Hiya everyone! Happy July 1st, or as I know it as since last year, National Indie (and Small Press) Pride Day! =D This is a day to celebrate all the amazing indie and small press authors out there and all their beautiful works, passion, and hard work. We are a great community and taking the world by storm! Share the love and hashtags! #indieprideday #indiebooksbeseen
To celebrate, I will be uploading OFTEN TODAY on my social medias. We will have exclusive excerpts from all my works, including sneak peeks of “Spirit Vision 3: The Power of Mortals” AND my new story, known as “Project H & B” for now. I am also GIVING AWAY a digital copy of “Spirit Vision,” “Fallen Star Dust,” and two signed “Spirit Vision” bookmarks that are not set to release until October for “Spirit Vision 3!”
I get to hang out with my writing girls, Morgan and Kate, today too for a Writing Day! We will be sending some updates, with some silliness, there too on my medias!
Want a chance to win an e-book copy of my works, “Spirit Vision” and “Fallen Star Dust” ALONG with a shout out on my August blog AND be the first person EVER to own the first to bookmarks in the second set of “The Spirit Vision series” bookmarks (they will be signed of course)? They are making their first appearance at this party for Indie Pride Day!
You get ONE entry for each of the following you do (so, if you do all six, you get six entries):
- Like my Facebook page,
- Follow me on Twitter,
- Follow me or one of my boards on Pinterest,
- Subscribe to my Youtube Channel,
- Subscribe to my shared Youtube Channel with author Dan Wright, Moon Panda Power,
- Leave a comment somewhere on my website or blog:
My giveaway is also apart of “The Sick Rose Vampires” paranormal/supernatural post for Indie Pride Day! Check their site out here!
Check out on my media today bios on myself, some characters, and playlist links to get your writer’s juices pumping! 😀
Excerpt from “Spirit Vision:”
Chapter #4 sample
“You two have a special bond. It must be magnificent to have such a great little brother.”
I looked at the floor, taken aback that I had not pictured my relationship with Link that way. It was nice how Maren saw the good in everything. “I guess, sometimes…”
She laughed like a fairy. “Do not act so tough. You do not have to be like Umbra to impress him.”
I jumped five feet back, my face still red. “Why would I want to impress that loser?!”
“I heard that!”
I spun around. There was Umbra, leaning against my bed post. He must have been there the whole time! I was not sure how he hid his presence, but he seemed delighted with my surprise.
Maren tightened her lips into a line, her eyes darting between us nervously. It reminded me of the fairy tale where the maiden hiccupped jewels and she made that face to hide them in her mouth. Poor Maren was going to have sore cheeks if Umbra and I kept this stare down.
“That thing you call a little brother? He’s not human. What is he?” he stated brusquely.
I was getting cross at his lack of social courtesy. “He may be different, but he has an imagination and character! Don’t misjudge him!”
Umbra smirked. “No wonder he’s weird. He’s related to you.”
What an utter a-hole! “Shut up!” I yelled to defend my relative.
Another twisted laugh came out of his mouth. “Is that the best you got, weak human?”
I didn’t care if it wasn’t ladylike; he was going down by my punches!
Maren sat on the bed, staring at us calmly despite the tension in the air. “Please, stop this! We must work together! Now, shake hands and let us start telling Stary what she needs to know Umbra!”
Umbra and I were surprised, our faces frozen, perfectly matching, as we interrupted our fight to consider what Maren had said. Maren wiped a bang away from her sky blue eyes, sitting there smugly with poise, waiting for us to shake hands. Umbra started coming toward me, getting really close, which made me strangely panicky.
He offered his hand, turned his head away from me, rushing. “Only for Maren.”
I looked at him. His face was a little cherry. Nevertheless, I nodded, my mouth agape. We shook hands, but it was more like moving air. I could see I was shaking it, but couldn’t physically feel it. Yet I felt some kind of warmth. Even more puzzling was the fact that I knew that warmth, but I couldn’t place how. I bet it felt strange to him as well. I almost (big almost) felt bad for him.
We let go immediately, realizing what we were doing and refused to glance at each other. My face was hot again, and his was still ruby-colored. Maren patted my queen-sized bed. “I am so happy now!”
I sat next to Maren as Umbra leaned against my bed post again, trying to look hip.
“I guess I will tell the story Umbra. You add in anything you want, okay?” Maren sounded like she had been preparing for this moment her whole afterlife.
He bobbed his head. His face was covered in darkness, a shield, but his eyes were shining a bit. I bet he did really want my help, but when he turned his head away from me with a grimace, I began to think that maybe he didn’t after all.
“You see Stary, as you know, I ‘disappeared’ three years ago, right? It said that in your newspaper’s cover page article.”
I nodded, my face searching Maren’s for the answer.
“Well, I was actually killed,” she said like she was reliving the pain, choking on the horror.
I interrupted, finally able to express my outrage from earlier in a violent, instant fume as I stood. “Who would do such a cruel and evil thing to you?! Don’t worry. I’ll do whatever I can to make them…”
Maren only bowed her head. Umbra came toward me, smiling a little, but it was not cruel or mocking. It was almost…kind.
“You don’t even know the whole story yet and you’re willing to help until the end? I sort of respect that. You may have guts after all, kid.” He patted my cheek ever so slightly before walking back to his post. I was still, struggling to form words.
Maren lifted her head up like it was made of lead. It dawned on me why Umbra gave me that gesture. Maren was upset and Umbra was letting her have some time to recover since my loud mouth didn’t help. No matter the motive, I was flattered and a little scared at his touch.
“Thank you Stary, but Umbra has a point. You do not know the whole story and you really need to.”
I sat down and allowed her to start, giving her my full attention.
“Everything in that article was true, except my grandfather did not work for the Angriff Squad. They wanted him to, but he made his inventions for the love of making something and the thirst for knowledge, the good of science, not evil wars like they wanted to use them for.”
Umbra’s fists began to tighten up and his eyes blazed with emotion. I heard him mumble something like, “Why couldn’t they just leave them alone?” His eyes then switched emotions and became sad and childlike. I had an urge to go to him, but Maren placed a hand over mine, forcing me to stay and listen.
Excerpt from “Spirit Vision 2: New Beginnings:”
Chapter #8 sample
Principal Sea smiled broadly to us and announced the senior Stu-Co had some words of encouragement for us. Some claps were scattered around the gym, leaving awkward echoes in their wake. One of the girls who had been with Umbra, a tall Amazonian beauty with platinum hair, got the crowd pumped by repeatedly asking us if we were going to have a great year. The boys ate this up like hummingbirds to sugar water. Chloe huffed under her breath, annoyed by this girl’s tactic. I was too busy looking for Umbra, so focused on my personal mission that only certain words entered my ears… “Cheerleading…,” “Fight…,” “New…,” “Welcome…”
Chloe gasped beside me, causing me to avert my wandering eyes in her direction. Her hand was over her mouth, her eyes in shock. I noticed Rin and Lauren at the opposite side of our row and they were staring towards the stage, anger set in their eyes although their mouths were in the shape of capital O’s.
Curious, I looked forward to see the other four girls who were talking to Umbra earlier by the curtain on the left side, tugging on an arm. They were dragging someone on stage who had no interest in being on it. That didn’t make sense why my friends had such horrified expressions. As the girls continued to pull, the Platinum Amazon spoke and with my mind wanting to solve this mystery, I focused on her words.
“We always have many new students at our beloved PHS and we figured we should honor them and make them feel super welcomed. We have received a wonderful new student, a volunteer, who is kindly here to help us show the world how accepting PHS is! Come on Knights! Let’s welcome our guest and fellow PHS student!”
The crowd began to hoot and holler at almost a rave level. Chloe was staring at me with misty eyes, eyes I’ve seen before. These were the eyes I used on her when I had to tell her Mark was moving! At this realization, I was on high alert, glaring the stage down like it was a threat just when the mystery new student was fully exposed in the corner of the stage.
It was Umbra.
My mind was trying to connect the dots, but the image kept changing with every new question or concern that skidded across the surface of my brain. My eyes absorbed Umbra, frozen to his spot on the stage, rubbing his right arm with his left almost bashful like, but his face was a perfect cocktail of embarrassment, confusion, and alertness. He was now wearing a white long sleeve shirt that was near see-through and it was tight. Tight tight. I mean, Umbra wears his clothes tight, but he can still move. This was like if I expected my shirt from second grade to still fit me! It showed off all his muscles, every well-sculpted crease. I supposed the audience saw them too for the girls were cheering for him between each pause the Platinum Amazon took.
As she continued to drone about how kind Umbra was, how amazing at track he was, and how intelligent he was, proving that knowing all this stuff meant that they were a supportive student council for their last year attending PHS (it’s called being a creepy stalker honey!), the other lionesses in human form approached Umbra and slowly began to touch him. The crowd was ignoring the Amazon, but her smirk proved that this is what she wanted, attention with the handsome, out of this world new boy. If she only knew…
The background girls began stroking his arm lightly, slowly, lingering around his muscles, trying to entice my love. A flick of his ear here, a lean on his shoulder there, messing with his hair affectionately was only the start of this somehow acceptable display. The boys in the wave of students were about to either stab Umbra with dagger eyes or were as green as slim, envious he was getting all this attention. Poor Umbra was frozen in place and his face was a look I had never seen before on him: pure terror. I wasn’t sure if he just didn’t understand what was happening, not sure how to stop this without using his powers, or the fact he was so afraid that his mind was lost. The girls managed to push him closer to the center stage with effort. The crowd cheered more, the Platinum Amazon clapped as she continued her rant, and the evil looks I was getting from Chloe, Lauren, and Rin, told me so much: they wanted to murder Umbra for betraying me. It was all too much.
As Chloe reached for my arm, I stormed off, promising to myself to apologize to her later. I was sneaky although I stormed past all the jumping monkeys in the row and stomped upward, ascending the left side stairs from the curtain entrance. I could make out the Platinum Amazon about to hug Umbra, her lustful gaze locked on his horrified one, but I charged forward, only seeing red. The lights above me vibrated, rage surging in their cords along with my blood. I snorted out a pinch of my fury just so I wouldn’t torch the stage like I did the hall after I pushed Credence last year. I didn’t stop.
At the last second, the five girls saw me and their faces were stunned. Before a croak could come out of their mouths, I snatched Umbra’s arm firmly. His face lit up when he saw it was me and he willingly and gladly (I could tell from his smile) let me drag him away. He even gave them a mock wave as we blurred into the curtains, getting lost in their velvety masses. I knew my way around them, but I needed a few seconds to catch my breath. I heard voices running past, dress shoes exposed under the curtain. Vice-principal Euro was scolding the girls harshly as Principal Sea was trying to calm the students down to dismiss them. I smirked to myself. I wished I could have seen their faces! Mr. Euro was good in my book from now on.
I flipped my long hair out of my face, trying to flatten the frizzes I knew were there. I took a final deep breath and turned to look at Umbra, my rescued prince. He was huffing as well, staring at me with confusion, admiration, and shame in his chocolate eyes. He opened his mouth and choked on his words. He groaned at himself and tried again.
“Stary! I’m sorry! I promise I had no idea what they were trying to do. I have no idea why they were touching me either, but it creeped me out. I—”
I didn’t let him finish. He didn’t need to. With all my heart, all the love and light I felt overflowing in my soul, the soul that knew its mate would never betray me, I kissed Umbra with every fiber of who I was. He embraced me tightly back, leaning us against a wooden support pole without breaking our kiss. I slid my hands everywhere those girls had, hoping to block his memory of them for eternity. I deepened our kiss, his lips so delicious that I wanted to kiss more of him, to see if he tasted any different.
Works in collection “A Sweet, Little Dream:”
I was bored working at my mom’s shop one day and my mind drifted to my brother and I sitting by the bay window when it would rain so hard, we would lose power for our Sega and we would sing until the power came back. This is to that memory, a memory of rainy day every child I am sure can relate to.
A Child’s Rainy Day (2005)
Little one of my eye,
Sits by the window,
Watching his tears hit the glass,
Feeling life on the go.
Lightning strikes your face,
Scaring your gentle hopes.
Thunder shakes your heart,
Making you hate love most.
Water rushing over the grass,
Clouds as gray and sad as you.
You want to go out and laugh,
Yet you can’t stop what you do.
Smile, my darling;
The sun will rise.
The rain will leave, for you,
And you can play, jump high, in the sky!
This was my first story for my creative writing class I took with Mr. Banger my sophomore year. It is based on an assignment I worked on for him that he never collected the previous year! HA! The original assignment was to write a short story about Margaret Sanger, the woman who was determined to help women learn about birth control. This story is shorter than the first draft, where the woman at the end tells her whole sad story. For length purposes, I cut that out before giving this to Mr. Banger, but the point and message is still there. This was written in late 2004.
The chilly winter breeze hit my face with full force, like a sharp blade. My eyes were blinded by the heavy layers of snow falling. As I exited the hospital, the rows of buildings shined in sparkling white glory. Even though the buildings looked lovely, I had to be careful. I had a long walk to the court house and the sidewalks were glazed over in slippery ice. I held onto the miles of buildings so I would not fall. I stopped, thinking of lying down for a brief moment, but then, I gazed up at her. Her, who was standing so proud and bold, yet had a forgiving and peaceful face looking over the glittering city. I smiled and walked on. Little did I realize that day would be the fateful day that set the course for the rest of my future.
I could not be late, not today. That brisk Friday was the last weekend I got to spend with my brother before he left to join the army. It took me awhile, but somehow, I managed to get to the court house on time and then, I saw him: a tall, handsome and strong young man with light brown hair in curls and sparkling, clear water eyes that reflected the light of the blinding sun. I ran into his opened arms and his affectionate smile. I was all warm inside now and also really happy to see him; my only family, my hero.
He gently kissed my forehead and said, “I was worried you would miss our big evening.”
“OH, I would never! Not in a million years!” I yelled, jumping excitedly. He then grabbed my arm lightly and looped it through his own as we walked back to our home, away from the cold.
I walked in delicately, scared of damaging the perfect coziness of our cottage nestled in the heart of the city. I could already smell the sweet smell of pine that gently hit my face like a petite angel had just flapped her wings towards us as a reward for working. I could feel the warm glow from the rusty fireplace as the flames blazed high and the hot embers danced to the rhythm of my breath. Home always gave me such a wonderful feeling, almost as good as Christmas time does to an innocent child. I took off my coat and happily danced on the colored rug, like I always do to thank the Lord for my gift of life and this lovely small and tidy home. Then, a thought came to me…my brother was going to the army and I had no idea why.
While I was cooking supper, I kept trying to think of why. My deep concentration of the question my heart was yearning to answer made me almost burn the chili I was preparing and destroy the fine silver pot. Why was he leaving me? Maybe I said or did something to offend him that made my dear brother want to leave me or he was just sick of taking care of his kid sister. I should apologize, yet I was not sure that was the problem. Stressing myself out was only giving me a major headache. The more important question would be: Why was not I trying to stop him?
At the dinner table, the two of us talked about our days at work. I am a junior nurse and he is the co-owner of a newspaper stand downtown or, I should have said he was. I felt a pair of confused eyes stare at me; he must have noticed I did not pay attention to a word that came out of his mouth.
Softly, he asked me a question that startled me out of my state of darkness, “Margaret, my dear, would you like to talk?”
I slowly looked at him in fright, shaking hard to not allow him to know my pain. My chest was about to burst from the pressure as my vision blurred and his angelic face swirled in front of my scared eyes. Then, from out of nowhere, an unknown force from inside me exploded and I screamed at the top of my lungs, “WHY ARE YOU LEAVING ME AND TRYING TO GET KILLED?!” I gasped and quickly covered my mouth in horror. My eyes began to sting and rows of hot tears were rolling down my face in uncontrollable and painful amounts matching with its new red color.
Shocked, he looked at me for a moment, yet to my surprise, his eyes became forgiving, showing the good nature he has always had since we were small. My brother, focused and concerned with a smile approached me and laid his hands gently on my cheeks, staring into my spirit broken eyes. In his soft, kind, and deep voice, he said, “Margie, babe, you know I would never want to leave my baby sister since Mother and Father died. You mean the world to me…”
In fear of hurting me more and forming the right words, my guardian swallowed hard and then continued. “But, my duty belongs to my country and I know, that in my heart, I must do this. I feel that America will be in this war very soon—”
“Impossible!” I interrupted, upset by his disloyalty to our beloved nation. “Wilson promised that—”
“I know that our president is doing the best he can, but he cannot hold on for much longer, thanks to them bloody Germans! I just feel like I must go.” My brother did have a sixth sense about awful situations, sadly enough for me.
“Brandon, I am seventeen! I am old enough to help. Let me go and be by your side! I…I just cannot stand the thought of us not being together,” I said.
Works in my Collection, “Fallen Star Dust:”
“Stress is the Key, Worrying the Dream” sample
Why am I scared to talk to someone about all this? Because my mind is a dangerous place. It seems the more worried my body gets, the…more odd? No, that’s not good enough. Weird? Nah that hurts my feelings. What was it my mom called me? Quirky? That doesn’t fit either. Charismatic? That sounds too nice for my mind, but I don’t have Star Wars battle ships to speed the time, so I will call my current state of mind charismatic. As a person (here we go again), I am shy, reserved, quiet, but my thoughts are freaky, unique, funky. I promise; it is not too scary, but I think of…rare topics when I am put in over-stressful situations. Like last week, I had to take a teaching test for four hours. I finished my essay ten minutes early and we had to remain silent and not writing. I randomly got out my social card and remembered a conversation with my dad. I asked him how they came up with the numbers. He shrugged, saying they are all random. I countered, saying would it not make more sense to start with 0000000001 and adding how cool that would have been. He told me life does not have to be in order to make sense. I blinked for a second because his statement did not make sense, but told him we will run out of numbers eventually. He laughed quickly to tell me they recycle the numbers. So, here I am, fascinated by this card. It made me think that when I was born, which was supposed to be a happy day I guess, I am given some dead person’s life in a number code as a gift from my government. I guess I stated that sort of dark, but I started thinking what my person was like, where he/she lived, how many kids he/she had. I imagine my number belonging to a hard working potato farmer in lower Kentucky that always had a smile on his face and wore dark green colored overalls and a straw hat. He has an average wife that was a little plump, but perfect for him and had twins: a boy and a girl, each with golden hair named Susan May and Jimmy Bob. The family loved to wave at people while they worked and always had mashed potatoes for supper in a dining room covered with daisies. I suppose one can think about a lot in ten minutes.
Lately, I have been having funny sleep patterns when I sleep well, but wake up twice during the night and the night never seems to end. So, when I am awake, I think of other odd things like what did William Howard Taft think before he decided to run for the presidency or why even have questions like “if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound” or the chicken and the egg thing (BTW, my answer is: everything makes a sound, so the tree would, but if we don’t hear it, I think most people would live and the chicken because God made all the animals fully grown, which includes the chicken unless heartless people out there don’t consider it an animal). I can think of anything from life changing things, such as how to combine evolution to creation full-heartedly to childish ideas like if crayons really have different tastes based on color. Who knows and who cares are probably what most of you are thinking and frankly, I am thinking this too about most of my own questions, but this makes me myself.
Fire, Fire, burning, burning
Fire, Fire, blazing, blazing
Fire, Fire, sizzle, sizzle
Fire, Fire, drown the drizzle
Fire, Fire, ignite, ignite
Fire, Fire, out of sight
Fire, Fire, untamed, untamed
Fire, Fire, feel no blame
Fire, Fire, smolder, smolder
Fire, Fire, you’re a solider.
Fire, Fire, destroy, destroy
Fire, Fire, ash is your toy
Fire, Fire, wild, wild
Fire, Fire, engulf no child
Fire, Fire, ember, ember
Fire, Fire, never dimmer
Fire, Fire, flame, flame
Fire, Fire, you have been framed…
Fire, Fire, burning, burning
Fire, Fire, blazing, blazing.
Coming Fall 2016:
“Spirit Vision 3: The Power of Mortals”
Exclusive Indie Pride Day Sneak-Peek here:
Chapter 5: Stary*
*This IS still in the editing stage.
I gripped the handles of my backpack tightly, bracing myself and collecting my thoughts. I locked stares with the on and off button below the camera, my vision obscured from the lens’ Cyclopes eye. I know I didn’t have green, glowing balls of energy I could summon at will to transform into amazing things like an Optimums Prime made of light like my boyfriend, but I did have my light, my power, my incantation.
I aimed my hand like I was controlling a spirit gun once more, a flicker of a ten-point star luminous shooting out of my trigger finger after I uttered the words with whispered confidence: “Solvo…”
It took a few seconds, but the tiny light ball reached my target, bobbing on along a make-believe wave. It was able to hit the switch from on to off, the camera now becoming black, dead as a doornail. I did the same method with the old lock on the door and caressed around the doorframe for any sort of alarm. To my luck, there wasn’t one. I would have to bring that up with the school board for safety issues once all this hoopla was over with.
My legs felt like lead, my lungs stuffed as if someone was going to ship me away and placed a million of those annoying packing peanuts in them for my safety. With a bravado that was sinking into my bones, manifesting itself into a silent, swirling, strong strength, I edged forward, my walk that of a mountain cat as I opened the door. This was the gate to a new world, my destiny unclear, blinding, and unmistakable as it bared into my eyes.
I slid down the incline that led to the track, grateful it was November and the P.E. classes would be inside. Leaves slapped my face, the wind shrilling, fingering my hair. Change was so apparent in the air that I could smell it, taste it. As I averted my face from view the best I could, my hair a veil of concealment thanks to the steady breeze, I zoomed past the high jump area to a ‘forbidden’ portion of the campus; an entrance to a wooded area.
It had a small rusted silver fence that appeared to have a permanent haze around it. It has seen better days and it was easy for me to lift my leg up, hop a smidgen, and be over it, and I am a major klutz. No sign was posted around the blockade that stated we should not go in, but it was instilled in our brains, an unspoken rule that we all obeyed and with good reason. These woods were ominous, the whispers of the lost souls, the dead, sang from its trees. I had no idea where it led, but I had no sense left of rules, my heart leading this reckless journey.
I began hiking up the steep hill that led to the beginning of my quest, but before I took the final step. The wind shifted directions, its scent a bittersweet aroma of home and homesickness, the feelings blending in my stomach like a smoothie I would never get the taste out of my mouth. As I turned to take one last glance at my beloved high school, the last pieces of my normal life, maybe the last time at my beloved town of Plantersville, tears clogged my throat. I pushed them back, knowing all these precious places and people deserved to see me leaving them with a smile. Despite the turmoil and my frayed nerves, I threw a smile into the wind as it whipped my hair into rapids of glossiness, it shining like a new penny.
“Good-bye and thank you…”
With a heavy head, a tugging heart, and a youthful amount of bravery, I tilted my head to the side to catch my breath and adjust to my new enchanted with darkness forest, praying my incantations, spiritual friends, instincts, and connection to Umbra would get me to my destination in time, all our sacrifices and struggle not in vain. I lifted my foot, preparing to leap to my…
“Hey. you jerk! You really going to leave without us before I bite you a new one?”
Exclusive Sneak-Peek of a new project, coded as “H & B:”
Warning: This is more of an adult book, so there are some chose words. This is also in the VERY early manuscript stages.
Twenty-eight minutes, Galen pulls into our headquarters, a nice building that looks like it was made of black bricks, yet it being in the middle of the country with its paved rock driveway gave it a feel of mystery on top of its gothic class. The street lamps were Victorian and at night, when the moon shone and hit their tips, the shadows would cast shapes of classic monstrums on the dot times, such as 3:00, giving the world a secret peek into our true nature for sixty seconds.
Galen punched in the past code on our garage opener in the van and went down to the basement floor once it activated. My mind zoomed like the images of the catacombs meant to confuse trespassers, a maze I knew as well as the poses of every Sailor Scout from Sailor Moon. It took all my willpower to not rest my head against the cool glass of our tented window, feeling the comfort to calm my fried nerves. I wanted to grab my precious katana and stroke its metal, feel the centuries of battle it wore with the grace and beauty of a goddess, but I knew sensei the articulate would somehow put me in a one-handed headlock and still drive. I sadly have been on the wrong end of this oddity.
The van halted its advances and Galen cut-off the engine, the lack of hum from the motor making me feel empty and that my time was really up. “We are here kids. Get out of my weapon mobile and hurry up on the business; I want to go home.”
Kesler and I hopped out of the van, poor Kesler clinging to his notebook until his hands were white, squeaking it a “Yes, sir,” so quiet that I would not have heard it unless I was walking right beside him. I gave Sir Buzz Kill a half-hearted wave as he went down the left side hall to his weapon’s shop and volt, “Yeah, yeah, grandpa; we know it’s past your bedtime. Stop being jelly of us and go polish your weapons until they are all pretty, pretty, shiny, shiny.”
The way sensei’s face crinkled into such a tall scowl even made his piercing scar wrinkle and, admittedly, it reminder me of a bulldog. It was utterly and weirdly adorable! I bite my tongue to not chuckle as he stuck his pointed nose in the air, grumbling, “Punk…Come by tomorrow morning, 4:30 a.m., for some extra drills.” And he walked into his violent sanctuary, edgy and dramatic…for a bulldog.
I shrugged and wrapped my arm around Kesler, escorting him to the hallway that led to our main base of operations. We scanned our ID cards, did fingerprints, and punched in our key codes, all while Kesler was mumbling and pleading with me about how I should not have made Galen mad and that he wanted to take the blame for my extra training sunrise practice now. I shrugged it off each time and patted his forehead playfully once, forcing a beam to show my co-workers busy at work that I could handle whatever Chief had in store for me. I got this. I plaster this smile on my face, I act respectful and approachable to face the world and I can tackle this mess to the ground while still being a ray of sunshine…a deadly ray of sunshine, but still.
Kesler and I went to his office (what we jokingly call his large cubicle office), me sitting on the edge as I munched the string cheese I kept in his mini fridge in the corner. He began typing up his notes and was asking me for clarification once in a blue moon, but I read over his shoulders, enjoying the tingling of the mozzarella cheese is it tickled my tongue with happiness. No wonder cheese is so drug worthy that science claims it is as accidicting as morphine. I suppose I need to come clean; Hello. My name is Val Hemmingway and I am a cheesealoic.
I took a swig of my Yoo-hoo before I had to walk towards this death sentence that would come with the Bringers. I ventured up the hall, glancing up and down for Chief in her usual monitoring stations that reminded me of a buffed up version of the NASA’s mission control with HD screens and DNA samples on wall scanners or in floating test tubes that encompassed the back wall of the room like a very unique wallpaper. Alas, before I got to Chief, who was gazing at the largest middle screen with a thoughtful and semi-perplexed look on her tanned face, a force pulled me back a foot and almost made me crash on my butt…but, I landed on something warm, solid, and slightly hard, or maybe…toned would be a better description.
I should not have turned around to answer my curiosity; it never does anything good for my cat or me. Leached to my arm was the tapeworm of my existence: damned Jeffrey Darington. Son of a monkey fiddle! Why can’t he just explode already? He uses so much hair gel and spray…I bet I could get my lighter to spark a little self-defense fire and…