The Most Wonderful Time of The Year!

.....not quite. And not Christmas, in case you were wondering. It's (drumroll please) NANOWRIMO!!!

For those of you who are unfamiliar with this term, it's short for National Novel Writing Month, a contest that stretches from the beginning to the end of November and in which thousands of people buckle down and write, anywhere from 500 to 50,000 words. The Young Writers' Program, available for anyone who wants to set their own goal, either because they don't have the time or ability to write 50,000 words, or because they think 50,000 words is for weenies, is what I have participated in for five years (and I was part of the first group). I believe the most I ever wrote was 30,000 words.

Then, for those who desire nothing more than to give up their social life and pretty much everything else, there is the 'official' NaNo, where writers attempt to attain that lofty 50,000 word goal. This is not for the faint of heart....and also why any sane person would want to do the Young Writer's Program. Unfortunately for the rest of humanity, I have yet to meet a writer with a shred of sanity left in them...and I am one of them.

So, as I start NaNo and a brand new job on basically the same day, I have found myself needing to reevaluate the time I spend on Facebook and will probably have to go on a Minion Rush fast during all of November. In terms of words, the number 1,667 doesn't sound like very much, but when I'm sitting wide awake and staring at a 49,900 word document on November 30 at 11:58, it will feel like I'm trying to reach the top of Mount Everest before the storm hits. But like Rob Hall, I KNOW I will reach the impossible end.

Cheers!

~Jackie

The Last Chance, Chapter 2

James sat for a lonely and quiet few hours in the holding cell, as it became apparent that this is what the room was. He looked around, counted the number of times the light on the camera blinked, tried to get himself untied, even tried singing to himself a bit, but nothing happened. No one came in, there was no sound from outside, nothing. Luna didn’t even show up. Finally, James simply fell asleep. There was no point in staying awake to be bored, for who-knows-how-long. He woke up to the door of the cell opening. Captain Markov walked in with a paper bag. She dropped this to the floor, and untied the ropes binding James’ hands.

“That’s your dinner. Enjoy. You’ll be getting one of those every day until we get to Kerioth, our planet. It’ll take ten days to get there, if we don’t encounter any problems on the way, so you might as well sit tight.”

With that, she walked out again, and the door closed and locked once more. James opened the bag to find a squished piece of some unrecognizable casserole, or something. He hesitantly ate a bit, and found, to his surprise, that it was rather tasty, despite its… mushed appearance. After this, he merely sat against the wall until he fell asleep again. This continued for the next two days. The Captain would throw in a bag of some food, which was different every day, and then she would leave without saying a word. On the third day since his capture, he spoke to her.

“What’s Kerioth like?”

Markov spun around, staring at him for a long moment. James thought she wasn’t going to answer, but then she spoke.

“It’s a lot like your earth, I suppose. It has beautiful cities, and powerful countries, vast forests, great wildernesses, and our ocean, Ceppiria.”

“Only one ocean?”

“Yes. We only have one continent on our planet, unlike earth, which has more. Our ancestors tell of the day the earth split on your planet, when the Great One sent floods across the whole land, and the continents drifted apart and became many. But there was the one man who saved the race by building an enormous ship to carry the people and animals of the Great One’s choosing through the floods. On our planet, we celebrate that the Great One never sent floods on our planet. You could say that your planet is just one big cautionary tale for those of Kerioth.”

“So you believe in God?”

“Yes, I would say I do. The Great One created our world as well as yours, and if I did not believe, that would make him no less real. If he were not real, I would not be here, either. Nor would you. Although, there are those who do not believe on our planet. The General is one of those.”

“Who’s the general?”

“He is the man who spoke to you when we captured you.”

“Oh, the Spock guy.”

Markov gave him a strange look.

“Sorry, earth reference. So, why did you capture me, anyway? I still don’t understand that.”

Markov stood.

“I think I’ve said enough for today. Eat your meal. It’s only another week until we arrive back in Taronia.”

And then she left.

The days began to fade together, the passing of time only marked by Captain Markov bringing James his food. When she came, she would tell him stories of Kerioth and the kingdom Taronia, as well as tales from her hometown, a small village called Falton, near the border of the kingdom, and at the edge of the great forest; the Elderwoods. These stories entertained James through the long hours that stretched out over the week, and taught him much about the culture of her home. The best story was of how she became a captain in the army. This story she told on the ninth day, as they were coming in sight of Kerioth.

“Yes, it is quite the tale, that is. You’ve heard about my home in Falton, so it should be clear I wasn’t raised to be a soldier. It took place when I was about fourteen years old. That was the year the Imperials took control of the kingdom, after the last king passed away. The new ruler wished to conquer surrounding countries, and so he began seeking out young, able-bodied men to fight his wars. The select guard he sent out finally came to Falton in the autumn of that year…

Torra Markov, aged fourteen, worked in her father’s shop, selling produce and tea. She enjoyed the busy life of the town, the friendly faces and kind words, the buzz of the townsfolk. This buzz was disrupted, however, one day, when the Imperial Guard came into town. Their commander stood in the middle of the town square and called out loudly,

“By order of his Mightiness, Lord Voraeigh, young men wishing to join the glorious Imperial Army shall immediately come to us and sign up this noon after the sun rises in its crest! We shall have a table open to those brave souls in the Barrel Ankle tavern for those who will sign our registration!”

Torra stood in front of her father’s shop, filling a display with apples, and heard the commander's cry. She snorted quietly, disdain in her eyes as she looked on the guard. They were all pompous, rich puppets, sons of merchants and nobility, no doubt, dressed up in shiny armor to impress the local folks. What would happen to those overblown rich boys when they saw actual battle? She doubted they had really ever fought for their lives before.

To be fair, she thought to herself, neither have I.

She took her empty basket back inside the shop, laying it aside as attended to some customers. She soon forgot about the soldiers, and carried on wit her day, which was otherwise uninterrupted, until that night at the dinner table. Torra’s father turned to his wife, Mira, and said,

“I have signed up for the army.”

The chatter around the table ceased, all eyes staring at the father.

“What?”

Jorgin Markov looked around at his family.

“Yes. Our king has died, it is true, but this new leader, Lord Volaeigh, seems an ambitious and hard-working man. I believe he will lead our kingdom to greatness.”

Mira laughed nervously.

“But there are many ways to support his work, without joining the army. Why must you go and do that?”

“My support would mean nothing but talk from here. From the battlefield, my support would be worthy of pride. You and Torra can run the shop without my help, I have faith. And the Great One will watch over me. You need not fear.”

Mira looked sorrowful, but she nodded.

“Very well then. We shall pray every day for your safety, my love. When are you leaving?”

“The soldiers will return to the capital in two days time, and I shall go with them.”

The rest of the meal was much-subdued and quiet. Torra seethed inwardly. How dare those primped-up jesters take her father away! How dare they use his brave loyalty to steal him from her! After dinner was done, Torra went outside for a walk. As she walked through town, she found herself at the edge of the great forest. She loved the forest. In spring, the sunlight would shine down through the newly-sprouted leaves and paint everything with green watercolors, in summer, it was cool and quiet, away from the heat and activity of the town square, in winter, it was still and peaceful, covered with a blanket of pure snow, undisturbed by human feet. And in Autumn, it was ablaze with the vibrant red and golden glory of the dying leaves. She entered the forest, and walked among the mighty tree trunks, breathing in the fresh air of the calm forest. Then she smelled something that did not belong. It was the smell of burning wood. She followed her nose to the source, a campfire deep in the forest. Around it, she saw some of the officers from the guard which had come in earlier. Why were they camped so far out of town? Why not stay at an inn? They were talking, discussing something that seemed of great importance. She stayed quiet and listened.

“That was the General’s order, was it not?”

“You don’t understand. If we did that, it would not only put our mission in jeopardy, it would destroy all chance of gaining the trust of these people. We can’t risk either at this point.”

“Then how are we to go about it? The General told us that no young man was to be left out, and unless we begin a draft, we cannot recruit all of them.”

“We are here for two more days. That’s plenty of time. Our mission is to kill the mayor, and if we stage an attack from a false enemy with too many of their young men, they will suspect something. We must be clever about this.”

Torra nearly gasped, but a hand clamped around her mouth. She turned to see her father standing there. She almost yelped in surprise, but it was hard with his hand over her mouth. he held a finger to his lips, and looked intently at the men around the campfire. They were still talking about their mission. Torra turned again to look, but slipped, knocking her knee against the tree trunk. The soldiers turned.

“Who’s there?”

Jorgin shoved Torra to the side, quickly leaping behind a different tree himself.

“There he goes!”

“Catch the spy!”

Torra silently stood up, retreating the tiniest bit to underneath a bush. The soldiers caught her father and dragged him into the light of the campfire. The commander stood up.

“I know you. You signed up at the tavern today, did you not?”

Jorgin did not answer.

“You did. I recall your face. Tell me, why were you spying on us?”

Still no response.

“You understand what you have heard and seen then? Well, if that is the case, then I’m afraid you know too much. Verus, my sword.”

Torra covered her mouth, watching in horror. The commander raised his sword high, and it flashed down, as if aflame as it reflected the campfire light.

The Captain’s story stopped abruptly as the door flew open. a crew member stood there, and called out urgently,

“Captain! We’re being fired upon!”

Captain Markov shot to her feet and raced out of the room after the crewman. The door slammed and locked behind them, and James could only sit and stare at the door in shock.

The Last Chance, Chapter 1

James sat in his living room, holding a magazine. He wasn't really reading it, but for the sake of looking busy, he was holding it anyway. Across the room, seated on the couch, his parents sat with some friends, chattering away happily. James slid further down in his seat.
"I didn't even want to be here. How long do I have to stay like this?" he thought grouchily. He and his family had just returned from a funeral (it had been a distant relation that James had never met), and they had invited some friends over for dinner afterward. James had tried his hardest to avoid conversation during dinner, but failed. His parents had asked he remain in the living room, and not escape to his bedroom, hence he held the magazine close to his face. If anyone asked him a question, he swore-
"So, James, what are you interested in these days? I remember when you used to love watching Power Puff Girls on Saturday mornings!"
James turned pink. It was true he watched it, and got teased a lot by his schoolmates as a result.
"Well, I've been getting into mechanics lately. I hope to be a robotics engineer when I graduate."
"Oh, that's interesting," the woman nodded, obviously not too interested.
"Where do you think you'll go to college?"
"I'm still looking, honestly," James answered vaguely. He was ready to end this conversation before it got out of hand.
"Oh, I see," the woman answered, a bit awkwardly, and turned back to the others. James' mother cleared her throat, trying to break the silence.
"James, it's late, dear, why don't you start getting ready for bed?" she said quietly. James silently rejoiced his victory as he dropped the magazine and walked down the hall to his room. Behind the closed door, he pumped his fist. The first thing to go was the black tie, and after that, the crisp white shirt, and they were unceremoniously dumped in a pile on the floor. His brightly polished black shoes landed somewhere next to the desk, and he promptly flopped down on his bed, closing his eyes for a brief moment, before reaching for his cell phone. He needed some mindless entertainment, and quickly. It felt like minutes, but it was really an hour later when he heard a knock on the door. He dropped his phone on the bed and got up to answer. His mother was standing at the door.
"James, can I talk to you?"
Her tone said that it wasn't a question. James stood aside, and she walked in. She saw the clothes on the floor, and the shoes in the corner.
"James, pick up your clothes and put them away properly!"
James jumped to do so, as his mother sat in his desk chair.
"James, you were very rude to our guests tonight. I thought you'd outgrown this childish behaviour."
James didn't look his mother in the eye. He didn't answer.
"Well? Can you explain to me the reason behind your attitude tonight? In fact, this past week had been the same. You've been rude, distant, and sullen for days."
He still didn't answer. What could he say? He just didn't feel like dealing with people recently. His mother sighed.
"This is becoming a problem, son. You need to be more polite to people! What's wrong? Is it a problem at school? Is it something your father and I have done?"
"No, it's not you. I just... Don't feel like talking, is all."
"Why not? What's wrong?"
James blew his top,
"Nothing's wrong! I'm totally fine! Is there a problem with being quiet? Is there a problem with not liking to interact with people? So I'm an introvert, so what! Call the mental hospital, James doesn't like talking to people! So there's something wrong with me then? That's just great! And here I thought I was just a normal quiet person!"
His mother stood up quickly.
"Don't you take that tone with me! You know what? You're grounded! You won't have to worry about talking to people, because you'll be in here for two weeks!"
James jumped to his feet.
"You can't ground me! I'm seventeen!"
"I am your mother! I can ground you until you're thirty if I like! Good night!"
She stormed out and slammed the door behind her. James sat heavily on his bed, his face burning from anger. But the anger soon melted away to disappointment. He hadn't meant to get mad at his mom, but she just could be so... misunderstanding sometimes. And stubborn. He supposed he'd inherited that from her. He could hear his parents talking in the hallway, but their voices also faded away eventually. James was tired from the day, so he rested his head on his pillows, and was soon fast asleep.

It was sometime during the night that he awoke, feeling the strange sensation of someone watching him. He sat up in bed, his eyes adjusting slowly to the dark room. he jumped back as he saw a figure sitting in the corner of the room. He wanted to scream, but he couldn't make a sound. The figure was wearing a blue cloak with the hood up, and holding a staff sideways across their knees. They stood, pulling back the hood to reveal a girl with stark white hair hanging to her waist. Even in the darkness, her could see her eyes, dark yellow eyes, which reminded him of a Sith lord from Star Wars. She was grinning, he could just barely tell in the dark, and her cloak fell open partially to reveal a white dress. She advanced on the bed, causing James to scoot backwards. She stopped at the foot of the bed and looked directly into his eyes.
"I thought I should stop off and warn you," she said in a quiet voice.
"You'll be getting visitors sometime in the next week. I'm not saying when, just so I can see you squirm. When you meet them, you won't have a choice but to go with them, but please, put up a fight. It'll be more fun that way."
And with a quiet giggle, she suddenly vanished, leaving her grin behind for a few seconds after. James was sure it was a dream, and pinched himself, to make sure.
"Wowch! Oh, crap!"
He hardly got a wink of sleep the rest of the night, trying to keep an eye out for the girl. Who knows what she wanted!

James stood at the bus stop the next day. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he yawned as he stood there. A friend glanced over at him.
"Hey, you okay there, bro? You look awful!"
James turned to look at him.
"I hardly slept last night at all. Some creep broke into my room somehow and totally freaked me out. It was some kind of prank, I'm sure. At least, they didn't take anything, so it wasn't a burglar."
"Freaky! Did you call the police?"
"Nah, I figured if it was just a prank, I shouldn't bother them about it. I just didn't sleep is all. Besides, I don't think I'll ever see them again."
School was a bore, although James did get in trouble for falling asleep in class once. He only got a warning, since he had a good track record, and his grades were high. He didn't see the girl again for two days, and he slept well for it, but halfway through the week, as he was riding the bus home, there was a sudden loud crash, and a jolt. James fell out of his seat, and there was confusion throughout the bus.
"Did we hit something?"
"What's going on?"
"Are we gonna die?"
"Where are we?"
"I want to go home!"
"We're in an accident!"
James stood up and looked around. The bus was mostly intact, and the other students, although flustered, were fine. The bus had hit a car that was sitting in the middle of the street, for some inexplicable reason. The front of the bus was smashed in, and the driver looked a bit winded, but otherwise fine. He tried to calm everyone down, when there was another crash. The windshield collapsed inward, shattering onto the floor below. Students ducked behind seats and there were a few screams. As James watched, three very strange-looking people walked right through the space where the windshield used to be. The first was a tall man with black hair and a neat goatee. He was wearing what appeared to be a military uniform, though not one from any country James had ever heard of, he was sure. James guessed him to be in his late thirties to mid-forties, although there was not a single gray hair on his head. The second person who walked in was an older-looking woman, also wearing a military uniform, though hers looked much more ornate and important. The third person to walk in was a girl, maybe twenty years old, with wild dirty-blonde hair, and wearing baggy jeans with holes in the knees, a black t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off, and bracelets up both of her arms. Her ears and lip were pierced, and her eyes were the most brilliant blue James had ever seen. She carried a short staff over one shoulder, and a coil of rope in the other hand. These three people walked into the bus, and looked around at the cowering students, and the much-bewildered bus driver. The man scanned the bus interior and his eyes fixed on James, who was the only one standing in the aisle.
"We, the Commanders of the Imperial Taronian Army, are here to collect a James Chance. If James Chance can hear my voice, he should step forward immediately."
Nobody moved for a moment. James glanced around at everyone. They were all glancing between James and the three strange people. The man was beginning to look impatient.
"I will say it once again, James Chance must step forward at once."
No one moved, and no one said anything. The man drew a gun, and his face grew dark.
"James Chance, please step-"
"James Chance has already stepped forward!" James shouted at the man, in a moment of desperation. He couldn't let the man fire the gun.
"And he will not be collected!"
The man fixed his eyes on James once again.
"You? I was expecting someone... less scrawny. In any case, you will come with us."
"Oh yeah? Make me!"
James immediately regretted his words. The older woman turned to the girl.
"Captain, you have permission to do your thing."
The girl grinned sadistically, and tapped her staff on her shoulder. James took a step back. In a flash, the girl was right in front of him, and swung her staff. It caught him on the side of the head, and stars exploded in his vision. He could feel himself falling sideways, and reached out to grab onto something. The girl grabbed the front of his shirt, and he found himself looking right into her eyes. There was something there, something familiar. He tried to speak, but his words were slurred. He felt dizzy as he tried to focus on her face. She threw him to the floor, and tied his hands behind him, then flipped him over, and he looked up at her face again.
"You... do you know that... white-haired girl?" he asked, somewhat sloppily. The girl suddenly looked shocked, and angry. James had a short-lived feeling of terror, and then the girl pulled back her fist, and stars exploded once again in James' head, followed by utter darkness.

He awoke in little less darkness than before, and checked himself. His hands were still bound, and his head hurt like nobody's business, but he felt more or less alive. Suddenly, a light came on overhead, causing him to blink rapidly. He saw that he was in a small white room, made of some kind of tile, or linoleum, some smooth surface, anyway. Behind him, he heard a noise, and turned. The girl in white was standing right behind him, grinning. James now saw that she had a single fang, visible, just barely, among her other teeth.
"You!"
She put a finger to her mouth.
"I wouldn't if I were you. You're being monitored, and you're the only one who can hear or see me. You look pretty crazy right now."
James glared at her, but kept his mouth shut. He glanced around again, and this time, he saw the cameras. The girl crouched in front of his face.
"Remember, I did warn you. It was your decision to not care. I bet you're thinking, 'where am I?' and 'who are you?' right about now. I can tell you one of those things. I'm Luna, the Outsider. Don't ask what that means, you wouldn't understand even if I explained. And as for where you are, I can't really tell you that. I mean, I could tell you that you're in a cell aboard a spacecraft heading back to the planet Kerioth, but honestly, how much sense would that make to you? Yes, see? You're making that face that means you have no idea what I'm talking about. I'm right, aren't I? Of course I am. And the people who kidnapped you are the General, Sergeant, and Captain of the Imperial Taronian Army, but again, that doesn't mean much to you. I guess you'll just have to figure this one out yourself!"
And with that, the girl vanished once more. James found himself sighing in frustration, then he spun around as there was the sound of a door opening behind him. The blonde girl walked in, twirling her staff. James scooted backwards as she advanced on him. She crouched in front of him, one hand on his shoulder.
"So, you scrawny brat, what do you know about the girl in white?"
"Wait... what?"
James' mouth opened a little in surprise. What was all this about? The girl pushed him to the floor and stood up, pointing her staff at him.
"The girl in white. Tell me everything you know."
"Why do you care?"
The girl spat on the floor between his feet.
"What does that matter to you, brat? Just tell me, or I'll show you what I can really do with this staff."
James twisted around, trying to stand, trying to get away from this crazy girl.
"Look, I don't know anything! She just popped up in my room one night and told me I was going to have visitors. I-I think she meant you, and- and those other people. That's all I know, I swear!"
The girl crouched again, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him close, so she was looking right into his eyes.
"Then why in the four underworlds would you mention her to me, if you didn't know either of us."
James shook in terror as her breath brushed his cheek.
"I-I don't know! You-your eyes! Your eyes looked like hers!"
The girl dropped him to the floor again, standing up. She stared at him for a full five seconds, then turned.
"I am Captain Markov of the Imperial Taronian Army. You will address me as Captain, or Ma'am, or not at all. My Senior Officers and I are taking you back to our home planet, Kerioth."
"Why?"
Markov turned, an ugly look on her face. She kicked James to the floor again.
"Don't ask questions, scrawny brat. You might survive if you keep your foolish mouth shut."
And with that, she walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her. James heard the door lock, and then a voice.
"Wow, she has quite a temper, doesn't she?"
James scowled, muttering through clenched teeth,
"You are going to get me in so much trouble, you know that?"

General Ferralor, the dark-haired man, stopped the Captain as she walked into the command center.
"What were you doing to the boy?"
The Captain looked down at the General's hand on her arm, then up at the General, pulling her arm away.
"Making sure he knows his place. He at least deserves to know the name of the planet he was born on, don't you think?"
And with that, she walked off. The General smiled humourlessly.
"Don't think that just because the camera has no audio, you can consort with the prisoner!"
"And you would know all about consorting with prisoners!" the Captain called back over her shoulder. The General frowned dangerously, then left the command center. The Captain smiled as she heard the door close.
"Well then, my old friend. Well then."

The Cheshires

Once upon a boring night, I watched a tv show. As I watched the tv show, I became increasingly more annoyed at the stupidity of the characters. I wished desperately to climb through the screen, into the world of the characters, and give each of them and well-deserved slap in the face. Hence was born the first Cheshire, Luna. Also known as The Outsider, a high rank of Cheshire, she travels through many stories, delivering advice and guidance to many characters throughout the worlds. As I tell my stories, I oftentimes encounter those who do not understand the ways of the Cheshires, and so I will, once and for all, explain about the Cheshires, and their home.

We shall begin with their home, or headquarters. The land of Iridium is a city that sits upon the clouds, the buildings made of white marble and glass. The layout of the city is like that of a college campus, with the Royal Cheshire Academy serving as the shining jewel at the center of it all. The dormitories lie near the main hall, and around the other school buildings are apartments, shops, and on the outskirts of the city are the headquarters of the Guardians. When a Cheshire graduates from the Academy, he or she becomes a Guardian, either of Order, or Chaos. The Guardians of Order, when their contract expires, or if they are killed in the field, are sent to the land beyond Iridium's farthest border, at the top of a green hill, with a rainbow wall of precious stones, stretching endlessly in both directions, behind a gate of mother-of-pearl and silver, in the golden city of light. Guardians of Chaos, on the other hand, are cast down to a place of endless darkness when their contract expires. Though there are some special exceptions. A Cheshire knows this before they graduate. They are educated about the paths they may choose by a mentor, who selects them at their enrollment. These mentors will guide the young Cheshire, being both a teacher and caretaker until they are old enough to make their own decisions. One such decision is what course they will take upon graduation, the role of a Guardian of Order, or of Chaos. Also upon graduation, another choice awaits them. What form will be theirs for the rest of their lives. A Cheshire may choose their own form when they become a Guardian. This is where the myths of unicorns, mermaids, and many other mythical creatures come from. Although these creatures did exist once, or may still exist, those which have been seen are more likely to be Cheshires than actual mythical creatures.
When a Cheshire chooses their path, they are accepted into the headquarters belonging to that choice of Guardian. They are given assignments to assist the characters of a given story, or distract them, depending on what sect of Cheshire they are, and what role the character has. When an assignment is given, the Cheshire will proceed to watch the character's story, and then descend to the world's surface, to carry out their assignment.
In the center of Iridium, in Silver Park, there is a courtyard, and in the courtyard are many wells. If one is to look down into a well, they shall see, as though reflected in the water, the story of a character played out, like a movie. The wells are called the Pools of Sight, and this is where the Cheshires receive their knowledge of any given story.
At the edge of Iridium, where the clouds drop off into oblivion, the Cheshires gather, and leap off into the air. This is the Edge, where the clouds end, and if you look down, it is as though looking down into a bright, clear ocean, and there is a city at the ocean floor. This is how the Cheshires come to our worlds. They leap off the Edge, and fall down to the world they choose, and from there carry out their mission.

I have said that Cheshires can choose their form, and although it is true that one form may have advantages over another, all Cheshires share some attributes. All can fly, all can disappear into thin air, quickly, or slowly, starting with their tail, and finishing with their grin, which remains quite a bit longer than the rest of them. They can have a special tool which helps them with their task, and they may have a familiar, but neither is required. They also may work in groups, or with a partner, for maximum efficiency. Cheshires live much longer than humans, up to ten thousand years, but they are not immortal. When they come to the land beyond Iridium, time will end, and exist no more, and they will live forever, but not before.

This, then, is the chronicle of the Cheshire. All information available to a mortal about their race can be found here.
I shall end my relation here.
~Arya

Prologue to Writing

Welcome to a new world. Our world. Mine and my friend's. Although, to call it a world is not quite accurate. You see, there are many worlds. Some are mine, some are hers, and they sometimes connect. There are people who live in those worlds, just like you, but perhaps not like you. They have adventures, they seek truth, peace, and love. They don't always know the way, yet they strive to walk in the light. So perhaps, in a way, they are like you.

Though, in all seriousness, welcome to our new writing blog. My name is Arya, my associate's is Jackie, and we hope to post stories we are working on, and generally spread good, wholesome writing across the internet. My forte is fantasy fiction, so you can expect to see a lot of fairies, mermaids, and dragons from me. I've known Jackie to write dystopian and apocalyptic fiction, but I'll let her writing speak for itself.

If you made your way through my post without dying of boredom, or retreating to another webpage to watch Naruto, or Sherlock, then I congratulate you (you will receive free cookies for your effort).

So, again I bid you welcome to the realm that we have created. Our new world, Of Pens and Paradoxes.

~Arya Animarus

Untitled Story {Prologue}

She peeked around the corner, her fingers creeping around the corner of the building.

“All clear?” she murmured to herself, turning her head to look the other way, then behind herself, then repeating the cycle again. As she looked behind herself the second time, she jumped, barely containing a scream of surprise, muffling it into a sharp squeal.

“Do that a little louder next time, so they'll be sure to find us, Lia!” he hissed.

“Maybe you should stop sneaking up on me, Joaquin!” Lia retorted.

“I didn't. I merely happened to come up behind you as you were looking behind yourself,” Joaquin stated. “Seen any of the Bloodsuckers?”

“No.” Lia nervously reached for one of the guns holstered on her small waist. “It's like the quiet before the-”

A loud shot rang out, followed by an agonized scream. A moment of silence followed, then Joaquin looked at her. “You were saying?”

But Lia was already preparing to move into the open street. “That sounded like Keri,” she said, her teeth clenched. “If they've killed her-”

Joaquin grabbed her arm and pulled her back. A split second later, a bullet whistled by where her head had been.

“Show your faces, dirty Patriotics!” yelled the rough voice that Joaquin and Lia recognized as one of the leaders of the Bloodsuckers.

“You first, Bloodsucker!” Joaquin hollered back. “It's my turn to get a bullet in your ugly face!”

He turned to speak to Lia, but she had already pulled out her spikes. “For once,” he said, “you're a step ahead of me.”

With the speed of those who had done it many times before, they strapped the spikes onto their wrists and knees and attached themselves to the stone wall. Then they started hauling themselves up the wall with speed and agility.

“Just in time,” Joaquin grunted as bullets started hammering into the alley.

“Maybe we should wait to mouth off until we have the height advantage, bigmouth,” Lia muttered.

“You're not a guy,” Joaquin said, grinning. “Mouthing off is half the fun of gang life.”

Lia rolled her eyes. “Maybe the other half should be trying to stay alive-and that's the half you should be focusing on right now.”

“Love you too,” Joaquin said as they reached the top of the building and rolled over the small ledge there.

“Save it,” Lia said grimly, turning her wrist over so the spikes were standing up. “Sentiments can wait.” She pressed a switch on the side of the spikes and a bullet roared out, catching the Bloodsucker crawling up the opposite wall in the throat. He let go and plummeted to the ground, clutching his throat.

Simultaneously, the pair grabbed the twin guns on each of their waists and started shooting at the Bloodsuckers that were now pouring over the side of the wall, giving them only a few chances to shoot back. Lia and Joaquin, ducked, twisted, rolled and shot, going so fast that the Bloodsuckers had a hard time aiming at them.

Finally, they stopped coming over, and Lia and Joaquin were left standing in the middle of a mass of bodies. Sweaty and exhausted, they smiled and hugged each other, trying to catch their breaths. Then they froze as someone spoke.

“Sentiments can wait, huh? 'Til we've slaughtered all the bad guys? Huh, maybe we should try that, Vesta.”

“Wildcats,” Joaquin muttered. “Could've known they would try to spoil the party.”

The pair turned to face the two sole Wildcats, Vesta and her twin brother Dax, notorious for breaking into the fights between other gangs and escaping almost unnoticed. Everyone else in their sector of the city was dead-they were the only survivors (hence the name Wildcats).

“Too late, chums,” Joaquin said, folding his arms, a wry grin on his face. “You missed this little party.”

“Only most of it,” Vesta said, nodding in the direction of the opposite wall. “Look who sacrificially let everyone go before him.”

Lia and Joaquin turned back around and saw the Bloodsucker leader who had spoken to them on street level. He was huge-almost two meters tall and packed with muscles. Two large guns were slung across his back, and two smaller ones were holstered on his hips. Only a vest covered his broad chest, across which were folded two hefty arms.

“Hey. You can have him-our treat,” Joaquin said over his shoulder to Dax and Vesta.

“We're tempted,” Vesta said, “but we really shouldn't.”

She and Dax grinned at each other, turned, and swung grappling hooks over the ledge of the next building, swinging away with whoops and cheers.

“Well,” said Joaquin in a low tone. “We're toast.”

Wyndmere was once a beautiful, bustling tourist resort. Until the US government randomly-or maybe not so randomly-decided to perform highly questionable nuclear tests here. Now it's dark and gray-the sky is always cloudy, the buildings have no hint of beautiful color-it's just all...gray.

I've never seen the sun. Mom said it was beautiful-bright and yellow, shining down, giving us life, giving us hope. Now it can't even penetrate the cloud cover and even Mom is starting to forget what it looks like. Of course, the experiments she was subjected to as a child are finally starting to affect her brain. We have to keep her in a deep basement under constant supervision 'cause we can't risk her coming up and getting killed by the gangs that have become our way of life in Wyndmere. Even if she survived, she would kill us for getting swept into it. Like we could help it.

She's the last of the parents, and lucky to have survived so long. Every other parent, now dead, was subjected to experiments when they were younger. They all died around the age of 40-except for Mom. Something inside kept her alive longer-I don't know what it is. One of the main reasons Joaquin and I joined our sector gang was to explore the city to see if we could possibly find a cure. We haven't had any luck so far-but we're hoping to before she fades, which she is-and faster than we would want.

Please join me as I chronicle our adventures.