Quotes


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Ripped from the Headlines!.”

(From this article)

Once in a world where magical creatures roamed the land, everything around lived, but may or may not have been sentient. Animals could talk and had alliances with the humans, faeries existed, trees, while they weren’t able to commuincate were able to respond to people and their requests and were treated with beyond respect. The air had a mind of it’s own and wouldn’t follow anyone’s command, unless they were part of one of the superior races upon the earth, such as the Mages or the Elementals who were in tune with the earth in ways that others didn’t truly understand. Then there was one of the largest supernatural forces, the water. Water lived within everyone and covered more than 75% of the land and sustained every living creature. It freely gave it’s life to be consumed by others, knowing that it would sustain all creatures and be used to save lives and benefit the world as a whole.

But in one town in particular, a massive river cut through the town, dividing it in two though it was connected by massive bridges which spanned the river for transportation, walking and just for general convenience. When the town had been created originally, the river helped the time, but slowly as people started to abuse it, it receded back into itself to just be a river in which people would have to sustain themselves, though it would supply. Unfortunately, with all humans and and independent-thought creatures, after a while they start to abuse their relationship with others, either from choice or just from general negligence. Trash was their one main abuse and while their landfills slowly started to fill up, townspeople would start to throw their trash and waste into the water, knowing that it would be removed from their town so they didn’t think about the consequences that it would have to the river as a whole. Every time trash was thrown into the water, it would roil and turn violent but no one paid any attention to the waters response as they only were concerned with their own well being.

It didn’t take long for the pure water to turn to a disgusting brown and instead of it rolling and becoming violent when trash was put into it, it would barely make a whimper. No one noticed it, but the water was dying. After a year of this going on, the water pretty much never responded anymore.

That was until one day one of the 4 main elementalists visited the town as he was going around on one of his multi-year pilgrimages. He was the elementalist of water and the moment he was within site of the town, he knew what was wrong. It was clear that the water wasn’t alive within the town and upon passing wells that were near the town center, he was able to smell the nastiness of the water. He wasn’t aware that people of the town knew that their water had gone stale but they didn’t bother to respond to it, just deciding to import water from outside towns.

After a day of being in the town and looking at the water briefly, he called a town meeting as he, with his elemental powers, had more power than all of those governors who looked after the town.

“You, my good people, have a serious issue on your hands.” He stated as he stood at the podium in the towns meeting center. “You have killed the water.” He continued.

“Killed the water? But we just get it from elsewhere. What does it matter?” Someone in the crowd called out and a ripple of agreement followed that response.

“What does it matter? You are hurting a sentient being.”

“Sentient?” Someone else questioned. He immediately commanded that the town follow him to the riverbank, which they of course did, not daring to question him. Once upon the banks, he raised his hand over the water before gently dipping a finger in, and a brief moment later, the water swirled and a minute or so later, a humanoid like creature, made out of water, stepped out from the water. The crowd looked on with awe and fear. The creature, while it was clearly made of water had a muddy color to it.

“This is part of the spirit from the water. The water lives and breathes and you must treat it as you would treat your child. With care.” He stated, the humanoid creature standing stooped over like an old man, looking tired and sad.

“What you have done to this water is equivalent to feeding a newborn garbage. It’s exactly the same thing.” He stated and suddenly a small child, about 5 years of age or so, stepped forward out of the crowd, his mother reaching for him but missing by a heartbeat. The innocent child walked towards the creature and reached out for it, gently touching it on the leg in awe and wonder, having no fear, while some of the adults looked on in terror.

“Do you need more proof?” The elementalist asked. “A child among you sees no threat from this. You should do the same and treat it as you would treat this child. I cannot force you, nor will, as it is not my job. But it is your conscience, not mine, now that you have seen what the water truly is – an innocent.” Upon saying this, the creature nodded once, looked down back at the child, before turning and melding back into the water, going back to where it belonged.

The elementalist left the next day and it was up to the towns people to change their ways, but the elementalist always wondered if they took his word and approximately 6 months later, oblivious to everyone else in the town, a large black crow flew over head, a creature who would report back to the elementalist. After a 5 minute fly over it was clear that the town was back to how it used to be, the water pure and clear once again, children running around down the streets with blobs following them and water willingly leaving the stream to water plants, going down special toughs to help the town.

The river had come back to life and the relationship that had originally been there when humanity had begun it’s relationship with the water had been restored. The humans had learnt they lesson and used the proper resources to deal with the trash.

They weren’t the only town who did such a thing, hurting the resources, but it was a start and he would go from there. The crow let out it’s call, dipping down to the town once before leaving to report his findings back to the elementalist.

This had been a success, but it was just the tip of the ice berg. All the elementalists had their work cut out for them to turn this world back into what it had been before. But the story of the river that came back to life would spread to others lands and people may understand the world around them a little better. The crow would see of that by spreading the story as far as he would be able to.

Survival of the world was up to the people. And with the right push and inspiration, such a thing was possible.

They just needed time.


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Do you Believe in Magic?.”

So today’s Daily Post was asking…

You have been transformed into a mystical being who has the ability to do magic. Describe your new abilities in detail. How will you use your new skills?”

Now that is a question. And I did have to think about it for a moment but I finally got it. If I was a magical being, I would love to, first off, be able to give myself wings and remove them on command. Being able to fly would be awesome, but I don’t want to fly like Superman. I would love a pair of massive, glorious wings as I think that they are absolutely incredible (probably why I like The Guild Hunter Series by Nalini Singh so much).

But then, with that, I’d want to be able to travel around space, just as myself. Fly around, oxygen not being an issue, as well as the pressure of space. Sometimes I lay in bed at night and just think about the fact that space is so vast and there has to be something out there and that’d I’d love to be able to travel around. I’d explore the universe and see what’s out there, learn about what I could, and then come back. Of course with traveling through space, I’d need defense capabilities, like if I had to kick butt of aliens, and then I’d totally have to figure that part out, magically giving myself butt-kicking abilities.

So yea. That about sums it up. I’d love to be able to have wings and then be able to travel around space without hindrances. But not in a space ship…just be able to travel around freely.

Open book with sparkles coming out of it

Do you believe in magic


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Symbol.”

Sunrise

An image of the sunrise taken by Amelia. Taken on an iPhone 6.

Yes, a sunrise can be quite typical, but I love sunrises. And yes, I did take take this picture. Now, before you jump to conclusions, yes, I am a book blogger so why didn’t I post a book as my symbol? Well, my readers already know what that means to me so why post something so obvious in relation to me? Why not something new?

I recently went away with some friends to LBI, an island in the Atlantic off the coast of New York City for my international readers, and a few of us decided to see the sunrise. Now, during the summer, the sun rises at about 5:30 or so in the morning so we had to haul ourselves out of bed at 5 am on the dot. We were already exhausted from the long drive down and from being in the sun the day before. To say we were tired was an understatement. But, we did it anyway, carefully setting the alarms so that we’d be up in time. We dragged ourselves out of the motel room and down to the shore and waited.

Time went on and slowly the sky started to change colors, shifting from the dark blue to the purple, then going into a light red and slowly the sun came over the horizon. My friends and I just sat there, taking pictures but mostly just enjoying sitting and watching the sun rise together. It’s incredible to watch a star rise as fast as it does, at its size, and within minutes it was above the horizon.

Sunrises are fleeting and beautiful, but they happen every day. It’s a common thing of every day life but most people never see it. You live in a city, you may see the sun rising but you see it come up above the horizon over the buildings, but by the ocean there is nothing but miles and miles of water out there and that’s something special. You feel yourself waking up with the sun. At 5 am we were all dead tired, but as soon as we felt the warmth from the sun hitting our faces after it left the horizon and the heat started to rise, we were awake and alert, the birds flying around and back to their shenanigans once again.

A sun rises every day but people take it for granted and don’t actually think about it. It’s an every day thing like eating breakfast or brushing our teeth.

Sure, my friends and I could have stayed in bed to sleep for another few hours, but how many times in your life, truly, do you take some time to just stop and watch the sun rise, in a pure location with nothing but the sound of silence, or maybe waves, crashing.

Many people don’t go to see sunrises as it’s too early to rise. But it’s something everyone should do. It’s a peaceful time and a time when it’s just you, maybe those around you, and nothing else. As the sun came up, all of us just watched the sun and smiled. We had laughed and played the day before and were going to later in the day, probably argue as well, but in this moment, it was silence and peaceful and it was beautiful.

This symbol to me reminds me not to take the small things in life for granted. Until you see it purely, you don’t realize what you are missing out on! Sure, it’s a constant, but when you take time to break down that ‘constant’ and see it for what it truly it, you don’t realize how much it can actually mean to you.


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Choose Your Adventure.”

He was like nothing she had ever dared to go near before. A large male, standing approximately 6 feet tall, thick muscles beneath bronze skin like that of someone who had spent many hours in the sun working, rich brown hair that looked like he had just woken up, though he worked it well, and eyes that were an unnatural shade of blue, so piercing they felt as if they could see into ones soul. He was the talk of the area down in a sleepy town in Florida.

His personality had all the ladies wrapped around his finger: charming, funny, protective, and a great smile.

Damen Johnson was what ever young girl wanted: absolutely perfect personality and flawless to look at.

Then there was Lauren Bones, 5 foot 4 inches tall, dirty blonde, near brown hair, eyes that were a mixture of sky blue and forest green which seemed to swirl, or so her mother had once whispered to her as she lay in the hospital, the cancer eating away at her system. Lauren was quiet and shy and didn’t like to have people closer to her. Hence the reason why the 23 year old female, fresh out of college with a chiropractic degree, decided to settle in close to a retirees community.

All had been quiet until Damen moved in next door to her in the small bungalow half a year ago. No one his age, approximately 30 years old, had moved in. Everyone was well about 70.

While all the girls went after him, no one really knew anything about him. No one knew his occupation, no one knew where he went during the day, no one knew what happened behind the closed doors of his house. He was extremely secretive but no one questioned it, besides Lauren. She had spent countless hours looking out her window and watching his house, seeing the flicker of light from a computer. It was almost always there during the evening but when she had been outside gardening late one night a few months back, there had been no sounds from the house, so she ruled out video games.

Questions piled up. Questions she wanted answers to. Who the hell was this man who lived next door to her? Why the hell when she was out, even though she never spoke to him, he would always watch her with cold and calculating eyes? She wasn’t used to delayed gratification and 6 months was certainly enough time. It was now time for answers.


Damen was, in crude terms, a contract killer. His target.

Lauren Bones.

Sort of.

Quietly sitting in his living room with the file on her in his lap, he let his eyes roamed over the paperwork.

Name: Lauren Bones
Age: 23 years
Height: 5 foot 4 inches
Occupation: Chiropractor
Employment: Sporadic
Mother: Deceased
Father: Missing

His eyes locked in on that word: missing. Missing my ass he thought to himself. Her father wasn’t missing. He was Ex-FBI and had left his job with some secrets which the government didn’t want him to have. The moment Damen had been called in to eliminate the target, he dropped off radar. Lauren believed him dead in a car crash, or so the FBI had lead her to believe. It was easier that way, because even if he was found, he’d be killed on the spot.

There were no leads to his location and no one knew where he had gone. He was a ghost and disappeared without a trace. The next best thing for Damen was to follow his daughter, see if she knew anything and if the father would someday show up to visit his daughter.

So far, no luck.

There was no indication that Lauren was a threat, but his orders had been strict. Kill her father once he showed his face and if she seemed to know anything, get the info and kill her if necessary.

The fat check he received each month was ridiculous, but he couldn’t complain. His life was getting boring to say the least. Each evening he spent on the computer, searching the Dark Web for any whispers of the father and the secrets that he possessed and may sell for a nice price.

It was monotonous work, but he knew that he didn’t have a choice and did it anyway.

He couldn’t screw up or step out of line. They watched. He knew that They always watched and knew everything. He screwed up, it would be him with a bullet between the eyes. Never get involved with a target or potential target. First rule of his job. The consequences were always deadly.


The next day, Lauren was quietly working in the garden wearing nothing other than some jean shorts and a white shirt, a few specs of mud marring her face. Humming to herself, she was oblivious of the world around her. So it was only fitting that she jumped like 3 feet in the air when she felt a hand tap her shoulder. Her body whipped around and faced whoever was behind her, and she had to crane her head upwards to see her neighbor.

“Hello.” Lauren managed to get out past her thundering heart beats.

“Hey. I just wanted to let you know that you left the hose on.” Damen said, his voice as rich and silky as many of the towns girls gossiped about, their high pitches carrying across the diner when Lauren would stop by to eat in public.

“O-Oh. Thank you.” She managed to stumble out, pushing herself up into standing position and angling herself towards the hose, returning a brief moment later. Damen was still there, just regarding her silently.

“Was there anything else?” She asked him and he just held his position, holding eye contact which almost hurt her due to the piercing blue nature of his eyes.

“That was all.” He responded, putting his hand out to hers, to shake it. She complied, letting her smaller hand be engulfed by his but instead of a shake, he guided her hand towards his face, pressing her knuckles against his lips. A light color brushed against her cheeks, but he turned and walked off without making a comment.

With her heart still thudding, she shakily got back to work and tried to not think of what transpired in less than 5 minutes.


Arriving back at his house, he locked the front door and mentally smacked himself. How stupid could he have been! Sure, he was intrigued by her, but such a bold statement. A low growl passed through his lips as he kicked his shoes off and padded further into the apartment, only to see a flashing box on his computer screen.

Dread filled his stomach as he crossed towards it. Moving the mouse over the ‘open’ button, he clicked and his eyes locked on the sentence before him, his heart freezing in place.

Kill her.

They’d seen.

 

 

 


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Strike a Chord.”

Music is the center of my life. It always has been. Yes, it started off with no choice, my mother quite literally forcing me to continue to play the piano (with much whining on my part) but then it developed into a serious, and deep, love. I play all the time. Do I practice for my lessons all the time? Absolutely not. To be blunt, I hate practicing and I’ll definitely avoid doing it, though I know that it is better to do it and it is very productive. I’m the person that loves to just sit down and play. I’m quite good at just sight-reading the music and what I call BS-playing (where you just kind..go with it? xD). But, it sounds pretty good. That’s my problem. ‘Cus I can get by.

The piano has always been my baby. I played an upright for years until my music school, the place I love and adore, decided to sell a few of their older, smaller sized, grands and I begged and pleaded with my parents and was gifted with a new piano. It’s not in great condition, the varnish is very strange (water proof to save it from little children), the music stand doesn’t match the piano, the bench is scratched, some of the notes don’t work and it needs a lot of work (which will cost so much money >Painful face<) but despite all of that, I love it. It’s a familiar friend and we’ve been through so much together. So many hours of practicing, so many moments of me having frustrating moments, moments of fear before competitions. It is, in all honesty, one of my best friends. Call me crazy, I dare you xD, but it’s the honest to god truth. The sound is rich, the keys are powerful, and my hands have developed because of my best friend (no I haven’t named it…yet).

I’m pretty versatile with what I can play. Dabbling in some percussion, recorder, flute, I dabbled in guitar but gave up, and touched the harp. But nothing, absolutely nothing, comes close to piano. Piano and voice together is what I do. And it’s what I live, breathe, and revolve around. No, I can’t go out and say I play about 20 instruments, but I can go out and say “I play the piano” and to me, that is all I need. I don’t need to show off with the number of instruments that I play.

But while I love my instrument, I sometimes hate it. And my reason is weird as heck.

The piano is the least intimate of instruments. You sit on a bench…and press keys. Wow. Yes, don’t get me wrong, there is skill and all instruments require impressive skill to play well, but you don’t get to be with the instruments. Cello you have to hold close to you, violin needs to be held to your body, wind instruments you use your lips, drums you even get to be surrounded by. Piano you sit there. And while most people don’t even think about it, it’s true. You can’t carry your instrument with you places either. Violinists become best friends with their violin, and same with many other instruments. You get an instrument and go everywhere with it. Pianists go to their venue or event and the piano there they aren’t familiar with. The struggle is realllll!!! But, you have to get accustomed to the change and you don’t get that until you mature. Some never get it because they are stubborn. “It doesn’t feel like the one at home.” or “It doesn’t feel like the one I practice on.” You have to get to the level where you become best friends.

My piano teacher is good friends with a famous pianist by the name of Menahem Pressler. During a lesson not so long ago, my teacher told me that Mr. Pressler had made a comment during a master class, and to sum up what was said, he essentially said that pianists have to become best friends with their instrument before they play and find the best quality in the piano and bring it out for the concert. Essentially no piano, especially ones that you play on for a concert once or twice, will be perfect in every way. You just have to find the really positive thing about it. Even if that G is rich, bring that note out and make it the most beautiful note in your piece. The smallest things can make the biggest difference.

Either way. Through everything that has happened in my life in music, it is something I can go back to. I’m the idiot that when I go places for a long period of time one of the first questions I ask is, “Is there a piano nearby?” Music is a constant and the piano is what I do and love. Without it, my life would change drastically. Got a problem? Play it out.

My piano and I will be something that I won’t change and won’t be changed. My piano and I are forever. My piano and I are eternal.

(Deep ending huh? xD)