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Scribble Sunday – “Static”

Continuation of last week.

Static

The machines were talking to me again. Hooked up to them, I couldn’t get away. Instead, I curled into a ball on the hospital table and closed my eyes tightly, imagining my normal life from before the fire. I was alone in the room, but the doors were not as thick as the staff thought.

“…the trauma awakened some mutation in her genome,” some doctor was telling the Fosters outside of the exam room. “I have a theory that many genomes have the ability to be mutated, granting people with extraordinary talents, such as Ms. Parker’s ability to hear electronics.”

“How did the trauma of a fire mutate her?” Mr. Foster asked.

“The fire was started from the lightning storm that night,” the doctor said. “Perhaps the electricity is what links Ms. Parker to the electronics, not the fire.”

“How can we help her?” Mrs. Foster asked.

“I don’t believe there is a cure,” the doctor said. “It’s quite a scientific breakthrough, actually. Imagine others with the ability to communicate with electronics. We could send robots to join the army with soldiers controlling them from a safe point–”

“We’re talking about a young girl, not a robot,” Mrs. Foster interrupted. “She just lost her parents–”

“Yes, yes, I apologize.” The doctor’s tone didn’t sound that sorry. “You may be doing all you can to help her now. Giving her a roof over her head, people she can rely on…”

But they’re not my family.

“…However, we would like you to continue bringing her here for testing,” the doctor continued. “We’ll do our best to find a way to alleviate these… uncomfortable sensations that she’s going through, perhaps learn more about it.”

“What about school?” Mr. Foster asked. “We’re still giving her some time off, but eventually she will have to go back. Will she be safe enough to continue at the high school?”

“That is to be determined, unfortunately,” the doctor said. “She’ll have to practice shutting out the electronics in order to function properly.”

Never thought I would want to go back to school, but if it meant getting rid of this damned mutation, then I’d do anything.

“Any suggestions on how she should practice?” Mrs. Foster asked.

The doctor paused before saying, “Just try to ignore them? Meditate? I’m sorry, but this is new to us as well.”

Thanks for nothing, Doc.

The door swung open again and I looked up at Mrs. Foster’s smiling face. I sat up without a word and let her pat my shoulder, resting her hand there while guiding me out of the hospital. My head was low, avoiding the other patrons of the place as we left.

Willow greeted me with homework once we returned to their house.

“I told the teachers you really weren’t up for it,” she said, “but they insisted that I bring this to you so you won’t fall too far behind. Mrs. Davis was pretty nice about it, actually, she said if you could just skim over this stuff, maybe read a bit of A Tale of Two Cities if you’re bored, then that’d be great. If not, don’t worry about it, she’ll get you caught up whenever you get back to school.”

“Thanks,” I said, and abandoned the pile of homework beside my desk and flopped onto my bed.

The mattress dipped down as Willow took a seat. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” I said. I rolled over to look at her. “It’s just… It’s all so weird. At first, being back here, it was like the sleepovers we used to have during middle school. Now, though…” Hot tears prickled at the corner of my eyes. “I’ll never see them again… God, Will, my parents are–!”

My words crumbled with the hiccups and ragged breaths I took while trying to control my crying. Willow moved around the bed, coming closer.

“I’m sorry, Si,” she murmured. “I know that we can’t replace your family… but we’re here for you. You are one of us, okay? We won’t let you go–”

Willow’s hands touched my shoulders and she screamed. I shrieked as static sizzled between my friend and I, and she collapsed off of the bed, electricity dancing in her thick hair.

“What happened—Willow?” Basil was suddenly there, kneeling down by his baby sister. He looked up at me.

“I don’t know!” I had retreated to the very corner of my room, my face soaked with tears. “I don’t know, she tried to put her arm around me, and there was lightning, and I didn’t mean to…!”

My babbling became incoherent as their parents came into the room, and we rushed to the hospital for the second time that day.

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Posted by on June 25, 2017 in Scribbles

 

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No WiFi For a Day

It’s amazing how much we’re connected to WiFi nowadays.

This past weekend, our WiFi randomly decided to stop working from Saturday night to Sunday afternoon when our father called our service provider and they did their magic to bring us WiFi back.

Saturday night, Rachel looks to me and asks, “Since there’s no WiFi, you wanna trim the cat’s nails?”

This is apparently how ingrained WiFi is in our everyday lives.

It obviously wasn’t the beginning of the apocalypse or anything, but considering the pair of us blog often and use our social media sites for said blogs and connecting with friends, it was a bit odd. However, we each spent Sunday morning reading on our deck before the sun disappeared behind rain clouds, and it was great! Both of us finished the books in about two and a half hours. It’s been a while since I’ve done that.

 
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Posted by on May 29, 2017 in Home

 

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Instagram

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How is everyone on Instagram so artsy?

I recently joined Instagram, mostly because Rachel and I had made one for Double Jump, but I figured there were usually tons of pretty pictures of books flying around on there and it could be another fun way to connect to people.

I love pretty pictures of books and bookshelves. They just look so cozy, you know? Especially the ones with cups of coffee or hot chocolate sitting next to them by a window seat.

Then I look at my books and, while I find them pretty enough to be worthy of Instagram, I don’t have any fancy window seats or extra Christmas lights and garland or adorable teacups to pair with them.

I do have a crazy cat and a small dog in dire need of a haircut. Do they count?

 
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Posted by on January 12, 2017 in Home

 

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A Story’s Technology

How much of a role does technology play in your story? With how quickly technology evolves in our world, how do you go about being sure your story’s level of technology is feasible?

Despite first being published in 1998, the final battle in J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series took place in 1998, a time when cell phones were beginning to become the norm. Imagine how different that series could have gone if it was set a decade or two later — muggleborns coming into Hogwarts with cell phones, WiFi signals getting crossed in the air with magic and sparking unintended side effects, Harry simply being able to text Sirius in the Order of the Phoenix instead of charging into that trap at the ministry.

Placing a story in the future grants one the freedom of imagination when it comes to creating new feats of technology, but placing a story in the past grants a different kind of freedom, one that allows the writer to create and write around the challenges of a world with less technology.

So, what level of technology does your story have?

 
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Posted by on December 13, 2016 in Home

 

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Time to Write

Rachel: “Why the hell am I putting myself through all of this?!”

Rachel and I were having a discussion about why writers write after she finished revising the latest draft of one of her novels. Honestly, unless we’re Stephen King or J.K. Rowling, we’re not making much writing, especially when we just start out. Rachel and I both have day jobs we love and enjoy, and we make decent money. So, why write?

Rachel has completed at least three or four novels, as well as a children’s picture book or two. None of them are published (yet!), but she has submitted and queried a few of her finished works. Her latest novel that she has finished revising is in its fifth draft (hence the quote at the top of this post). After finishing that up, she had sent me a, “Tag, you’re it!” text message to let me know that it’s my turn to critique and edit. I’m very proud of her tenacity regarding her writing, even if we do have “What are we doing?!” moments.

As for me, I have quite a few strong beginnings of novels in the works, some a couple of years old. My problem is ending the things. It’s difficult finding the time, the creativity, the whatever-other-excuse I can find. Within these past couple of days, I’ve been reading Chicken Soup for the Soul: Inspiration for Writers. It’s a brilliant read so far; I recommend it to anyone and everyone who enjoys reading and writing! Rachel and I found it among the writing books in Barnes and Noble during our last visit, and I’m in the middle of the chapter about finding time to write.

Reading some of these stories about people resolving to stop procrastinating and write even when they just have 20 minutes to spare was fantastic. Why can’t I do that? Even if it’s just a bit before going to work, to sleep, waiting for the kids to come home… I already bring a little notebook and a pen with me everywhere, and I can definitely write more during my lunch breaks at work.

It may not be New Year’s, but I can certainly make this as a resolution, right?

Happy blogging, everyone!

 
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Posted by on May 31, 2013 in Home

 

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Scribble: Metamorphosis 2

A companion to this post (from a year ago!), these are more 100-word drabbles about “Downfall” sharing the metamorphosis theme. Hope you enjoy them!

Mutation

He believed that the Magics of the world were pretty much done going through revamps. Why try to improve something that already worked well? There were few mutations having to do with the Magics in this day and age, and he was fine with that. He was content with being an Air Mage; he didn’t need to try to figure out how to work the others as well. When he had just started at the School, a classmate had died trying to harness the power of all three Magics. He saw no reason to try to repeat the failed experiment.

Adaptation

“A Mage must always adapt to his or her surroundings,” was one of the first lessons he had learned while at the School. Being an Air Mage, he had reign of the most flexible form of Magic, and he was forever thankful for its ability to help him adapt to any landscape. It mattered not where the class practiced, for the winds were always present and willing to help him try to defeat his classmates in friendly sparring bouts. He did have difficulty adapting to teamwork situations, however; perhaps that was one reason why she and he were always clashing.

Revision

Revision was definitely needed. Biting the guy had only succeeding in giving her a lousy taste in her mouth when her fangs had ripped through flesh. Not only that, the bite hadn’t affected the enemy as much as she had wanted it to. Instead, he just threw some Fire Magic in her direction, and he narrowly missed her. She had rolled away from the man, snarling and growling while she mentally tried to revise her original plan. Wolves were creatures of Fire as well, so the Magic wouldn’t affect her too much, but she would rather not have singed fur.

Variation

Air Magic had the most variation among the Magics of the world. After all, Air could be a breeze to cool down the hottest day or a fierce twister ripping up everything in its path. True, it could not alter the ground like those who practiced Earth Magic nor could it destroy like a Fire Mage, but Air could certainly be inventive enough to survive in the Magic world. He was curious if the Spiriters’ connections with the Elements were similar. His companion’s Spirit partner was of Fire, but she wasn’t as stubborn as some of his Fire Mage classmates.

Shift

He had once asked her if it hurt at all to shift. Honestly, she had to pause to think of a response. She had been shifting all her life. Her older sister had liked to joke that she had been born in her wolf form; she was so used to transforming. Physically, shifting had never hurt. Mentally, however, was a different story. It hurt to lose the extra power that her wolf form granted her, but she knew it would hurt even more if she stayed so long as a wolf that she forgot how to transform back into herself.

 
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Posted by on May 30, 2013 in Scribbles

 

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Moving Forward

Jack London: “You can’t wait for inspiration, you have to go after it with a club.”

So, I disappeared from my blog for a bit and, with it went my habit of writing every day. That’s just the kind of writer I am: sporadic. It’s a wonder if I’ll ever get anything other than one-shots and short stories completed, but my lack of focus on a solitary novel is not going to stop me from trying.

I’ll do my best to update this thing more frequently. It definitely helps my muses to be surrounded by posts and blogs of other writers. I want to add more posts about prompts and story concepts, which will be up momentarily after this post, as well in order to receive feedback, advice, thoughts, etc. Maybe I’ll add a characters page too? I don’t know.

Happy blogging! 🙂

 
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Posted by on May 27, 2013 in Home

 

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