Sunday Snippet – The Gifted, Kane-sama and Sydney

Fear Not Productions

Back in the day, I started this story called The Gifted. It had begun as a Fearless fan fiction story (and by the way, I wouldn’t be able to imagine Blake Lively as Gaia Moore, just sayin), but then my interest waned. Once I formed an interest in the show Alias, I had reimagined the story including characters from that series. I wrote a few chapters before I realized that I wanted to make this into a novel with my original characters.

This scene is interesting because it introduces Irina Derevko as being alive–and with a connection to Kane, no doubt.

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She found him sitting on a rock and facing the setting sun as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world—or a train wreck he couldn’t tear his eyes from. His black hair was unbound this time, giving him a slight vulnerability amid his inherent strength…

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Poetry Corner – “Declaration”

Fear Not Productions

2011 continues to boggle my mind in hindsight. I started out the year searching, discovered and lost, and ended the year figuring I would be searching forever. It was not a welcome realization–until I realized that wonderful things come upon us in time. Even at your lowest, something kindles inside of your heart and soul to keep that fire going. If I can leave you with any thought…

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“Declaration”

In the still of the winter-night cold
I yearn for someone to hold
But I will not settle
In the bustle of life surrounding
Hand in hand everyone’s bounding
But I will not settle
Private memories break free
Like blood from a love wound, slyly
But I will not settle
Possibility muddies the rationale
And foes desire to be pals;
All the while, life goes blithely on
There’s more in store than is shown–
And somehow you think I’ll settle?

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Poetry Corner – “Anne Boleyn”

Fear Not Productions

Ah, my friends–gather ’round. It is time for the tale of a tragic queen.

The first mention of the second wife of the infamous King Henry VIII came from the movie Steel Magnolias when I was a child; Olympia Dukakis and Shirley MacLaine were talking about this person named Anne Boleyn–with six fingers on one hand! What? Bemusement reigned. But the image of deformity persisted.

I took a colloquium on Queen Elizabeth I (if you really wanna get me going on the subject, ask me if I think she died a virgin or not) during my senior year of college; The Tudors began its run on Showtime, and we perused it (privately, as it was extremely provocative–but hey, I discovered Henry Cavill) as part of our study. And thus Anne Boleyn surfaced again. As I learned more of her history, another image began to emerge–one of a woman who wanted…

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Midnight Moon – “The Marking”

Fear Not Productions

“The Marking”

She was angry.

Anger persisted as a side effect of her ability to control fire; the emotion rolled through her like molten lava, threatening to spew through her pores at any given moment. The mind, Aurora would always say, controlled the body, therefore the mind should always be strong. (Of course, Angelia would not always agree, being more agile than mentally controlled.)

But the soul, Felice interjected softly, superseded them all.

Her soul toiled with restlessness and fury. Perhaps that was why, when she picked up the bo, even though her mind and body had transcended to a space of peaceful tranquility, her fingertips darkened the mahogany wood.

“You can refuse you know,” he told her, back straight, the grip on his own bo firm but casually dangerous.

A muscle twitched in her thigh–the only movement of her body. Her soul, on the other hand, smoldered with contempt.

“Like…

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Poetry Corner – “Living in Your Head”

Fear Not Productions

“Living in Your Head”

Chillin on Sunday with shades drawn
World turns but you’re hiding out
Saturday’s whirly mirth is gone
In worship of self you’re the most devout
No visitor is quite worthy
Reaching out will break the spell

Do you bump into yourself everywhere or do you let someone in?
When you’re living in your head, do you remember where you’ve been?

Paranoia missed you at the bar
Holding ya seat, asking, “How ya been?”
He swipes the keys to the car
Steering like you’re old friends
But he imbibed too long
Didn’t notice the obstacle

Do you  try to ignore but  the deduction is too adamant?
When you’re living in your head, who gets blamed for the accident?

Holed up  in your armored fortress
Peeking through the Lego block
All attempts will fail the test
When you leave  the entrance locked
Participation will be thin
If we’re…

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