Imaginings

Ambrose

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Tue, 04 Jul 2017 14:04:00 +0000

The delectable taste of his lies were salty and sweet. Thirsty, I craved his rich Ambrosial both day and night. Savoring each word like a child when they first taste candy. Licking at the corner of his mouth, I caught each delicious drop, unaware of his tart nectar. Until he uttered a perfidy so bitter it soured my soul.

Copyright © 2017 Glynis Rankin

Comics Change

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Sun, 06 Nov 2016 23:01:00 +0000

I'm a Geek; I came of age in the 1970's during the bronze age of comics. Although the male dominated variety flooded the market, there were comics like The Black Widow, Wonder Woman, She-Hulk and Friday Foster.(Though they couldn't match my hero-worship of Pam Grier movies) This world was influenced by white male writers and cartoonist that catered to young white male readers. Their craft was a brotherhood that instilled a sense of virility in their young male counterparts.

Flash forward today. There is still this idea that only young white men are comic book fans. Comics and other forms like manga and anime hypersexualize women, but that could soon be changing.

Like much of the world, the industry is finally realizing that women make up more than half the world's population and 53% of comic readers.(According to market research from comics analysis site GraphicPolicy) The cause of the shift is clear. Before the1990's white male heroes dominated the story lines, but Millennials where looking for more diverse heroes. DC and Marvel listen and are trying to catered to those demands with comics like Marvel’s moon girl and others.

The blatant rape and horrible deaths of women characters marked a change for more women writers. Today there are a lot more female writers than ever before, reflecting the growing diversity of visual style, storylines, and characters.

The internet has allowed it to become cheaper and easier to buy and read comics from home. Independent comics on the Web have always been populated with confident female heroes. Now these upstarts receive just as much attention from the Fandom as the big-male dominated brands like DC and Marvel.

Some (male) fans might feel threatened by the possibility of not being the center of the comic universe. Hey, there's not some kind of agenda at play here guys, it’s the industry realizing that women, people of color and LGBTQ have a place in this world.

Finally comic writers and cartoonist have recognized that their audience shouldn't be shewed toward white men. And that there’s enough room in this universe for everyone.

Perspective

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Sun, 11 Sep 2016 06:20:00 +0000

You make it all wrong, you make it all right

The minute you're gone, the minute you're back

You stared into my mirrors, saw my darkest features

When I tried to get a grip, they held on to me.

It was you that pushed them away

When you came on the scene

You make it all wrong, you make it all right

The minute you're gone, the minute you're back

I'm more shadow than substance, intercepting light

You broke through the darkness, illuminating my life

You make it all wrong, you make it all right

The minute you're gone, the minute you're back

Thin Air

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Wed, 14 Oct 2015 00:35:00 +0000

Silent whispers

drift on a breeze

Remembered daydreams

You're everywhere and nowhere

Again I climb
this mountain of fears for love,
against turbulent winds

Blinded to its trappings I ascend, beyond the cairns
of my brokeness

Believing my heart
will mend as I transcend
scorn and pain

Yet, every memory
of every embrace
and heartache
corrupts the atmosphere

I falter

The air is thin
where love is denser

My every breath is filled
with the essence of you
It's choking the life out of me

Copyrights © 2015 Glynis Rankin

Safe Harbor

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Fri, 23 Jan 2015 03:27:00 +0000

The fog rolled in like the tail end of Miss Havisham's dress, chocking the harbor in a grey mist, chilling the night’s air. Michael stood on the deck of the ferry staring in awe at the creeping cloud. Although strong drink stole his balance and slurred his speech, Michael's a man of the sea. His skills were sure and his vision sharp as he navigated the Cape. A man both gifted and cursed, like his forefathers, he saw what rose from the fog each night. The Leusden ran aground in 1738, yet her crew still searches for their safe harbor.

To find out more about the Leusden

© Glynis Rankin

Sin Offering

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Sun, 18 Jan 2015 20:10:00 +0000

The shimmering tide shadow dances with the late April wind. While a halo surrounds the setting sun in a milky veil within the monochromatic skies. I stood alone on the beach on this late afternoon, barefoot in the cooling sand, as my thoughts consume me. The sea, she beckons me with her rhythmic motion to feel her icy touch. So I wander in hip deep as a piece of driftwood passes, mocking my sin offering.

Seven

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Sun, 18 Jan 2015 19:59:00 +0000

The night was cold as the rain came down in sheets. Yet, I couldn't feel anything but the pain in my heart. The cloud of breath rushed from my mouth to her's willing life to return, but it was useless, she was dead.

On my knees in the middle of nowhere with no cover wasn't the best place to be, but I wouldn't leave her alone. Number 7, was the only female of our group and last one of our kind. We came here to help both species. They should have celebrated our arrival instead they feared us.

Two shots rang out in the night. One caught me in the shoulder the other hit Seven in the chest. Had they known, if only they'd listened. Seven was their only hope of survival, these primitive earthlings had. Now both species were doomed.

My Brother's Enemy

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Mon, 12 Jan 2015 02:33:00 +0000

They're as different as the moon is to the sun, twins in more ways than one. Hatred and love bind them to their love of Belle. Years ago, they'd left her for dead in their war torn village in Uganda. The brothers sought comfort in their shared pain, allowing it to strengthen their fractured brotherly link. But now that she's returned to them with forgiveness in her heart, they've turned their backs on sibling love and attaches hate to the one who chases after the love they both desire.

Open Window

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Sun, 11 Jan 2015 23:32:00 +0000

She stood in the shadows as the crowd gathered. Their hushed shock drifted up like a dark cloud from the busy streets as the deformed body of Claude Richardson lay face down on the pavement, a life of wantonness and deceit ending brutally.

The artist was almost too charming to kill.

She’d played the role of his dream woman to get close enough to elegantly dispatch him — with a push out the open window.

She turned from the gruesome, marking him from the list.

She walked past the crowd, climbed the stairs to the train heading southbound on route 66.

100 words

Dancer

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Sun, 11 Jan 2015 22:58:00 +0000

Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Shaman Kingeye sat with the elders of the Paint Clan watching the girl as she performed the sacred ceremonial dance.

Aylen moved step by step to the beat of the drum, in the way her mother taught.

“Stop!” The keeper of the mystics went to her. “No wonder you’re open to the Witchery Way, you don’t believe your ancestral history.”

The first time she heard Skinwalker, Aylen thought it a joke, but the night she Turned proved otherwise. Their connection to the ancestors and Mother Earth was paramount.

“No wonder your spirit wanders.”

“I believe!”

“Then dance like you do!”

100 words Flash

Copyright © Glynis Rankin

Rain

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Sat, 10 Jan 2015 21:45:00 +0000

The clouds

Suddenly turned gray,

Darken my sunny skies

The wind gusted.

I hid in anticipation

Of the tension

In his downpour

Thunder roared and lightning struck,

Quaking my insides

But it was the rain,

My bane, that

Chilled me to the core.

Pitter, patter,

It came down

Peppering me

Brown with its pattern

I don’t know why

I even try

There’s nothing here

To keep me dry

So it rains on me

But I don’t want to be here

Crying bitter tears

Because of his fears

This ain’t right

I’m not a woman, rife

I’m tired of this strain

Time to stop

His precipitation

In my life

New Dawn

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Tue, 06 Jan 2015 18:30:00 +0000

He walked the streets for unrealized hours, while darkness enclosed him in melancholy. Gripped in anguish, heart rendered, broken, torn. The morning greeted him, an orange ball ablaze, scattering gray-blue skies. The new dawn ascends, burning away the night of his heartache.

Copyright © 2015 Glynis Rankin

Carpe Diem Haiku Kai #642/ Sacred Rope

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Mon, 05 Jan 2015 21:57:00 +0000

Sacred Rope

Weathered hands twisted

basil tied for drying

Enjoy, savory dish

Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

Carpe Diem#641/ Onna-bugeisha

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Sun, 04 Jan 2015 22:27:00 +0000

Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

mikatan.goodsmile.info

Onna-bugeisha

Sweet on the spring wind

Cherry blossoms fell. On her

Harugi, blood dripped

My haiku is for those little known women that fought alongside their samurai brothers to protect their homes, families and honor in time of war.

Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

The First Sun #640/Welcomed

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Sun, 04 Jan 2015 21:48:00 +0000

My New Year's resolution is to hopefully write more this year. Wish me luck!

I hope you'll enjoy my first Haiku of 2015 inspired by the prompt from Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

Welcomed

Winter's gray, fleeing

Heavy laden birch, golden.

First Sun, welcomed

FreePhotoz.net.

***

Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

Creating Beauty

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Fri, 02 Jan 2015 02:46:00 +0000

en.wikipedia.org

The aroma, rich environment buzzes, as the morning rush waits for the Baristas’ artistry. He knows she watches as he manifests, with skill and patience, his latest creative wonder. Her beautiful face. Now is not the time for his hand to shake.

42 words

Picture it & Write/ The Price of Freedom

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Mon, 29 Dec 2014 22:21:00 +0000

Picture it & Write is a creative writing exercise that invites people to join in with their paragraph of fiction to accompany the picture prompt. It can be a story or a poem, but write how you are inspired.

Original image on abandoned-places.com.

The sky had turned a lovely orange tint as the sun’s slow trek made the dark room take on an eerie color. Lydia fought back her panic as the smell of mold and mildew stole her breath. Robear had asked her to come down to the basement. She took the spiral stairs instead of the ladder he offered. She saw the worn step in time before it caused her to fall and easily avoided the pitfall. His ruse botched Robear had no other choice, he grabbed her in his rage. “You’re too independent for your own good,” he sneered. She scratched and clawed until she broke free. They fell to the ground. She thought he would finish what he started, but saw he had broken his neck on the last rung of the ladder. Lydia wondered now, as she stared at the evening sky, had she still lived in India would she have defiled her brother's rule.

Thank you.
Why not add your story

Copyright © 2014 Glynis Rankin

Friday Fictioneers/ Rebel with a Cause

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Sat, 13 Dec 2014 21:04:00 +0000

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictionerss challenges writers to write a complete story from being, middle and ending in 100 words or less, from the prompt picture. I'm taking her up on her challenge.

“ Do you know this woman?”

Elizabeth Snow’s bloody body, lay before me as I stood between the detectives.

I could still feel her hand on my knee, the day I hacked into the global health care network for her, so she could find a way to kill Cendercorp’s CEO for his crimes against humanity.

Cendercorp announced yesterday that they’re holding Elizabeth in connection to his murder, so how did she get here, in the middle of nowhere.

I knew Cendercorp couldn’t trace my hack, yet I felt guilty for turning my back on the woman of my dreams. “No.”

Join the fun. Friday Fictioneers

This is a revision.12/15/2014

Copyright © 2014 Glynis Rankin

Five Sentence Fiction/ Ability

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Sat, 13 Dec 2014 17:54:00 +0000

Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist. Each week Lillie McFerrin post a one word inspiration and asks you to write a five sentence story based on the prompt word.

This week’s word: TRUST

Irene stared at the miniature ripples pulsating in the shallow bowl in front of her, thinking, living near an airport has its advantages; the roar of a 757 engine overhead, drowned out her thoughts of failure at regular intervals; her effort to affect a ripple in the water, a quieter medium, hadn’t been successful.

“You need to trust in your Ability,” her mother said, rested an encouraging hand on her shoulder while the other drifted into the water bowl, bringing to life a water orb shimmering with a rainbow of colors redirecting the orange glow of the evening sun.

She’s almost eighteen and it hasn’t kicked in yet, although she knew it was rare, it’s getting late for her to achieve the Ability to manipulate the elements; her seven year old sister mastered water play years ago and rubs it in her face every chance she got.

Irene felt the impulse from her mother to try again, so she blocked out the sounds of incredulity that crept into her head each time she tried to bring forth power, and focused on the water, it’s clear, supple design, the matrices of elements, even down pass their nucleus to the life force of everything.

It’s there that Irene beseeches power, suddenly the water bubbled, stirring ripples which brought to life tendrils of water that rose from the bowl, twisting like fragile, glassy snakes reaching out in all directions; she didn’t want to lose her hard earned concentration and success to rejoice with her mother when she yelps with joy, so Irene asked the tendrils to surround her mother in a rainbow.

Scribe's Cave Picture Prompt#50 / Igor's Monster

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Thu, 11 Dec 2014 01:45:00 +0000

Scibe's Cave Picture Prompt is a flash fiction challenge. The world limit is 50-200 words. This week's challenge is the picture below.

I stood in awe of nature’s display as light and fire illuminated the laboratory and thunder rattled the glass.

“Bring him down, Igor,” my master yelled over the clamor.

I obeyed, grabbing the chain pulley. The steel bit into my flesh, as the large table descended from the rafters with lightning bolts.

Excitement and apprehension, radiated off my master. After all, he’s trying to recreate life.

Anchoring my deformed body against the weight, I managed to settle the table with ease.

While I waited in the shadows, my master listened for signs of life.

“No!” He threw the stethoscope across the room.

I remained cloaked, afraid of becoming the bloody consequence of his failure. Instead, he said, walking away,“ Clean this up!”

The creature was a man in proportion, his feature beautiful, if you consider yellow, shriveled skin, and black lips, beauty. Yet, I wanted him to gain life.

I tinker with devices other than doctoring. Perhaps, I thought, touching my tools. Hours later, the task complete, I heaved the creature to his perch, allowing nature to do what man could not.

When the table returned, I saw the blinking of his dun-white, watery eyes.

“It’s alive!” I ran to get the master.

100WCGU/The Trek

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Tue, 09 Dec 2014 03:45:00 +0000

100WCGU is is a weekly challenge for those who are over 16 and enjoy challenging themselves with writing.You have 100 words (or the number that have been set for that week) plus the prompt to write a creative piece. I hope you enjoy my story this week.

The sun shone brightly as we wandered through the forest in the cold. The only sound was the cracking, of our footsteps, as we trod through virgin snow.
“How much further?” I asked excited.

“Just a bit.”
The warmth of Calvin’s hand warmed mine, as we trekked through wilderness.

He woke me early saying he had a surprise for me.

“What is it?”

“You’ll see, but first get dressed.”

He led me to a clearing where mistletoe filled the trees. “Oh, they’re beautiful!”

Those special berries gave us a unique Kissing Bunch, but Calvin made it special when he proposed.

Thank you
I hoped you enjoyed my 100 words. Check out other 100 word stories here, or share yours.

Picture it & Write/The Rings of Transcendence

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Sun, 07 Dec 2014 22:51:00 +0000

Picture it & Write is a creative writing exercise. Each week the ladies challenge writers to write a paragraph of fiction to accompany an image. The picture belongs to Diamblond. This is my contribution to the prompt.

Resin stacking rings by daimblond

Shaman '4Fearthers' stood before us, a shining light of wisdom. “The teachings of my people have brought us here to this place of change. It's with a heavy heart that I ask the Ascended Masters to choose who will receive a ring.”

I looked down the single row at the five apprentices. For years we were a family, exploring our souls in the company of 4Feathers, our Spirit teacher. We learned how to journey into the lower and upper ‘Spirit Worlds’, met our power animals, plant allies and spirit guides. Found beauty, peace, and the ability to heal others and the World while working with the chakras, colors and aura. We even develop our seven non-physical senses to retrieve power lost through the ages.

Initiated by the Spirit, we were strangers who grew and blossomed as human beings and bonded as sisters. Now we’re at odds, each desiring one of three rings of Transcendence.

I felt the growing tension in a place of peace. This wasn't right, we should all have a ring. I stepped out of the line to the gasps of my sister's.

"Master, I choose for them." I said and walked away.

A warm breeze cooled my skin as I sat under an aged oak feeling relieved of a burden I didn't know I owned. I closed my eyes, using Shamanic journeying, I explored the vortex of my future.

I saw myself adrift in the world, a spirit in the land of the living.

When I opened my eyes, 4feather stood before me. His gray eyes stared into mine, smiling, as the weight of a ring rested firmly on my finger.

"What is this," I asked, confused.

"They have accepted your sacrifice daughter."

Friday Fiction/ Touched

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Thu, 04 Dec 2014 03:46:00 +0000

Janet Webb

It always starts this way.

The aroma of apple blossoms drifts faintly through the window where Pam stands watching the soft sway of the tree. Fear rockets when the door squeaks.

She’s in danger, but by whom, and why?

Pam cocks the gun at her side as the moonlight divulged the shadow skulking into her room. Pam faced the figure. “Not this time. Never again Daddy!”

She fired.

Pam woke with a start.
“You’ll remember, give it time.” The doctors had said.
The ghoul that haunts her night,is the vapor of memory that occupies her day, but she remembers RED.

Glenn's Opus

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Sun, 30 Nov 2014 23:51:00 +0000

Glenn sat on the wooden beach nearest to the water fountain in the park. It’s the perfect view to admire the children at play, he thought.

He sat happily basking in the sun when a man, wearing two pairs of glasses, sat down beside him.

Glenn smiled. “The world is one big symphony,” he said, “Don’t you think?”

The man didn't respond, just wrung his hands while he watched the children playing on the merry-go-round.

"Take this beautiful autumn day." Glenn raised his arms. “It’s the fourth movement in an intricate symphony of colors, textures, and patterns, that we call our seasons.”

The man cut his eyes at Glenn.

Glenn moved closer to him. “Listen to the tempo of the water fountain, the one, two, three, count of its rhythmic drops. Add the harmony of two birds singing with the laughter of children, even the silent hush of the wind as it stirs the leaves. It’s all one elaborate musical composition.”

The man moved away, frowning, Glenn stayed with him.

“You hear the tune?" Glenn hummed a soft melody. “Feel its rhythm vibrating through the wood; one, two, as if a child's heartbeat."

The man, shaking a nervous leg, moved further away. He looked around the almost vacated park as if looking for help. "What's wrong with you?" the man asked.

Glenn ignored the question while he continued his rant about some ambiguous sound.

"Most can't grasp its form, but for those like us." He raised a brow toward his bench mate. "Who knows that it takes time and patience to achieve one great symphony, it's magical.”

The man turned toward Glenn so fast that the two sets of glasses jostled against his chest like jewels, while color rushed from his red face. He spoke. “You think you know me?”

Glenn shook his head. “No, not me." He moved closer, keeping his voice low. “But your four neighbors do.”

"What?" the man gasped.

He began to stand, but Glenn grasped his arm to halt his movement. “Bad business that, mate."

"Let me go."

"And deny the people that paid me to compose a pervert's scream into today's symphony, I think not.”

The flash of the blade sparkled in the man's eyes as two quick jabs ended the deviant's terror in the neighborhood. His shocked gasp added a beautiful, cantata to the composer's opus.

The man wheezed his last wet breath as Glenn leaned him against the side of the bench.

Glenn stood with a smile and walked through the colorful fall leaves, humming a lovely tune.

As usual, only he heard the final score of his opus.

Five Sentence Fiction~ Wheels

noreply@blogger.com (glynis rankin) — Thu, 25 Sep 2014 02:24:00 +0000

Five Sentence Fiction Challenge: write a five sentence story based on the prompt word.

This week’s word: WHEELS

The pirates of the Night Rambler celebrated finding a King’s treasure, but the Captain abstained. He went to the lower levels of the ship, avoiding the ballast and slimy, reeking water and around large wooden victuals casks.

“Avast, me proud beauty, it’s time we left!”

The frighten woman peeked out from behind a cask, “ Is it safe?”

“Arrr,” The pirate left his ship with both treasures under the night’s shadows while a fuse burned next to the ship’s wheel.