In a house with a miniature theatre, sitting restless, full of yellow-dust air and the warm creaking of old wood, built where there should have been a foyer, the crowd gathers on the teak steps. A cat claws its way to the  underside of a balcony and hides, hanging upside down beneath well-fed asses. People lean and shush in an attempt to be good a good audience to a nonexistent show.

A train, only two cars long but with a huffing and grinding coal-burning engine comes to rest in a golden wheat field. There are enemy soldiers gathered there and the best sneaking is insufficient to elude them.

A party full of the diseased: the addicted, the twisted, the pathetic, carries on in a sad mixture of desperation and idolatry. As my fellow and I do our best to escape there approaches a woman who has long harbored a sick obsession with him. He reviles her but she persists. The diseased psyche attempting to latch onto him creates in him a hatred for existence and he leaves everything to wander the streets.

Snippets of dreams.

Dead Mice & Giant Hummingbirds

Through the thick, tinted glass I pointed out the many large hummingbirds attending to the trees in the courtyard. They easily measured a foot from beak to tail. My friend had a hard time seeing them, she looked carefully into the courtyard, searching for these giant, small birds I told her about, but had no luck seeing any. There were dozens of them flitting about and hanging in the air like cotton on a still day, but I felt I was the only one to whom they were visible.

We left the office and walked through the arid neighborhood: a city street with sparse buildings on either side. No grass adorned the lawns here, only orange sand and giant, flowering cacti.

We parted ways at the testing center and I went in to find my fellow. He sat at a long, low table. It was one of many chained together in a hallway. There were a few other people in the hall talking quietly or reading. I sat across the table from my fellow and greeted him, holding his hand.

When the bell rang I left the table and entered a testing room. I sat at a desk next to a blonde woman who lit up with joy upon my arrival. We whispered to each other throughout the test, which was very casually administered, and became fast friends. She followed me to the table at which my fellow sat once we both finished our test and sat down next to him as I sat in my previous spot directly across from him. He and I held hands and kissed over the table then I went to fetch books.

Upon my return I saw my new, blonde friend sitting directly against my fellow, her hand on his knee. She made no move to distance herself as I returned. I looked at her, bewildered and explained to her how betrayed I felt. She became embarrassed when my fellow chimed in and reiterated my sentiment. Embarrassed not because she was caught, or wrong, but because she knew then she could not succeed in wooing him away from me.

She moved away from him, her face burning, all the while excuses and misdirection tumbled from her mouth.

My fellow and I left through the rear exit of the center and found seats in a desert garden. There snuck about our feet small, bald, sickly mice. The poor rodents fell to the ground in droves, dead.

Dream snippet.


I'm a NaNoWriMo 2014 winner!

I’m a NaNoWriMo 2014 winner!

Great news, all! I hit the 50,000 word mark tonight! I have succeeded at winning this year’s NaNoWriMo! I still have about another 20,000 words until my story is wrapped up and I intend to continue writing at the same pace, so I should have a complete first draft before the end of the year. It’s my hope to team up with a publishing house to take my story to print, but I’ve never navigated that route before and I am doing my best to maintain some healthy realism: my novel may suck.

I’ll know better after I’ve edited and sent it to a couple of friends for preliminary read-throughs. Fingers crossed it’ll hit shelves as a full-on book within a year or two!

Contagion in the Between

The night grew dark and I paced in a nervous anticipation of the show ahead of me. My fellow was gruff and impatient with my lack of experience performing and uttered horrid things in the hopes I would hear. I left to find my sister.

I arrived at a large estate undergoing renovations: piles of musty insulation and rot-addled wood sat in the middle of each room. The plaster veneer of the walls was crumbled, chipped and peeled away to reveal the skeleton of the structure and between the beams in the ceiling there stood a vast array of stars. Certain doorways contained sickness, others death and the remainder held other rooms.

A small, white cat ambled the halls, unaware of the nature of the betweens and subjected itself to misery. The cat ran wild and feverish through the building, which only housed me, until it exited and spread the contagion among men outside. The men, fearing suffering and mortality captured the cat, dragged it into the house and threw it into the space cradled in the ceiling. As the poor feline whiled away its time bored and lonely in the between space the men milled about and worked on the house. They formed plans of division and containment: in the near future this house would be filled with small rooms and winding hallways full of unwanted people. Here they could live without windows and in the company of dangerous betweens.

I watched from my perch on the third floor stair as they worked until I heard music from outside. I ran, finding my sister on the path back to the venue. The band had begun without me and played furiously to a crowd of faceless drunks. I waited until the song ended then climbed on stage to find the songs were not what I knew. I stood there, a statue of embarrassment as the band carried on without me.

The show ended, the crowd left and I stood with my fellow; his temper spent on the drums he was pleasant now. We returned to the dark house to explore now that the workers were gone. In the space above us a man cried out and told us that time would send an opposite cat. As we walked through the rooms in various states of disrepair and reconstruction, a cat, identical to the first but of a much nicer disposition, strolled into the house. She followed a serpentine path through the clutter on the floor and approached a blank wall  Before us the wall danced and waved like water cupped in unsteady hands. The wood and plaster became a dark jelly and through it walked the sick cat, no longer sick.

Dream snippet.


My mother held my hand, an ancient togetherness reborn in that gentle grip.

Inspired  by Violette.


These great beasts of metal and aching rubber gaskets bear us to debts we couldn’t even fathom. Their odd physics and angry nature embarrass us as we dine on fine foods and drink obnoxious cocktails in their guts.

Above the waters edge we went, a friend, her child and myself, to an exhibition of live animals. The small turtles strolled merrily, the only mechanized part of them their shells and tails; the finches and budgerigars sang and yelled as if the sun had risen just for them; the cats purred as they strolled circles around small rivulets and water features. The room bristled with plants of executive varieties that filled the air with leaves larger than grown men, making infants of us all.

A dream snippet.


Last night I dreamt of a house full of obstacle courses and a small commode hidden beneath the stair. The owner was a bustling old hippy man who insisted on tea and cookies agains the cold. I ate and left.

I was captured on the front porch and drafted into a troop support group, which was weeded and thinned through a series of tests. One such test was to paint a lifelike representation of a particular soldier without any reference material. My painting began well enough but as it neared completion someone bumped the table which spilt a jar of dark blue ink over my painting, casting it all into a cobalt shadow.

The surveyor walked down our rows of tables, ejecting the failures for death and delivering instructions for the next challenge to those left over. She arrived at mine and as I tried to explain, the words a mush of failed vowels and consonants piled atop each other, she motioned for my ejection. Two men grabbed me from behind, ripped me from my seat and threw me into a pitch black room.

Sweet dreams.


November is National Novel Writing Month and I decided to participate this year! The goal is to write. There is a certificate for people who write 50,000 words before the end of November.

I started without any plan, just an idea of where I wanted the story to begin. I’ve hit just over 20,000 words today and am still in love with the story I’m writing.

I opted for fiction verging on fantasy, laden with symbolism. Befriend or follow me on Facebook to see snippets of my writing as I progress!

I hope the story is strong enough when finished to be considered for publishing. I’ve already had a couple of friends express interest in reading it, so I think I’ll be set for test readers, and will cross the publishing bridge when I get to it.