I Write for Fun

I have a bonus post for you, because tomorrow is the start of NaNoWriMo, which is just very exciting because it means RUSH!

The message? A reminder to love what you do... for you.

Do you ever get in a funk? The kind where the world presses in on your head and it aches, and you forget how you liked making things? Totally not recommended.

This happened with my almost-there novel and I had this epiphany… that the raw matter behind creating is NOT about everyone else. As awful as that sounds, it’s about you reaching deep into your muse for you—it’s your special, personal relationship and it's grounding and you love to connect with it.

And THEN, because you feel ownership of what you have created, you can happily, gladly share.

It’s easy to get it backwards because lighting up people’s worlds makes you tick. But you have to remember that without the you in it, there’s nothing to give. The muse swallows your (good) intentions into a black hole.

You’re the bridge.

So I made this reminder in the happiest colors, to help as we go about NaNoWriMo this month. Are you joining me for the 50K race? Please use the image and remember to love your writing!

Apocalypse

     For Halloween, I’m giving you a scene to spark your imagination. The painting is called Apocalypse. Have a great night! —Elm

Matters of Death, Life, and Kisses

We're on a roll with curses this month. Since it's creepy pumpkin month, it works, right? Here's a story about wishes that make you do bad things, and all the while, you hope someone might come along and save you from yourself. Warning: contains some graphic elements. --Elm

Mom called me Viva because she said no amount of life would slip me by, since my personality was forceful enough to get everything I wanted.

You can hear my eyes rolling--I wasn't that loud a baby, but what do you do when you have six older sisters who organize your most precious possessions and chatter nonstop?

Then an evil magician came and cursed me into the depths of slumber for a hundred years. (He stole it right out of the fairy tale.) I didn’t deserve it, and occasionally I wonder if my family put him up to it. It occurs to me, though, that maybe Mom’s naming worked—he couldn’t actually curse me to death.

While I slept, I dreamed of this totally hot guy in a black suit and cloak who loved me passionately. So when I was kissed awake by this totally hot guy in a black suit and cloak, I fell for him big-time.

It was not lost on me that this was the same magician who cursed me, so much as my heart called to him, I wasn't surprised when he ditched me for another woman at my ball. Evil, yah? I cried my eyes out.

Of course, that’s when I realized he was under a curse, himself.

I drew on my shiniest, blackest gloves, and set out to find him.

It wasn’t hard for a person like me to trace the carnage. The woman he ditched me for? I found her choked by a vine in a pumpkin patch. The lady he left her for? Poisoned in the middle of a forest. The sweetheart she was poisoned for? I found her eaten by wolves.

You see the pattern. Now you’re asking, what about the basket of food for Granny?

There wasn’t a basket, but there was a tower, with a woman choked by her own—very long—hair.

One bad dude, I tell you.

But I was badder. See, there’s another reason my mom named me Viva. I raised the first girl and made her croak out the man’s name. Ivan. Such a romantic name.

I stole the second chick from the dwarves and compelled her to spill the memories he’d confided. I bribed the third with an axe and a new red cloak to show me the path through the woods to her competitor’s house. And the fourth…

… I pulled the fourth out of the window and set the tower on fire. I understood what it was like to be locked up with no way out but your dreams.

I laid them all to rest in that thorny valley. I didn’t want them haunting my man when he couldn’t help himself in the first place.

I guess I’m not sure if I believe that. Everyone makes their choices, like I had with my spinning wheel. Somewhere in his past, he’d made one that led him to this.

But I forged ahead with my plan, if only to save a few more ladies. Since life has a way of taking you back to the beginning, I ditched Ivan’s trail for a short cut to the earliest memory he’d given girl number two. An island in the middle of a lake, with an old well set at the top.

I never understand why wells get built on islands when there’s all that water already around you. Maybe it’s purer. Or symbolic. But I didn’t find any inscriptions on the stones or on the bucket to give me a clue. Finally, I lowered the vessel for a drink of water and cranked the handle until it came back up. A coppery gleam at the bottom caught my eye.

I scooped out the penny and the world went hazy. Then clear. Like a dream.

A boy’s face glimmered in the well water, framed by moonlight.

“What is your wish?” a voice rippled up the stone walls.

The boy’s face half-disappeared, then drew forward again. His quivering lip hardened. “I’m tired of my brothers getting more attention than me,” he said. “Nothing I say or do matters.”

“You wish to matter?” the voice asked.

The boy gave one sharp nod and dropped his penny into the well.

I stared at it in my hand.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” A deep, familiar voice asked. I stared up at the man of my dreams. He seemed wary, and worn at the edges. Tired. No wonder he was recycling curses, truly evil deeds took a lot of time and energy to think up.

I held up the penny. “I think you dropped this, Ivan, a long time ago.”

He didn’t move, and he didn’t speak. His eyes just watched me, and I felt a heat rise through me. “No one ever listened to me, either,” I said.

Finally, he nodded. “You realize I’m going to have to kill you, Viva.”

I laughed. “I don’t die very easily. And I understand a thing or two about curses. For instance, I know that they’re broken by true love’s kiss.”

Ivan walked forward, his hand on the knife at his belt. “I have no true love,” he said. “None of them were the one. Not for over a hundred years.”

“I didn’t say it was your kiss that mattered, Mr. Ego. Try, the kiss of the one who loves you.”

His eyes widened, and I saw the moon glint on his Adam’s apple. “No one in their right mind would love me.” His voice sounded rough.

“If you had actually waited at the ball…” I looked back down at the penny, and swallowed my sudden nerves.

You’re wondering how a girl who raises dead people could be nervous of a boy. But, you know, he was a guy. A hot guy in a black suit and cloak… with a knife.

“So, one bad girl speaking to one bad guy… maybe we could just try it.”

“You would do that?” he asked softly. He was now very near. So near, I could see his knuckles tighten on the knife’s pommel.

I’d had a hundred years to think about it. Before I could lose those last threads of nerve, I raised up on my toes and kissed him.

It was sweet. Our first real kiss, since I was sleeping the first time around and he was only thinking about himself.

“My Viva,” he breathed.

Curses might be broken by true love, but true love itself isn’t magic. It’s clear eyes, determination, and a lot of forgiveness.

And when I looked into his eyes, I saw gratitude.

Evil men don’t feel gratitude.

I decided he was worth a second kiss.

Spell of Release

Haunted doors

Infinite floors

Made of thread

A demon’s web

Isla sang, stirring her pot. The mist rose.

Silken strains

Smooth refrains

Sing the voices

Dark rejoices

She waved at the foggy tendrils. They crept to the girl on the bed.

Calling tempting

Gently sifting

Twist the brain

Wind the pain

The cloud hovered overhead. The girl’s chest rose and sucked it in.

Sharp derides

Coldness pries

Love unfeeling

Mind unreeling

Isla shook, feeling the girl's emotion. She firmed her voice into command.

Break the shell

Seal the well

Ignited strands

Become brands

The girl’s chest caved, and a writhing mist shot from her mouth.

Of memory

But no longer fear

Be at peace

My dear

Isla dropped her jaw and sucked it in. Her brow trembled, but she swallowed... and smiled.

Reptilian Reputation

I don't know what that fly thought was so interesting. I'd showered with my peach blossom body scrub and slathered on all-day deodorant just six hours before, so there wasn't anything to smell. Or taste. Or whatever it was flies did with their feet.

Study hour droned as lazily as the fly did. I glanced across the room to where Shara, my once-best-friend, nestled heads with Bert, boy-of-my-dreams, chatting like they'd realized eternity. They evidently didn't notice the fly.

Or me.

Or the curse.

The fly landed on my head and I shook it off. I sliced it with a glare the way my sister withered pests-of-the-younger-sibling variety, to no avail. I lay my head on the desk and pulled my hair over my face instead, closing my eyes to make the time go faster.

To make the curse happen faster.

Which is why I felt betrayed a moment later when my tongue, without me even seeing the darn thing, snaked between my lips and whipped around the fly.

Three feet away. I know because that's how far my tongue stretches, ever since Shara cursed it using my hex-book.

And brought the fly swiftly, neatly back to my mouth.

Coming from a hex-book, the frog-tongue thing wasn’t a real curse. The real curse, obviously, had backfired. It took less than a second. Not long enough for anyone to have noticed a thing, but that's the way curses work, my grandma says. They take all the negative might-bes in any certain moment and pull them together into one gigantic whammy of a punch.

That’s all I wanted for Shara. For Bert to see how little she was.

But that’s the other thing about curses. They come back to bite you. I was just too mad to listen to my grandma on that one.

Not only did a (delicious) buzzing morsel tickle my teeth, the entire classroom and my teacher chose that nano-second to glance my way. Including Bert.

You could hear the fly in my mouth, the after-shock was so thick.

It was so not fair.

Shara started laughing, and I took the curse into my own hands.

“I’m sorry,” I said to my once-best-friend, and I meant it. Abruptly, the fly tasted disgusting. I spit it into my palm and smashed it onto her desk.

Her tongue shot out and snatched up the fly, guts and all. Her eyes bulged, and she half gulped, half croaked.

That’s the thing about hexes. They don’t stick to the innocent. I’d been too proud to apologize.

I didn’t look at Bert. His relationships were his business to decide. Instead, I walked over to my teacher. “Do you mind if I get a drink of water?” I asked.

“Of course, Lisa,” he smiled. “Or can I call you Lizard?”

I stuck my—short—tongue out at him, and walked out of the room.

Spirit Tree (Part 5)

At last, the ending of The Spirit Tree! Let me know how you liked it, and thanks for reading :). --Elm

Jake's high chuckle and the demon's low growl blended creepily together.

"What do you think you can offer that will counter your friend's ransom?" Jake asked.

I shook my head, hoping I was right because otherwise Zachary had messed up everything. "I'm not intending to counter it. I just want you to know that it isn't really valid."

"Stop playing silly games," he said.

"Because I know what the ransoms mean," I continued. "They have to be part of you, don't they? Like it says in the spell."

Jake nodded slowly, and Dagon made a low grumbling in his throat.

"He has a girlfriend already. And if he has a girlfriend who is not me," I stressed, "then I don't have any meaning to him." I swallowed. It was harder to say than I thought it would be. "He was just doing me a favor, remember?"

Zachary watched me with a pained look in his eyes. I'd hit his foot pretty hard.

"So I want to offer something of his that means he really can go free. And then I'll stay."

"You would stay?" Jake sounded surprised. It surprised me, too, but I meant it. "Why?"

"Because I don't have anyone left up there," I said. "The only person who cares about me is down here, and I've missed her. So those are my conditions--Zachary goes free and my mama stays alive, and maybe we can work on lightening things up down here."

I held my breath. He just needed to stay away from my mama.

"And what would you offer on Zachary's behalf? We haven't had someone simply give themselves over, have we, Dagon?"

Dagon watched me out of his blistery eye. His heat made me shiver with its strange warmth. It was the only warmth I'd have so I should probably get used to it.

"His sword."

I closed my eyes so that I wouldn't see the betrayal on Zachary's face. He loved his fencing more than life itself. Probably more than his girlfriend.

Dagon's laugh grew deep and rich through the cavern. "I accept," he said.

A burning heat touched my face, and I heard a metallic whisper. I squinted and saw the slender blade glimmering, alone on the altar of offerings. Beside it, Dagon's blistered whorls churned brilliantly at their core, smoldering at the edges with almost cartoon-like darkness. I sighed. I'd been right, he was more powerful with the offering.

Zachary was nowhere to be seen.

"If you ate him..." I started.

Dagon's eye blinked. "We had a contract, little one. That is the way we do things in Hell."

"You're a demon. How can I believe you?"

He chuckled. "Is your mother not still here? I haven't sucked her completely dry."

"Mama," I called, and turned to look for her. From the far corner, a dim shade flickered and then disappeared. "Mama!"

"I'm here, Rachel," I heard her rasp. "You've chosen sorry company for yourself."

"I don't think my mother is sorry company," I said sharply. "Hey Dagon, could you turn down the heat a little? I want to actually be able to see her."

Dagon rumbled with another laugh. At least he had a sense of humor. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad with him as company. Jake, on the other hand.... The cave darkened and I focused back on my mom.

"There's something I need to know," I said.

She gazed at me expectantly and all my bravery vanished. I wanted to throw my arms around her and cry. But she couldn't comfort me. She was so far from what I'd remembered.

I straightened my shoulders. "What did the ring mean to you?"

Her face grew pinched, and I told myself to wait. It might take a while for her to remember, if she remembered at all. I wanted to see if she could.

"I don't know," she whispered.

"You are amusing, little girl," Dagon's voice rumbled. "Do you not believe in my power?"

"I just have to see for myself," I said. "So Zachary's sword..."

"Represented his skill, yes." I heard the smile in his voice.

"He'll never forgive me," I whispered, gazing at my mama. Because I already knew what the ring meant. The ring was her memory of Dad. That night she went under the tree, she'd come home different. Changed. And that's why I'd searched so hard for the gleam of treasure afterward. I wanted to bring her back to normal.

But I never could find the ring, and in place of her warmth and smiles and chatter, I began to imagine them. As she wasted, my stories and her girth grew to quench the pain. Leanne hadn't been able to cope, but I'd had to. Of course this wraith was a different person than I remembered--that's all she truly was, this whole time.

And instead of returning it, I'd kept the ring, because I couldn't bear to lose that, too, on top of my mother.

I whirled on Jake. "This is all your fault!" I shouted. "How could you sacrifice your family? How could you sacrifice my family? It wasn't yours to give."

Jake tsked. "Now, we all have to make sacrifices in order to get what we want. Don't think I haven't paid my own price."

"What price could you have possibly paid that meant enough to gain the power you wanted?" I snarled. "Do you know why you're still down here? It's because your ransom wasn't enough--you never cared about your brothers, only about yourself. And there can never be enough sacrifice because all the rest of our pain isn't yours to begin with."

Jake's expression grew confused and Dagon began his dark laugh again. I was getting tired of that laugh. Even if it meant I was right.

"Dagon said..."

"Dagon's lying to you," I rolled my eyes. "That's what demons do."

"We are in a happy hole, aren't we?" Dagon said. "This is the moment I was waiting for, all these centuries."

Jake turned to stare at the demon, his mouth working but no sound coming out. "You don't mean that," he finally croaked.

"I mean what I contract," Dagon said. "You would have the power when the right amount of sacrifice was made. Meanwhile, we've had an amusing companionship all these years. A little flat but Hell generally is filled with similar-minded company."

"Flat," Jake said, clenching his fists. "Let me tell you who's flat. Your baking is flat."

While he argued, I turned back to my mother. Quickly, before she could see what I was doing, I pulled the chain from around my neck and placed it around hers. I wasn't even sure if it would catch on her shoulders, but suddenly her brilliance was more than I could take. "I love you, Mama," I whispered, and then fire erupted all around me.

It was so hot. I could feel my skin melting, and my lungs felt like dry tinder, flaming, disintegrating like ashes.

"That was not smart, little girl," Dagon's voice vibrated my entire burning soul.

The heat went on and on and on and on.

Eventually--I don't know how long it was later, with some instinct that wasn't a part of my pain, I reached. Reached for anything that could quell this consuming fever, and my fingers touched something they knew. They fumbled at the crumbs and smeared them all over a body that was somehow still solid beneath the fire. As the heat chilled, the fields of mint that once hung in my mother's kitchen made sense. It wasn't just a nice marinade for lamb. She'd met Dagon's heat herself when she gave him her ring. Bless you, Mama, I thought.

I crawled toward the altar, now glowing white with heat. The scripted words crawled in black along its surface and Zachary's sword gleamed red. Dagon and Jake were nowhere to be seen, but I guessed they were down inside the oven, roasting together.

"Dagon," I croaked. "Have a little spice for your baking rack."

I flung my remaining peppermint onto the altar, and the ceiling rained down.

I stared up at an angel.

I thought it was an angel, because it shimmered blindingly and made my eyes ache. That's what Mama always said heaven would be like for the unworthy.

I didn't care. It was better than the cave. Then I heard the voice of my angel.

"Rae?" Zachary called.

Even if he wasn't my angel. I also heard other voices.

"Well, I'll be. There really was a cave down there."

"How did she get inside there?"

"Are you all right, little missy?"

"I'm fine," I called up. "I just need some help getting out."

A long while of considering the peppermint on the altar later, a loop of rope was extended down. I stepped onto the center and they heaved me up. The altar looked dull and somehow sad in the daylight streaming through the opening, and Zachary's sword grew small, but I couldn't risk bringing it with me.

"Do me a favor and fill up that hole," I said, coughing at the dust. "It's a hazard to your health."

Zachary wrapped an arm around my waist and dragged me to the house. I found I was glad for the support because my legs didn't want to work so well. They just kept shaking.

"I can't believe you're still alive," he said. "Can I get you anything?"

"I could use some water," I admitted. "And maybe a bagel. I feel like I haven't eaten in days."

"You haven't. It's been two days," he said. He deposited me onto a kitchen chair. "I was worried sick. The guys wouldn't believe me about the hole, and I had to pay them double to come dig you out. It took me the whole time to chop down that tree."

"Two days?" I stared at him. "It felt like two years." I put my cheek on the table, feeling like Dagon's altar... cracked. I told him what I'd realized about Jake, and what Dagon had said. "And I don't know about the peppermint. Will I have to go back?"

"Not if there isn't a hole there," he said grimly. "Rae."

He set his jaw, and I swallowed. Here came the bad part where he yelled at me for sacrificing his sword. "There's one thing that I don't understand."

"What is it?" I asked dully.

"How could you think that you had no meaning to me?"

I widened my eyes. "It made sense. That's why you offered me, so I wouldn't bother you anymore. You know, like a hangnail."

"Like a... I was trying to weaken him." Indecision wrestled in his eyes and then his jaw firmed. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of my chair, and crushed me to his chest. "You are not an irritation, Rae," he mumbled.

He ran a hand down my hair and his breathing changed. He pulled away and I shut my eyes against the loss. And then his fingers lifted my chin and his warm mouth was on mine and I gasped. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back.

"But aren't you angry?" I said afterward, unable to fathom the change. And I needed to make sure he understood. "I gave away your sword. Your skills. Everything."

"Don't be ridiculous," he smiled. "That was just a matter of waiting."

"Waiting?" I asked, confused.

"Your mama would have come back from the grave to haunt me if I'd hung around." His teeth flashed. "I didn't know she was stuck under the Tree."

"My mama?"

He blushed. "She made me promise to let you grow up."

"You promised my mama?" I asked, unbelieving. I tried to trace the conversation back to when she was normal, and couldn't.

He looked miserable. "But if I'd had to watch you date other guys, I couldn't have handled it. I had to stay away."

"Me? Date other guys?" I laughed. "Zach, I was never interested in other guys. And you have a girlfriend."

"I've dated a lot of girls," he admitted. "But they were never the one I wanted."

I scowled out the window, staring at the men filling in the hole. It'd take dumptrucks to fill that hole. The things my mama had done to keep me safe.

The yard looked so different without the tree. Empty. But the light shined everywhere.

"Well," I said, "you'll just have to wait a bit longer."

Zachary's arms dropped and I laughed.

"Just a bit longer. I have some words for my mama." I grabbed him by the hand, and pulled him out the front door.