Things that go bump in the night...

It wasn't the shuffling & scuffing of something dragging against the old wooden boards outside my door that got me. No, it was the clacking of the door knob as it rattled back & forth. The actual seeking to enter my home, my domain, my security, my secret place without permission or a simple "by your leave".

I wish Grandma had never told me that story, when I was no bigger than the height from floor to mattress. I still recall the cool of the sheets against my face as I huddled behind them and tried not to let my eyes wander to the deeper darker corners. Her dry, wispy voice gave life to the creatures of the dark and opened my eyes to those things not usually seen by the typical naked eye. Yet it was not my eyes that stayed open, oh no, it was my ears that would announce their arrival while my eyes were squeezed shut so they could not see that I could see them. For Grandma said as long as they thought their existence was unnoticed, then so was I. If only it had stayed that way...

It was late one night...why is it always at night...that curiosity got the better of me. For years I had heard the shuffling, the low growls, the snorts, the heavy breathing, & all manner of sounds used to describe things that go bump in the night. In my minds eye, they carried horns & had evil red eyes, fangs dripped with poison in half open jaws ready to devour you. The images grew darker & meaner every time. I had enough, I wanted to see, to actually see what was there & not let my imagination run wild. 

It started as a peep, eye lids barley cracked. Then it became one, one ocular orb ready to brave the night. Followed by two fully opened and yet no heinous image greeted me. There was nothing there. I sat up & looked around, still no sign of what it was that assaulted my auditory nerves on a nightly bases. I closed my eyes & just as quickly the sounds were back! Then I uttered those fateful words, "why can't I see you?" The sounds stopped & my eyes popped open. 

There was the shadow of my jacket thrown over a chair, my backpack on the floor, a nicknack figurine's shape drawn in a darker shade up on the wall, yet no beasties were poised at the end on my bed ready to pounce. It was almost anticlimactic. "Seriously? That's it? Just a bunch of noise?" I let out a sigh & reached over to turn on my light. To this day I still hate that lamp. For the latch would catch & to better envision it I would close my eyes & feel around with thumb & forefinger. That night it was out of reflex, age old habit, & when I did a low, deep chuckle greeted my senses. Hair rose at the nape of my neck & along my arms. 

Light flooded the room and my arm could not be recalled fast enough. Light knocked back the darkness Grandma said, took away the hiding places. Yet the hallway just outside my door was still dark. That was where I saw it, a shadow in a shadow. I no longer wanted to confirm with my eyes what my ears heard, I wanted to close Pandora's box. So with a quick kick my door was sent to slam against the door frame. Only it did not click into place. Just as my body reached it so did something else, something very solid and very real. Thankfully a youthful body is quick and I was able to lay a bit of power and weight to my launch from bed to door. 

Once more I closed my eyes in reflex, as I fought to keep my body pressed against that white, glossy painted door. Once more I heard the sounds that bring chills to your spine while my body felt the reverberations of what ever was trying to break the door down from the other side. Then, it stopped. The push on the door, the snarls of frustration, and the scratching. I tensed, waited for another onslaught, determined not to let my guard down. However, it did not come. 

Instead I heard for the first time the sound that now haunts me. "Click-clack. Click-clack" I slowly raised my eyes & watched as my door knob attempted to turn back and forth. As though some clumsy hand fumbled to turn it on the other side. A hand not of human design. They, or it, did not get in that night. Nor have they anytime since, but I know it's only a matter of time before they succeed. So it is my nightly vigil to sit in my ring of light & wait & watch.

Do yourself a favor, after the sun has set and night has risen, those sounds that you hear...something falling over in another room, a creak down your hallway...don't go investigate it. Pretend you haven't heard it. Do not seek the shapes you see outlined in darkened corners. Walk on by, don't shudder, don't close your eyes. Give them no reason to seek you out, no reason to exist. Just remember they come at night, they always come at night.   ~akb.

(1st written as a writing challenge to write something short & suspenseful for HitRecord)

A Beginning!!

Finally, after all this time (over 10 years since I 1st started this story idea in my head) I have a beginning for the Sarianna Cycles. ^_^ Here it is:

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    Three months ago the world had looked very different to Sarianna Montair. The heat of summer that had blazed across the land was tempered by the cooler breezes of the approaching autumn. Long lush mountain grasses bowed at the wind’s passing and felt cool and comforting sticking up between bare toes. White trunk trees with their light green leaves fluttered in the airy wake, their undersides turning golden yellow in preparation for their not so far off winter slumber. Bright blue skies filled with large puffy clouds filled the imaginative mind with all sorts of images and shapes as they drifted lazily overhead, the perfect way to end a busy afternoon chasing rambunctious younger siblings.

    Three months ago had also been a time of celebration for those in Rohilla Village and in the small settlements arranged around it in the mountain passes above and foothills below. The harvest moon had waned and the Harvest Gatherings ended with joyful abundance. It was a time of giving thanks to the One God and a time of preparation as families set about storing the food and getting their homes ready before the first snow storms hit and locked them in. For some it was also time to prepare their first-born for the annual journey down to the Temple that set nestled at the foot of their white peaked mountain. The children, between the ages of 12 to 16, would live and learn until spring among the Priests and Priestesses that resided there. Receiving instructions on local agriculture, basic and advanced written language, number working, skills for the many different trade occupations, as well as the magical history that had once been the structure of their world.

   Three months ago Sarianna was also one of those children, even though she was not a first-born. She reluctantly traveled with her father, soaking in all the familiar mountain sights and smells along the way to hold her over until she could be released from the Temple’s cold stonewalls. It was her second trip and that day had seemed no different than the one prior, other than the lack of butterflies in her stomach and the fact she was the only one from her village traveling this year. The previous spring the High Priest had Passed the boy they had traveled with, along with the other children his age. The young woman missed home with the first footfall placed on the path that led them down the mountain. Even as more children and their parents joined them from the other villages, their excitement and laughter did not dispel her gloom. First Termers listened ardently as the older children talked about Temple life and talked animatedly with their parents. Those returning looked forward to seeing friends they had made from other towns and villages in the Temple’s surrounding area. However, Sarianna felt her place instead was at her parents’ side. Her father talked along the way about the plans the Mayor had for a new building they were rushing to complete before the winter storms and her heart ached to be apart of it. Her father talked too of her siblings and recalling their funny antics, an effort to get some type of smile from her but instead it brought to her mind that she would miss Annalia’s first tooth that she had been showing everyone was “so wiggly”. Baby Joniel, her mother had mused, would possibly be taking his first steps in the next few weeks and seven-year-old Karina would be the “Lead Jar Maker” in their family for this winter. A job Sarianna had held since she was seven. Not to mention her older brother would finally be coming home after being away for more than a year.

    Three months ago Sarianna had looked at her trip as something to endure until she could join her family once more. She saw it as a cruel twist of fate that brought her, a second born, to the Temple’s stone steps. For the only reason she was going was because her older brother had chosen not to go and to travel with an uncle instead. This substituting of one sibling for another was allowed by the Temple laws, “if the first-born refuses or is unable to attend, their place can be taken by a younger sibling from the same family.” Despite everything it still seemed odd to her because Joanathan, out of the five of them, had always wanted to go to the Temple and learn things so that he could journey to places other than their mountain home. He was the smartest out of the two of them with dreams and ambition far beyond her wildest imagination. Yet ironically that twist of fate is what ended up saving her life. For in three months when the wind turned icy and bright blue skies became gray and filled with snow heavy clouds that threatened to blanket the world below, Sarianna Montair would become not only the sole surviving member of her family but of her entire village as well.

Three months ago the world had looked very different to her indeed…

~akb.

Another Sarianna story....

The fire popped and crackled as it lit orange and yellow shadows across the young man's features who starred so intently into its depths. Above, millions of crystal white lights twinkled and winked through the trees as a fall crisp wind blew through camp and stirred the fire into higher flames. The fire protested by sending up tiny sparks, which fizzled before they'd gone very far. Yet Tensche noticed none of this as his golden eyes, held in a brooding face, remained fixed on the fire before him.

"I don't think you can stare a fire into submission." The deep rumble of Ralpha's voice only caused the creases in Tensche's forehead to deepen. "Suite yourself then," Ralpha said with a shrug of his massive shoulders as he leaned back against a large fallen tree trunk he had found. He stretched his legs out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, and closed his eyes while his arms found their self wrapped around one another and placed on his abdomen.

After a time Tensche's voice came from across the fire,"How are we going to do this?" Ralpha opened one brown eyes and looked over at his fellow Warrior.

"How are we going to do what?"


~ idea I am playing with....the song Hero from Spiderman a source of inspiration. ~

"The Last Page"

Note: Short story that I submitted few months back to an Anthology, but it did not fit the mood the editor was wanting to do w/the book. It is also written in first person, NOT my strong suit.
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At one point I could not honestly tell how long it had been; maybe a few days, maybe a month. Everything had just run together since being locked within my own rooms. I knew I ate because I heard my stomach grumble and then at some point I noticed the noise had stopped. I also knew it had been awhile since my last bath because I cringed every time I ran a hand through my grayish-brown hair.

Outside, the sky would show blue during the day and black at night. Nothing remarkable stood out to mark one day from the next, but then something different drifted in through an open window across the room. The sound of children’s laughter was brought in on a breeze.

Distracted, I got up from my cluttered desk and crossed over to the tiny window. Down below children played in the grass, a red ball being kicked between them. Despite being so high up, I could make out the ‘thwack’ of the ball as it bumped into trees, people, or other stationary objects. At one point it was very loud and I looked over just in time to see a small child fly back and fall onto his backside while the ball flew the other direction. Children stopped to laugh and one even bent over to slap his knee in glee. The fallen child added to the merriment as he stood and, with a big grin, took a bow before he brushed himself off. I also noticed a small girl with golden ringlets who hid a shy smile behind her hand.
Suddenly an image flashed through my mind. With a gasp I turned in a frantic search for my quill and a page of parchment as thoughts tried to pour from my brain before I had time to catch them. But each page found had to be discarded for one reason or another.

“Nope, can’t use this, it’s my musing for herbal use verses more medicinal methods.” In the next stack I had four more pages to go before the thesis there was completed. The one after that was a compilation of notes from many of the different stories that periodically danced around in my head.
“Ah-HA,” I cried out, “this one is done, I can use the back of it! Oh, wait I have to add one more paragraph,” I mumbled to myself as I turned in circles and looked at all the piles of unavailable parchment that almost covered any type of flat surface. “Where’d it all go?” I called out to the air at large. I made one more pass and suddenly found a neat stack sitting there ready for use. I pounced on it and scribbled with haste.

Words poured non-stop and formed pictures with ink and parchment. As my quill glided effortlessly the parchment stack shortened, yet quickly it rose again with no effort on my part. The candle burned high and by the time the candle burned low the children had long since gone, but in my head they stayed with me as they ran, and played, and jumped.
The words came faster than they ever had before. They raced along the width of parchment only to meet the end and then start again. They became rivers that flowed and wind that tickled bare toes. They were a flicker of movement here, a silver tear drop there, and a sunny day all wrapped into one. It was a magical world that formed and began to live and breathe before my eyes. I was so wrapped up with its telling that I as a person almost ceased to exist. But I could not stop, I felt compelled as I had never been compelled before. And better yet, I could feel the magic binding the words to the pages, a sense of order and rightness.
Then, almost as quickly as the maddening storm had begun, it slowed until finally the last exclamation point hit and the last period fell. Then, with a signature flourish it was done!

My quill stopped and words ceased to bounce around in my head begging to be birthed out of my hand. While the images faded from my mind until only one was left, a small girl with golden ringlets who gave a small smile and then she too was gone. I felt what seemed to be like a mountain had been removed from my shoulders. The quill rolled from my slackened fingers as I slumped back in my wooden chair. With a deep sigh my eye lids closed but with plans on it being only for a moment. Sleep, though, knows better than you.

“Lady Malphia. Awake my Lady.” I opened sleep encrusted lids and saw the overly bright face of my serving girl Elise very close to my own. “You’ve done it again my Lady,” she beamed with a wide open grin. “Oh what news I have to tell!” She tugged me from my chair as she chattered on. She always was one for the dramatics. “The King is so thrilled, oh and the young Prince is even more thrilled than he.” I blinked hard in an effort to try and clear the sleep from my eyes. As I did my desk came into view and I saw my papers had been straightened, hopefully each sorted as to their notes and relation. Of the pages I had completed the night before though, no sign was seen.

“You truly have a gift my Lady,” she said as she pulled me away from my desk. “Your work has been distributed to all the homes with small children and parents told to read it to them before bed!”
The words “your work” and “distributed” got my attention and I instantly stopped walking where ever Elise was leading me. Guess I knew now where those pages had gone.
“Was that wise of his Majesty?”
“Oh yes, quite alright. He tested it on his son, the Young Prince, himself last night. No more Nightmares! Isn’t that wonderful?” She beamed up at me again and I felt my head hurt. “This time you truly weaved a spell of peace into it and not one of thos-,” she quickly stopped herself and the beaming smile faded.
“It’s alright, I know what I did.” I said with a sigh. “It is what I get for not watching myself or understanding what type of power words mixed with magic can hold. If I had known maybe I could of,” I paused and felt my mouth twist into a frown, “Well I know now and maybe it will be okay?”

“Oh I hope so my Lady. It would be a shame to have to lock you in here again until you could weave another bed-story.” She paused and her cheeks turned pink. Elisa, in addition to over dramatics, occasionally spoke without thought.
I only waved a hand in her direction to let her know I saw it as no crime. Her smile returned and she bounced on the balls of her feet as she pulled me forward once more. “I thought the others good, but I like the finished one best.”
I mumbled a low thanks and on reflex ran a hand through my hair and regretted the action. “Bath?” I asked with eyes raised toward my hair line.
“Where do you think I am taking you?” she giggled.


In what posed for my sitting room sat a large copper tub and even from the door I could see the steam curling into the air above. Lovely smells greeted me and soon, with Elise’s help, I was up to my chin in warm water and suds.
As I cranked back my neck in order for her to rinse the last dregs of filth from my hair a knock sounded on the door. Yet before either of us could respond a large man walked in followed by another in rich silks and heavy embroidery. Embarrassed, I sunk lower into the water and tried to cover myself.

“Sorceress,” as the other man liked to call me, but then he was the King and he could call me whatever he liked. Apparently he could also walk in unannounced on a woman in her bath and not apologize for it. “You fixed your mistake well. As we speak mothers and fathers are receiving your bed-story with instructions to read it tonight to their children. Maybe now they will dream as children should and not the nightmares you wove for them.” I sunk my chin lower into the water.

“I know,” he continued on, “your age is old, but your talent new.” Now my face did steam, but not from the water. “You have a power, a strong power, and you must use it wisely. The ability to string words together and, when read, make them come alive off the page is rare. Next time, give more thought to the characters you create and who might view them.” With a last stern look the King left and took his large unnerving body guard with him.

“OH!” I fumed at the closed door. “Old! And without even a by-your-leave?” But Elisa put her soothing hands on my shoulders and soon she had me dried off, bundled up, and in my own bed. Just in time for sleep to claim me once again.

I was up early the next day while outside birds chirped and the wind blew. Bright morning sun shine winked in and out through tree leaves that fluttered on a nearby tree. After a stretch and a yawn I shrugged into my bed robe and looked forward to a peaceful day.

Suddenly Elisa burst into the room. I turned to greet her but she threw herself to the floor and grabbed the hem of my robe. “My Lady! Oh my Lady! You must come quickly, the King my Lady! Oh his poor Majesty,” she sobbed.

“What? What!” I demanded from her as I pulled her from the ground. In answer she suddenly started stuffing me into daytime clothes and quickly did up my hair. The only sound she would make was “oh my lady”. Even walking down the halls of the Palace she did not explain anything, just rang her hands in silence.

As we approached the Royal Wing with its multiple passages I could see it was crowded with people of all rank and station. Mixed in and throughout were also many different practitioners of the medical arts. Healers, herbalists, spirit doctors, psychic foretellers, and I think I even saw a glimpse of the local Marsh Witch. A few in particular I longed to speak with in regards to notes left back in my room. “What is going on,” I whispered to Elise, but still my serving girl did not answer.
She wove through the crowd and brought us to a man whom she tugged on the sleeve of. As he turned she dropped down to all fours again. “I brought my Lady, m’Lord.” I turned my astonished gaze from Elise to this man and instantly recognized the King’s right hand man.

“Royal Advisor Hunthar.” I inclined my head with the hopes he had not seen my startled expression.

“Sorceress Agar,” he addressed me in return, minus the head nod. Only I wish he had used ‘lady’ in front of my family name instead of ‘sorceresses, it made me shiver. “Sorry to disrupt your recovery time, but I am afraid our King needs you once more.” He did not sound the least bit sorry as he took my elbow in a firm grip and led me through the throng of people right up to the King’s own personal chambers. He pushed them open with his free hand and into the front living area. He kept going through the suite until what could have only been the King’s own bed room door stood before us. I balked at the idea, but Hunthar tightened his grip.
As the door opened I closed my eyes. My feet slid across a bare wooden floor before encountering something that felt very plush and soft against my thin slippers. It was on this that we stopped. “Here she is,” Hunthar, my captor, called out. I opened my eyes slowly to find us standing thankfully before a large hearth with a low burning fire. There set the King, dressed in his evening robe, in a large reading chair. He did not look at us but kept his head bent as he looked at what lay in his lap.

“Ah, Malphia!” The voice coming from a different direction than expected gave me a small jump before I looked over to see a tall man with long white hair.
“Master Alain,” I said with relief. Using his carved walking stick he walked over to me and leaned forward. I in turn leaned toward him until our cheeks almost touched. “A pleasure, but what brings you here?”

His answer was to look at the Royal Advisor, “I take they have not told you then?” He was talking to me, but he continued to look at Hunthar who gave a slight shake of his head in the negative. Master Alain gave a heavy sigh and then turned back to me. “Our King is not well.” Surprised, I turned to look at him with the plans of saying he was just fine. Only as I looked again it dawned on me that he had not spoken yet nor did it seem he had moved. His chest did not even rise and fall. He looked almost, frozen!

“Yes, he appears to be frozen,” Master Alain said. Apparently I had spoken out loud.

“B-b-but, why?” I stuttered out.

In answer Advisor Hunthar went over to the chair and pointed down at what lay in the King’s lap. His eyes held a thunderous look. When nothing more was said I ventured forward to look at what he was pointing at. It was sheets of parchment covered with words written in a familiar hand. “My Story!” I blurted out in surprise. I recognized it as one I had been working with off and on, but the end kept eluding me.

“Precisely!” I blinked in confusion at the Royal Advisor. “I thought the King told you to be careful with these sorts of things, now look what you’ve done!”
“But, but I,” I looked back and forth between the two, “I didn’t give this to him. I don’t understand.”

Master Alain ignored the Advisor and approached me. “Do you remember when you wrote this version of the story?”

“Uh, three months ago maybe.” I wracked my brain. “Wait, right before the Night-Mare stories came about!”

Master Alain nodded his head, “Then that would have been when your powers where manifesting. So that could mean this story-“

“Is it done yet?” the Royal Advisor asked as he rudely interrupted and turned me away from Master Alain by my elbow. “We need it finished by tomorrow morning.”
“What?!”
“I will check on your progress personally at midday.”
“F-f-finished?”
“Our King is frozen, trapped in that story because there is no end and you are going to make an end.” While he talked he hurried me along by his grip on my elbow until we reached the door. I do believe he planned to take me all the way to my room that way, but Master Alain stepped in.

“Thank you Advisor, I shall see she starts right away.” He led me through the King’s personal Champers and then past the throng of people until we reached my own personal rooms.

"I was still in a daze, my mind creating and scratching out ideas as we went. As he turned to leave I grabbed his arm. “Please, you must fix him! Counter act the spell somehow!”

“You know you don’t mix magic Malphia.”

“Then please, help me finish the story. I don’t know what to write!”
“I cannot finish your story no more than I could finish your spell if you’d left it to hang in midair.” Master Alain said gently as he removed my white knuckle grip and helped me to a chair.

“But Master, I can’t do this. My ability comes and goes. Please Master Alain? I can’t do this on my own.”
He sighed and patted me on the shoulder. “Yes you can dear; you just have to put your mind to it.” Lot of help that was, because I did put my mind to it and it kept coming up blank.

Elisa eventually returned. She found my notes and everything I had written already on the story but the parchment in front of me still stood as naked as when it had been brought to me.

I paced, I stared out my window, I tapped my fingers on the desk, and I even leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. But nothing came to mind, other than the words “finish it, find an end”. By the time Elisa came to give me my pre-midmorning meal I had got to the angry point.

“Oh WHY!” I yelled at the top of my voice as I grabbed fistfuls of hair. The pacing had become stomping now and poor Elise gave a squeak.

“Sorry Mistress, but he is on his way.” She curtsied and then hurried away before I could say anything. Her wide eyed, white face burst the rest of the anger from me and I slumped down in my chair. It was an open invitation to ‘The Tears of Frustration” but I stomped back that flow with the heels of my palms and refused to give in.

Directly Royal Advisor Hunthar entered, unannounced of course, and demanded to see what I had got so far. A blank page was not what he had been planning on.
“What are all these,” he barked as he thrust out a finger at the stacks of my notes, “can you not use them?”

“Just ideas, not even complete ideas more like-“

“There is an important delegation arriving tomorrow with whom the King WILL meet. Any idea is better than nothing. Use it!” he barked with another thrust of his finger. “Remember, tomorrow morning I will come for you and I had better find an ending or it will be your ending.” Why do the higher ups ever think that is a great motivator?

I struggled on through until evening, pouring over my notes. I must have written and rewritten passages countless times, yet that single solitary page still set as it was. Elise returned with candles and I was glad to have her company. Yet even between the two of us ideas were brought to light only to be tossed to the side. Nothing seemed to ‘fit’ just right with what had already been created and from what I knew of how the magic worked, not just any words would do either.
As darkness engulfed the window panes and the candles began to burn low I sent Elise off to bed. Before she left she paused at the door. “It really is a shame my Lady that you can’t simply write ‘the end’ and be done with it.” How I wished that could be true.

Yet, as the moon was descending from its highest peak her words came back to me. Maybe I was making it harder that it really needed to be. I searched through the scattered stacks until I came to the page someone had copied of the one that sat face up in the King’s lap. Yes, yes finish that sentence there and add another here... I smiled at my thoughts.

When the Royal Advisor came to fetch me the next morning he almost seemed surprised to find me waiting for him. I had washed, dressed in clean clothes, and had a sleepy Elise do my hair. I even wore a smile. When he reached for the single parchment page in my hands I gave a slight shake of my head. It was amazing to watch how fast his naturally pale face could go crimson so quick, but Master Alain soothed things over and we were on our way. However Master Alain did arch a silvery brow at my choice to bring my quill and ink well.
We retraced our steps from the day before and this time going into the King’s bed chamber did not cause a blush to stain my cheeks. Without waiting for permission I stepped up to his Majesty and removed the pages in his lap. I heard a gasp behind me but it was quickly silenced.
I knelt down beside the King’s reading chair on the large plush rug and arranged my skirts just so. With the pages pressed against my thighs I wrote what I had come up with the night before; copied not from the page in front of me but from the heart. Then, with a flourish I signed my name.

I rose from the floor and before anyone knew my designs, I tossed the extra parchment into the fire. However, when I turned and looked at our unnaturally still King I paused. With a deep breath and a silent prayer I approached him and laid the end of the story in his lap.

At first nothing happened. “You removed it! That is why,” Hunthar shook his fist and made as though to advance on me, but Master Alain refrained him with a touch of his hand. He also pointed at the King and told Hunthar, “Look.”
The King’s chest visibly rose and fell, then suddenly he sighed and closed his eyes as his head dropped back to rest on the reading chair. “Now that was a good story.”
I could not resist, the words “Thank you” popped out of my mouth before I could think. The King’s eyes equally popped open and his whole body jerked. I made a small curtsy and came up to find the King staring at me.

“How did you, when did you?” I felt a playful smile pull at my lips; it is not every day you find your King at a loss for words.

“You’ve been out my King,” Advisor Hunthar said on bent knee as though he knelt before the throne, “because you had read one of the Sorceress’s stories.”

“Hunthar, you’re here too?” The Royal Advisor’s answer was a nod. “How long?”
“One full day sire, which was how long it took her to finish.” Even from his knees Advisor Hunthar sent a glower in my direction.

“Finish?” Perplexed once more, the King turned back to me.
“Yes, somehow you got a hold of an uncompleted story written unknowingly about the time my talent first started.” I answered. “It is curious how you got that,” I finished with a small smirk. The King ducked his head in an effort to not meet my eye and when he did he noticed he was sitting there in his night clothes and evening robe. Surprisingly red tinged his cheeks to match the color of his robe.
“Yes, well,” he said and gave a small cough. With my smirk still in place I walked over to him and held out my hand for the pages in his lap. “It was a very good story,” he mumbled almost too low to catch.

“I have more the King is welcome to read any time he wishes,” I said low enough for him alone to hear, “but maybe next time he will ask me before he just takes one.”

“I would like that,” he said and passed the pages back to me with his own small smile.

“So would I,” I replied back. Then with a curtsey I retrieved my stopped up ink well and quill from where I left them on the floor and excused myself from the King’s bedroom. As I headed towards the door Master Alain fell in beside me. “Would it be too much to ask just what it was you wrote that broke the spell?”
In answer I handed over the final page to him as we walked. He looked at first afraid to take it. “The magic is only invoked it seems if you start from the first page.”

So he took the last page and when he passed it back to me it was with a chuckle. “I would not have thought of that.”

“Neither did I, totally, it took Elise saying something.”

“Really,” he asked in amazement. “What did she say?”
“She thought it was too bad I could not just put ‘the end’.” Master Alain really did chuckle that time. I glanced back down and reread the words I had put.

And so they lived happily ever after.
The End.

"Internal Struggle" _updated Oct. 27, 2009

Just a quick note, not a full story....
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"How do I know this is real?" Sarianna just stood and looked at the back of her Yellow Warrior where he leaned, almost doubled over, against a slender trunk. "How do I know this is mine?" Sarianna opened her mouth to answer but instead left it hanging open before she ducked her head and chewed on her bottom lip.

Abruptly Taren spun around on her, his hair pointing out in different directions & his blue eyes wide and wild. "How do I KNOW!" he shouted into her face. The young Priestess cringed back from him and threw her hands up in front of her.

"Wha-what are you talking about," she finally managed to croak out.

His eyes narrowed & his lips compressed into a thin line and twisted to one side. "Don't tell me you don't know. You feel what I feel. I feel what you feel." Sarianna could only stand and stare. At her expression anger arked through him, thereby her as well. Then suddenly his hand shot out and grabbed hers in an iron grip. With a quick jerk he pulled her hand back towards himself and laid it against his wide muscled chest. "That, tell me you feel that."

Sarianna swallowed a lump that appeared in her throat and fought to bring moisture back into her mouth. "Y-y-yes," she stammered out. For against her palm she felt the quick thumbing of Taren's heart.

"How do I know it is real?" he asked, this time his voice a lower decimal and without the harsh edge to it. Sarianna bravely looked up into those blue orbs just inches above her own green ones and had to intake a sharp breath. His color had deepened yet softened at the same time. There was a haunted look to them, yet a smoldering hooded appearance too. A jolt shot through her system and goosebumps broke out over her skin. She could not seem to take a full breath and instead they came as short quick gasps while tingles coursed down her spine. "I feel that," he continued, "each little emotion you go through." He paused and Sarianna watched as Taren's eyes broke contact to travel over the lines of her face. It felt as though with each pass a fiery trail blazed across her brow, along her cheek, & down her nose with each path ending at her lips. "Yet this," he breathed out in a low voice, "this feels like my own. This desire to be closer, to-" He paused once more as he closed his eyes and leaned forward.

Inside Sarianna's heart was doing flips and swinging from the bones of her rib cage; her lungs stopped working. Taren continued to lean forward until his nose brushed her hair line. Then he took a deep breath. "Even her smell," he whispered and let out a sigh. "But I can't be sure." The edge was back in his voice and as Sarianna glanced up she saw that he had reopened his eyes. Only as she watched the deep soft look faded in those blue depths, his jaw tightened back up, and his body straightened. "No, I can't be sure at all." He dropped her hand as though it burned him and he stepped back.

Now she understood and she could not blame him, for these same thoughts had crossed her mind. This attraction, this connection, she worried was not her own too. Maybe it was the Warrior Bond that drew them together like this. Only, she felt nothing like this for any of her other Warriors. Maybe it had to do with him being connected to her heart and therefore her emotions. Maybe it was just her that felt something and Taren was reacting to it. Either way the questions and their answers did not make things easier between them. Across from her, Taren gave his head a slight shake as he squeezed his eyes shut with a furrowed brow. "How can I be sure?"

"I don't know," Sarianna blurted out. Taren's eyes snapped open and he regarded her with speculation across the small bit of space between them. "I'm not really sure what is what Taren, I'm sorry." She titled her head to the side as she looked down and away from him. "I'd like to think what we feel is our own, that-that,"she faltered and had to take a deep breath. "That what we feel is ours and the bond only increases it. But," she paused again and darted a quick glance up at her Yellow Warrior, "I'm not sure either." He nodded his head and seemed to accept this.

The Yellow Warrior released her hand that lay against his chest and stepped back, away from her, but Sarianna called out to him. "Taren?" He stopped and raised sky colored eyes to look back at his Priestess. "I'm sorry, if it turns out this is part of the whole," she paused and gestured with her hands through the air, "whole magic thing, then I'm sorry if it made you like me, sorry if it has made you regret anything, sorry it made you care anything for me, sorry-"

"Stop!" He was instantly in front of her, a hand on the upper part of each arm as he gave her a little shake. "I regret nothing!" His eyes bore down into hers with a fierceness she had never seen out of him before. "Do you hear me? No matter how this turns out, I regret nothing. Meeting you, getting to know everyone, it opened me up. Made me realize I was dead inside and now suddenly I'm alive." His hands relaxed and with out knowing it his thumbs were gently caressing her shoulders of their own accord. "I never had anything close to a family growing up. Now I've got more than I really want." A light brown brow arched up into the bangs that just covered his forehead and his lips quirked into the beginnings of a smile on one side of his mouth. "How could I regret that?"

Sarianna felt her own lips lift in answer and relief settle in around her like a light shawl. Yes, how could anyone regret that? A pestering older brother like Tensche, a quite & patient older sister like Taila, the steady-like-a-rock Stovo, great-giving-advice Jogi, annoying older sister Shandra, and the parental figures of Aliza and Ralpha. Family...a family unlike the one she had lost, yet somehow so much more. Goosebumps prickled along her expose arms & tickled the pit of her stomach, while the skin around her eyes tightened and burned. In front of her Taren grew very still and his thumbs stopped dead.

"What's this," he breathed out in a husky tone. Sarianna smiled and felt her stomach muscles clinch as a half laugh bubbled up inside and tears brimmed.

"Would you believe happiness?" She knew her green eyes were glistening with un-shed tears and even without the bond she could tell Taren thought her crazy.

"Then why do you look like you're about to cry?" He slowly removed his hands while he hesitantly took a step back.

"Because I am," and she reached up to dash away a tear that had grown brave enough to take the dive over the edge. When she looked back up light brown brows had met over widened eyes. She could not stop the giggle that bubbled out and it jiggled more tears loose to fall over her sun colored cheeks.

Taren pressed one hand over his stomach and the other crossed over to rub the left side of his chest. "This is weird," he muttered and looked at Sarianna accusingly, which only made her actually laugh out loud. Then the tears really did fall, hot and bitter yet sweet and refreshing. Once the doors where open Sarianna couldn't stop them; all the years came flooding through in wet revenge. She fell to her knees and hiccuped through the sobs, and laughed too. Taren fell to his own knees beside her, one hand still pressed to his chest while the other supported his weight against the ground. "Ow, how can you stand this?" he asked in a strained voice but Sarianna could not answer.

Inside feelings and memories merged, yet with each that happened the ache she had carried in the pit of her stomach eased just a little and then a little more. Her mother smiling as Sarianna proudly exclaimed she had accomplished something and then remembrance of Aliza and her words of praise to show she had seen Sarianna's mark of improvement. Jo'athan as he patiently showed Sarianna how to plant a little seed when she was five; Stovo as he showed Sarianna how he carved the little stone pieces he carried in his leather pouch and Jogi as he took his time to make sure Sarianna had the right hold and stance with his long blade sword. Yes she had lost much and she missed her family dearly, that was something that would never change. Yet in everything that was lost it had been regained and it was now more than what she had started with. The thought brought her peace and she had felt so guilty, but now she was free. Sarianna leaned her head back and gazed up at the pale blue sky with its white fluffy clouds. Wet streaks ran from the corner of her eyes and dribbled down her neck, but she cared not. A warmth spread from somewhere deep within and radiated from her face in the smile that carved its self along her lips.

With a deep shuddering breath the tears left her, but the feeling of peace remained. She lowered her head and found Taren studying her. She lifted one corner of her mouth in answer and felt heat flame across her cheeks.

"That," he began then paused as he looked at her a moment longer. "That was weird." Sarianna dropped her gaze and brushed away wetness with the back of her hand. "How long have you held that back?"

"A while," she mumbled.

"Don't do it again," he grumbled, "for both our sakes." He pushed himself up from the ground and dusted forest debris from his knees. Then he stopped and regarded Sarianna once more in that quite way of his. But before she really start to feel uneasy he reached a hand down, palm side up. She looked from the hand to his face but could not gauge what she saw there. Tentatively she took his hand in hers and allowed her Yellow Warrior to pull her to her feet. But when she would of let go he held on, a strange look on his face. She turned her free hand, palm out, and ran her first two fingers from temple to ear just under the hair line and tucked the strand there back behind her left ear.

Taren watched the gesture and then surprised her by smiling. "You do that when you're unsure about something. Or embarrassed." He eyes fell back on her face and a yellow light danced in his blue eyes. "You chew your bottom lip when you're thinking or worrying about something." Sarianna stopped in mid action of pulling her bottom lip in to chew on it. "And you tug on the end of your sleeves until they cover your hands when you feel subconscious. Or when Shandra has slighted you." Sarianna's breath caught as she looked at this man before her. He squeezed her hand and leaned down to peer closer. "I know these things without even thinking about them. But I still don't understand why you cry when you shouldn't and why you don't when you should."

Sarianna shrank a little under the sudden intense gaze and turned her eyes away. Tall Aspen trees stood around them with their light trunks while their pale green leaves fluttered in a light breeze. White clouds continued on above in their lazy pace while the world passed much quicker below them. A deep sigh escaped her lips at the sight and suddenly words found their way into her mouth.

"I cried a little when I first found out about what happened to my villiage, I cried alot when I first saw the burned remains, but I never really let go. I've always felt guilty that I had remained alive, untouched, while others' lives got cut short. I hated every time tears have threatened to fall or worse when I couldn't keep them back. I've hated this trip, hated that fate had spared me for its own purpose and secretly mourned everything that I had lost and thought I could never have again. But you're right," Sarianna turned to her Warrior not knowing that the glowing smile had returned. "I do have a family and it is okay to love them! What a relief!" One small and final tear fell and Taren watched it trace a line over the curve of her cheek, then down the line of her chin. "I can let go now, with no shame."

"That was why you felt sad and happy?" Sarianna nodded at Taren's question and he nodded once in response. "Emotions are really confusing." Sarianna giggled in mirth behind her hand and when Taren looked at her with his furrowed raised brow and wide eyes she leaned her head back and let her laugh have full rein.



Back at camp Aliza sat at one of the small fold up tables with Ralpha and twirled a mug as its contents swirled around inside. She suddenly stopped and warm liquid poured over the side onto her hand. Ralpha was instantly on the alert, half out of the chair and a hand on the hilt of his sword. Aliza waved him back down impatiently as her eyes glazed over while she accessed that internal spot connected to her Priestess. "She's okay you big ox."

"But-" he began only to have Aliza wave him to silence. Then suddenly she went lax and the cup would of fallen had Ralpha not been poised on the ready and deftly snatched it out of her hand. "What is it?" he asked softly.

Aliza turned her violet colored eyes to the Red Warrior and he saw shock gaze back at him. "Peace."

"What? That doesn't make sense." Ralpha was about to rise from his kneeled postion when Aliza rested a hand on his arm that made him still as nothing else could.

"Her soul has always carried this certain edge to it, not quite resting, but now..." she gazed off at nothing again and the edges of her lips curled up. "The edge is gone and she is at peace, she's okay Ral!" A warmth bloomed within and Aliza felt light herself as she beamed a smile at her fellow Warrior.

Ralpha ducked his head to block away the sight of Aliza's transformed face. It brought out an echo from areas he had buried within, places he no longer allowed himself to dwell. He already thought it was bad enough that a pleasing shock had gone through him at Aliza's use of his old name. He used the excuse of getting to his feet to keep from looking at her again.

"You know what this means don't you?" Ralpha, caught up in his own thoughts stilled with this question and thought an answer that had nothing to do with Priestess Sarianna.

"Uh, No," he grumbled out.

"She's with Taren right now and I think our suspensions might be true." Aliza beamed from ear to ear and leaned back in her chair. "Oh yes, this is going to require watching very carefully." Suddenly a giggle bubbled forth out of Aliza's mouth which she quickly clamped a hand over. Ralpha could not help but look at the White Warrior with that uncharacteristic behavior coming forth. "Oh, yes, VERY careful watching!" she exclaimed when she seemed in control of herself once more.

Internally Ralpha smiled. They're not the only ones he thought to himself.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~
(end of that chapter)

Sarianna: "Good-byes..."

"How do you make the hard decisions? How do you know when you've made the right one? How do you take your heart out of the equation and how do you know when to let it lead you? How do you get the pain to stop and the tears to dry? How do you get rid of the fear? The fear of not knowing? Fear of being wrong? Or worse, the fear of being right?! I don't know these answers, yet these questions plauge me morning noon, and night! They are my constant companions. Closer than any friends, deadlier than any foes, and more apart of my mind than the thoughts of how to breath or how to move!!" Sarianna turned once more as she paced and flung her hands up to her head and grabbed hand fulls of hair.

"My my....who would of ever taken you for the 'poet' type? Full of flare and dramatic pose." But Sarianna missed the twinkle in the brown eyes, as well as the wink, as she turned to pace back in the other direction.

"Sarianna," came the cool calm voice of her White Warrior, who turned a Lilac colored glare to Ralpha, the Red Warrior sitting there with the grin still on his face. "Sarianna, we don't expect you to have all the answers."

"I DO!!" The Priestess turned suddenly and bore down on her two Warriors. The two Warriors that were many years her Senior, her mentors, and in very many ways like the parents she had lost. Yet she advanced with green eyes widened, the unshed tears glistend and seemed to give her eyes a heated blaze.

"How can I lead this group to stand up to the War Lord when we finally face him, when I'm not even sure of how to DO IT!? How can I stand there and pretend to be the leader when none of these answers come to me? HOW can I accept the full responisblity of the title "Priestess" if I do not have the wisdom to know the difference between what I need to do and what I don't need to do?! And how, how am I supposed to carry on when my h-h-hea....," suddenly the words seemed to stick as her hand hovered over a spot on her chest, "when my h-heart feels like a lump in my chest," the tears finally broke and Sarianna found she didn't care to stop the breach. "He's gone Iza! GONE!! My light! My r-rock! My Warr-Warrior...NO!" The Priestess suddenly straightened. She pressed her lips firmly together and shook her head a small fraction. "No. He was more than my Warrior, more than just a part of some story or quest. He was my friend...he IS my friend. I love him Iza," she said as her voice softend and the dark green of her eyes began to pale under the new brimming of tears. "I've loved him for awhile now. He was more than just the Yellow Warrior, Protector of my heart. He was the missing part of me and I, well I'd like to think, I-I was the m-m-missing part of him?"

Sarianna looked to her White Warrior, Aliza, a look that pulled at the older woman's heart strings in ways words were not strong enough too. The Warrior with her long white hair and lilac colored eyes stepped forward and opened her arms. It was all the invite Sarianna needed, she rushed to the comfort and felt it seal around her like a hearth warmed blanket to block out a winter chill. She buried her face and let the sobs come as they may. Aliza, to her credit, did not try to stop the flow or whisper, "It's okay." She just held her Priestess, a young girl she had come to see as the daughter she would never have, and let the pain douse it self in the pain



-work in progress....it's late...I'm falling asleep..... >_<

Sarianna: Night Time Snow...(not finished)

It was harder to sludge through the snow than she thought. And cold. So very, very cold. Sarianna shuddered and pulled the neck of her jacket closer, only to have it fall open once more when she had to throw out her hands in order to catch herself. She had long pulled off the gloves given to her for this very reason, they were soaked through. Her knees ached from the constant brusing, her nose burned and didn't seem to want to stop running, and her hands...her hands she just did not even want to think about. With a moan she once more rose to her feet.
"What's wrong with you?" came a voice to her right. "I thought you were raised on the mountains, didn't they have snow there?" Sarianna turned to give a glare at the young man, but as she did she stumbled once more. A hand came under her elbow and stopped her in mid-fall. Sarianna gave a sigh and felt her shoulders untense at the escape of another bruise. She turned to give thanks and found a pair of blue eyes, not on her but on the hand that held her elbow. The young man's eyebrows were drawn together and formed a crease on his brow, while his lips were pressed together and one corner turned down. Almost as though he was displeased to find his hand under her elbow and at what he had done.
"Uh, thank you?" Sarianna said, one of her own eyebrows arched in puzzlement. The blue eyes snapped to meet her green ones then quickly fell away, along with his hand.