Chapter 1 Part 1

“Kyrie! Kyrie!”

I ducked and ran. No, that wasn’t me! Totally not my name!

“I saw you!” the vendor shouted, who also happened to be my neighbor, so even if I got away now I wasn’t really getting away.

“Late for school!” I shouted over my shoulder in guise of a terrible excuse. It was true though, I was almost late for school. I was sixteen at the time and gangly tall for my age. As always, I wore my dilapidated shoes, some sort of jeans, and a blue hoodie over a t-shirt that I’d dragged from some rich person’s dumpster. It was big for me, but I liked that. It hid my breasts, which made me more comfortable. The only really recognizable thing about me, despite the aura of poverty, was the darkish blue of my hair. A touch of magic!, everyone used to crow about me. Yeah, used to.

Behind me, the dirty street was nearly empty. It was too early for the druggies to be out of bed and most of the drunks were home sleeping their hangover off. A thin, cold, mist hung over the earth, soaking through my pant legs and making my boots skid over the damp sidewalk.

“Thief!” the shitty neighbor shouted after me, as loud as he could. I didn’t care. Everyone knew I was a thief. Everyone, even my mother. She hung her head and nodded whenever someone came and yelled to her about it. She’d order me to give back whatever I stole- but I’d usually already eaten it. She’d get a good talking to from whomever it was (usually our crappy neighbor) and then she’d apologetically close the door. After that, I would get the silent treatment for a day or so. Then, the cycle might just repeat itself right away.

It wasn’t that Mom hadn’t educated me well, as everyone told her. It was that I saw the struggle in her eyes when I reached for a second helping of food. Once, there was no food for lunch. Then, I realized that yeah, I couldn’t eat twice at one meal – but oh look! A vendor!

Now, I never ate twice and mom knew why. It was a tacit agreement that neither of us spoke about the dire finances of our household – and she would keep nodding at the intruders shaking their fists at me.

As I rounded the corner towards school, I slowed to a walk. I pulled the warm pizza pocket out of my mouth where I’d been holding it. I took a smaller bite than the whole thing. It was steaming in the cold air, delicious, and with just a hint of spices that didn’t wholly belong on the pizza. Hey, no one said the vendor paid for these in the first place. I’d caught him garbage diving too one day. We’d fought over a whole box of old bread – and yeah, I just ran away with them.

But now, I happily munched on my breakfast. Yep, life was good right then. I strolled slowly now, knowing full well that I was early to meet my friend, Aaliyah. But I couldn’t wait to meet her. These quiet walks in the morning were usually the highlight of my day. They were also the reason I held an extra pizza pocket in each hand. Another for me, and one for her. This one I would eat with her and we would happily walk together, enjoying our short walk to school before the day really began.

Ours was a quiet existence. I already knew that someday, our friendship would hopefully breach the lines of friendship and we, the pariahs already of our ‘slumbug’ existence, would break into a whole new level of pariah – that of two female bodies in love.

Finishing my first pizza pocket I tried not to dwell on this. But of course I did. I tried to visualize how Aalliyah’s mother (another single mother, just like mine!) would accept this. Would she? I knew Madame Akizah as a generous and kind shop owner. But what did she think of women in love?

We could marry if we moved north, I told myself. There, there was jobs in factories for us ‘unbloomed’ ones. I would work hard to protect Aaliyah and provide for her! I would –

“Already eating?” a laughing voice jerked me from my thoughts. And there she was. The highlight of my life. The shining ray in all this misery.

Aaliyah had gleaming black hair that she kept simply long and plain. Her smile was brilliant, her skin just a tad darker than mine. She was shorter than me by half an inch (which I constantly rubbed in her face) and had the largest and sweetest eyes possible. Today, she was wearing her loose red sweatshirt and gray track pants with sneakers.

Still chewing my last mouthful I made sure not to speak so I wouldn’t spit all over. I’d done that before. She’d laughed at me so hard she’d turned redder than her sweatshirt.

“Thanks,” she said as she accepted it. Then, pressing it between her two hands, she said “Ooh, it’s still warm.”

I nodded and smiled, then finished my mouthful with a gulp. Akwardly, I tried to think of something to say. As usual in these strange silences that would so often fill the air between us, I wished to tell her how I felt.

If only I was big and strong, I thought. If only I was stunningly beautiful like she. If only, if only… and my thoughts would spiral down and down as we walked together. I hunched my shoulders like an unhappy bird and ate ravenously at my last pizza bit.

A fine drizzle began to descend. A car whipped past us, full of jeering idiots. Protectively, I slipped an arm around Aaliyah’s shoulders. She stepped closer to me. It was our safety mechanism. It worked well on strangers because they all assumed I was a guy – even Aaliyah’s mother sometimes called me ‘mister’ if she was scolding me (like the third time I’d tried to steal from her).

But right now it wasn’t wholly necessary. The car was gone, after all, and the walk to school was short. But… I jostled Aaliyah playfully just as an excuse to keep my arm around her. If it was a joke it didn’t matter, so I got to hold her a little longer. “You ready for today?” I asked cheerfully.

She looked up at me with those big doe-like eyes. She smiled, and it was filling me with sparkles. “I think so,” she said “I studied all night. I think I’m ready.”

“Great,” I said whistfully, wondering what it would be like to kiss her – and then my brain registered what she’d said. “Wait- ready for what? Is there a test?”

She gave me ‘that look’. “Physics! Today! First period! Did you forget?”

I whimpered, drawing my arm from around her to play with my hair. “Yes?” Oh crap! And I was trying to get good marks in that!

In a jerk she pulled her bag over her shoulder and whipped a light blue notebook out. First she smacked me on the shoulder with it. I yelped, then she handed it to me. “Cram!” she ordered.

“Yes, ma’am,” I muttered as I took the notebook and flipped it open. In the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but think she’d be the perfect wife. Strict but caring, disciplined and studious – I could get a job for the two of us and she could keep studying…

Shaking my head I tried to focus upon the notes before me, even as small droplets began cascading down harder and harder.

We, and the notebook, were thoroughly soaked by the time we stood in the corridor before the classroom. Funnily enough, only about half the students were soaked. There were those who had the good sense to own a coat and who were only damp. Then, there was the rich kids.

Oh, it wasn’t hard to tell them apart. They were dazzling and beautiful no matter what happened, and they were just – whatever. I didn’t even look at them.

I just stood in a corner with Aaliyah and our three friends – the total of us being five. ‘The’ five that teachers always talked about. We were the ‘special education’ ones. The unbloomed.

Lage’s Game, Chapter Eleven, Part One

“What are you going to do?” Crow was whispering as I peeked out through my eyelashes. There was moonlight drifting through cracks of the shack, but no other light. Ekundayo’s eyes glowed lightly.

“Why, what makes you think I’m going to do anything?” the shaman asked happily.

“She is your daughter, am I wrong?”

“Of course she is,” Ekundayo lied like it was true, passionately so. “But I had to rescue her.”

I was drowsy, half awake, but determined not to wake fully. Besides, it seemed like this was a good vantage point to spy from.

“How does she not know Madame minstrel though?”

“Things have changed inside the castle, I suppose. Maybe Minstrel fell out of grace.”

“Tss, there would have been a hanging if so,” Crow muttered savagely. But then he sunk into gloomy silence. It did not last long. Within a moment he perked up, saying “So she is your daughter?”

“Of course,” sighed Ekundayo, closing his eyes as he rested against the wall. Crow shifted, rubbing his hands together.

“Does she, you know? Have your powers? Is she free?”

One of Ekundayo’s eyes opened. Then it closed. “Who knows?”

“Well, she must know!”

“I doubt it,” hummed Ekundayo. “Freedom comes at a price too, my friend. Don’t forget that.”

“But imagine if she was!” Crow sighed. “It must be so lovely. What’s it like?”

Ekundayo hummed as an answer.

Crow blew on his hands and rubbed them together again. “Lage must be so jealous!” he cackled gleefully. “How is that bugger, anyways?”

“I wouldn’t know,” said Ekundayo sourly. “Why don’t you go ask him?”

“Oh, hush you,” said Crow. “How is he?”

Ekundayo hummed, eyes closed. Crow huffed and wrapped his arms around himself. I hoped they would say something more. Anything, really, that would be useful. Or something to explain what was happening in this strange world. But they didn’t say a thing.

I drifted back into sleep as the silence stretched on.

It felt like only a few moments, but when I was roused, the sun was seeping through the cracks and the day was cold in a bone-chilling way. Ekundayo’s breath misted between us as he shook my shoulder.

Shushing me, he held a finger to his lips. With a nod to the sleeping Crow beside us, he helped me up to my feet. I shook him off, stumbling on my numbed legs. It was so cold.

Ekundayo ushered me to the door, which he pried open so silently for me. Then, with a nod, he pointed me out into the street.

The sun was blinding, beating down without a cloud to spare us. The shacks were garish in their frozen misery, icicles hanging here and there, frost clinging to the walls. The sun had just risen, sparkling over this mess like it was pretending to be pretty.

“Here,” Ekundayo took my cloak from my shoulders and plopped a grimy gray one onto me. “Only guards wear red,” he announced before throwing my cloak into a nearby alleyway.

“Now what?” I asked grimly as we walked what felt aimlessly through the streets. But he was alert, smiling, but tense.

“Now what?” he repeated cheerfully. “Somethign is happening. The spirits woke me. We must get out of here. You, if you can, must evade the city. Escape, if you will, all the way. I know you will be fine if you can just get out of here.”

I gave him the stink eye of disbelief. He smiled cheesily.

“You remember that I am a shaman, do you?”

“Yes,” I said sourly, but also knew that I did not believe in magic. Or did I? I was living in another world now, wasn’t I? I frowned, looking around for some sense of normalcy.

“You also remember that I am an assassin?” he asked gently.

“Yes!” I snapped. What was his point?

He seemed kind as he stopped, drawing me before him to look me in the eyes. His fringe sparkled, swaying between us. “It means that I will be fine here, but you shall not. You are not an assassin, child. You are a child.”

I shook his hands off angrily. “I’m not a child anymore!”

“You haven’t murdered, yet,” he said solemnly. “You are still a child to me.”

I huffed angrily. Whatever!

He looked around. Then, he reached up under his hood. He drew out a necklace. It was a golden chain that looked surprisingly modern, with a gold medallion the size of my thumb, with a red rose painted on it. “Here,” he hooked it around my neck. “You keep this.” It slid under my tunic, warm. He patted it there. “You will find me again, and I will find you. Alright? Don’t despair. People will find you.”

“I’m tired of being found,” I snapped. I felt like a token of purity of some sort, being passed around like a treasure.

He winked at me. “You do that. Just remember to escape this city, even if it means becoming an adult. Now,” he straightened. “Where are we going? Ah! That way!” and he pointed us forward.

I rolled my eyes and followed him, scowling at his side while we slipped through narrow alleyways and foul-smelling paths.

It was just as we passed into what seemed a cleaner area of town that the screams were heard. I looked to Ekundayo. His eyes were narrowed but he was still smiling. We crept forward now, clinging to the walls and scuttling forward.

The scene unfolded before us at the end of an alleyway. We crouched behind barrels and I stared in awe.

There, on a giant black horse, was Rebella in her white fur cloak. Before her, all around the city’s market space were screaming villagers in muddy browns, being hauled to and fro by red-cloaked guards. They were separating parents from their children, beating the parents away as they flung the children into a frightened mass before Rebella.

“They’re looking for you,” muttered Ekundayo to me.

“Why?” I moaned, knowing full well why. They wanted the card. They wanted me, but not for who I was but what I now possessed.

Ekundayo tutted. He pointed left, finger just poking out from the top of the barrel. “That ways’ the gates. Can you see them? They are down for the morning. Get across.”

“And you?” I asked, without thinking why.

He smiled. “I am an assassin.” He patted me on the shoulder. “We shall meet again, daughter.”

“I’m not-” but he jumped up and out from behind the barrel. With a yell he ran out into the market square, a knife flashing in his hand. He ran straight towards Rebella’s horse.

Guards rushed at him. Parents and children ran, freed, in all directions.

This was my chance. I swallowed once, then darted out as well. I kept to the walls, skirting around and dashing for the gates. People rushed and screamed, escaping the guards and running like mice in all directions. Elbows jammed into me, shoulders slammed me aside, and I found myself crushed up against the wall more than once. But the gates were coming closer.

A horses’ shriek came up just as I reached them, and the guards left their posts, running forward with spears knocking and slicing people out of their way.

I turned. Rebella’s horse was staggering, the princess holding on for dear life. A purple head with a glittering fringe was darting away through the mass, chased by red-cloaked guards.

I felt a pang of pity for the horse, then rushed out the gate. I found myself gleeful and happy that Ekundayo was fleeing safely. I trusted that he would survive. I believed that we would meet again.

As I pounded onto the earthen path and out into the fresh snow beyond the city and into the forest, I felt free. Finally.

Lage’s Game: Chapter Eight, Part Two

The walk felt endless. I wished more than once that I’d taken Lage up on his offer of his cloak. But regrets were pointless and I trudged on, refusing to be dragged by the guards. I would stand on my own two feet.

After what felt like an hour of walking, we emerged from the forest into a clearing. There, towering up out of seemingly nowhere, a gated city with a tall castle stood.

It was like something straight out of a fairytale. The walls were of white stone, two stories tall, with ramparts. There was a thick trench dug before them, filled with spears and what looked like a small frozen bed of water. There was the drawbridge that was lifted up. But before this drawbridge, on our side of the moat, was a solitary guard and several waiting horses.

“Take her on your horse,” Rebella ordered one of the guards before mounting her lovely dappled gray horse. I wanted to touch the horses, to take in all their colors – for I had never seen one up in real life before. But now was not the moment to be in awe. I was hoisted up to sit before a guard, and Rebella whirled her horse towards the drawbridge.

“Lower the drawbridge!” she called out. “The princess orders it!”

Clankings answered, and the drawbridge lowered swiftly. Rebella ordered her horse forward with a click of the tongue, and we followed her as a cluster of guards.

We passed beneath the thick of the wall, and we entered the city.

I was struck by the sight first. There was myriads of houses toppled together, stacked upon each other, and clustered in shapings that seemed to suit people of all sizes. There was some that bore tiny gnome-like doorways that were round. There were some that seemed just a little too tall, and lopsided at that too. There were others that seemed svelte and elven.

Yet the people before us couldn’t have looked more bland. They were dirty, browned with sun and exhaustion. They were monochrome in their blandness, their clothing all turned to the same shade of brown and dirt as they were. Their clothes were tattered and thin. They hastily rushed out of the way of the princess’s horse. It was that or be crushed, I guessed, for Rebella stared straight through them and seemed to pay no heed to anyone. Her horse marched on, and the people scattered like ants. The guards had their hands on the pommels of their swords, and glared angrily all around.

Whispers rose, fingers pointed, but they were far away. No one dared come near to point at me.

As we proceeded through the city, the stench let itself be known. The air was in turn crisp and cool of winter, then it was the moist warm stench of fecal remains. Then it was mold, then crisp again with another gust.

This place stinks, I realized grudgingly.

And yet, the castle that towered before us did not look like it ought to belong in a place of stink. It was tall and spired, it was magnificent. It had handfuls of turrets, towers, and pointy-topped roofs straight out of a novel. It was made of the same white stone as the walls were, and it looked surreal. I wondered if the stink would get better as we approached.

After a good hour of riding through the thick of filthy people, we were met with another wall, another gate which Rebella ordered opened – and which swung open inwards for her. Again, she rode onwards as if the world owed her something.

It was in here that the stink finally let up. Here there were snowy gardens, fluffy bushes that were topped with red winter berries. Fruit trees that were bare save for ice and snow. Here, the poor were obviously not welcome.

We rode onwards, our breath misting icily before our faces. Colorfully dressed people were seen walking about here and there. They curtsied as Rebella passed, and turned their faces away from the guards – and turned quickly back to gawk at me. They rode on horses as well, trimmed in fur cloaks and richly decorated clothes.

Finally, we had crossed the gardens. The castle stood before us like a multi layered cake, the immensity of it mind boggling. It was tall as a skyscraper, taller than I believed any medieval palace had ever been. Here, at its outer edges, it was already three flights high, and it only grew taller and more multilayered towards the middle.

Rebella dismounted, landing gracefully like a cat. People rushed forward from an open doorway, and they were not dressed in furs. They were simply clothed, and seemed to be servants. Rebella tossed her horses’ reins at them in disdain, and turned to face me.

“Bring the girl,” she ordered the guard behind me. “Hurry up!”

The guards clustered around this horse, several of them holding me while the guard behind me dismounted. Then, by several hands, I was passed down and placed on the ground like a very precious lump. Or a lump they believed might run away. But that was stupid. Where was I to run to?

With one scowl from Rebella, she turned and marched into a large doorway before us. The guards hastily followed, three of them clustering around me to hold my shoulders and half-carry me forward.

Inside, the corridor was dark, lit by the occasional lamp. The lamps were gorgeous! They had an oriental flair to them I supposed, looking all blown glass with leaves and elaborate people painted onto them and the wood pieces holding them carved as well with swirls and motifs.

Rebella paid this no heed. She marched straight on, her cloak billowing about her. I stared from one lapm to another until I saw spots. Then, as I was blinking spots out of my eyes, we reached a doorway.

Rebella shoved it open with a bang, and we were flooded with light.

We were let out into a courtyard, and I had to blink and blink to be sure it was real. Of course it couldn’t be – nothing int his world seemed to be – but it was.

It was green. There was grass, fruits trees, and so many bushes of fruits and vegetables in clusters here and there in spiralling pathways. It stretched on in all directions for a good hundreds of feet, like a small field. Up, above, a domed ceiling lined with metal spires held up twinkling glass that made this all possible.

Rebella was drawing off her cloak. She tossed it to a servant who rushed to her side to catch it before the white fur touched the ground. Turning, Rebella seized me by the shoulder and began to march forward, straight into the heart of the inner gardens.

There, a cluster of people were attending to a large chair. On this chair, lumped up in silks and fabrics, was a wizened elderly woman.

She bore some traits of resemblance with Rebella, but there was a softness to her that Rebella did not have. Also, she was half dead. Literally.

Decay clung to one side of the woman’s face, revealing bone and teeth beneath. The eye on that side was white and half lidded.

There was a strange, putrid, decaying scent as we marched through the garden towards her. SERvants stepped aside from the cluster, and Rebella thrust me forward to the elderly woman as we reached her.

“I’ve brought a card collector!” Rebella announced loudly, but not triumphantly. It was merely a fact.

A woman, middle aged and robed in vibrant red, stepped forward from the side of the throne. “Why would you disturb mother with that?” She had gold earrings, gold paint around her eyes, and hair that was intricately shaped in coils atop her head.

“Maybe she can tell us how to cure mother,” said Rebella coldly, not looking at her sister. Instead she was looking somewhere aroudn their grandmothers’ knees. I could not see what there was to look at there.

“You’re disturbing her,” snapped the sister, but she silenced as the Queen, I supposed she was Queen, lifted a hand. This hand was good, not rotten. It had long nails that were immaculately cared for, and several gold bangles around the wrist.

“Come here,” said the old woman, her one good eye trained one me.

Author Copies!

Guess who just ordered author copies for the giveaway? Me! And it was quite the adventure!

You see, due to covid or some other blasted reason, I wasnt technically able to order author copies. Bevause those seem to go through the states. I had to go through amazon.ca and but them… at full price! Ech! Yuck! Thankfully it was the first time I ever bought something on Amazon (I know, I’m a rare breed) so I had free shipping otherwise this would NOT have been possible!

So this author is so excited! I cant wait!

Also, if you’re excited too and don’t know how to help out… drop a comment! I am gathering folks who want to help me spread the word for the giveaway, and I have goodies in store for anyone who helps out! You will get to participate in the giveaway as well, so you can get double goodies if you win! So drop a comment and I will contact you!

Now I’m going to rest and knit, finally casting off on a complicated sock I’ve been stalling on. I cast it on at the beginning of this pandemic and I’m just finishing the first one tonight!

Have a good night everyone, lots of love to y’all 🥰

The calf portion of the sock!

GiveAway Coming Soon!

Hark! You read that right! I am on the cusp of publishing a new Farfadelian novel, and with it comes * drumroll * a GIVEAWAY! That’s right, lovely friends! But not just that -> I will be hosting TWO giveaways in the coming months!

Wait, I just said one, then I said two? What could that possibly mean? What it means, dear friends, is that I will be hosting one giveaway for the TwoLoveBirds, and one for my more adult novels! The one for the TwoLoveBirds will be first, and will happen VERY SOON. As in, as soon as I can order the book and get it sent to me. But that has to wait until I have finished editing and formatting the Farfadel story, as I will be ordering them both at the same time. Therefore!

What does this mean? This means, if you want any adorable cards featuring the lil’ birdies, a novel featuring them, or their latest children’s activity book, you better go and follow them tightly on Facebook or pay very close attention to my blog in the upcoming weeks! The giveaway will probably be international, and don’t worry, I will try and post about it a crapload so everyone has the chance to see it and enter. The second giveaway will feature my latest Farfadelian novel (always a fun read!), digital version sof some of my novels, and some character art I’ve been working on. There will also be a secret way to get two entries in both giveaways (much secret, much awesome!).

The secret is… fanart! If you send in a picture or story that you or your child does of ANY of my characters/stories, you will get a second entry. Please nothing gross or nudity. Plus, if you do send in fanart/fanfiction, you will get promoted the hell out. So artists, here’s your chance! I will flash your art like it’s the last big thing before the end of the world, and I will ooze happy jujubes about your story (as much as I can), as long as it’s about my characters or stories that I’ve published, either on Amazon, Smashwords, wattpad, or my blog.

So if you’re a person who needs a lot of time to do your art and find your inspiration, this is your starting shot! Bang! Go, go, go!

Finally, here are some pictures of what I’ve been cooking up as the future prizes!

The base sketch for one of the portraits that will be given away!

One of the lil birdie cards!

Kayla’s Finale ~ Lage’s Game, Chapter Seven Part Two

Kayla took the bottle and pressed it against the side of her head. The man looked to her, and I watched them both.

“What is Gwenevarnia?” asked Kayla, sounding, as she herself would put it ‘tired of this shit’. “Is it some gang territory?”

Lage leaned across the table, palms pressing into it so hard his hands turned deathly white. “This is not about gangs. This is beyond them. This is about worlds.”

Kayla just shook her head. Lage turned to me. “Do you know what I am talking about?”

I held my silence. He shook his head and turned to Kayla. “Do you know that there are other worlds within the tree of life?”

Kayla’s eyebrows raised. My heart skipped a beat.

“I come from Gwenevarnia,” he repeated. “That is another world. This one is named Argv-”

“Another world?” interrupted Kayla. “Are you mad?”

“I am not!”

“Of course he’s mad. Whey else is he dressed like that?” I asked, daring him to reveal more. Show us what he could do by disbelief.

He looked from Kayla to me and then back. “I swear-”

“Prove it,” snapped Kayla.

“Why else do you think all this is happening?” he demanded, leaning across the table again. Kayla recoiled with a crinkled nose.

“Her father got messed up in gangs. That’s all!” She waved a hand at the man. “You’re messing with us.”

“I-”

“Get out!”

“I swear-”

“Out!” Kayla lifted the vodka bottle as a weapon.

The man scowled, brow creasing. I rose to my feet. “Wait.”

Both adults stared at me. I sat back down now that I had their attention. “How do we make them stop?”

The man hesitated, still in his seat. “I do not know. They usually get whatever they want and,” he paused, looking to Kayla. “That means they usually don’t stop. I’m sorry.”

Kayla cursed under her breath. I looked to the man. “Prove yourself.”

“What?” he asked, eyebrows raising at my command. I glared him down with all my inner power.

“Prove Gwenevarnia exists. Prove that you are not mad. Prove it!”

He leaned towards me. “The card you ate – it has special powers. You will not be well until we have another one crafted. If we can.”

“That proves nothing,” I said staunchly.

He closed his eyes with a sigh. Then, when he opened them – had they always been brown? I startled. Kayla frowned, eyes narrowing.

No one heard the man arriving from the living room until the gunshot blew through Kayla. Blood spattered across Lage and I gasped, terror and ice seizing me. It was like needles in my skin, shooting through me.

One of the goons was in the entryways to the kitchen, gun in hand. Lage was seizing me by the wrist and dragging me to his side. Kayla was laying across the table, gasping as she clutched at her bleeding chest.

I realized that I loved Kayla very much. She had tried her best for me.

Our eyes met. Then she looked to the man. “Take her and go,” she hissed. The man nodded. She seized the bottle of vodka. Spinning, she lunged and threw herself at the goon. He yelled, the gun firing. A large hand covered my eyes, turning my head and crushing me into the green cloak. There was a smash of glass thudding and shattering – and then nothing.

The hands slowly lifted from my eyes. Around me, pine trees stretched. There was the tinkling sound of a stream. A cool breeze wafted over us. There was snow on the earth, just a thin sprinkling of it.

“Kayla,” I said, trembling but not from the cold. Kayla.

“She may yet live,” the man said from behind me. His hands squeezed my shoulders protectively. “But now you are safe. That is the important part.”

I stared ahead, unmoving. Or no – I shook. The cold began to nip at my fingers. A section of the cloak was wrapped around me. “Here,” he said, pressing me against himself. With a fumble, he drew the cloak off himself and began to wrap it around me.

In a fit I threw him off, flailing at the thick fabric. “I don’t want it!” I screamed, spinning to yell it at him.

He seemed shocked, maybe hurt. Then he softened. “Alright,” he said, drawing it back around himself. “But we have some walking ahead of us.”

“I don’t want to!” I hissed. “Take me back!” Once more, anger began crackling over me, rising like heat in my veins. I felt the power, the adrenaline, surging. I was going to destroy something. The hacking with the knife? That would be pithy little once I had my hands on the one who had shot Kayla!

He lifted two hands to placate me. “No. She wanted you here. You are safe.”

I shuddered, a sob tearing through me. I doubled over, feeling sick. The world swam. When it stopped, heavy hands were holding my shoulders.

I looked up. He smiled unsteadily at me. “My name is Lage,” he said gently.

Something clicked in my head. I squinted at him. “I ate your card.” But not ‘his’ in that it belonged to him, ‘his’ in that …

“Yes,” he said, eyes shifting blue once more.

I looked around. Behind him stood a tall stone, a standing stone of sorts. There were inscriptions on it, and I recognized it as the image on the card I had eaten. I stared at it. He turned, placing a hand on the stone while watching me. “This is my menhir,” he said. “Our version of the cards.”

“The cards?” I felt all this information, the implications, swirling within me.

He seemed to pity me. “Let’s walk,” he said. “My home is not so far.”

Lage’s Game ~ Chapter Five Part One

Trigger Warning: Violence!!!

The next morning was the doctor. If I had listened to Kayla on the drive there, I would have realized we weren’t going to school.

Instead, we drew up to the hospital. It was squat, dirty cream colored, and essentially a glorified square. There was some attempts at grass and greenery, but it remained a cement cube in a city.

The doctor was somewhat like that. He was dusty, old, white, and seemed to just stare at me. I tried to tell him about the man in green. I tried to tell him about the board game. The words choked up in me and I didn’t know how to start. How to begin, how to let it out.

I found tears streaming down my face and I pulled a tissue from the box.

“I’m upset,” I managed to say.

I got excused from final exams. My marks would be tallied from those of my year. I left the office, threw my tissues into the garbage, and sat in the waiting room with my unicorn. Kayla had said to wait for her here. She was doing some phone calls and would be with me soon.

I looked up when the door opened. It was not Kayla.

“Hey,” said the big man that was recognizable even without the ski mask or suit. He was in plain clothes and had a chiseled face that spelled danger. “Let’s go.”

AS the door swung shut behind him, I saw several other men out there. They had come for me in force. All four of them, for one little girl? Cowards. What more did they want from me? I had probably already digested the card and rendered it useless.

I guessed then that they wanted my death. They wanted to punish me for destroying the card. To make an example of me of sorts.

Well. I rose to my feet without thinking. I glared this big man down. Coward.

To my right, across the waiting room, the secretary was busy with her official business, picking up the phone to dial someone. I took a deep breath.

“Come, on,” said the man in a dangerous intone.

I marched out the door, a cold sense of purpose coming over me. I wanted revenge. I wanted to slaughter, main, kill, so badly it felt like I would burst from it. It was like a rising tide, a super-sense coming over me and making me tingle all over, like a volcano about to blow.

Out of the door I walked into the other three men. One placed a hand on my shoulders and, as a group, they began walking me out of the building.

“Hey! Hey!” Kayla had not been far, was just down the hallway. I heard her cry from behind us. In a glance over my shoulder, I saw her begin to run towards us, phone in hand and eyes wide. I could hear her shoes clop-clopping, but the men were faster. The one who had me by the arm took off, darting forward. I was lifted up in his arms. My unicorn fell out of my grasp, tumbling away.

In a blurr I saw the ceiling, was pressed into the mans’ shirt- and saw the two other men stay behind.

Something snapped in me. They were going to hurt Kayla. Innocent, stupid Kayla. My rage boiled over.

I heard myself screaming, and began kicking. I kicked the man who was carrying me in the face. I bit his hand. He did not slow. The exit sign flashed above us, and we were darting down the stairs.

I thrashed, but was over his shoulder now. The second man was in tow, and now we were bursting out the stairs into fresh air.

In the sprint across the flimsy grass, I screamed for all I was worth. I thrashed, bit wildly and gouged my fingers into eyes. The man stumbled. I was thrown and landed in a tumble and scrape on the asphalt.

I was on my feet, the world reeling into sharp focus. There was the man before me clutching his bloody face, another marching towards me, and two more coming out of the building.

Then, to the left, observing, the man in the green cloak.

I drew my keys from my pocket and gripped them tight. I was going to take out eyes. I was burning with my success, was powerful in my rage.

“I’m going to make sure you can’t hurt anyone else!” I heard myself declare. In a rush my vigilante streak was coming out. I’d get them for what they had done to mother. I’d get them so bad.

The man in green was walking over, just slightly faster than the other men. “Get behind me,” I heard him say as he stepped between me and them.

I hissed between my teeth, jumping to the side just in time to see the men collide.

The first man threw a punch, and the green-cloaked intruder dodged, then punched the first in the gut.

I gaped as the henchman doubled over. I was unhurt. The figment of my imagination was… fighting? I stood there and watched as the medieval man threw punches and my kidnappers landed on the asphalt.

Then, he turned to the man who was clutching his face. Bloody and still covering his face with a hand, the wounded man tottered up.

I screamed. “Kill him!”

The green cloaked man did not. Instead he stood back as the wounded man tottered towards the car. He was going to get away!

With a yell, I lunged forward, keys in hand like a knife. The wounded man grabbed my wrist and threw me at the car. I slammed against the back door. Hands gripped at me, and I was yanked forward and back, jolted between the two men who wrestled for me.

“Let her go!” growled the medieval man, and the henchman gave up. With a shrug he threw me towards the other, and jumped into the car. With a rev of the motor, he backed up the car out of the parking spot. I was pulled back and away, turned into the folds of the green cloak. In the distance, I heard the car driving away.

I squirmed and was let go. Stepping back in a stumble, I looked up at my rescuer. He was frowning down at me.

“You’re real!” I declared.

He paused. My gaze jumped from him to the henchmen on the asphalt. Where were my keys? Right there, where the car had been. I grabbed them up and –

“What are you doing?” the man asked, grabbing my shoulder to stop me.

I wrestled myself free only to be grabbed again. “They’re unconscious!” he insisted. “Don’t attack them!”

I wrestled, but he held me back by the scruff of my collar. I was almost out of my jacket when I heard the wailing of a siren. Security!

Then, I fell forward so suddenly that I hit the ground on my hands and knees. I looked up – and the man in green had vanished.

Author’s Rant SPOILERS

Wow! ‘Lage’s Game’ is such an intense story! I find myself sitting (more like, perched) on the edge of my chair, wondering what the hell is going to happen next.

I certainly didn’t see the mom getting shot coming. I was a paragraph away when I was like ‘hey, what if the mom gets shot?’. And I was all ‘NO! enough drama so far!’. But, it happened. The story won, haha. Also I would totally see my mom trying to beat up anyone who threatens her kids so hey, shoutout to my badass mom.

Now I hope y’all are wondering where Lage actually comes into this story, seeing as he’s part of the title. He will arrive, don’t worry. The card gets re-discovered (somewhere? I haven’t figured out where yet.) and we get into the real magic then. As I have said to anyone who listens (and really, I can rant about my writings) this story is like a mix of Jumanji and Card captor Sakura (which I have not watched, by the way, only been told about it), influenced by Locke & Key -the comic book.

My brother had bought me several copies of Locke & Key several years ago, when I was still very much trying to cope with my ptsd. It was so difficult to read those books, as there was so much violence in them. But they were so good, so well done! It was impressive, and I feel like something from that series is inspiring me with this story. I have not watched the Netflix adaptation and do not want to, because I’m sure it’ll scare me shitless.

Jumanji also scared the hell out of me as a kid, so hey. I guess I’m drawing on lots of scary things for this story.

I’m also drawing on a dream I had (which is what started this whole story), which I very scantily remember now. It was basically the first half of the first chapter with the discovery of the boardgame, featuring something about summoning Lage, and something about two women in the anime with a weapon that only women can wield. Sounds sketchy? Yeah! I have very little idea where this story is going but if you follow this blog you’ll know that that’s how I like it haha.

Anyways, I’m also wondering how I can go about promoting this story. I will try and post most of the rough draft for y’all to read for free, of course, but I’m hoping to sell it’s final version at some point. Any ideas on how to reach a broader audience? Social networking is something I really suck at, and so I’m pitching out to you friends for any ideas! Would you like to see goodie giveaways if I hit said amount of likes? Would you like to see goodie giveaways in return for fanart/promotion?

Pitch me your ideas! I can’t wait to hear from y’all! If you don’t want to drop a comment, email me at mdaoust245@gmail.com! I really want to hear from you all so don’t be shy!

Read the latest from Lage’s Game Here

Welcome to Circlet School ~ Chapter Five, Part Two

A philosopher somewhere probably said that life started with its first breath. Well, then, so did this ritual. With a grand breath that sounded draconic, the madam inhaled and then exhaled loudly.

She was planted summoning style, feet planted shoulder width and hands raised at her side. Her head was flung back like she was trying to suck in the whole sky. She was now wearing both the circlet and her hooded cape. White sage and incense cones smoldered in the cauldron, crystals strategically placed around our circle, along with the sticks, sorry – staves. A small cloth lay before the fire pit, named ‘altar’. There was the goddess and god figurines on it, the wand, and the stacks of candles and the drum.

We were also each holding a candle, looking like dutiful minions in a cult movie.

With a final exhale that, I’m telling you, sounded quite like a dragon sighing, she drew the hood over her head so it covered the circlet she was wearing. She stepped to the altar and picked up her shaman’s drum and beater. Stepping back to her stand at the head of the circle, she spoke to us all. “We are now about to do something very dangerous. We are going to do a banishing.”

Alright, I may be just an itty-bitty lil’ Gardenerian, but I’d seen my fair share of banishings in my witchy life time. They weren’t dramatic. Often, they were understated and simple affairs that were mainly effective.

This, I realized, was not to be the case with today’s ritual.

“In this ritual, you may see things, feel things. You may even be attacked supernaturally!”

Oh great. Way to set a calm and unprejudiced mood.

“I ask you all to hold the ranks! Do not be afraid!” Despite her previous fear-mongerings. Sure. “I will prevail!”

Yeah, su-ure.

She held up her drum – then seemed to change her mind. “We will now cast the circle,” she announced.

Putting her drum down, she picked up her wand. Turning her back to us (and thereby facing Sapphire who was sitting safely away and watching) she raised up her wand and declared “In the name of the Goddess and God!” and she swept down her wand to point out at the ground. Then, head held high, she began marching around our circle, clockwise (of course).

She muttered something as she walked, but a wind was stirring, sweeping her words away from me. And frankly, I wasn’t quite captivated. I was feeling sleepy, like I had missed my afternoon coffee. Which, I realized, I had missed. No wonder I was sleepy. Hmm. Would I be able to get it soon?

But the madame had reached the beginning of her circle again. “The circle is cast!” she proclaimed, raising her wand for a hero pose similar to that of Amethyst’s previous ritual. I wanted to groan. What was it with the hero-posing?

Seemingly chuffed with excitement, she stepped up to the altar. Dropping down her wand (ouch!) she scooped up the salt. “I cleanse this circle!” she bellowed, throwing salt over her shoulder. “May no harm come here! May no evil happen here! By the power of the goddess, the god, the powers within and without, the fairies, the dragons, the elementals and djinn, I proclaim it!”

Then she set the water back down and picked up the water. Again, she bellowed “I cleanse this circle, by the power of Elohim, the Astarte, the Danu, the Morrigan! The many and the one, be with us here now!”

Say what? Who was she summoning? All that at once?

Now she set down the water and picked up the white sage. Then she checked her pockets. “Does anyone have a lighter?” she asked.

There was a rustle of pocket-checking around the circle. “No,” we all had to admit.

“I do!” called over Sapphire, rising from her chair.

“Oh,” with a light laugh the madame turned around, holding out a hand. Sapphire tossed over the lighter. It struck the madame in the forehead. Whump.

“Sorry!” Sapphire called over, sitting back down. The madame rubbed her forehead but was just a little stunned. Now ignoring Sapphire, she turned back to us.

“I cleanse this space,” she declared, somewhat not as loudly as the other two times. “By the power of three, the triple blessings, and so mote it be!” She clicked the lighter and waved the white sage bundle over the flame. “Eli, Mogroth, Djinn of the east! By your power, I cleanse this space!”

She thrust the white sage up into the air. Tingles rose over my arms. I hated to admit it, but her summonings were working. I could feel presences. Chaotic presences, lurking around like they were cautiously wondering what the hell they were doing here.

“Now,” setting the smudge bundle down, she plucked up her drum and drum beater. “We shall begin our trance. Be not afraid, for I am a seasoned shaman.”

And then she began to beat her drum. It was rhythmic at least, and I began to feel a lull in my senses. I felt drowsy, relaxed. I didn’t even notice that she had began to hum along with her drum. Then she began to shout.

“Evil that hath come to this place! Michael before me! Evil that hath come to this place! Michael behind me! Evil! Michael, I demand you to stand between me and this evil! To destroy it completely!”

I jolted. I felt, very powerfully felt the presence of the archangel. Whether you believe it to be a thought-form, archetype of whatever, it was there. It was fiery, it was powerful, it was pissed off.

“Oh, evil of this land! Great horrors that have been committed here! I summon you, great evil!”

Dimly, in the back of my mind, I wondered why she’d had us hold these candles. Had she forgotten about them?

“Great Evil!” wailed on the madame, summoning something for sure. My arms were tingling with goosebumps. I felt a very, very, pissed off presence. It was strong, like iron, and very angry.

It seemed to be standing straight at the opposite end of the circle from the madame and her archangelic protection. Which, unfortunately, was directly where I was. So this mass of anger and fury was directly before me, with no angelic protection on my side.

Dear sweet Goddess, I thought grumpily in my foggy mind, protect me from this idiocy.

“Great evil! Murderer! Accuser! Ha-shaitan you are called!”

Holy crap, I thought, who the fuck is she summoning now?

“Iblis you are called!”

“The great fallen one you are!”

Now, I felt a greater, more powerful, entity taking place. No longer were we dealing with our genus loci, or spirits of the place. These were cosmic spirits, great ones with great thought-powers amassed.

“Michael!”

“Jibreel!”

“I command you! I compel you!”

An icy wind had picked up. Were we near a farm? There was a nasty smell on the wind.

“Great powers of good, forces of the universe!”

Good goddess! This woman was really going all out!

“We battle side by side! We combat the forces of evil!”

The wind whipped up, snapping our clothes tight against us.

“We will crush this evil that has manifested here! We will destroy it! Michael to the front of me! I command you to destroy this evil! Rebuke it! Crush it under your heel!”

Then, definitely taking the whole yelling thin up a notch, she bellowed “Eli eli, lama sabacthani! Destroy it!”

The wind snapped again. I felt a sudden void. The great nastiness was gone, whoever it had been. Leaving behind the fiery angelic presence … and a smaller, not quite cosmic sort of evil.

Because, you see, she summoned both the nastiness of the land and the spirits of Shaitan and Iblis. But she only banished the second one.

Crap, I thought as she began crooning. “Oh angels, great voice of the beyond, we thank you for your help! We bow to you, we sing your praises!”

The drumbeat stopped too suddenly. It felt like a lurch, like I was about to fall over.

Arms held out, drum aloft, she continued singing the praises of the ‘good’ who had defeated the ‘evil’. I felt quite sick. So much so that Paulette was suddenly helping me stand.

Completely clueless to my nausea, the madame waxed on and on. Then, lowering the drum, she finally noticed me. “Oh!”

I waved my fingers at her. “Just a little dizzy.”

She paused, looking like a deer in headlights. Then, shaking her head, she put down her drum and picked up her wand. Striking the hero-pose, she called out “Oh great beings! I release you all!”

Well, that was another giant energy vaccuum. Anyone who had been left behind/summoned but not used, left as fast as if their pants were on fire. Again, I felt dizzy.

Dimly, I heard her calling out to the circle that it was now open, and we were all basically free to go.

I plunked straight down, Paulette squeaking. Grumpy as could be, I set the unused candle down before me. There. This was over.

Drawing my knees to my chest, I decided that I needed a good grounding. That and maybe some space. Which, coincidentally, was not happening.

“Are you okay?”

“What’s the matter?”

“How do you feel?”

Legs swarmed around me, including the big skirts of the madame. Then, a pair of gray suit pants.

“Move,” said Sapphire in that cold tone that got shit done.

Suddenly there was space around me and I could breathe again. “Here,” Sapphire was crouching before me, holding out a granola bar and Crystal’s water bottle. “Take this.”

Behind Sapphire, the madame was waxing on to an avidly listening Crystal that “We just can’t predict who they will attack when you try and banish them.”

“Fuckin’ shit,” I muttered under my breath, scowling as I chowed down on the granola bar. I didn’t consider myself as a terribly sensitive soul, so, in my books, that ritual had been shit. Yeah, she’d gotten energy stirring. But in my opinion it was like calling ‘stirring the pot’ the same as making perfume. One stinks. One doesn’t. Point finale.

Still crouched before me, Sapphire smirked. “Need some more?” she asked, drawing another granola bar from her corgi’s harness pouches (which I hadn’t even noticed were there).

“No thanks,” I muttered savagely before taking a sip of water. Then I handed it back to her. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she said with a smile as she rose to her feet. She offered a hand, and I took it to get up.

“Promise me we’re done with the stupid rituals,” I muttered to Sapphire. She winked at me. Then, we turned and rejoined the group.

Lage’s Game ~ Chapter Two Part One

After the Lion King movie I retreat to my room, leaving the door slightly ajar. Like this, I am able to hear the reassuring tones of mother and the cousins talking around the kitchen island. I burrow under my blankets with my stuffie and stare at the walls. The light from my window played on the wall, the tree on the front lawn lending moving shapes to it.

I watch as the light slowly dims and dims some more. The shadows grow thicker and still the voices talk on. It’s a dangerous time now, the evening. That’s when it had happened, the evening.

I must have fallen asleep. When I wake, there are no more voices and everything is dark and still. My heart is pounding in my chest and I think that something is wrong. It didn’t even occur to me that it could not be happening again.

I hide in my bed, shaking. I hear no sounds. Was mother dead? I screw up my courage, and take my unicorn stuffie with me just to be sure.

I pad through the house. It is dark, but I know the way. I make my way across the kitchen, to the living room that is dimly lit by a single light. There, mother is sprawled on a couch, dead.

I freeze. No! Mother! But again, as with the man, I cannot move. It is only when mom snores that I realize that she is merely asleep. Oh.

Feeling a rush of relief, I look around. Nothing of our new setup is disturbed. The TV is still there. There has been no break-in this night.

I let out a sigh, dropping my stuffie to the end of my arm. Before mom, on the coffee table is a bottle of wine and one glass. But there is also the board game, spread around as if she’d been searching through it for something. I pad forward, wondering what she was searching for. The rule book? The reason behind the numbers on the cards?

I find myself beside the board game, just out of reach of my mother. She is somewhat alright. No wound on her that is fresh or bleeding. But even so, with the shadows her bruises look garish and her face distorted. I turn to focus on the board game, not wanting to think of mother’s bruises and how she got them.

The cards are spread across the board, fanned out carefully in three rows. There is the language cards, the people, and the items. At the top of it all sits the d20.

A thought strikes me. There was nothing left here of value except for this board game. Whoever came tonight, during the night, they would be coming for it. Maybe this game, maybe this was the real reason for the break-in. Maybe it was all about this game. After all, why was it hidden in a wall?

I scoop up the cards, piling them neatly back into their stacks. I place them back into the box with the dice. Then I fold up the board and place it all together in there snugly.

Determined, I take the board game back to my room with me and my stuffie. Burglars left children alone. They had left me alone, locked in my room. If they came back, they wouldn’t hurt me, that I knew. So I had to keep the board game with me, safe.

I tuck myself back into bed. I was hungry for supper, but it was too late and mother wasn’t about to wake up. I knew I could go into the fridge for a snack, but the sound of the door opening and its light might wake her. Besides, now that I was back in bed, the rest of the house was too large and vulnerable. I couldn’t leave the somewhat safety of my bed, not again. The burglars would be here soon.

I press the board game’s box against my chest, half tucked under my pillow. It would be safe with me.

For some time, I watch the shapes on the wall, the shadows of the tree from outside. I watch, and listen. Every breath shallow and too loud. I listen, and wait.

Then, a click of a door being unlocked.

I freeze. Did I hear what I thought I’d heard? Really? Were they back?

Another click, the door being softly shut. They were back.

My heart has stopped. Ice covers me. They’re here for the game, they’re here for it.

In a cold rush, I realized I’d made a mistake. They were never going to stop until they got what they wanted. They wanted the game, it was too precious to leave behind. They knew it was here.

I hear a muffled shriek. Mother. She’s whimpering.

“I don’t know where it is!” she cries out.

I had to think.

Whump. Thud. Mom is crying.

I sit up. Heart is pounding again, too loud. I had to give them the game. I had to save mother.

The box is in my lap. It’s the last thing from father.

Thud! The sound of mother hitting the floor.

The world turns black.

A muffled shriek bring me back to my senses. There are footsteps all over the house. Thuds all over of things being knocked over. The basement- they were in it. They would see the hole in the wall.

I step out of the bed, covered in ice. Determined, clutching the board game to me, I walk across my room. The floor is so cold against my feet. I push the door and it stops against something, someone.

“Stay in there, kid,” a man’s voice growls out.

I push on the door again. The door jerks open and a huge man is facing me. All in black, face covered in a ski mask. He laughs.

“The kids’ got it!” He reaches out. I clutch the game to my chest, taking a step back. “Give it here,” he says, chuckling. Another big man appears behind him.

Mother starts screaming.

I hand out the game. Just take it and go.

He takes it, his hands gloved in black too. He hands it to the other man, who nods. “Good kid,” the second man said while taking the game. Then they close the door to my room.

I come to with a light being flashed in my eyes. A blanket is on my shoulders. Police are everywhere. The lights are on, chasing away the dark. In the living room, I hear mother talking through sobs, her voice high-pitched. There are so many other voices, but I hear hers above them all.

The EMT is talking to me, patting my shoulders. I stare at him.

Then, blackness. They are shaking me gently when I come back to.

“We’re going to go to the hospital, okay?” the EMT is saying kindly. “We’re going to go.”

I turn to my bed. My unicorn. I couldn’t leave the house without it.

The Emt walks with me as I go to my bed and pick up my stuffie – and a card falls out from its grasp. It was probably lying on it, but in my head right then, it seems as if my unicorn had been holding the card, keeping it safe.

The card flutters down to my feet, but I recognize it. The only card with a black backing dotted with a diamond. The ridiculously overpowered card.

In the back of my head I think that the game is probably ruined without that card in it. I hope it is. No rule book, no trump card – I hoped it was now unplayable.

Leaving the card on the floor, I was turned away and taken to the hospital.