Saturday, November 30, 2013


Free shipping HIPHOP mask Jabbawockeez mask white men's and women's mask Street Step Dance

Face of the weak,
You’re hiding behind
These words so sweet.
Tongue of deceit
You control these castles
You can’t defeat.
You’re all the same
You wear different faces
But can’t change your name.
Look in my eyes,
These falsehoods
Are going to eat you alive,
Playing your game,
Your mask will be broken
Before you find fame.
Didn’t they say?
“Don’t play with fire
It’ll burn you one day”
Shattered tonight,
Take off this face
Pretend you’re all right.
Caught in your lore
Don't you know
Who you are anymore?
You’ve been someone else
Too long, you don’t know
What to be when it melts.
You had us all fooled
Like puppets we danced
We were the subjects you ruled.
I know who you are,
When I look inside,
I find you’re not far.
Singed and battered,
Give up this falsehood
Before life is scattered.
Set aside the mask
Start it on fire,
This your last.
Facing your court,
This is one battle
You cannot abort.
You’re the liar,
I know.
Drop the matches,
Close the lid,
Your life is caught,

In the pyre. 

Saturday, November 23, 2013


Breathe now little child,
morning is on its way.
The nightmares won't last
and shadows won't always play
beneath your eyelids.

Be brave now little child,
your innocence guarded.
The dark ones have come
to steal your future and
feed you their lies.

Wake now little child,
sunlight tiptoes in
from under curtains
and slumbering glens,
seeking to warm your fingers.

Sing now little child,
the rain has come to
mend your wearied heart
and wash away
your hardened tears.

Take heart little child,
for I have felt your pain.
Your cries have been heard,
I know the darkness
that hunts you tonight.

Arise now little child
and become all that
you dreamed of.
There's strength left
inside of you yet.

Hold on little child,
to the hope you
remember fighting for.
There's life behind
your smile yet.

Fight now little child,
against the deceit
you once knew as truth.
They were wrong
when they said

you could never be

Saturday, October 19, 2013

Siren Song

Huddle beneath
Frostbitten shadows,
Tip-toe away from
Moonlight’s fingertips.

Wander from dream
To darkened nightmare,
Humming your
Lonely siren song.

Search every mind,
Touch every soul
Is there a place
You can call home?

Float in the wisps
Of a clouded night sky
Fall in the drops
Of rainstorm’s delight.

Settle on pages
Stained with ink,
Jot in your riddles
For the world to see.

Search every mind,
Touch every soul
Is there a place
You can call home?

Taste the sweetness
Of the morning dew
Smell the warmth
Of summer’s dawn

Swim in the coolness
Of the awakening sea,
Watch the creatures
That live there and breathe.

Search every mind,
Touch every soul,
Is there a place
You can call home?

Climb onto shelves
Tarnished by time,
Let the pages whisper
Your heart to sleep.

“Gentle rush of silent waves,
Cover this weary soul today.
Peace and rest are upon
You at last, while the softest
Sunlight warms your lips.

Tired and burdened,
Lay down your head.
Receive this dream and
Painless forget. Eternal sleep,
Welcome this child,

Welcome this child Home.”

*Well it's been quite a while since I blogged, hopefully I'll be doing more now. That's the plan anyways. :P

Friday, July 5, 2013

Chapter One

Several people have asked to read this, so here it is. Sorry for my  long absence. :)
Chapter One:

 I drew on the strength of the thick nighttime shadows, and they embraced my body, shrouding me from sight as I regarded my target. He knelt on the edge of the riverbank and pressed a cylinder into the mire just above the water. A lantern cast a halo of light at his feet, though it did not reach into the woods. The man eased up to his feet with a grunt.

"I ‘spose I should tell ya what it is that boy wanted me to tell ya." He said.

I furrowed my brow and gripped my bow, the darkness condensed around me, responding to my emotion.

"Course, if ya ain’t there, I sure look foolish doin’ this." The man chuckled. After a moment he turned, squinting into the sky. "But no, yer there, it’s much too dark a night for this time a year. Them shades like to hang about you Echoes."

Nocking an arrow, I lifted my bow and the shadows spread out around me, spilling like ink over paper. The lantern hissed out, and clouds swung over the moon, leaving the forest in utter blackness. As I drew my bow, the leaves rustled overhead, seeming to shiver with anticipation.

"I’m ready to die now - don’ got no one left in this life to live for anyway. Jus’ hear me out, your brother is sorry fer leavin’ ya, he left you a message in that tube, didn't want no one else to hear it."

I released the arrow and waited for the satisfaction of the kill as he collapsed. Instead, the thought that Calanon was actually sorry for leaving wedged into my mind like a thorn. My throat constricted, and I forced the thought away. Cal should have thought about being sorry before he ran away.

I strode to my target and knelt at his shoulders. "Poor old man," I whispered, brushing my fingertips over his forehead, "too bad I’m smarter than you. Your death yielded no gain." Using my dagger, I sliced the familiar words into the moist earth: Beware the Echo of your treachery. I stood and moved around his body, feeling along the riverbank for the capsule. Mud caked my hand and arm, while roots stabbed me. I found an opening in the dirt and dug into it with my fingers. I pried the tube out and dipped it into the water to rinse it and myself of the grime. After drying it on the inside of my cloak, I opened it and slid a roll of paper out. Reading it as I walked, I started towards where I left my horse.


If you are reading this that means you are beginning to see what caused me leave the city those seven years ago(I’m certain the rule about bringing messages passed between Exiles to your Mentor without reading them has stayed the same). The government is flawed, the people are dying because of the Council… but that is not what I wrote to say. I truly am sorry. I wish with every fiber of my being that I could go back and change that night, change the fact that I left you there. Please, come to the camp, and then you can see why I had to leave, why I couldn’t stay and watch Kieran,I could never call him Father now, destroy the people he taught me to lead… and perhaps you could forgive me? I love you, my dear Adi. Think about it.
Cal. Anger bubbled deep within me. How dare he assume that I could forgive his fox-hearted deeds, how dare he assume to know me! I shoved the note back in the tube and placed it in my pouch. Loping the rest of the way to my horse, I determined to put it out of my mind. When I neared Tempest, he snorted. I blew on his nose in greeting and mounted. Turning him deeper into the woods, I tried to banish his words from my mind, but what if he truly wished he had taken me with? I decided to take the long way back to our camp. The twins would have to be patient; it would not do them any harm to wait a bit longer.

Before long, I had relaxed enough that the sounds of the night creatures returned, and the shadows had become less murky. Moon light sifted down through trees, dappling the ground. A breath of wind stirred the foliage and lifted a layer of leaves from earth, then let them flutter back down. Smoke rose in ivory tendrils from the crackling embers of my teammates’ fire. "Look who’s here at long last," Neil said, "Our very own Adira. We were starting to think you slipped up and let that old fox put you out. Weren’t we Nolan?"

Ignoring Neil, Nolan lifted a log onto the fire and blew on the ashes until flames flickered up.

I hissed through my teeth, dismounted and tied back Tempest’s reigns. Nolan nodded a greeting and handed me a plate of food. The scent of fresh game wafted up and I breathed it in.

Neil narrowed his eyes, "weren’t we Nolan?"

Nolan shrugged, "Maybe you were,"

I smirked and began to eat. Neil’s eyes burned with fury and the shadows around him contracted guarding his form from the untrained eye. "You!" he growled, "the both of you are just wimps!"

I rolled my eyes, "Would we be anything else to you?"

"Adira, you, you," his nose flared as he seemed to grope for the best insult possible, "with your betraying, lying, filthy, fox of brother, you’re just a wretched—"

Nolan stood, quivering with contained anger, "That’s enough Neil."

"-Selfish, fox-hearted, weak, little daddy’s girl."

I sprang up, darkness roiling around me. "You had better take that back!"

"Now, why would I do that?" he mocked.

I let out a growl and jumped on him, pinning him to the ground. He kneed me in the stomach, rolling me onto the ground. I swung my legs around and swept his feet out from under him. Jumping on his back, I twisted his wrists behind him and gathered all blackness of the night I could muster, pulling on the hate of all the past things he had said against me. As the shadows lent me their strength, their own bitterness, I felt the power well up within me. The fire hissed out, and moonlight disappeared. It overpowered everything around me, taking the energy of the light and feeding it to me.

"Adira, stop, you’re going to kill him!" Nolan shouted.

"Not until he takes it back."

"All right, all right, you’re not fox-hearted, you’re not weak!" he choked.

"And don’t you ever forget it again." I pressed my knee into his back for good measure, then released him and sat by the now dead fire, still seething.

He lay on his back gasping, "You’re crazy girl."

I stared into the trees, blinking back my frustration. I forced myself to take a deep breath and let it our slowly. Moon light sifted down through the treetops. Nolan grimaced and settled next to me again. He offered me a smile and my now cold food. I looked into his concerned face, and then turned away. He was so readable.

"Nolan, you have first watch, Neil, second, I will take last. We move at dawn," They both nodded and Nolan packed away the food. Sleep found me quickly. It seeped into my mind and carried with it a dream, a memory that I had forgotten and did not wish to remember.


Shadows streaked the walls, they shifted as I approached, seeming to reach for me. Hesitant, I paused before the door.

"They are responding to you. They are bound to you; use them to your advantage. Also, remember what you have come for. Find out if she is a traitor, you have been trained in what to do if she is." My mentor whispered from behind me.

I nodded, forcing my fingers to turn the knob, and stepped in. Mykal knelt in the window seat, her back to me. In one hand she held a ragged stuffed bear, the last piece of her childhood she could hold onto. Her other hand pressed against the glass, her breath fogging it so that the forest outside the academy walls seemed even more haunted than usual.

The floorboards whined as I walked towards her. My friend dropped the bear and turned to face me, her shoulders relaxed when she saw that it was me. Weakling! She didn’t even hear me coming.

"Adi, I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to talk to you; I think I’ve figured out why Calanon and Rylan left. I found this paper that seems to be a map. It was inside of Dusty." She lifted the bear and gently probed into a rip on the toy’s side, coming out with a folded piece of paper. "Maybe it’ll show us how to get to where they –"

"It’s true then," my voice seemed distant, "You would betray the Council for a couple foxes" I interrupted.

"What?" Mykal whispered, her blue eyes widening in pained disbelief. "I thought-don’t you want to see Calanon again?"

"Of course I do,"

She let out her breath and smiled again.

"So that I can avenge the Council for his blasphemy," I hissed, reaching under my cloak to loosen my dagger.

"Adira, I don’t understand, we were always going to find them…" her voice trailed off and tears rimmed her eyes. "Remember how we promised not to let them go without a goodbye?"

"Yes, I plan to say goodbye, after I hand them over to the Council. If you have any other intentions then you’re-" I faltered, my voice suddenly weak, and swallowed my own tears, "you’re a traitor too,"

"I could never turn Rylan or Cal in." She began to cry, "I thought you were the same. I trusted you!"

"I trusted you too," I grit my teeth, "I thought you would hold true to the Council, serve them, I guess we were both wrong about each other." I drew my dagger.

"No, no," she shook her head while backing away from me.

"I’m sorry dear friend, you brought this upon yourself. The Country can not afford to have a soldier who would dessert just to see her fox of a brother again." I strode up to her, forcing her backwards until she fell onto the window seat. I stabbed my blade into her neck. She gave a sharp cry, gasped and slumped to ground. The lifeblood of my closest friend stained my hands. My fingers released the knife and it fell, thudding hollowly in the still air. I dropped to my knees beside her, pressing my palms into the hard wood. My hair slid over my face, veiling the tears that streamed down my cheeks. I let out my breath and gasped in lungful of burning air. A hand clasped my shoulder. I bit my lips together, trying to stop the entourage of pain. My chest heaved and a choked sob broke through my defenses.

"Come now, child. You did the right thing; this is for the good of the Council."

I coughed on the lump that crawled up my throat. I sucked in air through my teeth and whimpered.

"You must never allow someone to get so close to you again. It won’t ever be this hard to do what you are called to do. Most of all you must never, never underestimate yourself. If you could take care of this deceiver, you can take on any of them. Keiran will be proud."

I breathed through my mouth, stifling the tears. Vassander squeezed my shoulder. I lifted my chin and retrieved my dagger.

"Clean it,"

I wiped it on the hem of the girl’s tunic.

"The words,"

Gripping the hilt, I moved around to her head and carved the well rehearsed line into the floor. Beware the Echo of your treachery.

Monday, April 29, 2013

Who am I?

Another poem for you. An idea that has been on my mind for a while.

I am,
A fish out of water,
dying on dry land.
Let me,
live beneath the waves,
in the dark, the cold.
I am,
soothed by the motion,
comforted by the sea.
Let me,
live hidden in the depths,
in a dream, a home I created.
I am,
but a child, awed by ghosts
And monster that lurk in caves.
Let me,
live among them and scribe
All their ways for you to find.
I am,
floating in serenity,
soaking in blissful ignorance.
Let me,
live here in this place unknown,
in the cloaked safety of sleep.
I am,
a memory you can't forget,
fading to an image of hope.
Let me,
live, tucked in your pocket,
close to heart, far from mind.
I am
watching in contentment,
waiting in unbroken silence.
Let me,
live on in your thoughts, actions,
never to die alone.
I am,
an illusion, a reality
you created to evade
who I am.

Sunday, April 28, 2013

If I Could Live the Way I Wanted

Sorry for not posting in such a long while. I've been busy. I got a job and have been trying to keep up on school and just haven't been doing much writing in general. So. All I have for you today is a poem. Hope you enjoy it. :)

If I could live the way I wanted,

I would scribble poems on walls
And draw pictures in the frosted windows.

Dark curtains would seal my mind
And only the music would witness my creations.

I would stay awake until the stars faded
And sleep until the sun was overhead.

Every raindrop would contain a story
And I would collect them in teacups to keep me warm.

I would lose myself in cultures of my own invention
And my characters would be real.

Colored pens would overflow from canning jars
And pencil pockets, ready and waiting for every idea.

I would never cease to search for new stories,
And revisit old ones with fresh eyes.

I would visit the hunched walls of timeless ages
And give voice to all the things they observed.

Cloudy days would mean hours of discovering
New worlds through musty pages that smell of ink.

Drawings would hang from walls like portals
And I would gaze at them for hours on end.

I would sit near the street to watch people go by
And catch words like snowflakes on my tongue.

The piano would hold me close on stormy days
And hum lullabies in my ear when sleep refuses me.

I would paint murals in my bedroom to inspire smiles
And bright days that warm chilled fingers with gentle love.

Lifelong dreams would become reality
And hopes would never be crushed.

If I could live the way I wanted
my  words would last for ages.

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Details - Using Your Window to Its Fullest Potential

      What do you see when you look out the window. Neighbors' houses, the road, dead winter grass, the trees, perhaps a bird?

      If that is all you see, then you must look again or you will miss all the beautiful things that are making my heart skip.

      When I gaze out the window I find tangled blades of grass that huddle together against the cold. Trees that lift tired limbs into the sky, searching for the sun. Curious, young flowers that peep up from under the snow to see if spring has arrived. Sunbeams that dance on the ground, daring winter to stop them from warming the earth. Rain drops that spatter from grouchy clouds to cleanse the frostbitten ground. Birds that sing about bright days and hope on the wind.

      And,  I wonder at all the tiny moments I have missed, all the miniature stories that I could have witnessed if I looked, really looked out the window.

      I hold the ones I do see near to my heart and haltingly try explain why I stare out the window so absently. It never comes out right and I mumble an apology before trying to focus on doing "something useful". I want to say that what I am doing is useful, that it makes me happy, makes me feel closer to God but the words get stuck in my throat, so I write them down instead.

      Slowing my feet, I pause to search for all the smiles that God has hidden for me today. I hope that you will join me in seeking out the details, and when you walk past a window you won't pass by without trying find the moments that He orchestrated with you in mind, because God made you to be a creature that wonders. Wherever you find that sense of awe,  in music, art, words, logic, science, numbers, in your home - wherever - pause, and store it away for those days when you need a little encouragement.

Friday, March 29, 2013

The Piano - a poem

Another poem, inspired by a story idea I haven't been able to use yet.

Fingers caress ivory keys,
smelling of ink, of herbal teas.
Skirts whisper against faded floorboards,
where thousands of fears,
and silent tears were poured.
She slips onto the ancient bench,
braving the memories that entrench.
Weaving each note like a thread,
she hides a beloved story,
a tremor in her heart unsaid.
Somber melodies rise and give voice,
to the ache, to the sorrow
that helps her rejoice.
The piano stands proud
and with class, guards the heart of a silent
weary lass.
A fragile smile surfaces,
lifted by a hope that reverses
all of her shattered dreams,
and chases away
all of the dark one's schemes.
Wrists lift for an extra beat,
giving pause for a phrase complete.
Fingers tie each thread in a chord,
it hovers over her and the piano,
the piano so dearly adored.

Thursday, March 21, 2013

Words of War

These words are for the
times of
tears and times of sorrows.
Times when
darkness feels close and
bitterness tastes sweet.
fear wraps its firey arms
around your heart,
and lies cool your pain
with gentle fingers.

Never give up, don't ever
give in.
Brace yourself now, 'cause
this is war
and we intend to win.

These words are for
times of
complacence, times of plenty.
Times when,
everything is meaningless
and life is mundane.
your strength becomes weakness
while loss becomes gain.
and your perception is distorted
with the sweetest of truths.

Never give up, don't ever
give in.
Brace yourself now, 'cause
this is war
and we intend to win.

These words are the
times of
chaos and times of storms.
Times when
your walls are breaking apart
and the sky is falling in.
terror strikes at the dead of night,
to steal the life you always had,
and memories guard your heart
with soothing songs of mourning.

Never give up, don't ever
give in.
Brace yourself now, 'cause
this is war
and we intend to win.

Thes words are for the
people of
the earth, of this shattered world.
A people that
have lived on a diet of deception
and misinterpretations.
have wandered from the river
containing their life-blood,
and though roots may go deep
they may also be mislead.

Never give up, don't ever
give in.
Brace yourself now, 'cause
this is war
and we intend to win.

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Train to the Unknown

Yeah. I know it's late, but this idea just would not leave me alone. So. Here, a little piece of flash fiction for your pondering. Sleep is calling. G'night! (Oh, and I did draw the picture, like a year ago :P)

     You are boarding on a train. You don't know where it's going, just know that it's moving forward through  the wasteland of  lies, pain, shame, and brokenness. This journey is not for the one who is easily swayed, the one who sees no wrong in their world. It is not for those who are content to live peacefully in this warped reflection of reality. You settle in a seat next to a window. Rain drops spatter the glass. Sliding down through the grime, they gather on the ledge under the pane, then hurl to the cracked earth below. You wrest your gaze from the window and look at the others who will be joining you. Their expressions are somber and when you meet their eyes they nod appreciatively. All who have come know that the way will be difficult.  There will be no retreat. Some will jump when the wanderlust is gone, look for a new adventure, but they will  fall deeper than they ever were into the damaged life they left behind. 
     "Listen up all you Sojourners, Seekers, Followers, and Hopefulls - Your last chance to turn back unscathed is here. Take it or leave it," 
     The voice reverberates in your head. Last chance. Turn back. Griping the arm-rest until your knuckles whiten, you breath quickens. People shift in their seats, exchanging apprehensive glances. Four, five honest souls clatter off the train. Silence reigns.

     "Anyone else?" The voice queries.

     Two more straggle out the doors. 

     "All right then, hang on tight, here we go!"

       The floor lurches beneath you and you press your hand to the cold window. The landscape whips past, your heart pounds in your chest. In a matter of moments everything that made who you were is gone. When you look backwards an abyss of shattered dreams stares back mockingly. Trembling, you yank the shade down. 
     Footsteps break through your numbness. Someone slides onto the seat next to you. Gentle fingers press a warm cup into your chilled hands. Strong arms encircle your shoulders, "You aren't the same person now. Don't be afraid, my Child, I will never leave you, I will never give you up. I am your Abba, and I will never stop loving you." 


Friday, February 22, 2013


I sit here, the power of words at my fingertips, yet I don’t know what to say. I have the ability to create worlds, strategize battles, pen a romance, touch the hearts of the people – and yet, I don’t know that I want to.

Image of bic pens in a metal pencil holder upon a glass desk.

I don’t know that I want to.

How selfish is that?

I have power to make people laugh, or cry, to teach a moral, to give praise to God, but to do it I have to give up me. To write myself into the story, to let them experience what goes on in my head - is nerve-wracking to say the least. But if I don’t, is my story worth reading, will it really be all that it could be?


I sigh and stare at the outlines, the maps, and character sketches. I read up on psychology, write a few poems, attempt to create a government.  Organize my papers, put them away, take them out, read them, add a few notes, add a few more notes, cross out a line, then another and another. A lovely voice says I should scribble all over the page, ball it up and throw it away.

I drop my pen and push away from the desk for a few minutes.I find my iPod and let soft instrumentals wash over me. The littles run past towing the youngest with them in a laundry basket-boat. I smile and store the memory away, noting the glint of excitement in their eyes as they venture to new worlds.

After setting a pot of water to boil on the stove, I take a moment to reflect on why I am writing. Why is it so important?

I find vague thoughts and emotions that jump tauntingly out of reach before I can catch them. 

Steam hisses up from the spout and I pour hot water over a tea bag. I sprinkle in a little sugar…okay, well, maybe a tad more than a little, and stir in a bit of milk. Wrapping icey fingers around the mug, I press my face close to the heat and blow puffs of warmth into my face.

He whispers gently to me, “Write this for me, Kate.”

I curl up with blanket and fingerless gloves that help my hands brave the cold. Armed with my favorite pen, a red marker, and tea, I pour over my notes once more and prepare the story He has asked me to create. I begin on the outlines again. A scene pops up, surprising me, giving me new insight on a character. The excitement returns and as I work through the mess of papers I decide that yes, this is worth it. I want people to cry with me, laugh with me, and beg my characters to see the consequences of their choices with me. I want them to experience what I have experienced… and maybe, just maybe, they’ll learn something too. And that makes it worth every everything I’ll have to endure.