just need to know that I'm not losing my mind," I said.

He took a deep breath in and let out a sigh. "You have no idea what you're asking for. When you know, there's no going back and the evil that shows itself to you is worse than anything you can ever imagine," he said.

To be continued in a soon to be published version...I hope...

Heart BeatEvil Surrounds

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Mon, 07 Feb 2011 03:10:00 +0000

Like the morning sun, your eyes shined with a deep glowing love for life. Just looking at your perfect face and little hands filled me with such a protective force, I didn't want the nurse taking you for the normal tests. How could you have normal tests? There wasn't another child like you on the entire planet. Samuel went with you. What if you were never returned to me?

Just the thought of losing the two of you caused a deep ache to penetrate my body and I, oh how I cried. What should have been a moment full of joy fill me with more fear than I had ever known.

Samuel walked in with you coddled in his arms and then placed you in mine. He leaned in and kissed me on the forehead and still I cried. You slept while my tears dropped on your little blanket.

"They can't have you," I whispered when I kissed you on your small rosy cheeks.

Then he did what he always did when I cried. He kissed the tears on my cheek and whispered, "Shh, it will all be ok."

I looked up at him and smiled. What more could I do than that? The warning from the other angel flashed through my mind.

"We will come for her when the time is right."

"They can't have her," I said.

"I won't let them take her from us. I swear it on my life," he said.

The lights in the room dimmed. A swarm of black flies swirled around us. I covered you with the blanket on the bed to protect you. Samuel put his right arm towards the ground and a sword made of lightening stretched from his arm. He stood in front of our bed and raised it into the air.

"Adrianna, why have you come?" Samuel asked.

The flies swarmed closer together until they were so tight they formed the shape of a woman. Small patches of skin melted up from within her. She had a long, simple elegant black dress. Her eyes, shaped like a cat's in a deep red color were pale against her fire colored hair.

"I just want to see the little one for myself. I'm here to give her a blessing," she buzzed with millions of voices.

Almost floating, she took a step towards us and Samuel lifted his sword to her neck.

"Step back. There will be no blessing from you, Adrianna," he said.

The room grew cold fast. Icicles formed on the ceiling above the two of us. They sounded like wind chimes on a flower filled spring day.

"Don't," Samuel's voice was stern and full of force.

"Do you really not want my blessing?" she asked.

"A blessing from you would be a curse. You know I won't allow it," he said.

The bed we were in began to shake. Icicles formed over our head and I hid you beneath the blanket as if it would protect you like some sort of magical shield. I felt my face redden with anger. What was this thing in our room? Why did she think it was necessary to invade what little precious time we had with you?

The icicles that shook over our heads sounded like wind chimes. It was such a sweet, evil, alluring sound that clutched the strings in my heart and wouldn't let go. I was frozen in time, mesmerized by the shear sight of it all.

This was not an angel before me. A single word came to mind, DEMON. The evil thing wanted not just bless you, she wanted to anoint you with a drop of evil. Strange as that sounded, you were born a blank slate. You had a soul and you still had a choice.
Samuel held his right arm to his side. A bolt of lightening stretched out from his hand and formed into a sword. He stepped in front of our bed, placing himself between us and her. I watched in horror as she stepped towards him.

Can an angel be killed?

"Relax, I'm leaving. You can't always protect them you know," Adrianna said. "Oh, and by the way. I thought you should know the big man is watching."

"I know," Samuel said.

The body of the creature melted away allowing the flies to swarm again. I waved my hands over you, trying to make sure none of them landed on you. Our nurse opened the door, and all of the flies disappeared in a flash of light. I looked up at the ceiling to see if the icicles were still there. Gone. Nothing. Like she had never been there.

"We've been having issues with the lights today. Maintenance is working on it. I'm sorry if it has caused you any inconvenience or given you a fright," she said.

I looked at Samuel and laughed.

"We're fine," I said.

I opened the blanket I hid you under and saw that you were still sleeping. You had not been bothered by the evil that entered the room. You were not afraid. How I wished I could be once again ignorant to the true evil of the world. We are surrounded by it everyday and we don't see it. We are immune to the shadows that dwell on the souls of others. That or we are so used to it that it doesn't phase us. I don't know. What I do know is the fear I felt during Adrianna's visit was just a taste of what was to come.

It was then that I knew you were born to a destiny I would never understand. I knew you were created for a reason. The only thing I knew was I had to protect you from all the evil of this world and another. I didn't know if I was strong enough to go against the forces of evil, but I knew I was your mom and everything in my soul said you needed me. Though I'm nothing but a simple mortal, I would prove to be more of an annoyance to the powers that surrounded us than they anticipated.

Still my sweet little Irulan, there is so much more to tell you. So many things you need to know so you can maybe one day understand why we did what we did. It was the only way to save you. I just wanted you to know how important you to understand how much we loved you.

HeartbeatSamuel

noreply@blogger.com (Joann H. Buchanan) — Wed, 02 Feb 2011 22:04:00 +0000

Magical rays of sunlight penetrated the cloud covered sky on the day I met your father, Samuel. I was standing in the middle of a field with my camera taking shots of the most stunning sky I had ever seen. The rays of light glittered with a life of its own that was both haunting and beautiful at the same time. I was sure if I stepped into it I would be carried away to another world.
Like the gentle sun and just as surreal, he floated down through the light. I watched him transform from ethereal to solid and was overwhelmed by it. Sure it was all a hallucination and I was losing my mind, I passed out. Moments later I knew I heard my name.

"Elizabeth," he said. His voice sounded like a whispered breeze.

Let me stay. Don't wake me up. I love the dream I'm in. An illusion with grace and all that I had secretly longed for held me in his arms called my name. How was that even possible?

Afraid to open my eyes and see it was nothing more than a dream, I laid there while he said my name again.

"Elizabeth."

I was caught off guard by his beauty when I opened my eyes, His skin so pale, shimmered like a million tiny wet pearls dancing in the mid day sun. Eyes so deep and green they matched the forest. I saw myself in them and our future together. I couldn't help it. He helped me up. For a moment I felt my embarrassment over my simple human reaction to witnessing an angel float down from the sky.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

I held an unconscious breath while I waited for an answer. He stayed quiet for a moment. His face filled with hesitation.

"I was walking across the field and saw you pass out. Are you ok?" he asked.

"No, I saw you...you know my name," I said.

At this point I knew I sounded like a blathering idiot so I stopped talking. What if it was all in my head? The sky was beautiful and I was feeling a little light headed. Behind every logical explanation I gave myself was a tiny irritating mosquito buzzing around. It bit me with a single thought when it landed in my brain.

'I know what I saw.'

Oh how I hate those small itchy bites. They constantly nag and never go gently into the night. They fester, like all the other annoyances and doubts in my life. Still there was nothing I could say to make him tell me the truth. So I just smiled.

"I'm Elizabeth," I said, reaching my hand out towards his.

'But then you knew that.'

When he took my hand, I felt my lungs fill with a quick breath. His hand was so warm to the touch it almost burned. I knew in that single second I would never want to let him go. What an odd feeling that was for me.

"I'm Samuel. Good to meet you," he said.

My dear sweet Irulan, if I could explain the feelings of love at first sight and how it works, I would. All I can tell you is my heart melted the second I met Samuel. I remember getting angry with myself for thinking about him all the time. I mean really, I was never the kind of woman who loved someone the moment I laid eyes on him. I always had a wall and who ever it was I dated never seemed able to get past it.

My heart raced, pounding so hard against my chest I was sure he could hear it. Oh dear god the humiliation of it all. I felt my cheeks tingle with a blush and I couldn't help but smile even more.

He walked me to my car. Had I paid attention, I would have realized he didn't have one. I was so busy trying to figure out what to say next, that nothing about my surroundings dawned on me.

Irulan, if you only knew how little I believed in miracles and superstitions then you would understand why I had a hard time wrapping my head around how I met your father. He was an angel sent from above to make sure you were born. I don't know why I was chosen to be your mom. I just know he loved me too. So much so it made it impossible for us to be apart.

There's so much more and I promise to tell you. Just rest assured your father loves the both of us.