Monthly Archives: August 2012
The full moon cast a shimmering path across the sea and I stared at the gentle waves with longing in my heart. My hair hung in matted clumps, the salt-stiff weight pulled on my neck. My skin itched and cracked, begging for moisture, but I could not return home, not yet.
I crept from my hiding place amidst the shadows of the trees and stood in the open , scanning for any signs of movement. The soft lap of water on sand soothed my ragged nerves as I walked across the beach toward the ship which held the man in chains. Continue reading
It’s week six and the story is still going. It’s the longest one yet and I hope you’re still having fun. You can click the following links to re-read the previous chapters: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5. Thanks for reading!
I couldn’t very well go marching in the front gate, naked and unannounced, so I crept along the seaward side of the castle. Moisture slicked my palms as I pressed against the stone walls, sliding slowly, trying to avoid the eyes of the guard making his rounds on the wall above.
The protruding curve of the opposite tower seemed a mile away, but I made it in a handful of minutes. When I rounded the corner I had a clear view of the distant harbor. A harbor full of immense floating vessels bobbing on the waves like sea birds in repose. Continue reading
Eager hands accepted our offerings as we returned home fueled by adrenaline and hope. No one asked any questions, they were too busy filling their mouths, and their empty stomachs, to care where the food came from. No one, that is, until we reached the heart of the reef.
Intricate plotting, beautiful writing, and impressive characterization weave together to make Kushiel’s Dart an unforgettable story. An epic fantasy which draws you in slowly and sets its hooks deep, making you feel as if you’re reading about friends or family … Continue reading
Crates and barrels were stacked atop each other, covering nearly every inch of the hard-packed dirt floor. Stepping deeper into the room I let my fingers slide along the rough surface of what the land dwellers called wood.
My hand jerked away and I cried out as a sharp pain pierced one finger. Imalia moved closer with the light and I turned my hand over to find a sliver of wood embedded in my skin. A bright red bead of my own blood welled from the point of entry. With the nails of my opposite hand I extracted the splinter and set it carefully atop the offending crate lest one of us step on the sharp point later.
In a matter of hours last week I read the book Night by Elie Wiesel. Night is the powerful story of Elie’s experience in Auschwitz and Buchenwald during World War II. It is a personal and powerful account, and quite honestly he could have published one sentence, “I survived Auschwitz.” and I would call it amazing.
What I found most fascinating, and terrifying, about Night was the author’s honesty and understanding of the human psyche in this brutal situation. Continue reading
“What if they find out we’re mermaids? My brother said that they would torture us and never let us return to the water.” Imalia’s voice shook slightly as she spoke.
“That’s ridiculous,” I scoffed, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt. “How would they know? As long as they don’t see us getting in or out we’ll be fine.”
My friends contemplated this in silence as we sped through the dark ocean waters. Continue reading