Archive | April 2008

Creative Non-Fiction

Can I just say that I absolutely despise writing this type of story? Really. I had to write a creative non-fic story/essay/whatever tonight that’s due tomorrow night. I decided to write about my trip to L.A. in November, where I met James Shaffer of KORN on the way to Santa Monica Pier, and before the L.A. Music Awards show. Scratch that, it was the F.A.M.E. Awards, where some friends were playing who won a couple of awards. Actually, they won awards from both, but only played at the one show. Anyway, I hate writing Creative Non-Fiction. At least, at the moment I do. =p *sigh* Maybe someday I can get back to finishing my novel Dusk of Death. I’d like to get it done and edited before summer hits. I only have a few chapters left!

I’m going to see what I can get done tonight, but I don’t think the muse is talkin’. Damn…

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Wretched Writing…

Oh, I thought you would enjoy this one. It was fun to write. =) There is an annual contest for wretched writing at http://www.bulwer-lytton.com/. It was a dark and stormy night…

LMAO!

Anyway, here’s my attempt:

The wastebasket made a sound, like rustling, but not like the rustling of leaves on a breezy autumn day, and more like the noise a mouse would make if it were in the wall and eating something or scratching at the wall. I paused to listen carefully, my ears attuned to the quiet still of the night, because all others in the house were sleeping, as it was two in the morning and no one would be up until at least eight in the morning, unless my mother woke up earlier…

Yes…

I’m posting a bunch of stuff I have on other sites. =) I had completely forgotten about this blog, so I figured why not make use of it. I think this will become my main blog.

Things That Go Bump… Or Break… In the Night

Why is it that things always seem to happen to me in the middle of the night just as I am going to bed? Well, actually, it’s early morning, but who’s checking? First, it was the scraping noise in the wastebasket. Now, for the last three nights, I have had to fix the blasted toilet because the chain keeps coming undone! Just what I wanted to do; stick my hands in the tank and try to reattach the chain in minimal light, as my bathroom has a dimmer. Honestly, can’t a girl just have everything work peachy? And what good is a man in the house when it ends up being me to fix it? It’s 3am, sometimes even 4am. I want to sleep at this point. Alas, no, it is inevitable that something must be fixed, put away, cleaned up, or set outside to come back and haunt me once again in the middle of the night. No, I haven’t seen or heard the creature again, but wait, it’ll happen. Just when I am least expecting it… BAM! I will, however, give my husband credit for carrying the thing out so I didn’t have to deal with it in my nakedness.

Even now, as I sit here in my Sanctuary swatting at the little bugs that come with the sneezing season of spring and trying desperately to breathe, I know that something will need to be put away or cleaned up before I go to bed. I know this because my husband is out and about with friends and will come home eventually to make a mess of the kitchen I just cleaned. He likes his midnight snacks. I should probably put away dinner soon, so it doesn’t go bad. And yet, here I sit tapping away gaily at my keyboard, chatting with my dearest friends. At one point, three conversations simultaneously, two of which held several conversations on their own. I kid you not. It’s amazing I could keep track of it all.

Alas, all is quiet and peaceful in my garden Sanctuary with my Alaskan Malamute, Moon (the not-so-mute malamute), sleeping soundly in the grass; as well as in my home, save for the snoring sounds of my Argentinean Mastiff, Leonidas… but not for long, I am certain. I find myself wondering what it will be tonight. A new creature, perhaps, or maybe the sink will spontaneously combust. Not too long ago, my foster daughter crawled out of bed and came out to ask if it was okay that the light on her smoke detector was blinking. She has been in my house for more than a year, and she just now notices it. I must laugh, as dear as she is, she is clueless to most things and rarely notices much of anything.

Ah well, I will light another cigarette and work on Dusk of Death for now. Maybe, just maybe, I can get another chapter written before having to write my cause and effect essay, which is due tomorrow at midnight.

Only four hours to go….

Late Night Timbres

It is two o’clock on Thursday morning and I came inside to finally head to bed, but first, I must partake in the usual bathroom activities before bedtime. You know, to rinse my mouth with the alcohol-free mouthwash so my new Monroe piercing does not get infected. Oh, and to brush my teeth, of course. Needless to say, as I sat there, er, um, brushing my teeth, I heard a little scraping noise. My first thought was “What the hell is that?” I listened carefully to see if the sound would continue. It did. My second thought: “Is there a mouse in here?” I have never seen a mouse, or the remnants of a mouse, in my house.

I proceeded to locate exactly where the noise was coming from, by crouching down in front of the sink. It sounded like it was either coming from within the wall, from behind the small wicker trashcan, or in said small wicker trashcan. I listened for a while longer, to see if I could determine what variety of creature I would be dealing with. I finally determined that the sound was coming from within the trashcan, but still had no clue as to what was making said sound. It is two in the morning and I am dressed for bed, which means I am not wearing a whole heck of a lot, and I certainly do not want to be fending off some creature in my birthday suit.

What’s a woman to do?

Well, I did what any normal married woman would do, I walked right back into the bedroom and woke my husband from a dead sleep by saying, “Honey, there’s something in the bathroom making noise.” He half-turned in the bed with a loud “Huh?” I then repeated myself, “There’s something in the bathroom, making noise.” He sat up in bed, stood slowly, groggily, and walked over to the bathroom. He then proceeded to lean against the doorjamb, listening intently to the situation. I whispered, “Do you hear it?” and he replied with a sleepy nod of his head. He stepped into the bathroom after that.

Now, my husband is a very large man, and I have to wonder at times exactly what magical forces work within the bathroom to allow him to fit into such a tiny space. Nevertheless, he was now leaning against the sink and listening to the small wicker trashcan. He tapped it a few times, and yet, the noise continued. He pulled it out a bit to make sure there was nothing behind the trashcan. Yep, nada. He quickly and carefully flipped up each side of the Wal-Mart bag I use to line the trashcan and then tied it closed. Then he pulled the bag out, held it an arm’s length away from him, and walked out of the bedroom wearing nothing but boxers, which I found odd and hilarious because he never leaves the bedroom in such revealing attire. I heard the front door open while I inspected the bathroom and relined the wastebasket with another Wal-Mart bag.

Finally finished with my bathroom activities, I climbed into bed next to my husband.

“Thank you, my knight in shining baldness,” I said to him while situating myself under the covers.

“Wow, that’s deep,” he replied.

I still have no clue as to what creature lay within the trash, scraping softly, possibly trying to escape the confines of it. I figured my husband carried the little bag all the way out to the trash bin on the other side of the house, but when I told my mother the next day what had happened, she mentioned a small bag sitting just outside the front door. Wonderful, the creature could have escaped to come back and haunt me another day.

Six Traits

Ha ha… my mid-term. =p

Six Traits

Show your ideas,
And organize.
Is it written to make
You laugh or cry?

Paint the picture
For all to see
Is it lively, and
Does it sound like me?

Pick fun words,
Easy to read
When read aloud
With fluency.

Caps in their places
Commas, as well
Short, snappy reads
That show you can spell.

Now is the time
To share your tale
Use these six traits
And you’ll have done well.

A Shifting Occasion

Me playing around with second person for an essay…


A Shifting Occasion

The moon rises full and golden just over the mountains on the eastern horizon as the chill night air plays softly with your flesh. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end, calling attention to the vibrations running through your skin—electric rhythmic beats known only to you.

A shudder chases up your spine, not so much a chill of something cold or fearful, but of the excitement for the dawning of your other self. Your breath exaggerates to sharp gasps, taking in short eager pants as your body trembles, the first light of Change on the horizon. You draw in a final deep breath, taking in the crisp breeze.

Your sense of smell heightens to the point where you can smell the perfume of the doe in the far-off trees, her musk flooding your nostrils like the aroma of a fine wine. Your palate yearns for her flesh, her blood, and you swallow dry anticipation, imagining that sweet nectar of life lolling over the back of your tongue. Your ears prick at the sound of her drinking from the small pool of cool water, its gentle ripples tingling in your eardrums as a wave of energy flows through your body in reaction to the desires of the hunt.

Muscles and skeleton realign for more power, shifting throughout your body, bones rearranging and tissue reforming. It causes you dire pain, but you are accustomed to the pain now. It is only a fleeting moment to you because your mind has wrapped around that scent: the doe, the forest, the wind. They summon you like a cry in the night. Your back arches, dropping you to your knees, and soon, your shape begins its change. Teeth elongate for the ability to tear through fur and flesh. Your face slowly reshapes; your nose and jaw lengthening as ears come to a point and move to the top of your head. Your ears don’t hear the bones crunching within your body. They only hear the doe and the wind that brings her scent to you. Soon, you are on hands and knees, but your hands are changing, and your knees buckle backwards for a more appropriate stance. Fingertips become short and sharp, paws form, a howl struggles to escape your throat, but is caught somewhere between human and animal.

Next, your flesh tears while fur pours from within, covering your entire body. It is a soft, silky black coat; one that will hide you well in the darkness. Your eyes will contrast it in their golden state, and you see this as you look into a small pool of water on the forest floor, left from the recent rainfall that chills the night air. Lucky for you, you have this wonderful new coat to keep you warm. You shake your new body, ruffling the fur, and an exhilarating feeling sweeps through you, grasping at your innermost desires. Now, you can hunt the doe and feel the rush of power as your teeth glide through her flesh. You begin your hunt, and as the pace quickens while you chase her down, only one other thought remains in your mind.

I am truly free.