Slowness.

I would like to apologize for my lack of activity (though I did warn you all!). I’ve been very busy with exams and other personal matters lately, so I haven’t had the time or mindset to do any writing.

However, my exams will be over soon, so I will be able to do some things I actually want to do! I have some ideas brewing, so stay tuned!

Thanks, guys.

M.C.

Unseen Forces

I play D&D on occasion and I often draw my characters and write some sort of back-story for them. This particular character is a female monk named Achlys. Her name means mist or darkness. Here is a short confrontation I wrote in order to explain her character.

Thanks guys,

M.C.

Length: 398 words

Damion stared into her eyes as he silently approached. It was as if he was looking into her soul and could see everything she tried so desperately to hide. To her surprise, he didn’t seem to mind whatever it was he saw in her. More importantly, neither did she. For the first in many years – if ever – Achlys knew in her heart that she could trust him. She didn’t have to hide herself or hold anything back. He would accept her, no matter what.

“I want to show you something.” Achlys muttered, her eyes fixed on his. Damion nodded, allowing her to continue.

With shaking hands, she peeled her shirt off. Confusion flashed through Damion’s eyes, but he remained quiet. Slowly, gently, she began to unravel the cloth which bound her chest and shoulders. She let it flutter to the ground, leaving her chest bare. Damion’s gaze drifted down, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the sight. He reached out with a questioning hand and – receiving no objection from Achlys – gently ran his fingers over the pale pink tissue of the large scar marring her flesh.

Her scar was easily the size of a grapefruit and was round other than its jagged edges. Damion furrowed his brows and looked up at her. She tried to hold eye contact, but faltered, looking away.

“No doubt you have noticed my aversion to magic,” Achlys whispered. “This is why. I was raised in a monk monastery from the age of 8 until the age of 18. When I was 12, the monastery was attacked by a dreadfully powerful sorcerer. I tried to help defend our home, but his magic…” She shuddered.

Damion gently pulled her chin so she was looking at him again. “The magic –“ he began.

“—Fireball. It struck me and tore right through my body.” Achlys turned, revealing an equal-sized scar on her back. “I am not entirely sure how I managed to survive, but when I awoke, the sorcerer had been slain. Not before many of my kin had been slain themselves, however.” She turned back to him and shrugged, fighting to regain her composure. “That is my darkest secret. Fire brings terror and weakness within me, even now.”

Damion grasped her shoulders and started into her eyes again – in his way.

“I understand.” he whispered.

And that was all she needed to hear.

Dream of the Past

Here’s something I’ve been meaning to write for a while, but haven’t been able to find the right wording. I think I’ve managed to do it a little justice, though. I’ve become rather fond of this format of short story from my studies. I hope you enjoy it.

Thanks, guys.

M.C.

Length: 499 words.

I am wrapped in a cocoon of darkness – warm, thick and safe. Suddenly, I am a child again, only 7 years old. I have all of the memories of my life to come, yet I am trapped in the body of my young self.

I know what I must do with this opportunity. I roam the streets of my hometown and arrive at your old house. I know you live here; you took me by this house years after you had moved. I knock on the door and you answer.

You are 14 in this time. A blossoming teenager plagued by the troubles of the old. I am here to warn you; to save you from loneliness in your future. You’re confused about who I am. You don’t know me yet, I tell you, but you will. You will meet me and we will share the deepest love. Wait for me, I say.

Then I am gone. A flash of darkness and then I wake again. I am a young teenager in this time. I have changed the past; therefore I have changed the future. I am no longer out of reach to that boy. He touches me, though I scream in protest. He steals my innocence from me, just as he had in my future. This time, the hurt is physical. The pain is more deep. The fallout is more intense. I am no longer the person I was supposed to be. Just wait, I tell myself. The future is coming.

More darkness. Finally, I wake and I see you.  I am tied to another, someone you have known for a long time, but only temporarily. You listened to me, even though you were confused. I send you glances, unable to contain myself. I am so close to being yours, truly. He catches me looking at you. Enraged, he hits me in front of you and our friends. He was supposed to be so gentle, but I have changed the past. Just wait, I tell myself. Soon you will have what you have been waiting for.

We speak and I am so excited. But I am not the same person, nor are you. Where is our love? The special feelings we have because we fit so well together? There is no love this time, for I have changed the past. What have you done, I ask myself. Was this what you were waiting for?

Darkness. Warmth. Comfort. I wake for the last time. I roll over in my bed and find you lying beside me. You look into my eyes and smile. You ask what I was dreaming about. I curl into your embrace and sigh. I tell you I was dreaming of changing the past. Though I am glad I have no power to do so. With the odds against us, in this time, we still have our love. We were able to make it through our obstacles to find the future.

At last, we are together.

Many people I’ve met, including myself, have talked about how they wish they could go back in time and change their past. “It would make things so much better,” we said. After thinking about it many times, I’ve decided that I don’t want my past to change. There are things I wish I could change, but I wouldn’t be able to accomplish that by changing what has happened to me. Something else bad would happen and it may end up being even worse. The only thing I can do now is learn from my past, cope with my present, and hope for my future.

I’m a student, too!

I would like to make a note to anyone viewing / following my work.

Keep in mind that while I will try my best to post as often as I can, I’m also a full-time university student. My school work comes first. I shouldn’t be extremely busy for a while, but if I suddenly do become busy, I may not be able to make that fact known to you all.

So, in short, please bear with me if I happen to be slow in posting.

Thanks so much, you guys!

M.C.

Weekly Writing Challenge: Frozen in Time

Here is my entry for the Weekly Writing Challenge, found here: http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/09/16/writing-challenge-dialogue/.

Length: 409 words

Enjoy!

“I don’t understand.” I furrowed my brows. “You’re so young; you should be doing childish things and have no worries of the world.”

There was a flash in her eyes and suddenly her stone face became distorted with fury.

“You have suffered – I can see it in your eyes – but you are a naïve fool!” Mika spat. “You are not the only one familiar with pain and you are blind to those who know greater pain than you!”

I snapped my gaping mouth shut, suddenly embarrassed. How could a child make me feel so young? “Like you?” I blurted, regretting it before I even finished the words.

“You have no idea,” she whispered. Her narrowed eyes were filled with a deep, age-old sadness. She turned and began to walk away.

“Wait!” I cried. I lurched forward and grabbed her shoulder. “I’m sorry. You’re right; I am naïve. You’re also right about my pain. Please help me understand yours! I want to help you! Who knows, we may even be able to help each other.”

Mika shook off my hand, turned to face me and our eyes locked. We stood there for what felt like ages, looking into each other’s eyes. Eventually, she sighed and her shoulders slumped.

“All right, fine. You must first promise me that you are sincere. Too many times have I confided in straight-faced statues for human beings, pretending to care merely because they’re expected to.”

“I promise you. Like you said, I am familiar with suffering.” I smiled stiffly, thinking of my father.

She chuckled humourlessly and returned my stiff smile. “How old do you think I am?”

“You look about ten.”

Her smile formed into an unbecoming grin. “I was born in 1936. I was Changed in 1946.”

My mouth was handing open again, I noted. “You’re 74 years old?!”

“Yes. I aged well, ne? Now, how well do you know your history?”

“Decently. 1945 marked the end of…” My voice trailed off. It all suddenly made sense. “My god… The bomb. You were –“

“–Living in Hiroshima at the time. I was far enough from the center to live, but close enough to suffer from everything else. I lived like that for a year before I was Changed. Long enough to watch everybody around me die –“

Her voice caught and she stopped. All I could do was approach her and hold her in my arms.

“I’m so sorry…”

I would like to note for those viewing my blog: this story and the characters in it are both my own. I have been working on this story for a long time, though admittedly I haven’t gotten very far with it. The narrator is a young girl named Naomi Thomas. I hope to post more about this story in the near future.

Thanks, guys!

M.C.

Angels of the Lord

I will start my blog out with some fan fiction. This scenario occurs between one of my own characters, Alessa, and the character Castiel from the show Supernatural. I own no rights to any Supernatural characters or content.

Length: 781 words

Thanks, guys!

M.C.

A flutter of wings alerted Alessa to an angelic presence. She turned, expecting her companion, only to be met by an unfamiliar face. He was tall with dark hair and deep blue eyes, clothed in a loose-fitting suit and a dirty trench coat.

“Who might you be?” she asked, stiffening slightly.

“I am Castiel,” he responded, his voice gruff. “I have never seen or heard of you in heaven; who are you?”

He was forward and to the point. Typical angel, Alessa smiled inwardly.

“Hello, Castiel. My name is Alessa. I haven’t been around for very long and I was only in heaven for a short while before I was sent back to Earth. It’s no wonder you’ve never heard of me. I barely made it through the gates, you might say.”

“There are no gates into heaven…” Castiel said, deadpan. Alessa fought against rolling her eyes. Yes, typical angel. Were they all really like that?

“Sorry – expression…” she muttered. “So, what are you here for? I figure you must have sought me out for a reason.”

“I was in the area and felt your presence. I didn’t recognize you, so I decided to investigate.”

“Are you hunting the group of demons, too?”

“Yes, the Winchesters and I –“

“The Winchesters?” Alessa cut in. “Who are they?”

“You aren’t even aware of the Winchesters…” he mumbled, more of a statement than a question. “They are human hunters. They have knowledge about the workings of heaven, hell and everything in between.” A small smile crossed his lips. “They are good friends of mine.”

Alessa’s head was spinning. Human companions? Hunters? Why hadn’t Keegan – or God, for that matter – informed her of these people? More importantly, Castiel had human friends. People who knew what he was. Why was he overlooked when she had been told not to reach out to anyone, herself? A pang of jealousy stabbed into her chest. Shaking her head, she cast the feeling aside. Her duties were for her, alone, and she had to obey her terms.

“I suppose you’ve been an angel for a while?” she asked speculatively. “You certainly act and speak like one.”

Castiel looked at her, his head tilted and his eyebrows knit. “Well, of course. I’ve been around since the beginning.”

Alessa shifted under his gaze. “Do you remember what it’s like?”

He paused. “I don’t understand.”

“Being human.” She finished softly.

He simply stared at her. She couldn’t possibly know about his falling from grace; she barely knew the workings of their own kind. In that case, what was she talking about? What could she –

“You…” he gasped. “Were you a human?”

She chewed her lip and looked away, shifted, then nodded. Geez, she thought it was general angel knowledge. Clearly she was meant to be kept a secret. But wait…

“You weren’t?” It was her turn to tilt her head. Damned angel habits were beginning to affect her.

“I was born an angel, like everyone else. Or so I thought.” He scratched his chin. “Interesting…”

She felt like a science project. “So you don’t know… You’ve never felt emotion? I was like that when I first came back to Earth – focused, emotionless – but then something happened and now I’m like a human in an angel’s body.” Did angels even have bodies?

Castiel scratched his chin again. Discomfort flashed over his face and was quickly replaced by exasperation. After a few moments, he sighed. “I rebelled against heaven because I could – I can – feel. I did what I still believe to be the right thing, and I ended up falling. I became human for a short time. Yes, I do know a bit about what you’re talking about. However, I don’t have any more of an idea of how to deal with it than you do.”

“But how do you manage your duties when you’re tied to someone?” she cried. “How do you know you’re making the right choices?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed again. He looked so tired. “Sometimes you won’t make the right choices, despite your best intentions. All you can really do is hold on to what keeps you here – whatever keeps you fighting.”

An image of light, tousled hair and bright, smiling eyes shone through her mind. Yes, whatever – whoever – kept her fighting: the person she swore to protect, against all odds.

“Thank you, Castiel.” She smiled at him. “No matter what mistakes you’ve made, I’m sure your friends will always forgive you in the end, because what else are friends for?”

A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “I hope you’re right.”

And with the soft whisper of feathers, he was gone.

“Typical angel,” she chuckled.