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It's a literature group, for all types of writers. Poetry, short stories, chapters in books, anything written is allowed here. We want people to speak their hearts through their words, though they can't be heard by voice, but by ink and a pen.

Rules:
-be respectful to the other members and staff
-Mature content is allowed, as long as you have the filter on it.
-works must be original, plagiarism is frowned upon here and not allowed. (This includes rearranging lyrics/words NOT made by you)
-Comments on other members work is recommended! This group is for finding new writers, and helping them improve!
-follow the rules placed for contests!
-most of all, HAVE FUN!
Group
Founded 13 Years ago
Mar 26, 2011

Location
Global

Group Focus
Art Creation

Media Type
Literature

2,063 Members
1,477 Watchers
72,133 Pageviews

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Poetry-FULL

Mature Content

Lyrics
The Battle of Sugar PointThe Battle of Sugar Point In 1898 we took a little cruise Along with Major Wilkinson upon the lovely Leech Lake We took along some handcuffs and we took along some blankets Then the Indians whipped our butts when we got to Sugar point We fired our guns and they started droppin' There was five less than there was just before We fired once more and they started jumpin' Into the waters where the nasty leeches live We watched from the shore as the thunder canoes come So many on board we never tried to count Their bayonets glinting brightly in the sun We just stayed in the trees and never said a thing We fired our guns and they started droppin' There was five less than there was just before We fired once more and they started jumpin' Into the waters where the nasty leeches live Old Bug vowed 'paleface will never take me alive' Don't fire till you can look them in the face We held off till we could see the whites in their eyes Then we opened up and really gave a yell We fired our guns and they started droppin' There was five less than there was just before We fired once more and they started jumpin' Into the waters where the nasty leeches live They swam through the bogs and they swam through the marshes They swam through places where the fishies couldn't go They swam so fast the muskies couldn't catch 'em Back across the lake to the Walker city dock We fired so much our rifles melted down So we called up the squirrels and sent them on ahead In no time flat they ate the soldiers' guns And when they grabbed the squirrels they really gave them owwww! We fired our guns and they started droppin' There was five less than there was just before We fired once more and they started jumpin' Into the waters where the nasty leeches live They swam through the bogs and they swam through the marshes They swam through places where the fishies couldn't go They swam so fast the muskies couldn't catch 'em Back across the lake to the Walker city dock (Final verse: sound of Indians chanting a victory chant in their language, to the beat of native drums)
Short Stories
Arli the Dragon's Beauty School ApplicationDear Head of the Fairy Beauty School,My name is Arli, and I am a dragon. I am writing this application with great enthusiasm and a burning desire to become a part of your esteemed beauty school, despite being well aware that it primarily admits fairies. As a dragon, I understand that I am different from the typical candidates you receive, but I believe my unique perspective and passion for beauty can contribute to a more inclusive and diverse learning environment.Throughout history, dragons have often been portrayed as fierce and powerful creatures, feared by many. But beneath my scales and fiery breath, beats a heart that longs to explore the artistry and magic of beauty. I have spent countless hours observing fairies and other magical beings, admiring their elegance, creativity, and ability to enhance the world around them. I wish to learn from the best and hone my skills, not only for my personal growth but also to challenge the stereotypes associated with dragons.I am deeply committed to self-improvement and have already undertaken a rigorous self-study program on beauty techniques, including hairstyling, makeup application, and skincare. I started my beauty career early, styling the manes of my dragon family. My mother was always impressed with my work, and I have taken my skills to the next level. I am well-versed in a wide variety of beauty techniques, from hair styling and skin care to cutting and coloring. I am also creative and have a knack for creating custom looks that are perfect for any occasion. My dedication has led me to experiment with various styles, colors, and trends, and I have developed a keen eye for detail. Through my studies, I have come to understand that beauty lies beyond physical appearance and is a powerful tool to express oneself and foster confidence.While my physical attributes may differ from those of fairies, I believe my strengths lie in my determination, adaptability, and capacity to bring a fresh perspective to the world of beauty. I possess an innate ability to think outside the box and bring a touch of magic to my work. By embracing my differences, I hope to contribute to a more inclusive and accepting community within your beauty school.I understand that it may be difficult for you to accept a dragon into your school, but I can promise that I will work hard and be a great asset to your team. I am passionate about beauty and believe I can contribute something special to your school. I assure you that safety is of utmost importance to me. I am willing to undergo any necessary training or precautions to ensure the well-being of everyone around me. I am committed to creating a harmonious environment where all students can thrive and learn together.I am honored to be considered for admission to your beauty school and would be grateful for the opportunity to prove that dragons can also excel in the world of beauty. I believe that by embracing diversity, we can create a richer and more vibrant community that celebrates the talents and contributions of all magical beings.After a few days of deliberation, I was accepted into the Fairy Beauty School. I was so excited to start my new journey, but unfortunately, I caused an accident that changed the course of my education.The accident occurred during my first day in the school. I was so eager to show off my skills that I accidentally set fire to the salon. The flames quickly spread across the room, and I was the only one who knew how to put out the fire. I used my dragon abilities to extinguish the flames, but not before much of the salon had been destroyed.The head of the school was not pleased with my actions. She was furious and summoned me to her office to reprimand me. The room was tense and filled with anger as she scolded me for my mistake. She warned me that if I caused any more trouble, I would be expelled. I was lucky to be given a second chance, and I am determined to prove myself and show that I can be a successful student. I will work hard to make sure I don't make the same mistake again. Sincerely,Arli Thunderclaw
In flight fate In flight fate Walking down the airplane aisle, Abigail Farley was feeling beautiful in the favorite blue-flowered dress she'd worn to work that day. She tried to maneuver her carry-on bag to avoid hitting the people already seated. The smug ones in first class with their extra inches and anticipation of complimentary alcoholic beverages. And the parents holding squirming, squealing children who had boarded early - she hoped that she would not be seated near any of them.Them the loud youths, laughing, flirting and cracking jokes, hanging over the seats to talk to their buddies. University kids going home, she guessed. Was it already ten years since she'd been one in a crowd like that? It felt like yesterday. Then she arrived at 14A - a window seat. Settling in and putting her crime novella in the seat pocket, she watched those still boarding and wondered who'd stop at the seat next to hers. Then she saw a younger man. He was still several rows away with sandy-colored hair brushing his collar, dressed in jeans and a button-down, with a large duffle bag in hand. And she knew it would be him."Hi, I think this is where I belong," he said with a friendly smile as he took the seat to her left.His blue eyes met hers and instantly they began talking. Ignoring the stewardess and her half-hearted security brief. Exit doors, masks, both of them knew the drill. Soon the plane was racing down the runway and gliding into the air, wheels closing with a bang. Over the din of the engines, Abigail learned that his name was Ben. He was 38 and worked in the tech industry — a booming business at the time. She was 34 and newly made junior partner at the PR consultant bureau where she'd been working almost since graduation. He was returning home from a work trip — she was just beginning one. At some point they laughed, realizing that fate sometimes had an odd way of putting resounding souls next to each other.The stewardess delivered drinks and snacks and Abigail gave him Ben bag of chips."On a diet?""No, I just don't like chips.""So, what's your secret pleasure then?"You, she had wanted to say. But settled for "Chocolate. Guess that goes for every woman.""They say so," Ben agreed, pushing more of the chips in his mouth. As the engines droned on, their words flowed freely. And somehow, within the short span of a two-hour flight, they were sharing very personal thoughts. Aspirations, desires, disappointments, and oddly similar visions of an ideal life, daring to think about what might have been. They both enjoyed talking about politics, even if they did not exactly share the same kind of outlook. But they liked the same movies, books and music. Ben liked sports, Abigail couldn't care less. She loved gardening, he had a hard time making cacti not dying. "Where would you live right now if you were free to go anywhere?" Abigail posed after he'd told her about the dreams he once had about traveling, stalled now with a more than full time job at a booming entrepreneur."Hmm, that’s a tough one — Australia, I think. I would like to learn to surf and the beaches look amazing. The lifestyle just seems more laid back there. Boston is all about working so that you can keep up with your neighbors, the house, the cars, and that’s not me. What about you?""For me it would be Provence. Hanging out in cafes all afternoon laughing with good friends, drinking wine, and writing what I want, instead of the trivial advertising copy I have to write for my work.""So how's working for PR?"Abigail thought about the opportunity she had turned down to move to Chicago and attend a very prestigious graduate program, instead choosing to join with Beringer and Wolfe. What had sounded like an exciting branch first, public relations seemed to have become a series of monotonous workdays and endless chores. She'd been feeling disillusioned, she was young and missing the inspiration that life should still bring. And that hadn't really turned upon becoming junior partner, it just meant longer work weeks and having to turn down each and every outing with the few friends she'd left. "Always working and in the end they stopped calling," she admitted."Ever thought of marrying? Family?""I don't even have the time to date.""Tell me about it! One workaholic to the other.""I guess I'm waiting for it to start raining men, as in the old song," she added, twisting the diamond band on her finger, the one that had once belonged to her grandmother. "You’re so easy to talk to, Abigail. It would be great to spend time at a cafe in France with you," Ben said wistfully.Abigail was startled at his expression of a yearning involving them both. She wondered if he might ask her to meet him one day while she was in Boston, for coffee or something. But even if he did, how would she respond?She didn't have the time to date.He didn't have the time to date.Could this be it nevertheless? The fate everyone had talked about. The way certain women seemed to stumble over Mr. Right without even trying? Or at least when they least expected it?There could be those who'd been dating for years – just to meet someone in an elevator.Then what about an airplane? She waited for Ben to ask. But the question never came. Far too quickly, the plane landed with a jolt and the pilot announced their arrival in Boston."So, this is it, I guess, we’re here," Ben mumbled softly. It seemed as if he wanted to say something more but he didn't. Or couldn't.Abigail just nodded mutedly. Then again, wasn't she a modern woman in a modern time? Shouldn't she take the chance and ask him out for a date. The worst thing would be a no, and she could take a no for an answer. Rather a no for an answer than spending the rest of her mundane life wondering what had happened if she had indeed dared to ask.She opened her mouth, but he beat it to her. "You know, at a different time in our lives, we might have said that it was fate that brought us together on this airplane — but I suppose it could also make a great opening for a novel," he offered."Well, maybe you can still write that story and I’ll read it someday."Passengers jumped up and crowded the aisle as the plane came to a lurching halt. Ben stood and reached to get their bags out of the overhead bin. As he handed her the tote, his hand brushed hers and he let it rest there for a minute. She felt his warmth and didn’t want to move, but passengers were jostling to get off the plane and she was swept into the teeming throng.Abigail exited the plane and was walking down the ramp when she heard Ben's voice call out and turned to see him a few steps behind. She hadn’t realized how tall he was when sitting on the plane. As she looked up, their eyes met. He said with a hint of melancholy in his voice, "Abigail, goodbye.""Don’t forget, I’ll be looking for your book," she shot back, somewhat strained. Now she would never know what had happened had she dared, she thought- Inside the terminal, Abigail saw the hand that had touched hers lift a little girl into his arms, what must be his wife and son surrounding him. And she was left to continue on aimlessly, drifting with the crowd toward a sign that read ‘Baggage Claim,’ wondering what the hell had just happened.
Peace in our time?Palace of Nations, Geneva. 25 September 1965.It had been a slog. There was no doubt about that. But after almost a month of swearing, recrimination and idle threats, the people sat around the table had finally hashed out an agreement on the future of the world. Geneva had been Denis Healy’s idea. The failure of the peace talks in San Francisco the previous year resulted in the British PM making the suggestion that a neutral site and change in negotiators might see the rump Soviet government agree to make compromises that went beyond the late Alexander Shelepin’s threats and demands. Sure enough, progress had been made. While the formal re-establishment of the UN would still be some time away, there was at least a blueprint for how to go forward. An official cease-fire and non-aggression treaty had been signed by the UK, USA and USSR on behalf of themselves and allied countries, but that was not the main issue. The summit had resulted in an assurance from the Americans and the Soviets, that the British Commonwealth and Scandinavian Union would be left to their own devices. That promise made, the rest of the world was then divided up between communism and capitalism. The USSR claimed annexation of Eastern and Southeast Anatolia, along with all of Iraq north of what was once Basra. The rest of Turkey was proclaimed a Soviet protectorate and would be reconstructed with Soviet resources. The Soviets also claimed hegemony over the majority of Eastern Europe, as far as the old Polish/East German border. In return for these concessions, the USA would have free reign over the parts of Asia directly aligned with it; and every country in the Americas that was not part of the Commonwealth. Extracting the compromise of Taiwanese independence from China had been like pulling teeth on all sides, since the PRC wanted to claim the island and Nationalist dictator Chiang Kai-shek still apparently entertained the delusion that he could one day rule over the mainland. It was testimony to the American negotiators that they had managed to sledgehammer into all sides that unification would never happen in any of their lifetimes; and that if either side started anything, those lifetimes would end up being distressingly short.The big issue, at least from Healy’s point of view, was western Europe. There was no clear picture as to what the hell was happening in the parts of France, Belgium, Germany and the Netherlands that were away from the northern coastlines. Investigations by the British and Danish militaries into some of these areas had revealed devastation and wandering bands of armed survivors. There was a rumour of organised groups in southern France, Bavaria and the Black Forest from refugees still making their way over the various borders, but nothing concrete yet. It was the plan of the British, Irish and Scandinavian governments that they would continue pushing inland and meet whatever they met. Support had been pledged by the newly de-fascist Kingdom of Italy and the still decidedly fascist Nationalist Spain and Estado Novo Portugal, due in no small part to Vatican influence. However, anything beyond simple promises had yet to materialise. The USA had been promised continued hegemony over these three countries, along with Greece, in return for turning a blind eye to anything the Soviets decided to get up to in Albania and Yugoslavia. The question of Africa and the Middle East had remained unanswered, presumably since there would be a desperate scramble by the USA, USSR and PRC to ally former European colonies and client states in these regions and thus secure their resources. This was one thing the British leadership was not worried about. The Soviet invasion of the Middle East and American refusal to support action against it had pretty much poisoned the relations of both countries with Iran and the Arab world, leaving the UK and the PRC as the only players in town. China’s inability to provide the levels of infrastructure support and any armaments more high-tech than an assault rifle, meant that Britain had virtual free reign.Part of the agreement was that decolonisation should be accelerated, but Healy was far from worried about that. Aside from several virtually self-governing protectorates in the Persian Gulf and the East Indies, the last remnants of the British Empire now consisted of Aden, the Bechuanaland Protectorate, Belize, Guyana, Southern Rhodesia and a handful of islands. Full decolonisation was only a matter of time and, assuming the transition of Rhodesia to universal adult suffrage could be managed, would likely be imminent. It was what would happen in the aftermath that scared him. Despite every assurance being made that any country signing up to the Commonwealth Treaty would be left alone by the other major powers, there was likely to be power struggles with backing from any side. Still, that was an issue for the future. Right now, the main problem was what would happen if and when Germany was rebuilt. ‘The Soviet government will not permit the existence of any German state that will be capable of waging war against our people,’ the translator sat at the side of First Secretary Anastas Mikoyan announced to the room. ‘Time and again, attack from the West has claimed the lives of the Soviet peoples. This must not be allowed to happen again.’ ‘And that is why we’re proposing this new constitution,’ President Richard Nixon ground out from between gritted teeth. ‘Like the Japanese constitution and the Austrian State Treaty, neutrality and pacifism would be written into it from the very beginning. The new Germany would not be permitted to deploy any ballistic rockets, nor any form of guided weapon with a range greater than sixty miles. Nuclear weaponry would be expressly forbidden. There would be no foreign military personnel permitted on German soil – incidentally, something that goes above and beyond our agreements with Japan!’ This was, in Healy’s mind, a colossal waste of time. Even assuming there was enough of a population left in Germany to build a new state, it would be so hamstrung by the cost of nuclear cleanup and rebuilding of infrastructure that it would never be able to threaten anyone. All this talk was purely theatre. Mikoyan and Nixon both wanted a propaganda boost, and a negotiated settlement on Germany would do nicely. ‘It is worth noting that the Rhineland and Rhur valley were particularly badly hit on the night of the War,’ Healy piped up. ‘Short of them receiving a massive donation of arms from one of us, there is no possible scenario where a united Germany could ever be in the position of having an industrial base capable of supporting a major conflict. Maybe by the start of the 22nd Century, but certainly not in any of our lifetimes.’The translators finished relaying Healy’s statement to Mikoyan, and the First Secretary nodded slowly. He liked the stocky, relatively young British leader for some reason. It certainly had nothing to do with his ordering of the air strike on Kursk Bunker near Chelyabinsk that, had Mikoyan not been in Mongolia at the time, would likely have killed the wily old Armenian. But for some reason, he liked Healy. Maybe it was the British leader’s solid left-wing stance on many issues, or his fiery rhetoric when it came to the safety of his people. One day, maybe he and the rest of the self-described “social liberals” would come round to the inevitability of communism, just as Marx and Engels insisted they would. Maybe they would have to be removed, like Lenin had to do with the Mensheviks and democratic socialists, so they did not stand in the way of inevitable world revolution and the dictatorship of the proletariat. Maybe it was because his bushy eyebrows reminded Mikoyan of the late Leonid Brezhnev. Who could say? ‘This is an understandable view from the Prime Minister’s perspective,’ Mikoyan began, speaking deliberately slowly. ‘Few places have been worse hit and survived than his country. He fought against the Nazis himself, on the front lines. If his analysis of the situation is that Germany will be incapable of waging war for generations, I am inclined to believe him. ‘However, it remains the avowed policy of the Soviet Union that no German state capable of waging war against us shall be permitted. You talk of rebuilding Germany; what would such a state look like?’ ‘We will supply no offensive weapons to Germany,’ Healy said coldly, ‘and no combat-capable equipment beyond maritime surveillance aircraft. We intend to supply trains, lorries, transport and surveillance aircraft and unarmed helicopters. Nothing more. Anything else would come from the Scandinavian Union and is likely to be limited to border defence equipment.’ ‘How would you define “border defence equipment”, Prime Minister?’ Mikoyan said to his translator, smiling slightly at his British counterpart.Healy sighed, annoyed that Mikoyan seemed unable to let go of the prospect of some Teutonic bogeyman one day rising to charge inexorably eastwards. Okay, the man had lived through World War II, but then they all had. What was more, they had all lived through World War III and the hell that followed. ‘I would define it as “defensive weapons”, Comrade,’ Healy growled to his interpreter, ‘such as interceptor aircraft or tank destroyers. No bombers or missiles capable of mounting an offensive campaign behind an opponent’s lines. No strategic weaponry of any kind.’ It seemed that Mikoyan was happy with that response, as his smile widened before he unleashed a torrent of high-speed Russian to his interpreter. ‘We will, of course, have to review any future unified German constitution to ensure it is completely pacifist in nature,’ the interpreter faltered, trying to convey Mikoyan’s meaning in what was not even her third language, ‘and final decision would have to be made by the Presidium. But in principle the First Secretary is agreeable to the Prime Minister’s proposals.’ ‘Thank Christ,’ Healy sighed to himself.For his part, Nixon was beginning to feel redundant. He wanted nothing to do with Europe anymore; his focus was on preventing the spread of Soviet communism in the former French and Dutch colonies of south-east Asia. He had been intent on getting Red China on his side, to split them from the Russians and pit the two groups of Commies against each other. Hell, he had even planned to let them reclaim Taiwan, until Henry Kissinger had forcibly impressed upon him just how bad of an idea that was. Unfortunately, it seemed that the new Chairman and General Secretary of the Chinese Communist Party, former foreign minister Chen Yi, had already made his peace with the Sverdlovsk Kremlin. Taiwanese independence or not, there seemed to be no way of getting the PRC to side with the United States for the foreseeable. ‘Is there any other business?’ Nixon growled, wanting to be somewhere – anywhere – else. ‘Only that there will need to be ongoing discussions over reconstruction and establishment of a revised German constitution,’ Healy said, speaking as if to a toddler. ‘In which case, I think we can call this meeting adjourned,’ Nixon growled, standing up and heading for the exit, Kissinger and Secretary of State Bill Rodgers trailing in his wake.Watching the American party flounce out of the building, Foreign Secretary Pat Walker was struck by just how different Nixon’s approach to international relations was to his predecessors. While Jack Kennedy might have messed up many of his initiatives since the War, Lyndon Johnson had at least attempted to right those wrongs and there could be no doubting that JFK at least meant well. Nixon on the other hand... Richard Nixon struck everyone in the British diplomatic contingent as being a small and irredeemably petty man, perpetually fixated on his 1960 election loss to Kennedy. Scuttlebutt said that he had a list of enemies as long as his arm, filled with anyone that had caused him even the most pointless of slights. ‘Well, that was rather pointless,’ Walker said to Ambassador Tom Harding-Grayson as the two gathered their papers. ‘Honestly Tom, I’m not sure why Nixon bothered to turn up if all he was going to do was act like a spoiled toddler.’ ‘Par for the course I hear, Minister,’ Grayson said. ‘I have it on good authority that the country is essentially being run by Kissinger and Vice-President Rockefeller half the time. Mr Nixon seems to be fixated on two things: looking better than Jack Kennedy and consolidating the victory in Korea into a complete rout of all Communist forces in South-East Asia. Not that he stands a chance with that.’ ‘I think all we can hope for is that a North Vietnamese victory doesn’t spill over into neighbouring countries,’ Healy added. ‘Although that’s probably a vain hope.’ ‘If MI6’s people in Hong Kong are still on the ball, there’s no reason to suspect it won’t, Denis,’ Walker sighed. ‘Based on signal intercepts, it looks like Guangzhou and Sverdlovsk are pouring all the resources they denied North Korea into North Vietnam, after all.’ ‘And lest we forget, Prime Minister, the prevailing public opinion in South Vietnam is heavily in favour of rule from Hanoi,’ Grayson added. ‘Even if Nixon orders a general mobilisation and somehow drums up the resources to reactivate every reservist and piece of mothballed kit, he’ll be fighting to defend a deeply unpopular regime from over 80% of its own population.’ ‘Unless he decides to go nuclear,’ Walker said with a shiver, ‘and let’s hope that never occurs to the mad bastard.’ ‘We can only hope.’ Everyone in the British contingent turned to look at their Soviet counterparts. In the middle, grinning like a practical joker, was First Secretary Mikoyan. ‘I think American would not use nuclear weapon,’ Mikoyan said in broken English, ‘least, not again.’ ‘Did you know he spoke English?’ Healy hissed to Grayson. ‘Understand? Da. Speak? Not so good,’ Mikoyan piped up, the amused smile still etched on his face. ‘This why I have ustnyyperevodchik.’ ‘“Interpreter”, Prime Minister,’ Grayson said. ‘I guessed as much,’ Healy hissed through clenched teeth, ‘thank you, Tom!’ ‘Look on the bright side, Denis,’ Walker said, suppressing a chuckle at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, ‘at least we weren’t talking about anything top secret.’ ‘He must have ears like a sodding bat,’ Healy grunted to his Foreign Secretary, before walking to the Soviet party and shaking Mikoyan’s hand. ‘Thank you for agreeing to meet, First Secretary,’ he said, managing a genuine smile. ‘I don’t suppose I could persuade you to tell the Vietnamese to stand down?’ Mikoyan let go of Healy’s hand, breaking into a belly laugh that seemed to have been made for a man twice his size. ‘No, Prime Minister,’ he said eventually, the laugh subsiding to a chuckle, ‘but is good you ask. When situation more stable, you must visit Sverdlovsk and Chelyabinsk.’ ‘And if you wish to discuss peaceful co-operation again, you have an open invitation to Edinburgh,’ Healy replied.The flight back to RAF East Fortune was fairly short, even travelling by Britannia. The flight took them relatively close to Paris, and Healy imagined he could see the charred, ruined city once renowned for its history and architecture. ‘How far south have our exploring parties travelled so far, Pat?’ he asked, turning to Walker. ‘Last briefing I have from Roy Mason’s people at the MoD is that the Army have made it as far inland as Amiens,’ Walker replied. ‘The Marines have pushed as far as Rouen, with both forces planning to rendezvous at Beauvais before they make any moves towards Paris. Or what’s left of it, at any rate.’ ‘Resistance?’ Healy asked, having spent the last few days focused solely on the big picture at the expense of the nuts-and-bolts of operations on the ground. ‘By and large, just criminal gangs that have raided Gendarme barracks for weapons, Prime Minister,’ Grayson said, referring to a sheaf of papers extracted from his briefcase. ‘The occasional group of military deserters that got their hands on some field guns and even a couple of tanks.’ ‘And what about civilians?’ Healy asked Walker. ‘A few shots have been exchanged with farmers that managed to hold out against the gangs roaming the countryside,’ Walker replied, ‘but once they understand who our men are and what they’re doing, they’re usually fairly receptive.’ ‘I know I’ve sold the Commonwealth on the employment opportunities for rebuilding France, Germany and the Benelux countries,’ Healy said, massaging his temples with the heels of his hands, ‘but I’m buggered if I know where the money for it’ll come from. We’ve barely started clearing London and Liverpool, and Jim Callaghan can’t keep working financial trickery at the Treasury forever.’ ‘Barter of raw materials is probably going to be the only way forward,’ Walker said with a shrug, ‘at least for the immediate future. Failing that, the colonial governments in places like Suriname and French Guyana might have to pay in gold or gems for reconstruction back home.’ ‘That’s far from a perfect system, Minister,’ Grayson added with a frown. ‘It’s far from a perfect world, Tom,’ Healy reiterated. ‘Now, before we land and I have to face Parliament, let’s go back over the Soviet proposals for Turkey...’
The Girl Who Heard ColorsChristy never thought of herself as a normal girl, even though she had normal interests, a normal appearance, and lived with a normal family. What was completely different about her was that she could see colors whenever she read or heard sounds. For example, when she heard a bell, she saw silver, and when a dog barked, she saw red. This was because Christy had synesthesia, which meant her senses were completely mixed up. Christy believed that her synesthesia was something that made her completely different than anyone else she knew. While normal people saw colors, heard sounds, or tasted flavors, synesthetes like Christy experienced something so much more. Christy’s world was filled with a brightness that came from all directions. But it didn’t stop at seeing colors whenever she heard sounds. She also heard sounds when she saw certain shapes, saw light coming from people who walked by, felt music like it was a beating heart, and saw temperatures. It had always been like this. She heard it, she saw it. She saw it, she heard it. She felt it, she saw it. She heard it, she felt it. And as you can imagine, while it was an amazing way to look at the world, it sometimes made her life rather difficult. As a child, Christy had often wondered why she saw and heard things differently than other kids. She would get lost in the color of her favorite numbers, the shapes that would create a symphony in her ears, and the way she could remember the world around her through an array of colors and sounds. It wasn't until she was 8 years old that she realized what was happening. It was on a beautiful summer day, as Christy played in her backyard with a few of her friends. In the corner of the yard, she saw an overturned tricycle, and immediately was overwhelmed with a familiar hum. Her friends noticed and immediately rushed to her side, asking her what happened. Christy stuttered, trying to explain that the shape of the tricycle had created a sound in her ears, and that she could feel the vibrations of the hum against her skin. Her friends were instantly fascinated, questioning her about the many wonders of her brain. Christy was elated, no longer feeling different or alone for having this unique ability. She explained how shapes triggered sounds, and how numbers made her see bright, beautiful colors. While they asked many questions, they also created an opportunity for her to discover more and more about the complexities of her synesthesia. That day, Christy went home feeling at ease, knowing that she wasn't the only one with strange abilities. She now had an understanding of the gifts her brain had to offer. She felt special, unique, and most of all, brave for embracing her synesthetic powers.When Christy was a child, words like “synesthesia” were not very common, and even though she thought her synesthesia made her special, she always had trouble explaining to others what she saw and how she sensed things. Nobody really believed her, of course. When she told the other kids at school about her condition, they found it quite odd and thought she was just making things up, because her experiences didn’t sound like anything they had heard before. Because she was unable to describe what it was like, Christy felt like an outcast among her peers. She enjoyed drawing and writing her own stories and poetry, and when she showed her work to other people, they would give her plenty of compliments, such as “Wow, what a vivid imagination!” and “Such poetic language!”, and while Christy was flattered by what people thought of her artwork and writing, she didn’t want to tell them that her talents were based on her ability to hear colors and see sounds, because if she did, they would laugh at her. Instead, she just said a simple “Thanks.” When Christy was feeling a certain emotion, she could see it, too, as her skin would appear a certain color. If she was mad, she could see the heat coming off her own body in the form of a silver color. If she was happy, she could see her skin glow a golden color. She could also see other people’s emotions in the form of colors when she walked by them. She noticed how their emotions bounced off them like waves. She wished she could explain it better, but how could she explain a sensation that was caused by a mixing of sensations? She could only say that she didn’t know how her senses were mixed up, but the sensations they caused were beautiful. Aside from art and writing, Christy also enjoyed music, because listening to it made her see the most colors and shapes than any other sound. She could feel the music, too. When she touched a piano note, she could see thousands of blue crystals that felt cold on her skin. When she strummed a guitar chord, she could see warm colors that also made the top of her head warm. When she felt a drumbeat, it tingled the bicep in one of her arms and she could see bright colors in the form of circles. Christy thought it was cool that she could hear, see, and feel music all at the same time. That’s why she took up learning different instruments, especially the guitar and piano. As Christy grew older, her understanding of her synesthesia deepened. She sought solace and expression in her art, writing, and music, using them as mediums to capture the intricate dance of colors and sounds that enveloped her. Each stroke of her brush, each word she penned, and each note she played became a gateway to a world where the boundaries between senses blurred.Her parents, although they couldn't fully grasp the intricacies of her synesthetic experiences, always encouraged her creative pursuits. They recognized her talent and marveled at the way she effortlessly translated her unique perception of the world into mesmerizing works of art.In school, Christy continued to face challenges. While her classmates began to appreciate her artistic abilities, they still struggled to comprehend the depths of her synesthesia. To them, she was an enigma, a girl who saw and heard things that existed beyond their understanding.However, Christy's passion for the arts became her refuge. Through her creations, she found solace, connection, and a means to communicate the vibrant symphony of her senses with the world. She poured her heart and soul into her art, infusing it with the kaleidoscope of emotions and sensations that thrived within her.One day, as Christy entered her teenage years, an opportunity presented itself. The school announced a talent show, and Christy decided it was the perfect platform to share her synesthetic experiences with her peers. She would showcase her art, writing, and music, inviting them into her world of colors and sounds.The day of the talent show arrived, and Christy took center stage. The hall was filled with anticipation as she held a paintbrush in one hand and a guitar in the other. She began to speak, her voice trembling with a mixture of nerves and excitement."Today, I want to invite you all into my world, a world where colors sing and sounds paint. Through my art, writing, and music, I hope to share a glimpse of what it's like to experience life through the lens of synesthesia."With each stroke of her brush, vibrant hues exploded onto the canvas, mirroring the melodies that echoed in her ears. Her writing flowed like a river, weaving together intricate descriptions of her synesthetic encounters. And as she strummed her guitar, the audience was transported to a realm where melodies danced in a riot of colors.As Christy reached the finale of her performance, a hush fell over the crowd. She closed her eyes, allowing the music to guide her fingers across the strings, while her synesthesia transformed the sound into an explosion of colors and sensations. The stage was enveloped in a breathtaking display of lights and sounds, an ethereal symphony that could be seen and felt.When the final note faded, the audience erupted into thunderous applause. Christy stood there in awe, tears of joy streaming down her face. In that moment, she realized that she had not only shared her synesthesia with others but had also touched their hearts and minds.From that day forward, Christy's journey continued, and she became an advocate for understanding and acceptance. She found a community of fellow synesthetes who shared her experiences, and together, they celebrated the kaleidoscope of senses that painted their lives.Christy's synesthesia was no longer a burden or a secret to be kept—it was a gift, a window into a world where colors harmonized with sounds, where shapes whispered melodies, and where emotions danced in vibrant hues. Through her art, her writing, and her music, Christy would forever paint the world in a symphony of colors, allowing others to glimpse the beauty that resides beyond the boundaries of ordinary perception.
Other
Vereinigte Republik DeutschlandThe exploration of Germany late in 1965, when Danish and Swedish forces reached the borders with Hungary, Poland and Czechoslovakia, revealed a country in complete disarray. All large cities, centres of industry and every foreign military installation had been heavily bombed, to the point that several bases were assumed to have suffered 100% casualties. The pre-October War population of both the FRG and GDR had been annihilated. Estimates put the casualties at over 30 million, almost half the pre-war population of both Germanys combined. Berlin and Bonn had both been completely destroyed, unsurprisingly; however, some cities remained largely intact and had weathered the post-war horrors by effectively hunkering down, arming their police with the heaviest weapons available and rationing food and water. Kiel, surprisingly, had emerged damaged but in decent condition. It was here that the Scandinavian Union hosted the European Conference of Reconstruction with representatives from Austria, Greece, Ireland, Italy, Portugal, Spain and the British Commonwealth on 21 January 1966. All parties decided that they would throw whatever resources they had to establish functioning national governments in Germany, France, Belgium and the Netherlands; aid in the rebuilding of these countries’ defences and economies; and aid in the repatriation of refugees wherever possible. It was, unfortunately, telling that Turkey and Eastern European countries were exempt from this plan. The USSR had annexed parts of Turkey and were setting up puppet governments of their own in the remainder; and the Sverdlovsk Kremlin had laid claim to the rest of the Eastern Bloc. The USA was showing no inclination to get involved in helping or making overtures towards the Soviets; and the surviving countries of Europe were in no position to challenge the Soviet government.Plans for Germany were quickly put into play. By the end of 1966 a provisional government had been established in Magdeburg, the largest surviving city after Kiel and the biggest in a central location. New rail lines were laid across the countryside, replacing the crippled original tracks; autobahns were cleared; and supplies began moving between the remaining cities. Initially, the convoys had to be guarded by foreign troops, for fear of being attacked by the remaining bands of outlaws still roaming the post-apocalyptic landscape; although this job would eventually fall upon German forces after the military was rebuilt with British, Danish, Swedish and Swiss equipment. The survivors were eager to put their horrific past behind them. The new constitution of the reunified Germany, drawn up by the liberating powers with assistance of the US government, was similar to the pacifistic constitution of Japan. There were key differences, of course: the parliamentary system was based on that of the pre-WWIII West Germany, with the Chancellor acting as head of government and the President a largely ceremonial role appointed from within the two houses of the Bundesparlament (Federal Parliament), the Bundestag (Federal Diet) or Bundesrat (Federal Council). Each state would have its own single-house legislature, the Landtag (State Diet), headed by an Erster Minister (First Minister) and cabinet. As part of the pacifistic constitution, enacted primarily to placate the Soviets, Germany would be forbidden by law from joining any international defence pacts or possessing any weapons that could be classed as “offensive” based on range or capability. The new military would be known as the Nationale Selbstverteidigungstruppe, or National Self-Defence Force. Three elements were created: the Deutsche Heer (German Army); Deutsche Marine (German Navy); and Luftwaffe (Air Force). Policing would be carried out by state-administered forces (Landespolizei, or State Police) held to a national standard by the Ministry of the Interior; this Ministry would also oversee the federal Bundespolizei (Federal Police) directly. German police would be routinely armed, especially since armed groups were still at large. Their training, equipment and methods were more along the lines of the French Gendarmerie than the traditional British police forces.Economic progress would, naturally, take longer. Germany's industrial heartlands, centred on the Rhinelands and Ruhr Valley, had been heavily bombed with heavy loss of life and destruction of infrastructure. Replacement of the many destroyed factories, power plants, foundries and mines would take a long time, so initially the new Germany would be reliant on the importation of fuel and people. In the short-term, large gas turbine installations were provided by the UK. These consisted of Rolls-Royce Tyne engines connected to English Electric generator sets and, while not mobile, were relatively portable and could be moved around as needed. Hundreds of such generators, nicknamed “pocket power stations”, were provided by January 1969. They would meet the country's power needs until the dams on the Ruhr could be rebuilt and the reservoirs refilled. Coal-fired power stations would provide the energy Germans needed that hydroelectricity could not. As part of the discussions with the Soviets, it had been agreed by all parties that the new Germany would not be permitted to possess nuclear power, be it military or civilian.The “new” country would be known as Vereinigte Republik Deutschland, or United Republic of Germany. The country’s heraldry represented both the reunited nature of the country and its pacifistic bent, with the national flag being based on the older German Empire flag rather than those of East or West Germany; similarly, the traditional black eagle was removed from the flag and naval ensign as this was widely seen as a nationalistic, aggressive emblem outside Germany. The Provisional Government took control of the country on 31 December 1966, quickly passing the new constitution into law. The NS, BP and LP were rapidly brought into being, with training on new equipment proceeding quickly and all three being stood up by early 1968. The first truly national and fully free elections in Germany since 1932 took place in November 1969, marking the start of the country’s new future.
1963 Transport White Paper - post-October War UKThe immediate reality in post-October War Britain was that, in order to move relief supplies around the country, the most important methods would be sea and rail. In the aftermath of the winter of 1962-63, where almost 4 million people died from cold and disease, the need to acquire food, shelter and medical supplies and deliver them to where they were needed became paramount. As soon as Denis Healy became Minister of Supply, he instigated two major projects. Every civilian shipyard in the country that was large enough to do so was turned over to the construction of Commonwealth-type modular transports, while every engineering company with sufficient capacity was making kits to construct temporary “Healyville” housing for the refugee population that still numbered in the millions. Trains, however, would be a different story.Even in the early 60s, mainland Great Britain still had an enormous railway transport capacity. While large amounts of freight could be moved around by Commonwealth-1 and -2 coastal ships, there was still a need to move the food, fuel and materiel from ports to their destinations. Rail was still the best prospect, since the new motorway programme had, understandably, come to a grinding halt. Railways, by contrast, could be relatively easily repaired in damaged areas and pressed into service as both the main method of transporting relief supplies into, and refugees out of, damaged areas like East Anglia, Lincolnshire, Kent and outer London. The main problems being encountered were with the lack of spare parts, standardisation and fuel for British Railways’ fleet of locomotives. BR had attempted to standardise its ageing, diverse fleet immediately after nationalisation, creating the Standard classes of steam locomotive that were intended to replace the older stock as it wore out. However, the decision in the 1955 Modernisation Plan to carry out large-scale electrification and replacement of steam with diesel on non-electrified lines curtailed this project and the last Standard steam locomotive, a Class 9F heavy freight engine named “Evening Star” in reference to an early steam loco that had been named “Morning Star”, rolled off the line in 1960. In 1963, the UK as a whole was lacking in proven, exploitable crude oil resources. What it did have was a huge resource of coalfields in Yorkshire and South Wales that could produce high-quality anthracite to fuel steam trains. With the country’s new fleet of merchant ships adding to the burden on what oil could be exported from the Anglo-Iranian refinery on Abadan Island, the decision was made to switch back over to steam traction instead of diesel. BR’s diesel locomotives would be withdrawn and sold off to countries with more readily exploitable oil resources, while BR would once again start work on standardised steam locomotives that could be easily built in large numbers, to replace the ageing pre-nationalisation engines as they wore out.The railways portion of the 1963 White Paper, drawn up by the British Railways Board at the behest of the Ministry of Supply, detailed the future for steam traction within the UK. Essentially, it laid out how the Board would replace and expand capacity that was wearing out, withdrawn or had been outright nuked out of existence:Creation of a family of “austerity” mixed-traffic locomotives, in both tank and tender engine layouts, utilising as many of the same parts as possible to simplify construction, servicing and fabrication;Renewed production of the Standard Class 9F heavy freight locomotive, albeit in more of an austerity fashion to simplify construction;Upgrade of former LNER, LMS and GWR express steam locomotives in the short-term for long-distance passenger services, with a standardised replacement to take over all express passenger traffic as they wore out;Continued use of diesel shunting engines, due to their speed of construction and ease of operation. This would be the only remaining use of diesel traction in the new British Railways.The Plan was duly approved by the UK Emergency Interim Government of Ted Heath in June 1963, with the goal being to have the first of the new mixed-traffic engines coming off the line by the end of the year. This exceedingly tight timescale was met, in part because of the two designs being based on one existing type renowned for its capability and simplicity of construction. Despite the intentions of the drafters of 1955’s Modernisation Plan, steam would remain the primary method of traction for British Railways for many years to come. It would be well into the 1980s before replacement of steam with diesel and electric traction became a reality, and steam engines would remain in BR mainline service until the end of the century.Air transport would see major developments in the aftermath of the October War. Initially, turboprop transports would provide transport for passengers and cargo, the latter providing a priority service for freight that would have otherwise gone by sea. Damaged road and rail sections could be bypassed by air. BEA's existing fleet of Viscount and Vanguard airliners would be supplemented by variants of Hawker Siddeley's Avro 748. Aside from domestic routes, BEA's aircraft would fly between the UK and Ireland, Scandinavia, Iberia, Italy, Malta, Greece, Yugoslavia, Cyprus and North Africa. BOAC, on the other hand, would primarily fly either transatlantic routes with de Havilland Comet 4 jetliners and 400-series Bristol Britannia turboprops; or long-range "Commonwealth" routes to Africa, Asia and Australasia. Plans to replace most of these turboprop-powered aircraft with jetliners were well advanced, with new airliners based on the de Havilland Trident and Avro Vulcan ready to leave the drawing board by 1964.Finally, road transport would have to be addressed. The shortage of petroleum meant that roads would take a lower priority than other modes of transport; but plans were put in hand to improve and repair the network. Firstly, hauliers would be effectively nationalised by being brought under direct government regulation, basically making HM Government PLC their sole client. Road building would be stepped up once railway reconstruction was complete; and while the building of further motorways was shelved it was announced that major A-roads would be upgraded to dual carriageway standard and centres of population bypassed to prevent town centre gridlock. A scheme was also drawn up involving government savings for everyday people that would allow for the purchase of private motor vehicles. Similar to the Volkswagen scheme set up in Nazi Germany, it involved people making weekly token payments; in return, they would receive an 'economy car', one of several choices that would use a large number of common components to save on maintenance and construction costs. The car ownership plan would likely not come into being until 1965 at the earliest, so details were light in the 1963 Transport White Paper; however, it was likely that the Austin/BMC Mini would form the basis of the vehicles produced due to its simplicity. Similar schemes would be set up for farmers to allow the acquisition of Land Rovers, tractors and other mechanised farm equipment. This would, of course, have the side effect of providing more employment in a near-bankrupt world.
Spoils of WarToulon, southern France. 0730 CEST (0530 GMT); 6 August 1965.There was a feel of inevitability in the air. Well, that or terror. For over a year, ever since Brezhnev and Shelepin had embarked on the frankly insane Operation Chastise to cut the West off from Arabian oil and seize a warm-water port in the Persian Gulf, there had been Soviet “advisors” in France. Their orders had been simple: keep the Red Dawn lunatic fringe in control of the multitudes of local fiefdoms that had cropped up in the south of France since the collapse of central government. These lunatics would be supplied with Soviet weaponry and instructed to keep sticking the knife into any American or British forces in the region and thus distract them from the USSR’s true plans. Andrei Stepanovich Stakhanov was, on paper at least, a colonel in the KGB. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, he was in effective exile in France, tasked as the senior advisor to the self-proclaimed Bountiful People’s Democratic Socialist Republic of Provence. It was a task he would not even give to the most incompetent of the idiots that had been dumped into cramped research offices back at the Lubyanka before the war, and yet when the rest of the advisors had been pulled out of France following the end of Operation Chastise, Stakhanov had been left in post. France, as far as Stakhanov was concerned, France was ungovernable – an opinion shared by Chelyabinsk. The multiple factions running riot through the country, despite being armed and advised by the Soviets, spent more time fighting each other than providing an effective distraction. A prime example was the Free People’s Republic of Provençal and Corsica: initially a promising group, they had been supplied with P-15 anti-ship missiles to mount on the handful of destroyers and avisos operating out of Ajaccio. Unfortunately, after action taken the previous year by the British they had resorted to fighting with other groups on the mainland, losing control of Toulon to the BPDSRP by the end of 1964. Toulon had been one of the few French cities to survive the War with little damage. Only one missile had been targeted at the naval base, which overshot the target and detonated nearer Marseilles. This meant that the naval vessels in its harbour were largely left intact: ships that were, as far as the Soviets were concerned, worth more than their weight in diamonds.The three biggest ships in the harbour, laid derelict since the October War, were the only reason Stakhanov had been kept on here, even as his colleagues abandoned their own tin-pot warlords in the face of no longer being needed. Before dawn, three heavy tugs and a cargo ship had arrived after navigating their way from Georgia. They offloaded a full battalion of Naval Infantry, all of whom were now keeping enquiring French away from Toulon Arsenal. Stakhanov had been given orders to leave with these ships, but for now would remain to field any queries from local officials wondering why they were being abandoned. Sure enough, the Chairman of the People’s Defence Committee came waddling through the crowds, waving his walking stick. Stakhanov eyed the man with nothing but pure contempt. He knew the story of Comrade Francois Grout, formerly a railway union man, member of the French communist party and before that an active supporter of the Vichy regime. He was just the wrong side of sixty, had a thinning mane of unruly white hair, a walrus moustache and waistline to match, and an overinflated sense of self-importance of a level Stakhanov had never before encountered outside of the Central Committee. ‘What is all this?!’ Grout bellowed by way of greeting, a handful of armed men in gendarmes’ uniforms following in his considerable wake. ‘What in the hell do you think you’re doing with my ships, comrade?’ ‘We are taking them in lieu of payment, comrade,’ Stakhanov replied in accented French. ‘We have supplied you with all the weapons you asked for and all the grain we could spare in the past year and a half. It’s how you were able to drive the Corsicans off the mainland, after all.’ ‘I don’t give a shit about any of that!’ Grout blustered in reply. ‘We’ve got real problems coming now and we want Soviet assistance!’ ‘Really? What problems are those, comrade?’ Stakhanov asked with a frown. Nothing in the intel dispatches he’d received said anything about the Italians massing on the border; even if they were, there was a lot of territory to cover before they reached Toulon. ‘The British, you fucking idiot!’ Grout spluttered, as if the answer should be the most obvious thing in the world. ‘I have it on good authority that the British have already taken Caen, Cherbourg, Calais, Dunkirk and even more ports!’ Stakhanov stared at the stupid little man for a moment, wondering if he was serious. Once he adjudged it to be in the affirmative, he burst out laughing. ‘Have you any idea how long it will take for the force of British and Scandinavian troops to work this far south?’ he said at last. ‘And anyway, are you not happy that someone is working to help clothe and feed your countrymen, comrade?’ ‘They are driving the rest of those mad bastards south, you moron!’ Grout yelled. ‘All the rest of those Red Dawn lunatics that you abandoned! That moving band of rampaging pirates that some of your men are leading! All heading this way!’ This caused Stakhanov to pause. He’d heard rumours of one of the little fiefdoms being taken over by its KGB advisors, and that said advisors had refused their recall orders and even managed to amass a small force of armoured vehicles. He’d dismissed it, of course, but now something nagged at him – what if it was true? ‘Even if that is right,’ he replied with a shrug, ‘there will be months before they reach their way here.’ ‘I need protection!’ Grout yelled, spittle flying from his enraged lips. ‘I need Soviet troops, Soviet tanks, and those ships there to provide artillery support!’ ‘You will have none of those things,’ Stakhanov growled at him, his voice dangerously low. ‘You will have no further assistance from us.’ ‘I want –’ Grout began again, before the second tirade almost knocked him off his feet. ‘I do not give a shit what you want, Comrade Grout,’ Stakhanov shouted, pushing the older man back by jabbing him in his corpulent gut. ‘I know you! You only rose to this position in this stupid little soviet because the last few Red Dawn men ran off to fight in Korea! You, who sang the praises of Hitler and Stalin with equal aplomb, depending on who was listening! I shall brook no further crap from you! I have better things to do than stand around chewing the snot with a jumped-up blob of lard like you!’ ‘How dare you?!’ Grout yelled. ‘I will have you shot for this!’ As if in response, the ten closest naval infantrymen raised their AKM assault rifles and aimed them straight at Grout. The harbour front was suddenly silent, aside from the click of safety catches being released. ‘My men outnumber yours, comrade,’ Stakhanov said pleasantly. ‘And it appears that yours have no desire to get involved.’ Grout spun around; sure enough, the gendarmes were standing with their rifles slung and displaying no intention of intervening. ‘If you want my advice, make peace with that roving band of pirates if and when they make their way this far south,’ Stakhanov continued in the same conversational tone. ‘Or make a run for the Swiss border with all the trinkets you’ve likely hoarded in the past few months. Just remember, if and when a provisional government with Western backing manages to bring order to France, you and other bastards like you will likely be strung up from the nearest lamppost.’ Turning on his heel, Stakhanov gave orders to the naval infantry sergeant to shoot the fat bastard if he tried to get onto the Arsenal again and marched back to the quayside.It was going to be a big ask; he knew that much. But there, in varying states of disrepair, were the three ships that would form the core of the future Soviet Navy: the battleships Richelieu and Jean Bart; and the aircraft carrier Clemenceau. There had been a second carrier, the Foch, but she had been at sea on the night of the War and nobody knew her fate. In all probability, she was on the bottom of the North Atlantic now. Soviet engineers had examined all three ships and determined that they were in a decent working order. With a fair amount of work, they could very well be brought into service again. Over the next few days, all three would be readied for transport and towed to friendly ports; either in Georgia or the now Soviet-controlled Istanbul, or Tsargrad as it was already being referred to. Turkey’s government and every other strategic target had been bombed on the night of the War, leaving only the main port city that straddled the Bosporus. After unleashing the hoards of Red Dawn at the still-shattered citizenry, the KGB’s subsequent liquidation of the fanatics had seen the Turkish people welcome the Soviets as nothing short of liberators. Plans were that the Turkish provinces that weren’t annexed by the USSR would be grouped into one or two vassal states, with Tsargrad acting as the capital city of the Turkic Socialist Republic. For right now, the city would provide the Soviets with a staging area for rebuilding their Black Sea fleet until Sevastopol, Odessa and Novorossiysk could be brought back into use. Whether they wanted to or not.
Korean War 2, Part 17Kusong, Pyongan Province, North Korea. 1700 (local); 6 June 1965.12th Cavalry Regiment had reached the airbase in the early hours of that morning. Their M60’s sat idling on the taxiways as the brass tried to work out exactly what had happened. Three days earlier, a North Korean intelligence officer tried to collapse a cave on top of a load of PoW’s that had been marched to the airbase, for reasons unknown but very much suspected to be their usefulness as human shields. Clearly, said spook had disagreed with this assessment and tried to dispose of a load of people he saw as nothing more than useless eaters. If it hadn’t been for the efforts of Colonel Kim Nam-joon, nominally the base’s commander after all the more senior officers made a run for the border, then he might have succeeded. Colonel Kim had his men digging the collapsed entrance out, mucking in himself even with the threat of a rock fall. By the time the 12th Cav arrived, any survivors had been rescued and the Norks were reduced to recovering bodies for identification and cremation.It surprised Sergeant Jack MacLean that the bastard responsible for all this had been caught. From what he could gather, Colonel Kim had apprehended one Major Pak Ki-woo via the expedient of 2-by-4 to the back of the skull and machine gunning of his guards. Pak was alone now, hogtied and awaiting the arrival of intel units from either the ROKA or US Army. ‘What do you think they’ll do to him, Mac?’ Corporal John “Billy” Mitchell, the gunner aboard the M60 that the crew had nicknamed “Katie”, after the ambulance in the World War II movie Ice Cold in Alex. ‘Break every bone in his fucking body to extract info,’ Maclean replied with a shrug, ‘give him a brief show trial for war crimes and then shoot the bastard. Not our problem, Bill.’ The two men were perched on the glacis plate, either side of “Katie’s” driver hatch, swigging some barely palatable powdered coffee with powdered milk and no sugar. The men of Charlie Company were mingling with the former PoW’s and the former North Korean captors, apparently with little animosity between them all despite a year of warfare on the peninsula. There was seemingly no drive to get the 12th moving again; what enemies they had encountered from the KPA’s headlong retreat towards the Chinese border had, ever since the sacking of Pyongyang four days earlier, been looking to surrender, rather than fight. ‘Sweet Jesus, you got any of that to spare?’ a voice seemingly pleaded with them. Maclean and Mitchell looked round to see a man in a tattered US Army sergeant’s uniform, possessing the gaunt face of prolonged malnutrition and a thousand-yard stare that told of unknown horrors. ‘Sure, buddy,’ Maclean said, looking down through the driver’s hatch. ‘Hey! Mickey! Pass me the flask and get another mug! We got company over!’ Moments later, the untidy and unshaven head of PFC Andre “Mickey” Mantle poked up through the hatch, bearing a welcoming grin and, more importantly, the battered metal flask of coffee and a drinking receptacle. ‘Here ya go, Sarge,’ Mantle said as he poured the deathly grey liquid into an enamelled mug that was more dents than anything else. ‘Milk’s already in; least that’s what they tell us. Sorry, no sugar.’ ‘Don’t worry about it, kid,’ the sergeant replied, raising the mug to his face and taking a long swig. ‘This is the first cuppa Joe I’ve had in nearly a year, even if it is this freeze-dried powdered shit.’ ‘Must’ve been captured fairly early, huh?’ Maclean said, smiling slightly. ‘First goddamn night,’ the sergeant replied, grimacing. ‘I was 17th Infantry, we were guarding the DMZ when the bastards dropped on us. Killed most of our guys.’ ‘Shit,’ Mitchell said, after a long whistle. ‘Well, ya made it, Sarge.’ ‘John Michaels,’ he said, looking up from his coffee. ‘Ev’ryone calls me Mick.’ ‘Well I’m Mac,’ Maclean replied, smiling wider. ‘Jack Maclean. This here’s John Mitchell, we call him “Billy”; that’s Andre Mantle, down in the basement.’ ‘“Mickey”, to everybody,’ Mantle said, popping back out of the hatch. ‘Good to meet ya, Sarge.’ ‘I ain’t a sergeant any more, Mickey,’ Michaels said with a grimace. ‘Odds are, I’ll be invalided out to obscurity soon as we get Stateside. Ain’t a place for shell-shocked mad bastards like me.’Unfortunately for all concerned, Michaels’ statement would prove to be very, very wrong.* * *Government Complex Number 1, Pyongyang. 0930 local; 15 June 1965.The devastation was worse than any of them had envisioned. It wasn’t just the smashed, bombed-out buildings. It wasn’t even the bodies, bloated from decomposition. The biggest shock had been the survivors. Thousands of people, many bearing the chemical burn scars of untreated mustard gas exposure, wandered around the wreckage with thousand-yard stares of post-traumatic stress, seemingly with no idea of where they were going or why. Some still blamed the Americans for the hell that had befallen them; raving that the Great Leader would never do something like this to his beloved people. That number of people was, however, steadily decreasing as reality set in.Three men stood near the wreckage of what had once been the centre of government for the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, observing the devastation wrought on the city. Technically, all three were still PoW’s, prisoners of a war that was all but over; but rather than keep them under guard, the men had been released alongside hundreds of others considered to be low risk of escape. Not that there was anywhere to go, of course. The only way they could head was north; and the borders with China and the USSR were so distant as to make such an attempt impossible. ‘It’s still unbelievable,’ Pak Dong-gun said with a sad shake of his head. A former Korean People’s Army brigadier-general, he had been assigned to the defence of the city of Gwangju, just outside of Seoul. Wounded in an enemy artillery strike, he had been left in charge of the city’s defences while every able-bodied man was evacuated north. ‘I believe it,’ former lieutenant Rhee So-yeong said bitterly, prodding at rubble with his crutch. ‘I can believe anything about that deranged midget.’ ‘Do not insult the Great Leader,’ Pak said automatically, before catching himself. Right now, Kim Il-sung was the great leader of, to use a technical term, “fuck-all”. ‘Fuck the “Great Leader”, sir,’ Rhee snarled, tapping the unarticulated wooden stump that had replaced his left shin with the crutch. ‘If he hadn’t started all this, I’d be a doctor with two legs by now. Probably working in one of those piles of rubble that used to be a hospital over there.’ ‘Enough, both of you,’ Park Lee-sung grunted. In the past few weeks, the former combat engineer major had more of this bickering than he could stomach. ‘All of our families might be dead because our own countrymen turned poison gas shells on our city! And who the hell do you think gave the authorisation, general?’ ‘I know, I know,’ Pak sighed. ‘My men and I were all abandoned on orders from this building, after all. It’s just difficult to overcome a decade of conditioning.’ ‘I became a master of mental double-entry bookkeeping,’ Park grunted, flexing stiff fingers that had up until recently been in plaster. ‘Things you thought, you would never say; things you said, you didn’t believe. Not that things will get any better under Seoul.’ ‘Maybe they will,’ Rhee replied. ‘The fascists in the military seem to have been taken out of the picture at least.’ ‘This civilian government will not last,’ Park sighed, ‘and then they’ll be straight back to leaving the same bastards that beat me half to death being in charge. Same double-entry thinking, but now the Americans would be propping the government up instead of Moscow.’ * * *UN Command Field HQ, five miles east of Pyongyang. 2300 local; 15 June 1965.Several miles away, General William Westmoreland had moved into what he hoped would be his final field HQ before bringing this goddamn war to an end. It would not be long, mercifully. The only thing keeping them from the Chinese border was a succession of destroyed bridges and more booby traps than he could count. This had slowed the advance down, but done nothing to halt it. Things were actually starting to look good. And then this fucking telegram landed on his new desk. A message from the Pentagon had arrived less than an hour earlier, officially ordering Westmoreland to draw up a shortlist of infantry units under 8th Army’s command for transfer to South Vietnam the instant the war came to an end. He had questioned this, naturally. What kind of whackadoo would send thirty thousand men that had just spent months having the ever-loving fuck kicked out of them, into a new and even more unstable situation? Well, the simple answer to that question was apparently Richard Milhouse Nixon. It had been a direct Presidential order, buoyed by the Koreans offering ten thousand of their own hardened/shell-shocked troops to throw back into the meat grinder with little to no rest. It seemed that, as far as Nixon was concerned, the American troops in Korea would be battle-hardened veterans out for the blood of the “perfidious yellow peril communist filth”; in reality, they would be psychologically exhausted men desperate to see their families. Men resentful that they would be immediately shipped from one war in the asshole of fuck-knows-where to another war in the asshole of fuck-knows-where with no break. Men with zero morale. Men that would snap, make mistakes and get people killed.Right now, Westmoreland was waiting for a phone connection to the States, in a final attempt to convince his superiors that his orders were a recipe for disaster. Finally, the field telephone rang and Westmoreland snatched it up. ‘Pentagon on the line for you, sir,’ the poor bastard in the phone exchange informed him. Westmoreland made a mental note to give the man a medal, considering his actions to connect UNC headquarters with the east coast of the USA was a task on a par with typing out War & Peace on an antique Remington. The like popped and crackled, as the signal was bounced through more exchanges and longer cables than the human mind could comfortably envision. Finally, there came the unmistakable sound of a receiver being picked up. ‘This is General Westmoreland in Pyongyang,’ he said immediately, not wanting to waste time on pleasantries. ‘Put me on to someone in command. Right now.’ ‘They did,’ a very familiar voice said, one that caused Westmoreland to sit so rigid in his chair he might as well be standing to attention. ‘And yeah, I know who you are, Westy.’ ‘Sorry, General LeMay,’ Westmoreland spluttered to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, ‘I just kinda assumed I’d have to go round the houses a little and –’ ‘Don’t apologise,’ LeMay replied, ‘and after everything we’ve been through, the least you can do is call me Curtis.’ ‘Is this call off the record, sir?’ Westmoreland asked, keeping his tone neutral. ‘They always are, Westy,’ LeMay said, an edge of humour creeping into his voice. ‘Curtis, what the fuck is going on?’ Westmoreland all but yelled. ‘What kind of fucking psychopath told the President he should send in thirty thousand combat-fatigued troops to a new and very volatile theatre of war?’ ‘Are you familiar with Henry Kissinger?’ LeMay replied with naked contempt. ‘Oh Jesus,’ Westmoreland groaned. The reputation of Nixon’s national security adviser preceded him; to the effect that the two things Kissinger hated about Hitler were anti-Semitism and the fact that Adolf was far too left-wing for Henry’s liking. ‘Westy, things have gotten a damn sight worse back here in the last few months,’ LeMay said. ‘There’s an organised protest movement that have ex-servicemen publicly burning their recall papers. Considering the way they were treated after the October War, I can’t say I blame ’em. Problem is, Kissinger’s response to that is to unleash that old queen Hoover to go full Gestapo on anyone not kissin’ Nixon’s ass, then announce a draft of every man between 18 and 35.’ Westmoreland screwed up his eyes in frustration. With redundant soldiers refusing to come back to an Army that screwed them over two years previously, the last thing that a resentful population would welcome was large-scale conscription and turning the FBI into the KGB. ‘Christ, Curtis, what’s happening?’ he asked eventually. ‘Are we finally taking the fight to those mad bastards in the Midwest?’ ‘No,’ LeMay said with a disturbing finality. ‘Kissinger doesn’t consider them a problem, so neither does the President. All they’re bothered about is keeping Ho Chi Minh out of Saigon.’ ‘Sending thirty thousand of my guys to try and do that is a recipe for disaster,’ Westmoreland said, also with worrying finality. ‘They need a period of R&R at the very least. We’re gonna burn ’em out and get a hell of a lot of people killed.’ ‘I know,’ LeMay groaned. ‘Goddammit, I know that! But it ain’t our decision, Westy. For right now, focus on getting to the border with Red China and resting as many of your guys as you can. Because they’re gonna damn well need it.’ * * *Namyang Workers' District, North Korea. 0830 local; 23 June 1965.It had taken three weeks to get this far, the most north-eastern of the border crossings. It wasn’t just because there was resistance to organise on the way; it was also because they were only moving at night so as not to tempt fate and enemy air attacks. The small convoy of Korean People’s Army cars and light trucks were waiting to cross the Tumen River into China, via one of the handful of bridges that crossed the two rivers that formed the vast majority of the Sino-Korean border. Despite being a peninsular, the sheer length of the Yalu and Tumen rivers meant that Korea may as well have been an island. The Americans and their fascist lapdogs were snapping at their heels; it was likely that even this position would be overrun in the next two or three days. So far, the Americans were repeatedly telling anyone that would listen that they were going to stop at the Chinese border; that they had no quarrel with the Chinese people, even the communist ones. Whether there was any truth in that statement or not, it was impossible to tell; although thus far, they had refrained from crossing the Yalu to the south.Marshal Ri Dong-hyun, wearing an anonymous, insignia-less KPA uniform, drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of the GAZ-69 4-wheel-drive vehicle. In the normal scheme of things, a Marshal should not be driving himself; however, in the back of the car were two very high-profile passengers. In the car in front were five of his most trusted men, officers from the euphemistically-named KPA Gas Engine Corps chemical warfare unit. They would meet with the border guards and the waiting agents of the Diàochá Bù, the equally euphemistically named Central Investigation Department. Despite the name, the Diàochá Bù was nothing short of the PRC’s secret police and counterintelligence agency. Ri’s people had obviously made preliminary contact with the DB, letting them know who was in their convoy. ‘What’s going on?!’ an irritating voice trilled from behind Ri. ‘Our people are talking to the Chinese comrades we have arranged to meet, comrade,’ Ri said absently, focused more on the car in front of them and the words being exchanged with the border guards. ‘There is nothing to be concerned about.’ ‘I will be the judge of that,’ the voice replied snippily. In the back of the GAZ were two shorter-than-average and fatter-than-average men, similar in facial appearance, that were wearing plain KPA uniform just like Ri. Of the two, the younger one was far more animated; the elder seemed to be almost catatonic, although that might have been something to do with the hefty dose of horse tranquiliser he had been given the previous night, Ri reflected. The border guards made way for six men dressed in a mix of peasant workers’ garb and more formal Mao suits. Pleasantries were exchanged with the car at the front, before the six walked towards Ri’s vehicle. ‘Remember, you are Captain Li Yong-nam,’ the younger man grunted at Ri, eyeing the approaching Chinese men with suspicion. ‘I am Major Choi Il-u; and this is my uncle, Colonel Choi Pong-ju!’ ‘I know my lines, comrade,’ Ri grunted, unfastening the drivers-side window flap and rolling it up so he could address the approaching Chinese without getting out of the car. ‘Good morning,’ one of the Mao-suited men said; his tone less a greeting and more a threat. Even after his death in the nuking of Beijing, the shadow of Kang Sheng, Mao’s chief secret policeman, fell long over the DB. ‘Good morning, comrade,’ Ri said pleasantly. ‘I’m sure my comrades will have already told you, but we are a section of the Korean People’s Army special corps. We were cut off from the Army by the imperialist advance and wish to rejoin our allies so we can work to retake our motherland.’ ‘I see,’ the secret policeman said, nodding. ‘And your names?’ ‘Marshal Ri Dong-hyun,’ Ri said quickly, ‘and these bastards in the back are Kim Il-sung and his idiot son, Kim Jong-il. As promised, they’re all ready for you to turn over to the Americans to prove your willingness for peace.’ Behind him, the sound of scuffling signified the attempt of Kim Jong-il to escape through the back flap of the GAZ. ‘Get back here, you fucking idiot,’ Ri said with quite literally no conviction. As if to underscore the point, the six DB men drew their sidearms and shot the fleeing Kim down. ‘I told him,’ Ri said with a shrug. ‘At least the main one’s still alive.’As the semi-comatose Kim Il-sung was driven off into China, the corpse of Kim Jong-il was kicked off the bridge into the Tumen, making way for the last stragglers of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea government and Korean Workers’ Party to flee.
Novel Chapters

Mature Content

The Journal of Genna Oryn,December 31st, Imperial Year 393 And here we are, New Friend, entering into another year, and starting a fresh journal. That being you. I often question why I bother to keep a journal. Or even how I formed such a habit. From the time we left the shining gas lights of Brunnen twelve years ago, my life has been one of isolation and repetition. The tutor comes for lessons twice a week, droning on, and on, and on about the history of the Empire, and the lies that its enemies tell about magic and monsters. "Fear tactics," says he. "Propaganda to control our perspective of them." I don't think it works, the only fear I have is another lesson with him. And then there are the glorious days Father allows us to venture into Eaux Reves with him, otherwise I should think there were no other humans left on the island. Only one of us may go, it's a distraction to him otherwise, but it's still a reprieve I crave so.Mother's health is continuing to decline as she spends weeks at a time in isolation in the north wing of the house, visited only by her nurse and doctor. My younger sister Lydia is my only comfort aside from you and yet we always seem to be cross with one another. Probably because she seems to think she is better than I just because she is stronger and nearly so tall, and that she is clearly preferred by Father. As if it were my fault that I was stunted in my growth and so fragile a baby. Still, every night when the fog horn blows its low sad calling she runs into my room to hide in my quilts. After all, an elder sister is the one who can fight away monsters. Benjamin, my elder brother and dearest friend, has moved away to become an officer in the navy! Father is as cold and distant as ever, pretending he is the lord of all the world and avoiding any human who might remind him that all the air is not under his control. Hiding away in his office where he can pretend he never had children, or a wife, or any servants other than his man Edgar. Edgar, so stiff and proper frown always glowering at my sister and I in absolute disapproval of our mayhem. That is why I hide up on the roof and dream of life in the village that shines like an oasis of sanity cloaked in the shroud of mist that rolls in from the ocean. And the ships. The ships that carry in goods, father's goods, from all over the world and sail away with any hope I have of ever escaping this metaphoric cage.It was a ship that brought us to this forsaken island from the beautiful Brunnen that is now only a distant memory. Brunnen with the small house on the cobbled lane where neighbors always came to gossip. Where the maids were loud and opinionated, and quite promiscuous. Brunnen that Lydia never knew, and that Benjamin still resents leaving. The jewel of hope that he returned to on the first day of his seventeenth year.Yet despite the drab and boring life I lead I still find the need to confide my frustration to someone. So, my dear new friend, I will confide in you. I will express to you the misery of this plantation. Tell you of men and women I can see from my secret perch on the roof as they toil in the fields, but whom I will never meet, and how I envy their purpose even though I know their lives must be hard. I suppose I do keep a journal so that I can confide my misery. Or perhaps...No. The real reason I keep writing, and I know it to be true. It's hope. Hope. I hope that someday my life will change and that I will escape this prison where time is frozen. I keep a journal so that I have a reason to keep moving forward. Because if I am going to write out my life, perhaps someday I will be able to write an ending that I will look back on with fondness. I write so that I remember to stretch my wings, so that one day when they forget to close the door, I will have the strength to fly away from here!My dear friend, you and I are the only ones left in this world. You and I, and a coming storm riding in on the warm breezes of the new year. Let this year be the one to free me. That is what I shall wish, upon the last bell. January 5th, Imperial Year 394 I dreamt last night that I was lying at the bottom of the ocean looking up at the ships as they passed overhead. As I lay there I grew bored and commanded the waves turn against them, tossing them back and forth, smashing them together. The men aboard tried desperately to steady themselves as I lay there waiting for them to sink. I watched as one ship began to slip down below the surface and fall towards me, like a feather on a still day. The sailors scrambled to the other ships and were pulled from the frothing sea to the safety of the little boats. I had no regard for the lives of the sailors, not that I wished them ill, simply that I did not care what fate may befall them. I awoke suddenly, a sharp jabbing pain in my chest, gasping for air as if I was drowning. I rushed into the hallway trying to call for the nurse when a maid leaving Lydia's room saw me in my condition and quickly summoned the nurse for a breathing treatment. As soon as the heavy steam reached my lungs the pain eased and I could once again inhale. Air always tastes so sweet when you have doubted you will ever taste it again.I returned to my room to find Lydia had crawled to the center of my bed and hidden beneath my quilt. I pretended to be angry as I pushed her to the edge so I could lay down, but I really didn't mind. She always seems to appear whenever my sleep has been troubled, or when mother is in isolation from her illness, or when there is a storm. Last night all of these occurred.I hear Lydia sneaking down the hall, so you must go back into hiding, my friend. Good Night. January 11th, Imperial Year 394 Again I had the dream where I watched the ships from below. Only this time I commanded the waves to calm so that the two ships could peacefully glide above me. These ships felt different than all of the others, as if there was a great and secret treasure within their great bellies. This dream didn't feel like a memory, as all my other dreams have, and unlike the other dreams I did not awaken to the feeling of drowning. Perhaps these ships were bringing change I wished for on the bell of the new year. January 12th, Imperial Year 394 Oh, but how should I describe today? So much has happened I don't know how to put it into words! I shall try my best not to leave a single detail out. You see it was normal, at first, like any day that I had accompanied father to town. It seemed some business had gone poorly and father seemed to think that his own crops were not going to fetch a high enough price. As bored as I was (and in the heat of summer it is so hard not to be bored) I had been listening through the wall of his office as I sat on the stairs. When he came bursting out shouting to Edgar to ready everything for a trip to the docks I pretended to have just been passing through and begged to go along. Finally he agreed to let me go along and shop after I had followed him through most of the house begging him for various odd little things I believed they might have for sale. I assumed it would go like every other trip I have pressured him into. I would sit and daydream while he seethed, shouted, and argued. Then if he got his way and was in a good mood I would beg for whatever bauble had caught my fancy as we went back to the carriage, or ride in silence thankful to have seen other living people up close if his mood was sour.Today was not like any other day.There was no deal at all, as the buyer who had already paid for the sorghum wanted to have a refund because he learned that father had overcharged him grossly. Father refused, of course. He would lead us all over the dock looking for information on who had given these "false prices" to his buyer. After what seemed like hours of walking around in the heat and hearing him yell and threaten many a gentlemen, he decided we needed to go and meet an "old friend" of his. This 'friend' was none other than a barkeep in the most terrifying place I have ever laid mine eyes on! To think that such a place even existed, and further that he would know someone there. He made me swear an oath that I never tell Mother of the deviation from our errands. He explained that the reason his business is losing money this last season is because a portion of our goods have been taken by pirates. Father led the way into this tavern demanding I pull my shawl over my head as much as I could. He went to the long counter and ordered himself a drink I had never heard of. What arrived was dark and frothy. I was shocked as I have only ever seen him drink the clearest of spirits and in polite company. Never anything that large and pungent, and never in front of me! He tried to start a conversation with the man who had poured his drink, but the man only pointed to the handles he had used to pour the drink in the first place. Father sighed, his face turning red with frustration as he nodded in agreement. The man held up two fingers and father nodded again. He drained his glass and another was placed before him. Then he looked at me, his eyes as red as his face, and said, "The key to good business is to learn when you need to use your power, when to use your influence, and when money is the only option. Your brother will climb the ranks. He will bring me power." He drained the second glass. "You and Lydia are well educated. It falls to the two of you to be the influence and the money. That comes when-" But he was cut off as the man slammed the third glass down, splashing its contents across the bar. "Not everyone can be born into wealth," he mumbled, again turning his back. "Some of us have to force the world to see what we are really worth". Father ignored the statement and continued to say that my mother's talk of faith was bogus. "Money, Power, and Prominence are the only forces worth respecting," said he. Thankfully his rant was interrupted by the man who served us asking for pay. When Father put the money on the counter we were shown a table that was mostly hidden behind the staircase that split the building into two separate rooms.Behind the table were seated two men, neatly shaved and well dressed in the most luxurious coats of red and blue. Their polished black boots came past their knees, expensive lace spilled from the tops of their boots, their cuffs, and their collars. They sat in that dirty place as if they were the lords of some great kingdom, and even Father trembled before all their great power as he asked if they were open to possible business negotiations. One of the men motioned for father to sit in an empty chair at their table and took a long breath from his pipe. He had dark blond hair pulled in a loose pigtail at the nape of his neck. The air filled with the sweet smell of rot and smoke as he released the breath. I tried to stifle the cough as the smoke enveloped me where I stood behind Father. I studied the men, mesmerized. Never have I seen my father in a submissive way, her before these men he was so. They were both thin and strong, their faces brown from the sun. So similar, yet so different. The one with the pipe seemed slightly younger and had the most incredible blue eyes I have ever seen. He realized I was looking and met my gaze with a wink and a grin that made my heart skip. Perhaps it was fear that my breath caught in my throat? Or perhaps, and looking back I find this to be more true, it was because he excited me. These men who brought a divine fear to my father were handsome, charming, and dangerous. I could feel my face growing warm as the man with the sky blue eyes looked at me. Father began to search for words, the air filled with smoke and I fought to hide another cough, pulling my shawl over my nose and trying to look away. I could not. I was so lost in his blue eyes and the confusion in my head that when I felt a hand on my shoulder I quite nearly fell to the floor from fright. She stood there like none I had ever seen before. Her black hair was pulled back into an intricate series of braids falling down past her hips and woven through with beads and charms. She wore breeches with the tall boots, just as the men before us, but she had no lace, or gold or trim about her, and her shirt had the sleeves pulled off revealing the intricate patterns that spread across her skin in some strange design made by scars. To me it almost looked like the scales of a serpent. "We are all equal in this place. Tell me; why does she stand?" she demanded. Her voice was cold, her golden brown eyes watched Father as if she were a predator and he the prey. "She's a child." Father said firmly, but I could hear the uncertainty in his voice. "She has no place at this table." "A child has no place here. A child would have been left in care of your servant." The woman stared into my Father's eyes, burning his soul. "Is she to be bargained? SHe is a young woman, old enough to be married by your standards. I know your kind." Father opened and closed his mouth, as if looking for words he could not find. Finally he gestured towards the empty chair at his left. "I had not known I would come here today. If I had I never would have allowed her to accompany me away from the house. She is my daughter, and not part of any bargain here." Slowly I slid into the seat beside my father. The man with the pipe grinned at me again, sending another shiver through me as if he was looking down into my soul. Never once has he looked away from my face. "Relax, Eleana. If that had been his plan then he would have been disappointed in the direction this meeting would take." The second man finally spoke. His voice was cool, his eyes a stormy grey and his light hair was starting to fade around the temples. He had the same dangerous air about him as the younger blue-eyed man, one that caused a knot to form deep within me. "Sir, your daughter is far too naive to be in such a place as this. Send her somewhere respectable before she dies from the heat and the smoke. We have no plans to move from this place 'till the day cools off." The woman looked at me for a long moment and nodded. "I believe the choice should be hers. You brought her here, you let her choose." Her voice softened as she looked in my eyes and patted my arm. "But I do agree, this is not a place for you. Whether you stay or go, though, that is a decision only you can make." I looked at my father, not sure what I was to do, but he turned from me, staring at the wall behind the two false kings. This frightened me to an extent that I have ever known. If I left would father become angry? Where would I go? Was I safe if I stayed in that place? I didn't know what I was supposed to do and even as I reached to touch him, he pulled away from me. "He has no power here, not even over you." The elder of the false kings said as he studied my father, whose face had become red with anger. "I should go." I managed to whisper. The sound of my own voice, so small and insignificant in that oppressive and strange place, frightened me even more as I tried to to walk slowly and calmly towards the door. Then came a loud crash from somewhere above me and fear took over and I ran. I ran away from the two kings, away from the strange woman, away from father and his anger, away from that horrible place with the offensive smelling drink. Blindly I ran until the heat became such that I could not bear. I stopped, pulling my shawl away from my head and looking desperately for father, but he had not followed me. This, my friend, is where things become the strangest. I stood there, the heat and the smell of the street overwhelming me, and I came to realize that I had not any earthly idea where I was. I turned slowly looking for anyone that I could ask, any familiar sight, but there was none. Surrounded by strangers in faded and ragged dress, the shouts of the peddlers, and the grime of the gutters, I began to cry. Never had I seen such a place of darkness and hopelessness and it amazed me that I had not been robbed or murdered already. That is when it happened. The very strangest thing. "My lady, you seem lost." The voice was deep and rich, musical in the ways the words rolled. Never had I heard such a way of speaking. Through the tears I looked up to see a young man, only very slightly older than I. He looked on with concern and offered me his kerchief. I felt compelled to trust him, as he seemed so genuine in his concern for me, so I took the kerchief and tried to regain my composure. As I blinked away tears I was able to study him. Oh! He was beautiful! His fiery hair falling in loose waves around his freckled face, his warm brown eyes filled with such honest concern for me, his strong shoulders and... I have never felt so breathless from seeing another human. If this were a fairy story I would doubt he was human. Again he asked me was I well, and, said he, "A lady of your grace should not be in this place alone, it's not safe here. Can I have the honor of escorting you home?" He offered me his arm. "I do understand, though, if you feel you cannot trust me. I should be happy to fetch a man of credentials; Marines are what you call them here, or are they constables?" His voice lilted slightly in that unfamiliar and intoxicating accent. I assured him that I was confident to walk with him, but that I did not know the way to my carriage. He smiled. "It's of little matter, so long as you know a landmark near it. I've learned this town quite well." Said he. I did my best to describe the street to him as he led me along, and in all too soon we had safely returned to the carriage. I asked him to wait with me until Father returned, but he declined stating that he was unworthy of my company, and said, "It's for the best we don't frighten the poor man with the idea you were left unchaperoned in such questionable companionship as I." I begged him his name but he refused with a wink and a bow. "When next we meet, fair lady." Then he walked away without even allowing me to offer my gratitude. Father returned to the carriage after another hour or so had passed. He was silent and dark, not a word passed between us all the day.My sister is stirring now. I hear her door click down the hall. I wish she would not come tonight. I want to sit and imagine I meet that handsome stranger again. Perhaps I will slip back into town and find him, my savior with red hair.I hear Lydia in the hall, and it would be disastrous if she knew about you so I will hide you away for now. Good night my dear friend.
An Excerpt from Blossom (current wip)Before she ever set foot in the yard, Reverie Maddoks knew that it was going to be a bad day at work. She didn’t know exactly how bad, of course. The Knowing was never that specific. One moment she was standing in line with her fellow laborers, waiting for her turn to clock in so that she could begin her day’s work. Everything was normal. Then, as she squinted at the burning sun, a dull ache began to gnaw at her stomach. For a fraction of a second, she let herself hope that it was nothing – perhaps she’d simply eaten something that disagreed with her. And then… She could see the zeppelin leaving the ground, its majestic wings glinting in the morning sunlight. And then she was aboard the zeppelin, and a terrible groaning noise nearly deafened her. The deck tilted in a single, sickeningly-fast movement, and she landed hard on her butt. And then she was still aboard the zeppelin, but the deck was even now. Someone stood in front of her. A man. A young man. Tall and lean with dark hair. “Here, catch!” And then something was coming at her. A glowing white rock. She lunged forward to catch it against her chest… The zeppelin was leaving the ground again, and this time… was that cheering she heard? “Here, catch!” A Scarecrow was pointing a gun at her as she held onto the glowing white rock. “Here, catch!” All of these images blurred together in her mind’s eye, playing out one after another in quick succession, until her vision went black and a deafening sound erupted in her ears– A gunshot. “Maddoks?” Slowly, she became aware of a voice from behind her. A man’s voice. A familiar voice. “Maddoks?” Then there was a hand on her shoulder. She whirled at the contact, her whole body tensing as her hands balled into fists. “I don’t want your stupid rock!” she said. Slowly, she realized that her outburst had drawn stares from several of her fellow laborers. And then her higher brain functions kicked in, and she realized that she knew the man who had touched her. Gordon Fields. “Rock? What are you talking about, Maddoks? I was just going to ask if you were okay,” Gordon said. Then, after a pause. “Guess I’ve got my answer.” “I’m fine, Gordon,” Revi said, though the sweat she could feel running down her brow said otherwise. The dull ache gnawing at her stomach did, too. “And you know you can call me ‘Revi,’ right? Lord knows we’ve shared a cell enough times. I think we’re past last names.” “After what I just saw, I think you may be past sanity.” The look on Fields’ face told her in no uncertain terms that he was not buying her attempt to change the subject. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You want to tell me what’s really going on? You look like you’re gonna flay.” I wish I knew. “Nothing,” she said. “I just didn’t sleep well last night, is all.” Before Gordon could reply, someone behind Revi shouted: “Hey, ratbag!” She whirled to face the source of the shrill voice. As she did, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Gordon was a smart man – with a little more time, he might have figured out what had really happened to her, and why it had happened. And then he might have told her mam. “What do you think you’re doing?” the shrill voice again. Revi’s eyes found the owner of the voice. A rosy-cheeked man sitting at a table at the head of the line. He wore a fancy white shirt and a bowler hat. “What do you think you’re doing? Your time starts when the whistle blows! You think if you get here early, you’ll get to go home to your little cherry sooner? Dream on. You get to sit here and wait like the rest of these foozlers!” Revi heard Gordon snicker from behind her. “Ah,” he said, voice soft. “That must be Yeats.” “You know him?” Revi asked, lowering her own voice. “I’ve never seen him before.” “He’s one of the new supervisors the Conglomerate sent in. Never met him, but I’ve heard stories. If you are gonna flay, could you maybe do it all over that charming white shirt of his?” Revi laughed, shaking her head.. Slowly, she worked her way closer to the head of the line. With each step she took, the ache in her stomach intensified, as if someone had tied her small intestine in a knot and was tightening that knot a little bit each moment. This time it wasn’t just the Knowing giving her vague warnings of impending doom, but something more concrete. If Gordon was on to her, that meant that she had to act now. The plan she’d been hatching, the one she’d kept in the back of her mind to carry out “someday soon”--today was the day. Now she just had to decide how. She racked her brain, trying to figure out where she could find the tools she would need. Once again, Yeats’ bellowing cut into her thoughts “Move while we still have daylight you gibfaced jollock!” Yeats stood up, wagging his finger in the man’s face, and as he did, Revi saw it. The gun in his pocket. A smile pulled at her lips. Perhaps the would-be tyrant was the answer to her problems. She just had to make sure that Gordon made enough noise that she could slip away forgotten. As she was plotting how to play Gordon and Yeats off against each other, another man walked into her field of view, coming to stand behind the table and Yeats. Graham Jimmeson. Revi couldn’t stop herself from staring at him for a moment. At the blue-green eyes and the tall, willoughy frame. The sight of him brought a smile to her lips and a warm feeling to her heart, as it always did. She wanted to say something to him. To apologize for what she planned to do. To ask him whether he’d ever see her as more than just a child. But she couldn’t. Jimmeson had always been able to read her perfectly. If she talked to him, he’d cajole a confession out of her, and her plan would end before it began. Revi turned back to Gordon. “Tell you what,” she said. “I’ll see if I can wear him down a bit. Maybe even get the foremen involved.” Shooting a glance over her shoulder, she saw that Jimmeson had been joined by his fellow foreman, Kraeger. All the pieces were in place. She just had to make it happen…. Gordon laughed. “You always did like to start trouble,” he said, flashing her an approving smile as Yeats talked to the person in front of her in line. Revi did not smile back. Instead, she steeled herself, trying not to think about what would happen if her plan failed. The person in front of her in line stepped aside, leaving her face-to-face with Yeats. She stepped up to the table. “Miss Reverie Maddoks, here for the shift, sir,” she said, keeping her voice a whisper. “Out.” Yeats waved a hand at her. “You shouldn’t be here and we both know it.” Revi took a deep breath. For this to work, she could not allow even the slightest hesitation. A bully like this would have a keen nose for fear. “What we both know is that no one else in this yard can strip a pinched joint or anchor in a tri-set seam the way I can, that’s for damn sure.” Glancing from side to side, she saw many heads turning in her direction and heard more than one gasp. Well, if I’m today’s entertainment, might as well go all out. She raised her voice for maximum humiliation. “So quit being a coc y gath [Cats willie] and let me get to work!” Revi heard Jimmeson’s voice. “Oh, fuckin’ hell. It’s Revi…” She risked a quick glance over at him and saw that her little outburst had managed to shake his normally-unflappable calm. He took a deep breath. “We don’t need this today.” "What exactly do you think you're doing?” Yeats’ shrill voice echoed across the platform, “Go crawl back to the bar where you belong." "What? I'm working. I'm in the books and you know I am. I’m under Maddoks, R." Revi shot a quick glance behind her to make sure it was still Fields who would be the next victim. Fields had no respect for Jimmeson, so when he and Yeats went at it, that would force Kraeger to get involved. Kreager was notorious for his temper and his refusal to suffer fools, so, an encounter between him and Yeats should make for a good show. She just had to push the right buttons to bring all the players to the stage, and that would keep Jimmeson too busy to notice she was gone. As Yeats searched his log books for her name, she could hear Jimmeson muttering from her right. "I'm gonna step in before this gets out of hand." She could also hear Kreager’s mumbled reply. “Nah, or we'll be stuck with this bastard forever. Besides, you coddle her too much and people will start talking. There’s already rumors.” Rumors? What rumors? Revi forced herself not to dwell on the question. She needed to keep her focus on Yeats and her plan. Finally, Yeats looked back up at her, his eyes narrowed and his cheeks redder than usual. “The only thing you should be pounding out is babies, not rivets. If you think I’m falling for your ‘tough guy’ act, you’re a total idiot!”” “Takes one to know one." Revi said. She kept her eyes on Yeats, but her thoughts kept drifting to Jimmeson. I'm sorry, Jim. I know how conflict eats at you.Try not to hate me when it's all over. "Listen, if my name is in the book, I work, and even I can see my name. So unless you can't read..." “Careful now. You’re Bren Maddoks’ sister, aren’tcha?” Yeats asked.Revi swallowed down a lump in her throat. No fear. “Aye. And I can set a rivet even better than he could.” “Maybe so, but from what I hear, you’re the last person who should be questioning whether someone can read, aye?” At once, Revi’s cheeks grew so hot that she was certain Fields could feel it. Her hands clenched into fists tight enough that her nails dug into her palms. She cast about for a reply, but Jimmeson spoke before she could come up with one. “Mr. Yeats,” he said, his tone even as ever. “I can confirm that she belongs here. She’s been working this yard for near five years.” "She has not!" Yeats snapped. Revi only half-heard their argument. Yeats’ last crack still rang in her ears. Stay calm. Stay focused. Stay calm. Stay focused. Finally, when she felt ready, she said: "If I may speak for myself, please, because it's pretty clear his issue is with me personally. I think I know a way to solve this little disagreement that would make everyone happy." Revi stepped around the edge of the table, smiling sweetly, "You don’t want me to work? Fine. Just erase the debts. You do that, and I’m a ghost. You can take my name off the roster, erase me from the books — it will be like I never existed. That work for you?” She arranged her face into the most ingratiating expression she could muster. “Get out of my yard, you whore!” Yeats roared, his face now bearing a striking resemblance to a ripe tomato. Seeing her opportunity, Revi carefully plucked the Derringer from Yeats' pocket and slid it into hers. She tried to sooth her nerves as she lowered her head and made her way towards the back of the platform. Just walk on by. Hopefully, Fields will do the rest.Sure enough, she heard the man’s voice from behind her. “Maddoks is one of us. She ain’t no whore.” Revi quickened her pace as Yeats berated Fields, fixing her attention on the back of the yard where the sun was glinting off the outer shell of the Zeppelin that had recently been docked for repairs. She had made it, the plan had been a success so far. And yet the ache in her stomach was now more intense and more pronounced than it had ever been. For a moment, she struggled to keep her food down. It would be my luck to nickYeats’ gun only to get caught because I flayed all over the yard. She almost jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked behind her and saw Jimmeson standing there. “I don’t need to tell you what you’re doing, do I, Revi?” “Err, no,” she said, giving him a little smile. “Thanks for sticking up for me back there. You always look out for me.” Jimmeson smiled back, that easy smile that she’d seen so many times. The thought of never seeing it again made her waver in her plan for a moment. “Damn right I do. I made a promise to Bren.” Again, Revi felt her face warm. She wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she stood there for a moment in silence before saying: “Dock three, right?” “Dock three,” Jimmeson squeezed her shoulder before taking a step back towards the commotion, his expression giving away a nervousness she had only seen once before. “I’ll be along shortly. I have to make sure things here are smoothed out first.” Revi nodded and stepped onto the worn dirt path. Across the yard the sun glinted off the smooth surface of the zeppelin, enhancing its majestic appearance. It sat moored in Dock 8 awaiting repairs, bearing an eerie resemblance to what the Knowing had been showing her all morning....

Mature Content

Fanfictions
Silver and Gold: Chapter 2Chapter 2: The Flaversham’sI was alone in a world not like my own, a complete stranger with no one else to turn too, and nowhere else to go. I remember those eyes judging me by my appearance, the fear of the unknown was natural, because my world would’ve felt the same.Nobody would help somebody like me, those eyes were quick to judge about my appearance. But if they had words...they would’ve hurt me. If they had sticks or stones, they probably would’ve hurt my bones.I learned that life can be cruel, no one will ever treat you nice, no one will ever help you when life gets you down.But I also learned that not everything is true. When life kicks you to the curve, someone with a kind hearted nature can pick you up. The eyes of that “someone” don’t judge you for what you are, but who you are.And whenever you feel like you're alone, you're not really alone, because when things get tough, I know that I have friends watching out for me.--- June 14, 1897 11:00 p.m.“Daddy, come quick!”Anna groaned as the voice of a little girl woke her from her sleep. Her body still felt cold as she shivered a little. She moved her head, but it felt heavy as she continued to groan and slowly opened her eyes, her vision was blurry and it slowly closed again. The only thing she could rely on were her ears.She heard another voice, this time belonging to an older man who spoke with a noticeable Scottish accent, “Olivia, please get under the umbrella. You’ll catch a cold.”Olivia? Why did that name sound so familiar? It was something that reminded her, but she couldn’t remember what.“But Daddy, I found a fairy! I think she’s hurt.”She could hear footsteps as the voices came closer.The man chuckled, “Alright, alright...let’s see this fairy of yours.”Pretty soon, Anna heard the two stop right in front of her tree and the man gave a gasp. “Good heavens!” He exclaimed, “Olivia, stand back.”Soon Anna felt a hand lightly tap on her cheek as she heard him say, “Miss, can you hear me? If so, then please wake up.”Her eyes slowly open again, she sees another mouse. But unfortunately, due to her vision being blurry still, she can only make out a grey bowler hat, a white collar with a red cravat, and a grey coat.“Oh, thank goodness.” The Scottish mouse sighed in relief. “Miss, are you alright?”Her eyes slowly closed again and the only answer she could give him was a groan. Noticing the dazed expression on her face and the lack of response, the Scottish mouse pressed his palm to Anna’s forehead. “You're burning up!” He pulled his hand away from her forehead as he lightly shook her shoulder, “Miss, you need to stay awake, try to stand up.” Anna tried to move, but her body felt like lead as the Scottish mouse slipped a hand behind her back and used his other hand to hold her wrist while saying, “Here, let me help you.” As he pulled Anna out of the tree, she clumsily stumbled out as she heard him say, “That’s it, there we go.”Anna allowed the mouse to help support her weight, his body was so warm as she leaned heavily against him, hidden beneath the shelter of his black umbrella. At first she wanted to protest, not wanting to be a burden, but she was so tired and cold that she could only groan.“Poor thing, you’re completely drenched.” The Scottish mouse said. “Let us get you someplace warm and dry.”She hardly noticed Olivia checking her back for wings. When she didn’t find any, she wasn’t upset. A little disappointed maybe, but her imagination made up for what was lacking.--- Anna’s eyes slowly opened, she was in some dark room, her mind was trying to remember from what happened, but it all came out blurry. She felt her body get covered in a warm blanket, despite that her body was still cold, but at the same time...warm. She turns her body over while groaning, seeing a figure as she says, “Dad? Dad is that you?”“There, there, now.” A voice says as the figure rubs a towel on her forehead. “You’ve been asleep for more than several hours now.”She didn’t know where she was, believing that she was back home since she was on this bed and since Anna couldn’t remember much she says, “I had this...crazy dream.” That was all her mind thought of. But was all that what it was...just a dream? Nothing that actually happened was just nothing more...a dream. “I went back in time...and I met these...strange people...it was the weirdest dream.”“Well, you're safe and sound,” The voice says, “right here in my workshop in good ol '1897.”Her eyes widened as the memories came back. The accusation from Mr. Moriarty, being sent back in time to Victorian London, getting shrunk down to mouse-sized while meeting the mice folk, and getting lost in the streets of London. As a gasp came out, she cried out, “Workshop! 1897!”When she sat up, an oil lamp was turned on, lighting the room as she looked around. But then, her eyes come towards a male mouse who sat down, making her jump and yelp in fright as he says to her in the same Scottish accent that she heard from before, “It’s alright!” He raises a hand, signaling his peaceful nature. “Don’t be afraid, I mean you no harm.”Anna’s jaw dropped as she blinked her eyes twice at what she couldn’t even believe…Sitting down right in front of her, was none other than Hiram Flaversham from The Great Mouse Detective movie. He was just like she saw him as, tan fur with a dark brown nose, he was half bald, but had brown hair on the sides while his eyebrows and mustache were brown as well, big round glasses were hung over his eyes, he wore a white collared shirt, and had green trousers. She was so shocked when she saw Hiram Flaversham face to face, she said in a gibberish voice, “B-But how...who...what are...uhhh?”Hiram cocks an eyebrow in confusion from this creature and says, “Who am I? Is that what you're trying to say?”She already knew who he was, but her head had already nodded.The Scottish mouse smiled and introduced himself, “Well, my name is Flaversham. Hiram Flaversham.”“Flaversham.” Anna muttered, then she looked around the room she was in. “How did I-”“Olivia was the one who found you.” Hiram interrupted, knowing that she was probably going to ask that question. “It was a good thing too, you were freezing out there and you were starting to have a fever. We had to get you warm and dried off before you got any worse.”Anna looks at her arms and notices they had long white sleeves. Moving the covers, she notices a white nightgown, clearly belonging to Mr. Flaversham himself. Wondering what happened to the rest of her clothes she asks, “Where are my clothes?”Hiram’s ears had a tinge of red from embarrassment as he rubs the back of his head and explains, “I hope you can forgive me lass, you were already soaked to the bone. If you didn’t want to catch your death, I had to remove some of your clothes. But don’t worry, your clothes are being hung up to dry until you recover.” He takes his hand away from his head and sighs, “So, I hope you can forgive me for that.”Anna smiles and nods apologetically to him, knowing that Hiram was trying to help, so it would be a shame if she didn’t appreciate him by letting him help her.Taking that as a good sign, Hiram smiles at her again. Still, it wasn’t his intention to do this, he had to respect a woman’s feelings, but at the condition she was in, he had to do it for her sake. But at least he was happy to know that she was an understanding person.When Anna had already finished her nodding, she felt a sharp pain to her head as she moaned while placing her hand to her forehead and saying, “Oh, my head hurts.”Hiram placed his hands on Anna’s shoulders as he gently lays her down while saying, “Then I suggest you get some rest.”Hiram goes over to a bowl with a towel in it that he left near the window. Getting it soaked a bit, he twisted out some of the water, and made his way over to Anna as he placed it on top of her forehead.“By the way,” Hiram says, “I haven’t gotten your name?”“Anna. Anna Johnson.”“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Johnson.” Hiram turns off the oil lamp and walks away from her. But before he shuts the door, he looks at her and says, “Try to get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.” He shuts the door gently with a soft click, leaving her alone in the dark room with only the moonlight being her only light as she slowly closed her eyes and went to sleep.--- June 15, 1897 8:00 a.m.The sun shined brightly, it was a beautiful day with a cloud-free sky.Anna yawned as she sat up, the pain in her head was gone. But unfortunately, she still had a fever. Placing the towel on the table next to the oil lamp, she sighs as she thought about yesterday and last night. It was a very hard day, the meeting of the mice folk, to the discovery that she was sent back through time in the year 1897, getting shrunk down to mouse-sized, and nearly freezing to death in the streets of London.However, what was even worse to think about, was the cold judging eyes of those mice. It made her feel even smaller than before, and to see the fear in those eyes for what she is. But, she couldn’t blame them. From where she came from, it was natural for someone to fear what they don’t understand, and to quickly judge by someone’s appearance. Still, it really hurt her to feel different in a mouse-filled society where she was the only human who was down to their size. As she thought about that, she covers her face with both hands, feeling her own face and forehead as they were still warm.Anna was taken off of her own thoughts as the door opened and Hiram Flaversham came in with a bowl of steaming porridge and a wooden spoon that was in it. “Ah, good morning, Miss Johnson. How’s your head feeling?”She looks at Hiram and notices that he was wearing his traditional red bowtie and tan apron while answering, “Much better, thank you.”He places the bowl of porridge on Anna’s lap while taking the towel off the table and says, “This should help bring down your fever and get your strength back.”Anna picks up the bowl, feeling the heat within it as she carefully picks up the wooden spoon and blows on it, cooling it down, and tastes it. A smile was on her face as she tasted the sweetness of it, moaning happily while nodding her head and saying, “This is good.”Hiram chuckles while smiling at Anna’s enthusiasm.She was surprised, besides knowing that Hiram Flaversham was a great toymaker, he was also a great cook as well.“Would you like some tea with that?” Hiram asked.At the mention of tea, Anna realized just how thirsty she was. The porridge didn’t help her thirst, but it did help with her hunger. She drinks tea all the time back home. Oh, she would kill for a cup, but she had to give the British a point in their favor just for this. She nods while swallowing another spoonful of porridge and says, “Please, with lemon if you have it?”“That I do. How about sugar in your tea?”Anna flushed at his kindness. She would have never asked if he hadn’t.“Please.”When Hiram left, Anna continued to eat for about a minute until she was finished, leaving the bowl on the table next to her, and sighing in content. However, she had a feeling that someone was watching her...Well...her assumption was correct when she looks over and sees a little mouse girl who was looking at her with those wide and curious eyes...It was little Olivia Flaversham, she looked so adorable in the movie, but out here in the world where Anna was in, she was still adorable with that red nose of hers, tan fur, and wore Mary Jane shoes with white socks on her feet, white collar with a forest green bow, light blue skirt, and a blue miniskirt with a red pattern on it. However, there was something missing, she didn’t have her red bow tied behind her left ear. Anna wondered why she wasn’t wearing it yet? But decided to put it out of her mind for now as she smiles and says, “Hello.”At her greeting, Olivia goes over to Anna, her eyes beginning to sparkle as she asks, “Are you a fairy?”Anna blinked at this. Olivia did seem to mention that before. Anna thought for a moment, not wanting to crush the girl’s hopes, but she wasn’t a liar...well, only on certain occasions. But, she had to tell it to her straight. “No, I’m afraid not.” She shows her back to her, just to prove her point. “See, no wings.”“But not all fairies have wings.” Olivia stated, “Wait here.”The little mouse ran out of the room. It hardly took a moment for the girl to return with a big red book in her hands. She opened it up, propped it up on the bed, and pointed at a picture.“See?”Anna peered into the book and saw a picture of a tiny girl emerging from a flower, she couldn’t help but smile at this.“Thumbelina?”Olivia nodded excitedly, “She was born from a flower and had no wings before she married the fairy prince.” She flipped a few pages until she came to a picture with Thumbelina and the handsome fairy prince. Thumbelina had a lovely pair of gossamer wings.“Maybe you’re like her? We did find you in a tree.”This was just too cute. Olivia had such a unique sense of imagination. It kind of reminded her of herself when she was Olivia’s age. Young, innocent, and very imaginative. However, the resemblance was uncanny, Thumbelina had the same reddish auburn hair just like Anna’s. It was almost like looking into a mirror, but seeing somebody else who looks like the opposite of her.She giggled at this and told Olivia, “I’m not born from a tree or flower. I’m just a plain human who somehow managed to get herself lost and shrunk down to size.”Instead of being upset like Anna had expected her to be, Olivia became elated as her eyes widened. “A human? Are you really a human?!” She dropped the book on the bed and pressed her hands to her cheeks in glee. “Oh, this is incredible! That means magic really does exist!”“I, uh...suppose there is.” Anna had to agree. Magic was the only explanation for any of this. The silver watch was the prime example, because it’s magic was the only reason why she got here. Not to mention, the world she recognizes from the movie The Great Mouse Detective, was owned by Disney, and it was the embodiment of it. “By the way, my name is Anna. Anna Johnson.”“My name is Olivia. Olivia Flaversham.”Yes, I know. Anna thought while smiling to herself, but wasn’t about to admit that.“Now, Olivia,” Hiram Flaversham says as he returned with a tray with tea and a sugar bowl, “I think our guest needs her rest.”“Yes Daddy,” Olivia obediently replied, she carefully left the fairy tale book beside Anna’s lap. “Whenever I’m sick, daddy reads me these stories. Maybe they’ll make you feel better too.”“Thank you, Olivia.” Anna meant it, she loved fairy tales as much as the little girl. It was her all-time favorite when reading books such as this. Maybe it could also pass her time since she’s probably going to be bedridden for a couple of days, and what better thing to do is to read a good book.“Get well, Miss Johnson…” Olivia paused for a moment, then asked, “Can I call you Anna? It’s such a pretty name.”“Please do.” Anna smiled, she didn’t think that she would ever be comfortable with being called “Miss Johnson” every now and then.Olivia beamed and quietly left the room.“I see that you and Olivia are getting along quite splendidly.” Hiram Flaversham says as he places the tray on the table and begins making a cup of tea for Anna. “I hope she didn’t overwhelm you with her questions.”“Oh no,” Anna protested with a shake of her head. “Olivia is a lovely little girl, has a great sense of imagination, and very clever too. I can see her growing up to be quite the intelligent young lady.”“Indeed.” Hiram Flaversham says with pride as he hands her the cup of tea. When Anna takes the first sip, she melted with happiness. She could taste the sweetness of it along with the lemon flavor that Hiram added, it was the most amazingly delicious thing that she had ever tasted. “She is so much like her dearly departed mother.” Hiram Flaversham continues to say, “I often find myself worrying that I might not raise her properly.”Anna felt her heart sink at the mention of Olivia’s mother. She always knew that Olivia didn’t have one, most likely because her mother passed away.“I’m sorry for your loss, but I don’t think you're a terrible father for raising Olivia. I’m sure that if your wife were here, she would’ve been proud of you.”“Well…” Hiram Flaversham smiled at those kind words from Anna. “I thank ya lass.” He sat down on the bed next to her as he changed the subject. “But enough about me and my past, I’ve already...moved on. In fact, there are some things we need to talk about.”Anna gave Hiram a confused look and asked, “Like what?”“Well…” Hiram dug through his pocket and pulled out the watch, “will start with this.”This surprised Anna as she says, “Hey, where did you-”“I found this little thing dinging inside those trousers of yours.”What Hiram said was undoubtedly true. You see, while he was making tea for Anna, unaware that Olivia had gone into the room and started talking to her, his ears began to hear the sound of dinging coming from somewhere. Following it to where the sound was, he finds it close to where Anna’s clothes were being hung to dry.Now, Hiram didn’t raise any questions or explained as to why she was sleeping outside in the cold rain. However, he didn’t look twice at her attire. Her clothes were nothing like he had ever seen before in his life, he’ll probably admit that they are a bit strange, and what he learned from humans from other mice, they were an odd but strange bunch.As the dinging brought him back to his senses, curiosity got the better of him as he found it inside of Anna’s blue jeans. He digs it out of the pocket and finds a silver watch, immediately he is impressed at such a thing. When he flipped it open, he was even more impressed at this watch. However, he had an odd look on his face as the time from this watch had the same exact time as Big Ben.Back to Hiram Flaversham’s room, he began to explain to Anna about the watch he discovered from her, “It’s quite the exquisite craftsmanship.” Hiram examined. “This watch was made entirely from pure silver.” He flipped open the watch again as he continued on, “This glass-like casing is no doubt made from crystal, and the hands on it are made from diamonds which are cleanly cut to make the arrows. Whoever made this, is such a genius craftsman.” Hiram had that same odd look again. “However, besides being it at the same time around here...there’s something else that’s strikingly odd.”“What,” Anna says, “What is it?”Hiram shows Anna while pointing at the three buttons on top of the silver watch. “These three buttons right here. What exactly do they do?”When Hiram mentioned that, Anna remembered that there were three buttons. But unfortunately, she didn’t have a single clue about the first two buttons as she shrugs her shoulders and says, “I have no idea.” She then sets aside her cup of tea and points at the middle button. “But the middle button right there is what brought me here in the first place.”“Hmm?” Hiram Flaversham places his hand on his chin. “Is this also the reason why you got shrunk?” Anna looks at Hiram with a surprised look as he explains to her, “I overheard what you said to Olivia. So is it true?”Anna nods her head, “Yeah, maybe, I guess.”“Well...where did you get this from?”Anna wanted to tell Hiram that she got it from Mr. Moriarty in the year 2017, but she couldn’t tell him this, probably because he wouldn’t understand. However, this is Hiram Flaversham, so maybe he can help her so she says to him, “A man from my world gave it to me. He told me to find a gold watch similar to this one, but has the same value. So, do you know where I can find one?”Hiram thought for a second, then answered, “I do have a gold watch.” Anna smiled for a moment, then faded as Hiram says while nodding, “But, I’m afraid it doesn’t have the same value as this, because it doesn’t have a lid. I’m very sorry.”Anna sighs while looking downwards and her shoulders droop, feeling slightly deflated. She was so close to knowing where she could find a golden watch then go home.“However,” Hiram says as Anna looks up to him, “there is one watch shop here in London that I am aware of. Perhaps the owner would have the answer.”Anna sighs in relief, feeling hope reappear.“Now then,” Hiram sets aside the silver watch on the table. “Tell me, do you have anywhere else to go?”Anna nodded truthfully no to Hiram.“I thought not. How about I make a deal with you lass.” Anna carefully paid attention as he said to her, “You see, I’m often busy with work these days and I hardly have the time for Olivia. With no mother or siblings, I fear that she’s lonely. So, I may need a nanny to watch out and care for her...In fact.” He smiles then looks behind, with Anna following his gaze. Their eyes catch Olivia who was spying on them, she quickly runs away while Hiram turns his attention back to Anna as he says, “She’s starting to take a liking to you, and since you have nowhere else to go, I think it would be nice to have an addition in our home.”“You...you really mean that?” Anna says.“Of course, think of it this way, you’ll be able to find the golden watch with a little extra help, and it’d be better than you running around all over the streets of London now all of Mousedom probably knows about you.”Anna thought for a second and knew that Hiram was right. It would be difficult to find a golden watch in a big city such as this, and he was willing to help her find it. Not to mention, he was offering her a place to stay which didn’t sound like a bad option, and running around the streets of London did sound like a bad idea, because nobody would probably help her at all. “Well,” she rubs her arm, “when you put it that way I guess…” She stops herself mid-sentence as she remembers the last part that Hiram said. “Wait a second. What do you mean by all of Mousedom probably knows about me?”“A customer told me about a rumor saying that a human was running around the streets.” Hiram sighs while rubbing the back of his head. “If this is a rumor, then I’m afraid it might spread and it will prove difficult if someone were to see you.”Anna nodded agreeingly to this, remembering those odd looks she received when she first arrived. Those cold judging and glaring eyes were a constant reminder of how much she was an outsider to a world not like her own.“Now then, do we have a deal?”Hiram brings out his hand, Anna thought about taking the deal. However, something came to her mind as she says while looking at Hiram’s room, “But what about your bed, this room, and uh…”“Oh, worry not about that,” Hiram says while waving his hand, knowing what she was about to say, “I already have that part figured out.” He winks at her.Anna had a smile on her face as she said, “You would go through this trouble just for me. A complete stranger who’s not even a mouse...but a human into your home.”“Why of course, it doesn’t matter to me if you're a human or a mouse, you’re still Anna Johnson.” Hiram shrugs his shoulders while continuing, “Besides, what sort of gentlemouse would I be if I didn’t help a lady in need?”Anna was happy and surprised at the same time. Hiram had already given up his own bed to a sickly guest like her and he was offering her a place to stay while watching out for his daughter Olivia, and he was also willing to help her find the golden watch.Hiram brings out his hand again and says, “Now, as I said before, do we have a deal?”Instead of shaking his hand like Hiram thought she would, Anna hugs him while saying, “Yes! Thank you so much, Mr. Flaversham, it really means a lot to me!”Hiram smiles while hugging her back and saying, “It was my pleasure, lass.” He then looks at her face to face then says, “But please, there’s no need to be formal, you can call me Hiram.”“And you can call me Anna.”Hiram nods his head, then gets up off the bed and says, “Well, it was nice having this chat with you, but I think you need to rest and finish drinking your tea before it gets cold.”Right before Hiram left, Anna’s mind forgot something as she said while Hiram turned to face her, “Oh, wait! Where are you going to sleep tonight?”Hiram chuckles, “Oh, worry not about me, Anna. I often fall asleep in my good ol ’chair more often than I do in my own bed.”When Hiram left Anna alone, she started sipping her cup of tea. Putting that back to the side of the table, she picks up the book that was left on her lap thanks to Olivia, and opens it up to the page where the story of Thumbelina began. She leans back into the soft pillow, but before she begins to read, she looks back at the picture of the tiny girl.“She really does look a bit like me.”As she continues to read, and after finishing her cup of tea, she gets near the end as she looks at the picture of Thumbelina’s wedding with the fairy prince. She studies his handsome face. He had light brown hair and bright intelligent green eyes as she thought, He reminds me of a certain detective.Finishing the story, she slowly closes the book.--- Anna stayed with the Flaversham’s for the next four days. Her fever was gone by the following evening, but Hiram insisted that she had to take it easy for a while longer. During that time, Anna explored their home. She found it intriguing that Olivia and her father lived on top of their toyshop. It was just so...European.She couldn’t deny that she was still homesick, but as the days went by, it began to dull, and the longer she stayed with the two mice, the more Anna felt at home. Olivia was like her own little extra shadow, following her around everywhere she went whenever she was home from school. Olivia showed her the toys her father had made, and Anna had to admit, these toys were very unique. There were small steam engine toys and wind-up clockwork dolls, she even spotted his name engraved into one of the wooden toys that he had made. She couldn’t help but wonder about how much hard work, effort, and heart that Hiram puts into each of them.“Wow, making all these toys for children all year round.” Anna commented to him once. “You're like their personal Santa Claus.”He looked confused for a moment before laughing, “Oh, I do believe you mean Santa Mouse.”Anna knew that there were many parallels between the mouse world and the human world. They all had different names, but she never expected Santa to be one of them.Over a short period of time, Olivia and Anna had already become fast friends, but during that short period, they began to look up to each other like sisters. They spent lots of time together, usually discussing various books with each other. Anna even told Olivia and her father about California, but leaving the part that she came from the year 2017, and how it rarely snows and barely rains where she lives. She even told them about her job back home and her family. About her little dog who was stronger than a horse. Anna even began to teach Olivia how to draw, being an artist herself. To her delight, the little girl became enraptured by the hobby. While the girl didn’t show magnificent talent for the arts, she did enjoy her lessons. Anna was never good at explaining how things were done, so she was glad that Olivia seemed to understand what was told to her. Then again, Anna did mostly show how it was done instead of just speaking. Art was a visual learning experience after all.Helping Olivia with homework when she got back from school, well...that was a bit more difficult. Anna was no school teacher, but Olivia was patient with her, and even helped her find the right words to say. For that, Anna was very grateful.During those last four days, Anna finally had her own room thanks to Hiram Flaversham. He had an extra workroom next door that he hardly uses anymore and after moving all the stuff out, he got to work. The first thing he did was buy a small vanity mirror to hang off the wall, then after working all day and night, he made her a wooden bed with her name etched into it and beautiful roses with vines designed around it. It reminded Anna of those wooden-carven beds from the animated movie Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Aside from that, Hiram also made a table just for her, a desk, and a wardrobe.Hiram also insisted that Anna should change different clothes, even after she got them back when she recovered from her fever and her clothes were dry, but also told her that if she keeps wearing the same clothes every now and then, she’ll dirty them up. Anna knew that he had a point, if she wanted to blend in more, she’ll have to dress for the occasion.So Hiram bought Anna three lovely Victorian dresses to help her fit in with the times. To Anna, they were gorgeous, not fancy, but casual. The first was a rich blue dress with black trimming, the second was a pale peach dress with an orange bodice, and the last dress was a green one that reminded her of one of Belle’s dresses in Beauty and the Beast. To top it all off, she could use her own boots as her only footwear, which gives her a small advantage just as long as no one looks down.Anna was careful in tying her own corsets, making sure that she didn’t string them too tight as to restrict her breathing, but tight enough to keep her chest in place. Victorian women, Anna had noticed, often wore their corsets tight enough to disfigure their waistline. It seemed to be a miracle that they didn’t snap in half when bending over.She snorted at this. Could they even bend over?Bedtime became a special moment for the girls. Anna sang a different lullaby every night to Olivia, usually them being Disney songs such as Part of Your World and You’ll Be in My Heart. By the end of each song, Olivia was fast asleep with a smile on her face.Life was generally good and she finally had a family once again.However...her little family and life with the Flaversham’s was going to take a turn for the worse on the fourth night on June 19, where she was called into the kitchen by Hiram after putting Olivia to sleep. He had to tell her something important as he says to her, “Listen, tomorrow is a very special day. Olivia is going to be turning eight tomorrow.”When she learned this news, she couldn’t help but yell, “Olivia’s birth-”“Shhh!” Hiram quickly silenced her by shushing and using a single finger to his mouth before Anna accidentally woke up Olivia.“Sorry,” She whispers, “I mean, Olivia’s birthday is tomorrow?”“Yes, and I need your help in getting some groceries while we go into the watch shop so we can hopefully find that golden watch you're looking for, and you can even buy something for Olivia while we're out.”When Anna learned that Olivia’s birthday was tomorrow, she finally managed to figure out why Olivia didn’t have her red bow tied behind her left ear...it was because she never got it, even when she saw her wear it in the movie. But out here, she doesn’t have one. Anna’s face began to turn pale as she knows the biggest revelation of what’s to come tomorrow night.Hiram notices Anna’s pale face as he asks, “Anna. Anna what’s wrong?”She looks back to Hiram and asks a question which she hoped couldn’t be true, but she mentally prayed to God that it couldn’t happen now. Not after being with them for the last four days. “By any chance, are you making a special surprise for Olivia?”Hiram had a smile on his face as he said, “Why of course!” But then it was replaced with a surprised look. “Wait, how did you know that?”Anna wanted to tell Hiram the truth about what was going to happen tomorrow, and she wanted to tell him that she knows that he’ll make a clockwork doll for Olivia. But if she did tell him, she feared that he wouldn’t believe her and thought that she was crazy. Not to mention a part of her was starting to panic and wanted to shout out and tell him to get out now before it was too late...No, now was not the time to panic, she has to think smart, and as much as she wants to tell Hiram the truth, she had to keep this a secret until the time was right, and hopefully he’ll understand. So, she made-up a believable story while giving Hiram a fake smile, shrugging her shoulders and saying, “Uhh...lucky guess. I mean, who wouldn’t want a special surprise on their birthday?” She slightly chuckled on the last part.Hiram shrugs his shoulders, Anna did make a valid point.So now, tomorrow the real story begins…And it begins with Hiram Flaversham getting kidnapped on the night of Olivia’s birthday.
Silver and Gold: Chapter 1Chapter 1: Turning Back The Hands of TimeMy mother always told me to find my own path in this world. However, the choices I make can affect those around me. But as push comes to shove, the future isn’t written in stone, but we each make our own destiny.But how does destiny work? Can fate change at the hands of time itself, or does it work in the past, present...or future?But I guess, fate is like a clock, slowly ticking away until all the hands reach towards the top, and then an unknown destiny comes at you when you least expect it...or maybe in the most unexpected ways.But about a year ago, my fate was chosen, and a destiny had already begun for me…And it all began...with a ticking sound of a clock...and the hands of time that began to turn.---One year ago…December 13, 2017 10:00 a.m. It was winter in California, the snow was raining down in the sky, but unfortunately, it didn’t stick. Once it landed on the ground it always melts, but if it was lucky enough, it might give the city about an inch or two of snow. The city was often praised for its warm and sunny weather, but winter was a whole different story. It rarely snows at a place like this. It’s freezing temperatures could almost drop close to 40, turning someone’s water bottle to ice in a matter of minutes. But luckily, today it was only 60 degrees.At the city’s shopping mall, business was a little slow, due to the fact that Christmas was right around the corner in a couple of weeks, and people were either buying gifts for their loved ones, or buying food for their own little feast for Christmas. At the shopping mall’s bakery, a young woman exits out, deciding to call it quits for today. She was around 25 years of age, her long auburn hair reached past her shoulders, and she wore a grey jacket with a hoodie, it was unzipped as it revealed her dark green sweater, blue jeans, brown boots, and had a black backpack strapped on her right shoulder.Right before she was about to walk away...she felt someone ram into her shoulder, making her yelp in startlement as she was nearly knocked off her feet. Regaining her balance, she grunted as her green eyes with a hint of grey narrowed angrily as she muttered, “Jerk…” While she was massaging her sore shoulder, her eyes widened as she gasped. She couldn’t feel the strap of her backpack that was hung on her right shoulder. Looking around, she found someone frantically running away. She couldn’t tell who it was, but she could see somebody wearing a grey beanie, pushing and shoving his way out of the crowd as she caught a dark skinned hand that was holding onto her backpack...It was being stolen by some thief!Seeing this realization she cries out “Hey!” as she gives chase.While running and pushing past the crowd, trying to catch-up with the thief as she shouted to him, “Hey stop!”Her shout didn’t prevail as the thief kept running away from her while holding onto her stolen backpack.“Help, somebody!” She shouted at the crowd while still running, hoping that somebody would catch the thief for her as she continued to shout, “Stop him, he’s got my bag!”As the thief keeps running, somebody tackles him as he falls to the ground. She slows down her running as she sees somebody finally catch the thief for her, catching her breath while sighing in relief and placing her hand on her chest. She walks over to them, the thief quickly gets up and runs away, leaving behind the bag that he took from her while she waves her fist in the air and shouts to him, “Yeah, that’s right you better run you asshole!” She looked at the person who stopped the thief and said with a smile, “Thank you so much…” Her smile quickly faded as she saw a male security guard with black hair and brown eyes, “Sir…”She didn’t like cops or security guards. No, disliking them wasn’t the right word...she downright detested them! Just because they hold a badge, they think they’re above people and are above the law, but there not.Deciding to just be nice, since he did stop that thief for her, she was about to take her bag back and thank him again, but the security guard grabs her wrist and says with a serious tone, “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.”“Why?” She asked with a confused look.She didn’t get her answer as the male security guard started dragging her by her wrist, she struggled a little as she said to him, “What’re you doing?” Again, she didn’t receive an answer as he jerks her forward and grabs her, hard by the arm, “Ow! What the hell, that hurts!”She wondered why this security guard was acting this way? But she refrained herself from struggling, for fear this security guard might hurt her again, and kept her mouth shut as he led her.---The door opened as the security guard led her to the security office, shutting the door behind him. Her eyes gazed at three other security guards, with him being the fourth, but her eyes caught a man in between them. He was middle-aged with streaks of grey hair on the sides of his head, his black hair was glossed and neatly combed back. He wore a black tuxedo suit with a white collar, grey vest with gold buttons on it, a red and yellow cravat, white cuffed gloves with golden cufflinks, and had black dress shoes. This middle-aged man was very well dressed, almost like he was going to some posh rich party or something.However, when her green eyes stared at his blue eyes...they were cold, almost like it could kill her with a single stare. It made her shiver in disgust, clearly not liking this man. She couldn’t understand why, but there was something about him that made her feel...uneasy. The atmosphere surrounding him made the warning bells in her head to go off, signaling that there was something very wrong with this man.“I found your thief, Mr. Moriarty.” The security guard said.“What!” She exclaims while whirling around and staring at the security guard who brought her with wide disbelieving eyes. “Did you just call me a thief?”The middle-aged man named Mr. Moriarty, eyed the girl up and down with those cold eyes and said, “So, this skinny little thing is the culprit?” His face looked almost disappointed...well almost, as he shook his head and continued, “I never expected such a dainty creature, to stoop such foul acts.”A dainty creature? Now there was something she never heard from anyone before. She turns to face Mr. Moriarty, clearly nervous about this man and still felt uneasy towards him. She takes a deep breath, calming down her nerves as she says to him, “Sir, there’s a bit of a misunderstanding at this. I’m not a thief. You see, a man came at me earlier and stole my bag.” She points at the security guard. “He was the one who stopped him, and I saw him do it.”“Oh,” Mr. Moriarty crossed his arms and raised a brow, clearly not convinced with her story, “and you claim that you're not a thief?”“No.” She says while nodding her head.Mr. Moriarty gives her a smug look, then motions the security guard who still had her bag with two fingers while saying, “Then you won’t mind if we take a look inside your bag?”The security guard who had her bag marched over to the desk and started to unzip it.“Wait!” She exclaims while reaching out her hand. “Some of that stuff is…” Her words fell on deaf ears as the security guard unceremoniously dumped the contents of her bag onto the desk. “...private.” She sighs in embarrassment as she covers her eyes with a single hand.As another security guard joined in, they rummaged through her stuff. The first thing they dug through the pile was her lady pad, then her wallet and tip money. They had odd looks on their faces when they found 20 pens and pencils. Wondering why she would have so many of these? Well, the unasked question was answered when they found a sketchbook, flipping through some of the pages while looking at some of her artwork as a security guard thought that these were good...for an amateur artist. However, they were only half-right on that thought. For you see, she was no amateur, but a talented artist. She planned on becoming a professional artist somewhere in the future.After one of the guards finished looking through the sketchbook, the other guard picked up an odd looking device. Pressing a button that was on it, the tip began to glow blue while the device began to buzz. This was humiliating for her, so what if she loves Doctor Who and carries a sonic screwdriver with her. Was that a crime? This was another reason she detested cops or security guards. They had no respect for other people’s property or their little secrets.Finally, after standing there watching the two security guards rummage through her stuff, a security guard turns around and shows her a stunning silver pocket watch while waving it in his hand. She hadn’t seen a pocket watch before, nor did she own one or any kind for that matter. “That’s, not mine.” She says honestly.“Really? You could have fooled me.” Mr. Moriarty says as the security guard hands him his silver pocket watch back.“I’m being serious,” She says, “That was never there in my bag, I swear.”“And you expect me to believe that story, Miss…” The security guard hands him a driver’s license that he got from her wallet. “Anna Johnson?”“Well yes, I’m telling you the truth!”“So you still claim that you're not a thief? From what I heard from your side of the story, this so-called ‘thief’, was probably a brave gentleman who was doing his civic duty by stealing back what you stole from me.”Anna’s eyes glared at that accusation, her nervousness was forgotten and her uneasiness was replaced with anger as she tried to go to him, but was held back by two security guards as she shouts angrily, “That’s bullshit! That’s bullshit right there, he probably placed that inside my bag!”“Frankly, I don’t really care, Miss Johnson.” Mr. Moriarty walks over to her. “From what I see here, you have been apprehended with a very expensive silver watch in your possession.”“But you’ve got to believe me?!” Anna says as tears were forming in her eyes. “I’m innocent!”“Not from where I’m standing.” Mr. Moriarty says as Anna sighs with a shaky breath. “However…” Anna looks up back to Mr. Moriarty as he continues, “Normally I’d have you thrown in jail for such a crime, but...I like to think of myself as a generous man. It would be a shame to see such a beautiful young woman such as yourself behind bars. Instead, I will give you an alternative.”“An alternative?” Anna says questioningly. “What’re you talking about?”Mr. Moriarty motions the two security guards to release her and stand aside as he explains, “There is another pocket watch,” He dangles the pocket watch by it’s silver chain, making Anna see her own reflection, “a golden watch similar to this one, but has the same value, and by right that watch is mine to claim.”“I don’t understand,” Anna said. “What does this have to do with me?”“Think of this as a simple errand, find the gold watch and bring it here to me. Do so and I will let you go with no charges pressed against you.” He flips open the silver watch and begins to wind it, then presses a button as it comes to life. He takes Anna’s hand and places it while saying, “Here.”Anna looked at the silver watch that was still ticking, the casing was made of beautiful fine crystal, but what also made it unique was its hands as it had diamond-shaped arrows at the end. It also had three buttons at the top, one in the middle where Mr. Moriarty pressed at, and two other buttons at the left and right side of it.“Why are you giving me this?” Anna asked suspiciously.“This watch will take you exactly where you need to go to find it.”That made no sense.“How can a watch take me where I need to go?”The man simply gave her a sleazy smile, showing off his perfectly white teeth.Anna’s ears began to pick up fast ticking as she looked at the watch, it’s hands were going so fast that it had one hand slowly go up while the other hand followed. It began to glow white, making her gasp as she was about to drop it, but Mr. Moriarty forced her hand closed over it while streaks of light began to escape from the lid of the watch. She tried to tug her hand away from his, but he held tight. “What’re you doing?! Let go of me!”“Perhaps the correct word,” Mr. Moriarty says, ignoring her protests, “would be when and not only where. This watch can take you backwards in time. So…” He lets go of her hand as the watch flipped itself back open, the hand that was spinning became a blur as the other two hands were slowly coming straight towards the top, light had encased her entire body as Mr. Moriarty finished saying, “If you want to return to this world, I’d suggest you find that golden watch.”Anna looks at the four security guards, hoping that they could at least help her, but all they did was just stand there and watch this spectacle.Turning back to Mr. Moriarty she shouts, “You're crazy!”“Crazy?” Mr. Moriarty giggles. “Oh no…” He spreads his arms out, “Mad and wicked, my dear!”Tick-Tock-Tick, was the loud sound of the watch as all the hands reached the top and the last thing that Anna heard before she was engulfed in white light...was the wicked sound of laughter from Mr. Moriarty. --- When Anna came to, she blinked and rubbed her eyes as the lights faded her vision, when she opened them again, she was standing in the middle of a large cobblestone street. “W-Where am I?” She muttered.Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock, she looks as she still holds onto the silver watch, it’s hands making a ticking sound.Her mind was wondering what this watch did, and what was that odd light that brought her here? Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt as she felt the ground rumble and shake...Was it an earthquake? She heard a horse whinny behind her as she looked behind her in puzzlement...A giant horse was racing towards her, pulling a carriage. She was about to get run over! Anna screamed and jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding the deadly clopping of hooves and the whirring of the giant wheels as she scrambles over while tightly holding onto the silver watch and presses her back against a stone wall.Anna just stood there stunned, breathing a couple of breaths while calming down her beating heart. Was it her, or did that horse and carriage look unusually...big? She looked up and around, everything was towering over her, be it the buildings or trees. It was as if she had shrunk.Wanting to know what was going on, she backs away a bit and looks at the stone wall. She figured something must be over it, so she decided to find out what was over it. Placing the silver watch in her pocket, she jumps as her hands grip the ledge and begins to slowly climb up.When she finally reached the top, she saw that there was nothing over it, but an actual smooth ground. However...her jaw drops in shock as she gasps at what couldn’t be possible...There were a bunch of mice who were dressed in fancy Victorian clothes, all of them were staring at her with a shocked expression of their own. Anna could hear them whispering and muttering to themselves like:“Is that...what I think it is?”“A small human? How is that possible?”“I have never seen one before!”“Look at those clothes! Ugh, she’s hideous!”“Should someone call Scotland Yard?”She didn’t know what was going on, or what was happening, but her mind was in a state of panic, and there was one thing her mind told her to do...She got up quickly and ran...ran like there was no tomorrow.She had no idea where she was going, her body just kept on running. Unfortunately, as she kept on running, she didn’t pay any attention as a newspaper that was flowing with the wind, crash landed on top of her, making her yelp slightly as she snapped back to reality. Grunting, Anna crawls out from under it and stands up, she walks on top of it and peers down at it...but covers her mouth with both hands as another gasp came at another shock before her...This was no ordinary newspaper, it was a London newspaper, and it was dated June 14, 1897!She didn’t just warp from the mall, she was sent back in time! But that’s impossible! Time travel! Her eyes widened at the thought of time as she remembers what Mr. Moriarty said to her:“This watch can take you backwards in time.”She takes out the silver watch from out of her pocket and flips it open. Looking at it for a second, she thought that it couldn’t be possible, this sounds too much like Back To The Future except she wasn’t Marty McFly or had a time machine.Bong! Chimed the bell of the clocktower known as Big Ben.Anna looks up as she sees the clocktower as the hour struck ten. However, something happened next that struck odd...Ding! She looks at the silver watch as it too struck ten, chiming it’s own little bell as it followed Big Ben’s bell.Bong!Ding!Bong!Ding!This was the strangest watch she had ever seen.A single drop of water fell on the crystal casing of the watch, Anna looks up as another drop of water lands on her forehead. Realizing that it was starting to rain from the dark cloudy sky, she puts the silver watch back in her pocket and pulls the hood over her head, and runs once again to wherever this path took her.--- As the rain continued to pour, Anna was drenched from head to toe in cold rainwater. She was cold, lost, alone, and wandering around the streets of London while wrapping her arms tightly around her body, shivering and coughing while sniffing her nose from being out in the rain for too long.Her mind was wondering why she deserved this? Why wouldn’t Mr. Moriarty believe her story so he wouldn’t send her through time and into a crazy world such as this? Why would she have to be shrunk down to mouse-size and be treated differently by the mice folk? Was it just some stupid coincidence, or was it just bad luck that she got herself at the wrong place at the wrong time? She didn’t know which is the worst, but the only thing she could do now was to keep moving forward and hopefully find the golden watch and get out of this place. But where could she find a golden watch in a big city such as this? For all she knew, it was hopeless.While walking through the cold rain, she spots a tree trunk with a dent beneath it. Relief came to her as she finally found shelter from the cold rain. She quickly crawled into the dent, it was rather snug and dry inside as it was untouched by the cold rain. She coughs again then sneezes while covering her mouth and sniffing. Curling herself up, she couldn’t straighten out her legs, due to the cold wind of the rain. She was trying to relax, but finding that hard as she was shivering cold. Her mind began to think of home, she really missed it including her family back home, even though she was 220 years away from her own time, she was already starting to feel homesick.As exhaustion finally caught up, her eyes began to droop and close as she finally went to sleep.

Mature Content

Circle in the Sand Part Two-CG:LD One-Shot,Hi Everyone,Here is Part Two of Circle in the Sand for you all to enjoy.Me and Makarov hope you enjoy the chapter and seeing what Akira and Nathan are heading into come Liar's Dice.Thanks very muchKind Regards,,, Akira and Nathan, having enjoyed their meals at the restaurant despite some twats from JLB Credit trying it to hit on her before seeing Nat and scrambling away, and gave their farewell to Maya and James, and made their way through Aberdeen.They strolled through the teeming streets of the city, its bustle a tangible entity that clung to the fringes of their solitude. There, nestled among the urban tapestry, was a poster - bright, unabashed, and festive - but carrying a message far beyond the yuletide sentiment.The poster was a tableau, a vibrant echo of the nations of England, Scotland, and Wales in their proud individuality, yet collectively robust. A united Ireland, too, lent its strong presence to the canvas. Representing each land were their soldiers, stoic and unyielding, their figures poised as if to trample a petite caricature of Napoleon bearing the label 'Fascism'.The caricature, its features grotesquely exaggerated, appeared to tremble beneath the stern countenances of the soldiers. It stood, dwarfed and pitiful, against the staunch dignities of the nations and their protectors, its humorous exaggeration serving only to underscore the resolve of these united lands - a resolve that resounded with fortitude, autonomy, and a stern refusal to surrender to threats against their sovereignty.Beneath the vivid tableau ran a slogan, as audacious as it was empowering: "Equality and Unity in Diversity, say 'Fuck Off, Imperialist Cunts'". The words were a challenge, a battle cry, a firm declaration of the nations' combined strength and unity. “Ever thus to tyrants and despots,” Akira said out loud as she continued to gaze at the statue.“Indeed, now if that makalka would understand that and stop gailing on about how Napoleon was this and that, that would make dealing with much less of a faffle,” Akira heard her lover say.Knowing that he was referring to a certain EU Colonel that they had known and worked with for a long time, ever since they had met in Germany during the war.Personally, she had found him a bit of drip and in love with his voice, despite his attitude for strategy and logistics that had seen his rapid rise in the ranks of firs the Greek army, then the EU’s that was made permanent after the war ended.“Yeah, still can’t believe its been nearly 200 years, since the shrimp had sunk Nellie at Trafalgar, marched right into London a few years later and raised the french flags over Tower Bridge, Westminster. Not to mention what he and his generals did to the north, and what did it our so called royals did, chicken away at Edinburgh and pissed off to leave us to be subjected for nearly half a decade. And the scots helped them to do this,” Nat said bitterly as he eyed Akira and other locals.This infuriated Akira as she gripped her free hand into a right oh fist.“Excuse me? We held off the frogs at Hardian and elsewhere for over a year, compared to you English who couldn’t even prevent Napoleon and the rest of his army from taking Southampton and surrendering without so much of a fight after the battle of Norwich, Cornwall and Portsmouth, the only victor you could muster was at Coventry, holding down London for a few months and that was only because you got Marshall Murat as he tried to make himself King of the isles at site of Camelot and go shot by his own men.” Akira thundered back.“Yeah, and did you stop Elizabeth, Ricardo and her knights from fleeing after you made her renounce the throne? No, they gave you lot the slip in the cover of night, and now we have them and the rest of the fake bloods claiming ancestry to us and laying false claimants to our history, culture because the scots let them get away at Edinburgh, so thanks for that you bas-.” Akira halting her love by putting her finger to his lips.“Enough Nat, i don’t want to get into another history debate with you after everything that has happened tonight, please drop it and let us enjoy a walk on the beach before we go back to our Lodge?”“Yes of course, sorry for going into a rant,” The two made their way through the town, as the bright lights of Christmas illuminated the way. The tensions between them still embittering as the pair slipped each other’s hands away from each other and gave a small gap between them.The silvery moon hung high in the clear night sky, casting a pale, ethereal glow over the beach. The vast expanse of sand shimmered under its light, reflecting the brilliance of the stars above. The rhythmic lull of the waves gently caressed the shore.Akira wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the cool breeze as it danced with her hair and played with the hem of her dress. The cold sand underfoot contrasted sharply with the warmth of some evening drinks that had passed. Nathan, beside her, seemed lost in thought, his silhouette a shadowy figure against the moonlit horizon.The world around them felt suspended, as if time had paused to grant them this solitary moment of reflection amidst the chaos of their lives as they sat on the thankfully dry bench.After what felt like an eternity, Nathan's voice, soft and contemplative, cut through the tranquillity. "Nights like these, they make you realize how small we really are in the grand scheme of things, don't they?"Akira glanced at him, noticing the way the moonlight caught the contours of his face, highlighting the depth of emotion in his eyes. "They do," she murmured, "And yet, amidst this vastness, our problems, our struggles, they somehow seem both insignificant and magnified."He nodded slowly, processing her words. "The universe is a paradox, isn't it? Infinite in its scope, yet every star, every grain of sand, has its place."She smiled faintly. "It's humbling and empowering at the same time. Makes you cherish moments like these."The cold sand beneath her feet and the rhythmic lull of the waves provided a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions churning within Akira. The weight of the meeting still bore heavily on her shoulders, and the moonlight shimmering over the water seemed to hold her in a contemplative trance.She could feel Nathan beside her, sense his hesitance, hear him taking a deep breath before breaking the silence. "Aki, are you satisfied with how the meeting went? With everything we discussed?"Akira didn't respond immediately. She kept walking, her pace steady, every step sinking into the sand, marking her internal journey of reflection. The world around her felt both distant and acutely present; the distant call of a seabird, the gentle swish of the waves—all seemed to amplify her introspection.The silence stretched on, and she could feel Nathan's anticipation, the air between them charged with unspoken words. Finally, she halted, her gaze fixed on the vast expanse of water before her, gleaming silver in the moon's embrace.When she turned to face Nathan, her eyes searched his—those familiar eyes that had always been her anchor, now brimming with concern and vulnerability."Do you truly wish to hear my thoughts?" Her voice wavered, a delicate balance between bitterness and an underlying need to be understood.He nodded earnestly. "I do duck. It's important to me."Drawing a shaky breath, Akira let her guard down. "All those discussions, agreements, assurances, I'm struggling, Nathan. I feel torn, and it seems like every decision is forcing me to compromise parts of myself."Akira's feet traced patterns in the cold, wet sand, the receding waves washing them away momentarily. The vastness of the sea, the shimmering dance of the moonlight on its surface, the rhythmic crash of waves - all of it felt so insignificant against the backdrop of their shared history. She exhaled heavily, her breath visible in the chilly air. "I can't help but wonder," she began, her voice carrying the weight of years of struggle, "If our beloved mother was here, would any of this have happened? Would the rape ever have happened? No, I don’t need to question it, I am confident it would have never occurred!”Akira paused, letting Nat taking in the raw intensity of her words. He let out a dry sigh, his gaze fixed on the distant stars. “Yeah well she’s not here is she Aki? She's up there," He said, pointing upwards, his tone dripping with disdain. “She’s left us all to deal with all the crap we have been dealing with while she twiddles her pebbles on Jupiter or wherever the fuck she has gone in her little world.”Akira's eyes followed Nathan's pointing finger, and for a moment, she felt a strange sense of detachment. She felt Nathan's hand close around hers, his grip tight, grounding."You know, sometimes," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, tinged with bitterness, "I wish she could see, truly see, the mess she's left in her wake. But then i remember how she’s pulled this before, pissing off for over a century and then flying back in like nothing happened. We’re just puppets for her to play and discard when she wants to."Suddenly, with a fury that startled Akira, Nathan thrust his other hand upwards, middle fingers extended in a defiant gesture aimed at the cosmos. "To hell with you you bloody slag," he spat literally into the ground.The stillness of the night was shattered as Akira's grip on Nathan tightened once she grabbed him, her fingers digging into his arm. She whirled him around to face her, her face contorted with anger. "How dare you?" she seethed, her voice barely above a whisper, yet dripping with venom. "You dare blaspheme against our 'mother'? After everything she’s done for us, she who welded us together in the first place and accepted us for who we are?"Nathan's eyes flashed, the cold intensity in them matching Akira's fury. "That woman is not our 'mother', And we met because we made our choices, not because she played matching fairies." He said, his tone cutting. "I am going to speak some hard truth’s here Akira MaClean. Whether you like it or not because we need to discuss a few things."Akira felt the force of him leaning in close as the smell of the chicken he had at the restaurant exhaled onto her face, their noses almost touching as the hairs on Aki’s skin rose."Besides, what's she going to do? She doesn't give two shits about what's happening down here. We're mere pawns in her endless bullshit as all the other children she’s had over the centuries.”Akira's pulse quickened as the conversation took an unexpected turn. Nathan's voice, faltered slightly. "You know" he began, his gaze fixed on a distant point, "It's easy for you to pass judgement, but you never had to deal with the consequences of things like I have to do."She frowned, taken aback by the sudden defensiveness in his tone. "I've never claimed the past was spotless. But at least I've tried to confront it."He let out a bitter laugh. "Confront? Like how you've confronted your issues with your mother when we went to Japan two years ago and you ran off before we rang the doorbell? Or your dad when we went to visit him?"Her face grew hot. "That's different, and you know it, My Da didn’t want or know anything about me as you bloody know," She snapped. But deep down, a pang of guilt struck her. “And what about you, what of your own mother? You never even talk about her outside of what I have dragged out of you, never even think about seeing her or introducing me to her, your partner and love to see for myself of who she is!” Akira said as she met Nat’s gaze without flinching.Nathan's eyes, however, held a shadow of pain that Aki knew all too well. "Well you know why, I've never wanted to visit my mother, not after everything that happened," He admitted, his voice laced with emotion that tugged at Akira’s own heart in turn. "The thought of facing her, of explaining us, explaining you, it terrifies me." Nat paused, taking a shaky breath. "Don’t even get me started on my father for reasons you already know, or my good for nothing sister.”For only a moment, Akira watched as his eyes closed in solemn anger. Perhaps at himself or his family? Only for it to turn and twist outwards toward her again. Akira took a deep breath in turn.“And yet you want me to go see my mother just like that? You know that’s unfair nor right of you to ask me to do.” Aki rebutted.Her eyes empathetic but also firm in letting Nat know of how he was trying to shunt her into doing what he wouldn’t do himself on this matter.“Alright your right there Aki, but this still doesn’t change the fact that once again. You’re just trying to throw all your problems onto me, and that you lean back, waiting on our so called mother to come riding in the horse she rode in on and act like she can save everyone? Gobdán!”Akira's chest heaved, anger and frustration bubbling up within her. Her voice trembled, on the verge of breaking, but her gaze never wavered. "It's not just about her," she admitted, her voice tinged with bitterness. "I'm pissed at you, Nathan. You took away my chance at vengeance against Singh, constantly making decisions on my behalf. Every time you look at me, it's as if you see a naive child you need to lecture on the basics life, not the woman who has bled beside you, who has fought just as hard, is just as knowledgeable and helped you through everything and build everything that we have today!"Nathan's face darkened. "This isn't about us," he retorted, but Akira continued, cutting him off."No," she said, her voice rising, "This is about how you've changed. How you've been gallivanting around India these past months, leaving me to fend for myself. Where were you when I needed you? Where were you when I was suffering, when Singh—"She choked on the words, tears of frustration and pain brimming in her eyes. The weight of the past events, the betrayals, the emotional upheavals, all came crashing down on her."You think I've not been there for you?" he shot back, his voice rising with every word. His eyes hardening."You, who did nothing about Singh for months? And why was that Aki? You didn’t answer my question at the hotel last weekend.”“Because-” “No i will tell you why, its because you knew if you went and beat the shit out of him or did anything to him. That the fallout would affect you, me, Bel, Eleana, Maribelle and everyone else. Get our siblings into a riot and Kayci thundering down on us.” Nat said as he circled around Akira.“And that it would give Freya, who has dealings with Singh and allies in the court a chance to humiliate you again like she did last year?” Nat continued.Akira suppressing the memory of how Freya had made her see and do things that left everyone laughing at her and still taunting her about it even today.“And because you, who constantly dumps problems onto me whenever they become too much to handle and left me hanging by vanishing for two months until Michelle basically made you contact me, didn’t want to do shit on this?"Akira flinched at his words, but Nathan continued, years of pent-up frustration and resentment clearly pouring out of his mouth. "For nearly two decades, I've been by your side, enduring, fighting, surviving. Keeping us alive against everything and everyone that has tried to kill us, humiliate us or tried it on with us. We've seen the worst of it, been through hell and back. Do you even remember the Russian war where i saved you countless times and vice versa? The things we faced together? The sacrifices we made? And yet, here you stand, accusing me of not being there for you when you haven’t been there for me at times."His breathing grew heavy, the weight of their shared history pressing down on him. "I have stood by you through every trial, every tribulation. Put up with your erratic decisions, your impulsiveness, your rage, you flaunting your flings with Jack and Mary. But now, when we're faced with an enemy not just outside but within our ranks, you decide to turn on me when you didn’t want me around?"Akira opened her mouth to respond, but Nathan cut her off, his voice cold and unwavering. "You don't get it, do you? The situation in the Order, the balance we're trying to maintain of the truce you talked me into signing up for because you didn’t want to see any of the others dying, the countless lives at stake. It's not just about you or me; it's about a cause, a vision, a future we are trying to make for us, for the people who follow us an more. You want to blame someone? Look in the mirror. Maybe you'll realize how much I've done for you, how much I've sacrificed for you, for us."Akira could see the weight of their shared history in Nathan's eyes as he exhaled deeply, his chest heaving in an effort to still the rapid thud of his heart."This ain’t the old days Aki, as much as i want them to be sometimes," he began, his voice laced with a tired resolve."I know Nat, i know it isn’t so stop talking down to me!” Akira said as she looked away at the massive oil drill ship that hogged its horns passing by glittering with red lights.The north seas and its resources keeping her home afloat, even with the sewage and pollution that she could feel in the waves. Though nowhere near the level of what she had experienced at Blackpool beach when they went there in June.“Hey, do you remember 'Bloody Tam' in Edinburgh? The one with that godawful tattoo of a kilted skeleton?" A wry smile momentarily crossed her face at the memory, as did Nat’s when she turned to face him again. "Or how about 'Lanky Leo' from East End, the mobster who thought he could double-cross us with that counterfeit money scheme with all the fake shillings and notes?"Nathan nearly let himself have a chuckle at the memory of Leo in particular. "We had our fun, took risks and stood up to those who thought they were above us. But those days, facing off against Scottish gang lords and London's underworld — those were simpler times.""Now, the stakes are different with Singh and others having connections, power that means going against them will affect us a lot more. The world is evolving all the time, and if we don't adapt with it, we'll be left behind or worse." Nathan's gaze held Akira's, emphasizing the gravity of his words. Akira could surely feel the weight of their shared history return with it all being recounted. "We have to be smarter about our battles now. Know when to hit back and when not to."Akira's eyes welled up with tears, her earlier anger withered a bit with a mix of guilt and sorrow. She wanted to speak, to apologize, to explain, but words failed her. The air between them grew thick with tension, both their faces flushed with anger. Every word exchanged laced with venom, each sentence sharper than the last. Years of shared experiences, battles fought together, and intimate moments seemed to fade in the wake of the escalating argument.The cold night air did little to cool the heat of the argument unfolding between them. Akira's voice, charged with emotion, cut through the silence. "Why do you always act like I don't know what I'm doing? Like I'm some kid you have to look out for?"Akira's breaths came out in visible puffs, revealing just how charged the atmosphere was."You weren't there, Nathaniel," she continued, her voice quivering slightly. "You weren't there for all those moments when I had to fend for myself. When I had to make decisions, sometimes life-altering ones, without your guidance. And yet, I managed. I survived and have built on the project I started in Glasgow in summer and now its taken shape here in my home."She took a step closer, her finger jabbing towards him for emphasis."Every time you question my actions, every time you doubt me, it feels like you're negating all the battles I've fought with and for you, all the scars I bear."Nathan's gaze was icy as he retorted, his voice a low growl. "And why can't you see beyond your own pride? Why drag us into situations where I'm constantly having to clean up the mess?!"They stepped closer, their faces almost touching, breaths mixing in the cold air. Akira, her eyes flashing with hurt and anger, jabbed a finger at him."You never listen! It's always about what you think is right and that you know better than everyone else!"Nathan clenched his fists, struggling to keep his voice steady. "Every time you go off without thinking, I'm the one who's left to deal with the fallout because anything I seem to say to you goes through your nose and not your ears. Can't you see how draining and unfair that is?"The tension between them grew palpable. The memories of their younger days, of arguments that turned physical, hovered at the edge of their consciousness. "Maybe if you'd stand by me instead of always playing the diplomat or knee bender, we wouldn't be in this mess." Akira's voice quivered.She notice Nat taking a shaky breath, the reality of their closeness and the looming shadows of their old violent habits sinking in. As Aki flinched for a second when Nat raised his hands to his face, as if to ready his fist to oh goddess, until she stopped him by grabbing his wrists before he could swing them as he had done in the past. Breathing heavily as Aki saw him composing himself, he removed his wrists from Aki’s grip, turning to instead throw a big rock into the sea, splashing himself with the salty sea water on all of his trouser and cowboy boots he was wearing before turning back to face Aki."Aki, Is this what we want? To tear each other apart like a pair of damn eejits?"Akira's defiance wavered, her eyes glistened as the rage started to melt away. "I don't feckin' know,I just wish—"He cut her off, his voice cracking, "I wish it too. But here we are, arguing at each other on this beach, letting the past and our bloody tempers get the best of us like all our enemies want us to."She looked away, then back into his eyes. "I'm sorry, I never wanted us to get to this damn point."Nathan nodded slowly, the anger in his eyes replaced by a deep sadness. "Tha sinn feumach air dòigh a lorg chuck. We can't keep fucking doing this." Both of them, lost in each other's gaze, knew that beneath the anger lay a deep bond and love. The challenge was finding a way to navigate their fiery personalities without burning each other in the process.The salty tang of the ocean mingled with the bitter taste of remorse. For a few heartbeats, all that could be heard was the rhythmic dance of the waves against the shore. Akira's shoulders shook with suppressed sobs, her voice a broken whisper. "Tá brón orm, Nat. I shouldn't have said those damn things." she said.She could Nathan's eyes catching the moonlight's glimmer, that drew her into a gentle embrace. "I've made my fair share of mistakes too, and I am doing everything to make amends for you. We've both spoken words, done stuff we wish we hadn't." He sighed, resting his forehead against hers. "Ach tá mé sásta go ndeir muid ár gcuid mothúchán. It's better than leaving them unsaid."She nestled her head into the crook of his neck, letting out a shaky breath. "I bloody hate that we fight like this, especially now, when there's so much feckin' at stake. But I am glad we can still speak so honestly when we need to."He sighed, his fingers gently combing through her hair. "I know, mo ghra. But it's also a testament to how passionate we are—about each other, our beliefs, our mission. We just need to channel that damned passion productively.”Akira pulled back slightly, looking up at him, her teary eyes searching his. "Can we promise, right here, right now, to never let it get this shite again?"Nathan's lips quirked into a faint smile, even as a tear trailed down his cheek. "We can promise. But we also have to put in the work. Tha sinn feumach air dòigh a lorg. Understand each other, communicate, and most importantly, listen. These are parts and package of being in a relationship which you know all too well." She nodded fervently. "I want that for both of us. I don't want to lose what we have over bloody stubbornness or pride. The gods have tested us and are making it through."He held her gaze, the intensity of his emotions laid bare. "Neither do I, lets learn from this, use it to build on what we had already. Let's face the challenges ahead of us together as we have faced others in the past."Akira smiled through her tears, taking his hand in hers. "Aontaíte."The two letting the moment linger on for what seemed like a eternity as they continued to hold hands and rest their heads together."We need to focus on the immediate future," he suddenly began again, his voice measured. "Have you thought about what breaking the truce would signify for Kayci?"She hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. "Have you? If you choose this path, can you face Kayci and explain why i want the truce to end? Why my-our cause and slight is just?"He leaned in slightly, his eyes searching hers. "I believe in the steps I'm considering, Aki. But laying it all out before Kayci, it's not just about listing reasons or appealing to emotion." "I understand where you're coming from, but remember, I know Kayci is not one to take insubordination lightly. It's not just about us. Defying the truce means drawing the wrath of not just Kayci but our other siblings as well as you would say, but i do believe that she will see why I deserve justice." Akira, her voice soft but firm, replied."I am keeping in mind how Kayci acted swiftly after Deanna and Decan embarrassed our sect." Nathan paused, the significance of their actions hanging heavily between them. "They didn't just get themselves in trouble. I know that with a single misstep, Kayci will make certain we suffer a fate no different from theirs."Akira took a deep breath, her mind racing. She remembered the gruesome fate of Deanna and Decan. Their brazen defiance had led to a chilling demonstration of Kayci's power and resolve. Their public display was a grim reminder to all that defiance came with a steep price.Nathan sighed, the weight of this history pressing down on him. "The fallout from their actions nearly broke Paulie. The paranoia, the stress and everything else led him to lose his mind and now be… in that place. That meant we had to take on of his weakened state to expose his corruption and incompetence before he got us killed.” “That move was calculated and planned. If we defy Kayci now, without a proper strategy, we risk every-."Akira held up a hand, cutting off Nathan's words. "I get it, Nathan. I do. The gravity of the situation isn't lost on me." Her voice trembled with a mixture of anger and frustration. But you have to understand, he shattered my trust, violated my very being. There has to be a reckoning for what Singh did. And when that time comes, you better be by my side, not standing in my way."Nathan looked deep into her eyes, sensing the storm of emotions brewing within her. He took a moment to choose his words carefully. "There's a bigger picture here. The Indian rebellion is paramount right now, especially with our sister Ghashmira so deeply involved and one of our allies. The Order needs it to succeed, we need it for our plan for China and Japan."Her gaze never wavered as she shot back. "I understand strategy, but what about justice? What about my right to seek retribution?"Drawing a deep breath, Nathan nodded, conceding to her point. "Look, once the Indian rebellion is settled, and we've cemented our position in Japan—especially with the access to Sumeragi Natsumi—we can revisit this." Nathan continued."Until then, we need to be smart, play our cards right and maintain the ties we have, especially with our command ship nearing completion that the Indians are funding and building with our EU contractors. I promise, I won't stand in your way when the time is right just trust me on this."Akira stared at him for a long moment. Finally, she nodded, the fire in her eyes dimming slightly but never extinguishing. "Alright, Nathan. I'll trust you. But remember your promise."“I keep my promises Aki, I don’t break my word as I have proven time and time again over the years.”The tension between them was palpable, but Akira, always one to change gears swiftly, took a deep breath and shifted the topic. Taking Nat’s hands into her own."Nathan," she began, her voice soft but firm. "There's something else we need to discuss."The sudden shift caught Nathan off-guard, and he eyed her curiously. "What's on your mind?""Our relationship," she said, meeting his gaze head-on. "Previously we have talked about... opening it up. Are we really going through with it?"His expression shifted from one of contemplation to sheer disbelief. "Now, Aki? With all that's happening and been chatting about, you wish to dive into that topic now?" There was an underlying tone of exasperation, yet she could also discern the hint of warmth and concern that always resided there when it came to matters of their heart.Undeterred, she took a step closer, the urgency evident in her voice. "Yes. In the middle of this chaos, this is real, this is us. I need to know where we stand." Akira said. Nat’s posture hesitating as they tapped their foot in the sand."We've weathered so many storms together. And while I'm not entirely against exploring new horizons in our relationship, we need to acknowledge that we have a lot to address first. Inviting someone else into this, it could just add more complexities."Her heart ached as the words left his mouth. While she understood his concerns, the desire for more, for something different, gnawed at her. "I understand that. But life doesn't wait. I want to savour every moment of it. With you, and potentially with others."His expression became even more earnest."But consider our position, our roles, our responsibilities, the world we are enmeshed in. Introducing another person into this would endanger them, expose them to the myriad risks we face daily. Can you bear the weight of that and something happening to them?"Akira's gaze became intense, her eyes revealing a mix of mischief and determination. "You can't hide your feelings from me. Not after all we've been through. I've seen how your eyes linger on those magazine photos of Haru. And let's be honest, those sources you've been so keenly reviewing?" She smirked, arching an eyebrow."It's not just the articles you're interested in."She stepped closer, her voice dripping with seduction. "Don't even pretend, darling. The idea of having Haru, both of us, together with him. It's tempting, isn't it?" She circled him, her fingers grazing his arm. "Just think about it. The three of us, lost in passion, exploring each other's desires. I want him too, Nathan. To feel him, to taste him. And I can tell you crave the same."Akira noticed how Nathan swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry and this teeth biting his lip intensely. She felt herself relish in the moment as a pleasant wave of euphoria danced over her head, as if she could physically feel her brain sending out the signals of satisfaction. The image she painted was tantalizing, but he was ever the pragmatist. "As much as the idea, intrigues me," Nat admitted as Aki noticed his cheeks slightly flushed and his hand rubbing his neck. "We must remember Haru is his own person. We don't know if he even swings that way or would even like us."Akira tilted her head, her lips curling into a playful grin. "From the little whispers I've heard from my sources in Japan, our dear Haru might just be open to the idea. And about Sumeragi Natsumi," She said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "From what we've gathered, she seems the adventurous type and is very interested in taming a snake like the wolf she is."Nathan sighed, "Even if all this is true, Aki, we can't just dive headfirst without considering their feelings, their boundaries."“There are just some new things, I want to taste for myself. Like…” She pouted slightly,"A woman, another man, a fellow trans sibing or possibly anybody else that tickles us, it sounds enticing, doesn't it? I need this, Nathaniel. After everything, I deserve a bit of happiness, of satisfaction. And you owe me this. It's part of making amends.""I do owe you. But if we're going down this path, it has to be done right. With respect, patience, and mutual understanding. Our relationship, their feelings. These things are delicate. We can't just charge ahead without thought when our relationship still needs loads of work." Nathan replied softly.Meeting her gaze as his demeanour became softer.Akira paused, taking a deep breath as her thoughts drifted to a more personal longing."Beyond all the schemes, the politics and so on, I want something more intimate, more permanent," she began, her voice softening, filled with raw emotion.Nathan looked at her, a little puzzled, his brow furrowing in gentle confusion."I've been dreaming of it for a while now," Akira continued, her eyes misty with the imagery she painted. "A home, nestled in the picturesque highlands of Scotland. A safe haven where the air is crisp, where the lakes reflect the vastness of the sky, and where time seems to slow down. A place where we—along with those we hold dear—can escape from the burdens of our duties, from the never-ending cycle of missions and responsibilities."She turned to face him, her eyes searching his, seeking some form of validation or acknowledgement. "I want a place where love isn't restricted by labels or duties. Where you and I, and anyone we choose to bring into our lives, can find solace and peace."Akira knew that she had gotten him by the fact he restrained himself to silence, as it showed how her words finally washed over him. She examined his expression as he failed to hide the surge of warmth, an unexpected rush of feelings that he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge.Suddenly, with a resolve that seemed to surprise even her, Akira dropped to one knee on the cool, soft sand beneath them. There was a spark of joy inside of her, at the sight of Nathan's eyes widened in surprise as she presented the box she had been carrying with her all evening. "Akira?" he whispered, voice filled with shock and wonder.She held her gaze steady, determination burning in her eyes. “I've been working tirelessly behind the scenes, pushing for legislation in the Scottish Parliament since i know the English one won’t consider it. Soon, gay and trans marriages will be recognized and celebrated. So," She took a deep breath, her voice slightly shaky but filled with love and conviction. "Will you, once it's all official, marry me? Will you be with me, in our Scottish haven, bound not just by duty but by law and love?"Akira watched as Nathan's gaze dropped, his defences clearly waning. It was a side of him she seldom saw: pure, raw vulnerability. His deep breath wavered, every ounce of his insecurity and self-doubt seemed to rise to the surface."You know," he began, his voice barely more than a whisper."Every time I've faced danger, every wound, every scar, I've always told myself it's what I deserve. That I'm... broken. That there's something inherently wrong with me." His fingers clenched involuntarily, and she could sense the storm of emotions raging within him.A memory surged in Akira's mind, a night when she had bared her heart to him, and his reaction had been one of disbelief and confusion. "When you told me how you felt, I couldn't understand," Nathan confessed. "I couldn't fathom why someone like you would want someone like me. Why you'd choose a broken man, damaged by his past, cursed with a condition that everyone took issue to, and so unsure of his worth or of being loved."Her heart ached, hearing the pain in his voice. She took a step closer, instinctively wanting to comfort him. "Nat," she murmured, her own voice thick with emotion, "I see you. Not the masks you wear, not the walls you've built. But you. And every day, I choose you, not in spite of your flaws, but because of them."His eyes, normally so guarded, shimmered with unshed tears. "Aki, I'm trying. I want to be better, for you, for us. But these walls, they're all I've known. Breaking them down, it's terrifying."She reached out, cupping his face gently, feeling the dampness of his skin. "I know," she whispered back. "But you're not alone. We'll face this together. Just like we always have.""I'll marry you," he continued, the gravity of his decision evident in his voice, "but we need to be partners in every sense of the word. It's not just about being there for the good times, but also sharing the burdens, the responsibilities. If we're going to build a life together, I need you by my side, equally invested in everything we do."She swallowed hard, her heart racing. "I promise, Nathan. I promise."Nathan's face softened, a smile playing on his lips. "And about the house, I've never cared for opulence or grandeur. We've lived in the shadows for so long, blending in, staying discreet. I don't need a mansion. All I ask for is something that feels like home, that's sensible and comfortable. No need for extravagant displays."Akira laughed softly, a touch of relief in her voice. "Trust you to bring practicality into a romantic moment. But I get it. We'll find something that's just right for us."He pulled her into an embrace, the two of them taking solace in each other's presence, their future unfolding before them with a promise of love, challenges, and shared dreams.Akira felt the cool night air envelop her as she stood side by side with Nathan, the rhythmic lapping of the waves creating a soothing backdrop to their exchange. As she glanced over, she could see the weight of their responsibilities reflected in Nathan's eyes, even as he stared out at the vast ocean before them."We've got a packed schedule," Nathan began, the professional tone in his voice breaking her reverie. "Our rendezvous with Kayci is in just a few days."She nodded, her mind already going over the preparations she had made."I've been gearing up for it."Nathan hesitated momentarily, as if debating whether to continue. "There's more Aki. After Kayci, we've been approached for another key meeting.""Who?" She enquired."Hui and her team. They're eager to discuss matters with us and with Oboro who I made direct contact while in India.""Hui? Really? Everything is moving faster than I suspected.” "The specifics are coming together. But it seems they're heavily invested in preparing for the likely fallout of her parents stepping down next year.”"Beyond that, I would also love to have you accompany me to my next trip to India."She felt a mix of emotions: uncertainty, intrigue, and a hint of reluctance. "India, It feels too soon to go back. But if you believe it's crucial, then there must be merit to it."Nathan's eyes held a sincere plea. "This is also an opportunity, Aki. Meeting the hijra, understanding their plight, and grasping why they champion India's cause so fiercely might offer a fresh perspective. And for you to broaden your connections as you want to."“As is when you go onto Japan once we are done in India.” Nathan said, catching Akira by surprise.“Japan?” Aki tined her head at Nat.“Yes, Japan, as I need to attend to matters here like my investments in Newcastle now Osei wants a picture of the action since i have been away the last few months. And to set everything up with the EU on our operation for Asia. I also need to head to Britannia to meet with Michelle on a certain matter that ties into our plans for Japan.”“And what will I be doing in Japan?” Akira asked Nathan.Raising an eyebrow as she wondered why she was to head to Japan without him when they had just reunited.“Well getting everything ready, setting up our bases of operations. Introduce yourself Sumeragi Natsumi in person, Haru as well and assess them, along with making contact with local groups and people amendable to us and our sect.” “I will explain more in India, but consider this Aki, me trusting you with taking the lead on what is our biggest project ever as you have been asking for.”Akira saw her love becoming more serious as he gazed at her.“This whole situation in China and Japan will determine our future, we can either cement our legacy, reputation and secure ourselves for life, or we can collapse into ruin and be confined to history as Dimitri and his whole sect in Russia."Aki felt the warm hands of her love grasping both cheeks softly.“I need you gráto become the person you have always meant to be, not when W gets back, not tomorrow, now!” Nat said as the strokes of her his hands smoothed Aki’s fingers.Little smudges of her powder rubbing off his hands as he removed them from her cheeks.Akira taking everything he had said into her head.She pondered over his words, letting the gravity of the situation sink in. With resolve, she finally agreed, "Okay, Nathan. I'll accompany you and then go to Japan. But remember, this is for our cause, for the mission, and for the people who depend on us and i trust you to trust me to sort everything out my way with Natsumi and Haru and everything else there."A hint of a smile appeared on Nathan's face, bringing a fleeting moment of warmth. "That's all I ever ask."The world beyond them blurred into insignificance as Akira found herself irresistibly drawn towards Nathan. Their lips met, and within that fleeting contact, a torrent of emotions surged — strength, love, affirmation. With the ocean stretching endlessly ahead and the boundless sky above, she felt as though they were the sole inhabitants of this vast world, anchored by their shared bond. The waves seemed to roar in harmony with her racing heart, while the gentle breeze appeared to echo her whispered thoughts.Feeling Nathan's thumb caress her cheek, she gazed into his eyes, seeking the depths of his soul. "Every trial, every challenge has only made us stronger, more resilient," he murmured, his gaze intense.She nodded, her own emotions swirling within. "We've weathered the fiercest storms, scaled insurmountable heights, and plunged into profound depths. As long as we're together, I believe there's nothing we can't overcome."His lips quirked into a familiar smirk, that glint of mischief she adored so much shining in his eyes. "Our bond has been forged in fire and tested in tempests. With you, Aki, I feel as if we can conquer any adversity."A soft laugh escaped her as she pressed her forehead to his, their breaths mingling. "Then let's march into our future with heads held high and hearts full of hope. Because together, we truly are a force to be reckoned with."With that shared sentiment echoing between them, she wrapped her arm around his waist, drawing strength from his presence as they made their way back to their lodging. ____________The whispering silence of the temple corridor enveloped Akira as she walked, her heels clicking against the ancient stone floor with a rhythmic precision. Her outfit, a tastefully tailored ensemble of rich silks and intricate embroidery, flowed elegantly around her. Every piece she wore was a testament to her keen sense of fashion—a vibrant display of colours and patterns that drew the eye.The luxurious fabric swished with every step, catching the soft glows of the temple's luminescence, making her stand out even in this place of profound history. Her statement necklace, adorned with jewels that glinted in the dim light, was a reflection of her prosperity and her penchant for indulging in life's finer things.Yet, even amidst this personal showcase, Akira was acutely aware of the weight of history around her. The soft mutterings of distant voices floated on the cool underground air, every word spoken with a deep reverence that was almost palpable. It was a stark contrast to the bustling life above in the city of London. Down here, in this hidden sanctum, time seemed suspended, and history was alive in every stone and every shadow.Akira's eyes were drawn to the intricate symbols that decorated the temple walls, their soft blue glow creating an almost otherworldly ambiance. These markings, echoing the mysterious tree from an ancient legacy, seemed to be embedded deep within the temple's foundations, pulsating as if echoing an ancient rhythm. Every now and then, a shimmer would ripple through, reminiscent of a living heartbeat. To Akira, it felt as though the temple itself had a life, its core tied to an ancient power she and Nathan were oddly familiar with.Nathan, walking by her side, seemed lost in his thoughts. Yet Akira could sense his alertness, his gaze occasionally drifting to analyse one symbol or another, perhaps trying to decipher some deeper meaning or history they held.As they continued on, the pathway opened to reveal the entrance of the gateway towards the thing that was the biggest sanctity of their order. There was an undeniable aura of grandeur that emanated from it. Monumental doors, crafted from a material unfamiliar to Akira, towered before them. The surfaces of these doors were adorned with intricate carvings and runes, each telling a story older and more enigmatic than any she had encountered. While she couldn't place its origin, the door felt like a sentinel of history, guarding secrets and memories from time immemorial. It had a unique aura,Yet, what truly captured Akira's soul wasn't just the grandeur of the door but the profound aura of the temple itself. Beneath the modern world, in this sanctum of ancient power, resided Kayci, the undying priestess. Legends spoke of her agelessness, of how she'd made this temple her abode for countless centuries, standing as both guardian and guide to the teachings of the Celtic sect.The deeper they ventured, the more Akira felt the weight of the ages pressing down upon her. The temple wasn't merely a structure of stone and magic but a living testament to the timelessness of their order, and to the eternal watchfulness of Kayci.Images of Brigid, the goddess of fire, poetry, and healing, along with Lugh, the master of crafts, were intricately etched into the stone walls, their eyes seeming to follow her every movement, watching, judging, weighing her worthiness.As Akira and Nathan stepped into the main chamber, the vastness of the room took their breath away. High ceilings seemed to stretch endlessly, adorned with intricately woven tapestries that depicted ancient Celtic lore. The chamber's floor was made of polished stone flooring, which reflected the shimmering blue symbols, making it seem as though they were walking amidst a sea of glowing constellations.In the heart of this expanse stood Kayci. A vision of ethereal beauty, she was the very embodiment of ancient power and grace. Her golden locks cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall of liquid sun, contrasting with the deep green of her eyes, which held the mysteries of millennia. She was draped in a resplendent gown. Its design was a tapestry of deep blues, soft reds and vibrant golds, adorned with patterns and symbols of her heritage. The gown was belted at the waist with a finely wrought golden ornamentation, and from her shoulders hung a heavy cloak, lined with fur and fastened with a brooch in the shape of the celtic knot. Her presence was both majestic and commanding, demanding reverence and awe.Flanking her were her chosen priests, all women of varying ages, their attire reflecting their dedication to the Celtic order. Their dresses were simpler than Kayci's but no less elegant, each tailored to symbolize their personal journey within the sect. They stood in solemn silence, their gazes fixed on the newcomers, assessing and evaluating.Akira felt the weight of their scrutiny but refused to let it intimidate her. She stepped forward, and in fluent Celtic Gaelic, greeted Kayci, "Kayci a ghrá, is mór an onóir é bheith anseo."Kayci's eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and respect. "Daughter Akira, Son Nathaniel," she responded, her voice melodic yet commanding, “You are most welcome. I've been expecting your visit.”Nathan, ever the diplomat, bowed slightly, his voice steady as he replied,”It's an honor to be in your company, Kayci. We hope our meeting will be fruitful.”The initial formalities set the tone, but both Akira and Nathan knew that beneath the courtesies lay the potential for both collaboration and conflict. Akira could feel the undercurrent of tension as she and Nathan stood before the ethereal presence of Kayci, the priestess who was as enigmatic as the temple she ruled. "Well, then," Kayci began, her voice weaving around them, reminiscent of ancient songs sung under moonlit nights. It held a timeless quality, as if the very essence of the Celtic woods whispered through her words. "You have come during pivotal days."Nathan's stance was one of deference, but the underlying strain between him and Kayci was undeniable Akira knew. "With all due respect, Priestess," he began, choosing each word with caution, "We had hoped for your guidance during the meeting. Akira had specifically reached out, believing your perspective would be invaluable."Kayci's usually serene face momentarily betrayed her displeasure. Her eyes, deep pools of wisdom, hardened slightly. "This temple, its heritage, and the duties it bequeaths upon me are of utmost importance," she replied, emphasizing her role and responsibilities. "However, I had every confidence in your abilities to navigate the situation."As Akira observed the exchange between Nathan and Kayci, she could feel the air grow heavy with the unsaid and the underlying politics of their delicate relationship. The history shared between them was complex, like the intricate patterns etched on the temple walls, and it was clear that any misstep could be consequential. Akira sensed the conversation teetering on the brink of confrontation. Eager to diffuse the mounting pressure and shift the focus, she stepped in, her voice carrying the weight of her recent decisions. "Fear-comhairle, we managed to reach an agreement with the Indians," she began, her voice firm yet diplomatic. Beneath the surface, the smoldering embers of her resolve for retribution remained, hidden from view but still burning brightly. "We hope it aligns with the interests and vision of the temple."Beneath her calm facade, Akira's emotions churned. The memories of the affronts she'd suffered were fresh, and the desire for vengeance was a fire that refused to be extinguished. However, she recognized the importance of presenting a united front, especially in this hallowed space."Our primary objective is to ensure the temple's interests and its age-old vision are upheld. I believe our recent actions resonate with that aim." She carefully chose her words, hoping to communicate her dedication to the cause while also subtly hinting at the personal motivations driving her decisions.Akira, intuitive as always, could sense the piercing scrutiny behind Kayci's gaze. She could feel Kayci's skepticism, a tangible entity that threatened to undermine their precarious understanding.Kayci leaned in slightly, her voice dripping with a mix of concern and suspicion. "Akira," she began, every word measured and deliberate, "You know as well as I do the weight of the promises we make, the significance of truces in our world. I cannot help but sense, a lingering desire for revenge. Are there any hidden agendas I should know about?"Akira met Kayci's probing gaze with unwavering determination. She took a deep breath, reminding herself of the importance of the greater mission, the legacy of the temple and its role in the larger scheme of things. "I understand the concerns," she began, her voice even but laden with emotion. "But you have my word, the mission's interests have always been, and will always be, my top priority. Personal vendettas will not cloud my judgement." She had to put on her best acting face and she believed she had succeeded in this.There was a pause, the silence speaking louder than words, as Kayci continued to search Akira's eyes for any hint of deceit. The two women, each powerful in her own right, were locked in a silent battle of wills.As Kayci let out the weary exhale, her stern, authoritative demeanour softened momentarily, revealing a glimmer of the ancient wisdom and weariness she carried. The vast chamber seemed to absorb her sigh, echoing its sentiment back in silent resonance. "So, then," her voice flowed like a gentle stream."I've seen many come and go, promises made and broken. It's never a matter of just wanting to believe, it's about the very fabric of our existence." Her gaze intensified, holding Akira captive. "This world of ours, it thrives on a delicate balance of trust. It's the bedrock upon which everything stands. If the truce is shattered, the aftershocks won't be limited to just you or Nathan. The very foundation we've fought for, bled for, will crumble."Akira, with every fiber of her being attuned to Kayci's words, could feel their weight pressing upon her chest. Her usual fiery spirit tempered by the gravity of the moment, she lifted her chin, meeting Kayci's ancient eyes with a resolve born from conviction. "I've always been aware of the responsibilities that come with our roles," she began, each word chosen with care. "And I promise you, I won't be the one to let everything we've built falter."There was an earnestness in Akira's reply, a raw vulnerability that belied the fierce warrior she often portrayed. It was as if, in that moment, she was baring her very soul, seeking not just Kayci's trust but her understanding.A subtle shift in Kayci's posture, a slight loosening of her shoulders, hinted at a momentary respite from the weight of suspicion. The room, which had felt so cold and oppressive, seemed to breathe a little easier. Just as Akira was preparing to continue, Nathan stepped forward, his voice firm yet respectful."We've taken every necessary step with the Indians Kayci," he began, lending his own support to Akira's claims. "Our interactions have been above board and for the benefit of everyone involved."Kayci's gaze, once again frosty, darted towards Nathan. "I do not recall asking for your assurance, son Nathan," she replied icily. "My faith was with both of you. My responsibilities here, in the Temple, mean that I must place trust in my subordinates. I had every confidence that you two could handle the task at hand." She paused, letting her words hang heavily in the air. "And from what I gather, you did. So why belabor the point?"But Nathan, who Akira knew had wished to protect and advocate for his and Akira's shared mission, wasn't ready to back down. His stance squared, and there was a hint of challenge in his eyes as he responded. "With all due respect, Kayci, you may have faith in us, but you also know the importance of the alliances we maintain. The other sects look for any chink in our armor, any sign of weakness. It's no secret that they'd seize any opportunity to diminish us, and in many ways, it's through our efforts that they're kept at bay."Akira, sensing another potential clash, quickly interjected, placing a placating hand on Nathan's arm. "We understand your position, Kayci," she said softly, trying to defuse the situation. "And we appreciate your trust. Nathan's only highlighting our collective efforts to ensure the security and prosperity of our order."With a deep breath, Kayci considered them both. While the tension hadn't entirely dissipated, the understanding between them had deepened.Akira could feel the shift in the room's energy, a palpable intensity as Kayci broached their next mission. "Is everything in place for Asia?" Kayci inquired, her eyes sharp and probing."Yes," Nathan promptly affirmed, sharing a quick glance with Akira. "Our preparations are on track, and we're set to head out as planned."Kayci nodded, her fingers drumming thoughtfully on the table's surface. "Good. Asia, especially Japan, is of paramount importance to us now. There are artifacts of great significance there," she said, her gaze fixated on Nathan."Including a book you've been particularly keen on retrieving for quite some time."Akira listened intently, acutely aware of the gravity of their task ahead. "We understand the stakes, Kayci. We won't disappoint you," she chimed in, her voice laced with determination.Kayci's gaze then rested on Akira, a rare hint of warmth seeping into her eyes. "Akira, I want to entrust you with a significant role. You've proven yourself time and time again, and I believe you're ready for the next step," Kayci began, the weight of her words not lost on the younger woman. "I've chosen you to be one of our Great Divine’s next true heirs. With this honour comes responsibility. You will take under your wing an apprentice from the order, someone to guide and mentor, just as Nathan has with great esteem and to his own prestige."Akira, caught slightly off-guard, felt her heart rate accelerate, her mind racing to process the magnitude of Kayci's proclamation. Kayci's voice resonated through the vast hall, reaching every corner, making sure every ear heard her words. "The lineage of our bloodline is one of immense power, influence, and most importantly, responsibility. Our order has seen many come and go, but only a select few are deemed worthy of such a title."Silence descended, a collective breath held by the assembly, awaiting Akira's response. She felt Nathan's gaze on her, but she couldn't discern his emotions from the brief glance they shared."And Akira," Kayci continued, her eyes never wavering from the younger woman's face, "You've displayed unparalleled dedication, skill, and loyalty. From the frontlines of political conflict to the intricate dealings behind closed doors, your actions have made a resounding impact."As Kayci's declaration settled, Nathan spoke up. His voice, though low, carried an underlying current of pride. "Akira has always been exceptional," he said simply, leaving no room for doubt.Akira, her throat tight with emotion, managed to respond."I'm honored, Kayci. And I promise to uphold the responsibilities and traditions of our order."The room's ambient hum slowly quieted down as Kayci's attention shifted from Akira. With a flourish of her hand, she gestured to a shadowy alcove on the side of the chamber. From it, a figure stepped forth, drawing several gasps from the assembly.The new arrival was an enigma, cloaked in the pristine white uniform of the order, her face obscured by a white mask. The design of the mask was intricate, adorned with spirals and knots reminiscent of ancient Celtic art. One would not have been able to determine their gender at first very easily, but Akira could not help but notice the womanly hips and the measured elegance of each step. Her stance was confident, yet reserved, as if she was both proud and humbled by her new role. The twin blades she wore by her side whispered promises of skill and finesse, glinting softly in the dim light.Yet it was her eyes that drew Akira in the most. They were a deep shade of blue, so striking that they almost seemed unnatural. These eyes, combined with the fair hair cascading down her back, presented the image of a classic beauty. But Akira could sense there was more than met the eye, the contact lenses and the hair almost certainly a disguise. Who was this woman, and why was her true identity hidden?Kayci, noting the reactions of her audience, began her introduction."I am pleased to introduce Aislinn," she announced, her voice tinged with pride. "She has been under my guidance for years, proving herself time and time again in trials most would balk at. I believe her to be the perfect candidate to train under Nathan."Aislinn, or the woman behind the disguise, dipped her head slightly, acknowledging Kayci's words. When she spoke, her voice was melodic, carrying an edge of steel. "I am honored by the faith placed in me," she began."And I vow to serve the order and learn under AntUasal Andre with utmost dedication.""I look forward to working with you and showing you the vastness of our work and of the world we live in," Nathan stated, his voice neutral but firm. "Welcome, Aislinn."The energy in the room had not yet settled from Aislinn's introduction when Kayci turned her attention to the other side of the chamber. With a graceful sweep of her hand, another figure emerged from the shadows. Unlike Aislinn's stark white uniform, this individual wore muted tones of forest greens and midnight blues, blending seamlessly with the dim ambiance of the temple.The figure was strikingly androgynous, with long, golden hair that cascaded in waves down to their mid-back, reminiscent of an elegant horse’s mane. Their facial features were delicate, almost elfin, with high cheekbones, a slender nose, and a hint of a mischievous smile playing on their lips. They wore robes adorned with intricate Celtic knotwork, and on their fingers, they sported rings embedded with shimmering gems that caught the temple lights.The entire assembly seemed captivated by this enigmatic figure, and Akira herself couldn't help but be intrigued. She had been unaware of whom her apprentice would be and was pleasantly surprised by the choice.With a voice dripping with pride, Kayci introduced the newcomer. "Esteemed members, allow me to introduce you to Niamh," she announced, her voice echoing in the silent chamber. "A prodigy in their own right and someone I believe to be the perfect match for Akira's guidance."Niamh stepped forward, their movements fluid, their demeanor calm and self-assured yet approachable. They gave a nod of acknowledgement to Akira, and when they spoke, their voice was a gentle baritone, carrying an air of wisdom beyond their years. "I am grateful for this opportunity and look forward to learning and serving under Akira's tutelage," they said, their gaze unwavering.Akira nodded in acknowledgement, feeling a growing respect for the individual chosen to be her apprentice. "I expect we'll achieve great things together, Niamh."As the ambient sounds of the chamber gradually settled, Kayci's gaze swept over the assembled priests and members. The grandeur of her aura was palpable, an unspoken command emanating from her very being."Everyone," she began, her voice calm yet resonating with authority, "You may leave us now."The room tensed. It was customary for Kayci to hold post-ceremonial discussions with her trusted aides, but to exclude everyone, even the newly introduced apprentices, was unprecedented.Murmurs of curiosity rippled through the crowd, though they were hushed and subdued. Aislinn and Niamh, despite being the center of attention just moments ago, retreated discreetly, their expressions inscrutable, though Niamh's eyes betrayed a hint of curiosity. The remaining priests exchanged puzzled glances but didn’t voice their thoughts. In the presence of Kayci, it was often wiser to observe in silence than to question aloud.The heavy, ornate doors of the chamber began to close, their slow, deliberate movement mirroring the exit of the last of the temple's occupants. The echo of footsteps faded, replaced by an almost suffocating stillness. The vast expanse of the room, which moments ago had been filled with murmurs and subtle movements, now felt stark and isolating.Akira, ever observant, noticed the marked shift in Kayci's demeanor. The ageless priestess, who always carried herself with a regal poise, now bore a more serious, contemplative expression.Nathan shifted slightly, sensing the impending gravity of their conversation. With only the three of them present, surrounded by the eternal walls of the temple and shrouded in the room's dim glow, a new chapter was about to unfold — one that promised revelations, challenges, and perhaps even conflicts. Akira steeled herself for whatever lay ahead, her heart echoing the rhythm of uncertainty and determination.The intensity that once gripped the room shifted as Kayci's posture relaxed. Moving with a grace, she glided over to a corner of the room, where a beautifully crafted wooden table stood. Atop the table lay an assortment of old-fashioned glass bottles, stoppered and sealed with wax, and an array of herbs and spices.Akira's eyes followed Kayci, observing her every move. The usually stoic leader of their sect was displaying a side rarely seen: a more personable, almost nostalgic demeanor. It was disarming, given the setting and the weight of their earlier interactions.Nathan noticed Kayci reaching for one of the bottles filled with a deep amber liquid. "Kayci," he began with a respectful tone, "I appreciate the gesture, but I must decline.”Kayci paused for a moment, holding the bottle up to the dim light, the liquid inside shimmering mysteriously. "It's not just any drink," she replied softly, her voice holding a hint of sentimentality."It's a traditional Celtic beverage, passed down through generations. Its origins trace back to our ancient forebears, who believed it to be a drink of the gods, capable of connecting one to the very spirit of the land."Akira, despite her initial reservations, found herself intrigued. The ritualistic nature of Kayci's actions, the care she took in measuring out herbs, pouring the liquid, and gently stirring, all hinted at the importance of the drink. "What is it called?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.Kayci smiled faintly. "It's known as 'Uisge Beatha', which translates to 'Water of Life'. It's more commonly known today as whiskey. But this," she held up the bottle."is a rare blend, infused with herbs that our ancestors believed held spiritual properties."She poured a measure into a carved wooden cup and extended it to Akira. "It's said to soothe the soul, bring clarity to the mind, and, on occasion, open doors to ancient memories."Akira hesitated for a moment, the weight of Kayci's words and the history of the drink pressing upon her. But seeing the genuine effort Kayci was putting into this gesture, she decided to accept, taking the cup gently. "Thank you," she murmured, taking a tentative sip. The flavors were rich, deep, and complex, immediately warming her from within.The amber glow of the drink contrasted sharply with the cool, ethereal ambiance of the temple chamber. Kayci tilted the bottle slightly, the liquid catching the soft light, creating mesmerizing reflections. "Nathan," she began again, her voice smooth, almost coaxing, "Are you certain you wouldn't want to partake? Just a sip, to honor our shared history?"Nathan's eyes, usually so guarded, met Kayci's directly. "As I've said, Priestess," he began patiently, "No thanks."A playful smirk played at the corners of Kayci's lips. "You know, it's not a sacred rite or ritual to drink this. I'm merely enjoying the rare pleasure of your company and trying to offer something from our shared heritage."Nathan's gaze softened. While Akira knew he often found himself at odds with Kayci, especially when it came to matters of the sect, he couldn't deny the ancient bond they shared, rooted in tradition and the complex tapestry of their Celtic lineage. "I respect and value the history behind it," he conceded, his tone warm, "I'm well aware of the significance. Accept your offer and apologies for any slight offence i may have committed.”Kayci, sensing the sincerity in his voice, gave a gentle nod. "Fair enough," she murmured, taking another sip from her cup, savoring the richness of the flavors.And then passing the cup to Nat, who took it, drank enough to fill his out and swallowed it whole in one go. Coughing a fair bit afterwards, that made Akira pat his back in support. Knowing how much this was affecting him.Amidst the simple exchanges and unspoken histories, Akira's discerning eyes caught on to something else altogether: the underlying power play. It wasn't about the drink at all. It was a game, a dance of dominance, trust, and loyalty.With every nuanced gesture and word, Kayci was probing, testing the waters of their allegiance and the boundaries of their individual principles. Akira was no stranger to such strategies; she'd used them herself in the high-stakes world of political and personal maneuvers. As she replayed the scene in her mind, she realized that Kayci had likely anticipated Nathan's refusal. She had presented the drink not to genuinely offer a shared cultural experience, but to see if he would compromise his personal beliefs, his very identity, for the sake of appeasing her. And in standing his ground and then accepting the branch offed, Nathan had, perhaps unwittingly, reaffirmed his integrity in Kayci's eyes.Akira took a deep breath, feeling the drink's warmth spread through her. She hadn't voiced her thoughts or reservations before accepting, having decided to trust Kayci in this instance. In doing so, she too had passed Kayci's test. By not overthinking or seeking assurances, Akira demonstrated her faith in Kayci's intentions and her own unwavering stance within their dynamics.It was a silent game of chess, and every move counted. Kayci's subtle tactics weren't lost on Akira. She realized they were continuously being evaluated, their actions and decisions scrutinized to determine their places in this intricate hierarchy.But Akira also knew this: she and Nathan had proven themselves once more.Kayci, her eyes piercing yet unreadable, fixed her gaze upon the duo. The weight of her stare pressing upon them like a tangible force, signaling that what she was about to address was of the utmost importance."Your successes and strategies have been commendable so far," Kayci began, her voice steady. "But you both are on the precipice of something far greater, far more intricate than anything you've faced before." She paused, letting her words sink in, allowing the gravity of her statement to wrap around them."The mission in Asia isn't just another task, another challenge," she continued, leaning forward. "It's tied to the very roots, the foundational pillars of the powers that be." Her utterance of the name seemed to reverberate within the chamber, emphasizing its importance.Nathan gave a slight nod, acknowledging the weight of Kayci's words. But Akira sensed a flicker of unease in his demeanor. The implications of what was expected of them weren't lost on either party.Kayci brought her hands together, her fingers intertwined. "This mission will test you both, not just in terms of your abilities, but your loyalties, your judgments, and your very convictions. It will demand more from you than you might anticipate. But I trust," she said, her eyes locked onto theirs, "That you understand the magnitude and will act accordingly."Nathan cleared his throat, breaking the weighty pause. "Priestess, you have entrusted us with this task, and we fully understand its importance, whatever it may be. You have our word; we won't let you down."Kayci smiled, but it was a smile tinged with melancholy. "I have watched both of you grow, evolve, and rise to every challenge thrown your way. From the streets of London to the treacherous political landscapes abroad, you've proved time and again that you are worthy. I wouldn't have chosen you for this task if I had any doubts about your capabilities or dedication."Inside of Akira’s chest, there is a flutter of emotions, a strange marriage of both surprise, dread and dissonant excitement.Akira stood there for a moment, absorbing the weight of it all. The walls around them, bathed in the blue hue of the ancient symbols, seemed to reverberate with the history of those who had come before them, their sacrifices, their triumphs, and their failures.Next to her, Nathan took a deep breath. His usual composed demeanor was tinged with a rare vulnerability. Kayci, observing them from her position, gave a slight, approving nod. Her faith in them was evident. "The path you tread will be challenging," she intoned, her voice echoing with a gravitas that silenced the chamber. “But remember, the brightest flames are born from the greatest challenges. You two are the vanguard of our order, and I believe in you."She stepped back, her figure about to merge with the ambient glow of the chamber. The heavy doors of the chamber began to close. Akira watched as Kayci, turned one last time before stepping way, to give the order. “I am trusting you both to deal with the Sumeragi Legacy."And with that, she walked as the doors closed behind her, sealing her away from the world once again and the pair alone in the temple.
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Literature
Solitary

Solitude, the state of being loneliness 
Not felt by him, her and them 
but one who loved 
or used to love 
A feeling of being loneliness
only felt when the existence of love 
is missing in one's soul 
But yet many cry
for they are in solitude 
but yet many fail to understand
only the loving ones can 
loneliness is only possible
if one is left alone 
after being stripped of his or her love 
the most precious thing 
the most powerful thing
:iconangelborndevil:angelborndevil
:iconangelborndevil:angelborndevil 2 0
Mature content
The Sorrow In Happiness: Part I :iconbentley-epsom:Bentley-Epsom 0 29
Literature
Untitled Project: Chapter One
"What are you watchin' on the tube, bud?" Roderick asked his son, Charlie.
"Xerox-Bots, dad. Zoron is getting ready to make his attack upon the heroes of Kylesa!" exclaimed Charlie with a hint of satisfaction, "he's gonna smash the little heroes to pieces!"
"Aren't you meant to be rootin' for the good guys?" enquired the vaguely concerned father.
"Nah! They always win. Plus, what's with all the bright colours? Girly if you ask me!" replied the boy with a slight grin crossing his freckly face. A thin trail of milk flowed down Charlie's chin; it was quickly wiped away with the back of his sleeve.
"Sometimes bud, you worry me" laughed Roderick playfully.
"Parents are 'spose to worry dad!" Charlie remarked matter-of-factly.
He is witty and wise beyond his age, thought the father.
Roderick stared at Charlie in fascination, the boy was only nine years old but had already excelled at his studies that he was placed within a highly regarded academic learning institution, Rock Hills Academy.
Cha
:iconBentley-Epsom:Bentley-Epsom
:iconbentley-epsom:Bentley-Epsom 0 14
Mature content
The Diary Of Desmond Kimber - part 1 :iconsolidsloth:SolidSloth 10 12
Literature
Star Wars - The Weak Will Perish
Star Wars - The Weak Will Perish
           The tremor that passed through Darth Sear's vessel told him that he had landed on the planets surface. He was excited. Despite the fierce battle being fought over head, he had felt the Jedi break off from the republic fleet and make his way down here. What was so important, that the republic would allow such a powerful asset to abandon them mid battle? The Sith lord wanted to find out. Mostly, he wanted to test himself against the so called might of the Jedi. He had only ever encountered the Jedi once before. A Padawan. His master had slain him with ease. Now it would be his turn. The exit ramp slowly began its descent, revealing the grey sandy surface of the planet. Darth Sear walked out into a sand storm. This was of little consequence to the Sith, considering his cybernetic eyes. He scanned his surroundings, the darkening sky lit up with the fire of battle, his dark robes violently fluttering in the wind. He f
:iconSolidSloth:SolidSloth
:iconsolidsloth:SolidSloth 15 11
Literature
Lightless
I never know what to write about
The outcome, I usually despise
I feel hopeless until it hits me
This metaphorical orb of light
This light, filled with ideas
Ideas, showing me the way
The way into that feeling
The feeling of being hopeful once again
Sadly, that light wishes
Never to come around
For some time now,
That orb hasn't been about.
Now, surrounded by darkness,
I'm forced to write alone
Alone with no light
To guide me where to go.
:iconashflee0:ashflee0
:iconashflee0:ashflee0 13 8
Literature
THE CALIBER CONCEPT
Every time I stare into the vast void that is our immense sky, on any given day of my life, I shiver in joy at the remarkable memory lying unearthed in my subconscious, that there is a planet we could shape, where every existing inhabitant could no longer live in fear of their own kind, nor tremble from any other species, a planet where love is the easiest drug to find, and hatred joins the endeavors of the hardest.
This would be a land where a pure jolting breath of air, sends us numb, and reeling with focus, where family, safety, and wisdom is the highest of priorities, and a greater intensity of simple inner drive would build a terrain of individuals that overcame their irrelevant differences to work towards a commonly reasonable goal of togetherness, creativity, responsibility, faith, and merriment, and remember the incredible amount of effort, blood, and tears, that it took our civilization to resurrect themselves in that magnificent journey, and by committing it to memory we can
:iconHAVENTHEORY:HAVENTHEORY
:iconhaventheory:HAVENTHEORY 5 6
Literature
The Faceless
I woke up in the forest, early morning. A blurry shield containing my physical form.
I could hear the faint screaming of the sky creatures as they encase my ears with their concrete wings. I was tranquil. I was peaceful, I was content, and I was dead.
The world around my feet, seemed to shake and echo, violently, at every shift of my emotions. I stare up. A warm, sunny, glow of honey dripping from the clouds, painting the atmosphere.
A world shimmered in sparkling twilight, not like that of Edward Cullen's chest.
In this world, a program for each soul. A program of one color.
Blackness.
No distinct features, eyes, nose, mouth, nothing visible. Just a rapid stream of eternal darkness, flowing in a distraught manner.
Forced to suffer the same consequences, we cannot see their chains either. For they carry the weight of the sins. A band of thousands.
Some were in rotting wagons, pulling the masses, rounding them up.
All the peasants.
The after life was satisfying except for having this sc
:iconHAVENTHEORY:HAVENTHEORY
:iconhaventheory:HAVENTHEORY 8 5
Mature content
Just Leave :iconsludgethewolf:SludgeTheWolf 2 0
Literature
Tears
juxtaposed
we're opposites
you'd never think it
you and me
but believe me its right
and i know its true
there's nothing to stop us
though people have tried
we just can't be apart
we stand side by side
even when your far away
you stay in my heart
and when you speak those words to me
you bring a tear to my eye
because i love you
so very much
and all you bring is joy
:iconSludgeTheWolf:SludgeTheWolf
:iconsludgethewolf:SludgeTheWolf 1 4
Literature
This I hate
these tears i cry for you
the way you are
just like i was
when you saved me
my fate was destined
i was doomed
until you reached for me
my abyss filled with light
now you've falled into the seam
where i was before
more and more people it pulls in
i want to rescue them all
i've been there
i don't want you there
if i have to go to hell and back
i'll get you out i swear
i love you
you know it
your like my sister
we dont need the same blood
people dont pity you
dont show you attention becuase they're sorry
i could never allow that
they wont mess with your heart
becuase it's part of mine too
:iconSludgeTheWolf:SludgeTheWolf
:iconsludgethewolf:SludgeTheWolf 3 1
Literature
Love in short
you make me crazy
your driiving me insane
sometimes i can't stand you
your attention to obtain
but even though it's like this
and we have our ups and downs
i love you no matter what happens
with you there's no more frowns
:iconSludgeTheWolf:SludgeTheWolf
:iconsludgethewolf:SludgeTheWolf 2 12
Literature
Mommy
Mommy Don't stop at the bad place.
When you come out you are silly
No Mommy I don't want him to come home.
Mommy are you listening??
The bad man is gonna hurt me again.
No Mommy please
I don't want you to drink more poison.
Mommy Stop You just threw up I know you can please stop
You're so loud Mommy
I don't want you and the man to fight.
Come help me mommy
Please wake up
Mommy I need you!
Please Please Wake up!!
Save me! I don't want the bad man to hurt us!
No Mommy He's hurting me!
He threw kitty!! Mommy wake up before the bad man hurts me
Help He's hurting my throat!
I can't wake you up...I'm so sorry Mommy!! Help me please mommy!!
He's making me cough...I see Grandma..
She wants to save me..I'm going Night Night Mommy...Good Night Mommy...
I'm Sorry I didn't make you happy..
:iconXxdeathsloverxX:XxdeathsloverxX
:iconxxdeathsloverxx:XxdeathsloverxX 4 8
Hello, everyone!

I happened to see a few Spanish pieces being submitted to the group. In an effort to help other Spanish readers find these, I have created a new folder for those pieces. Depending on how many we receive, I may create more folders for separate Spanish categories.

Alas, I cannot read Spanish well except for a few phrases and words, so if we have any members currently who can, I ask that you give us a hand and give their writing a look. Feedback is key! :)

I welcome our Spanish readers, and I hope to see more writing from our community! :)
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:iconsaevuswinds:
saevuswinds Featured By Owner Jun 11, 2013
Please do not self promote.
Reply
:iconlostsiren111:
LostSiren111 Featured By Owner Apr 5, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Is there a limit on submissions?
Reply
:iconsaevuswinds:
saevuswinds Featured By Owner Jun 11, 2013
Yes. 2 a day.
Reply
:iconrelic-angel:
Relic-Angel Featured By Owner Nov 22, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Does the work that is contributed to this group have to be all original? ^^; I've got poetry, lyrics, prose and some fanfiction going on.
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:iconsaevuswinds:
saevuswinds Featured By Owner Dec 7, 2012
Nope! Just put it in fanfiction!
Reply
:iconrelic-angel:
Relic-Angel Featured By Owner Dec 7, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Cool. One question; why is the limit of submissions only 2 per 1 day? ^^; It's not really fair considering the people who have loads to unveil yet have so little opportunity to do so.
Reply
:iconsaevuswinds:
saevuswinds Featured By Owner Dec 7, 2012
If we made it unlimited, it would be impossible to keep up with. It's also partial quality control and submission pacing. We want to make sure people think about the things they submit, and they don't rush to submit everything in one day when they'd get more feedback if they submitted two a day at most instead.

To be honest, I'm a part of writing groups which only allow you to submit once per week or even month, so I personally believe two submissions per day is pretty generous.
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(1 Reply)
:iconthefs:
TheFS Featured By Owner Oct 14, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Hey, my name is Ed. I've been writing my book, The Fallen Star. I've recently finished posting the entire book! I would love if a few people could read through it and tell me what they think; I would love to get it published one day =D

Siale was no longer safe for the Watchers; they were forced to flee from the city. Little did Rantil know that his life was going to change forever. He was about to be caught in an age-old battle between the Chalders of Ciameth and the Demons of Dremnor. He was Truaine's only hope.

Join him on his journey across Truaine; through the memories he'd rather forget, over vast mountain ranges and eventually beneath the Phayorian Mountains in ancient tunnels - created when the world was so much more than it has become.

The Fallen Star would change everything.

Visit the Map of Truaine

<<< The Fallen Star <<< --|||-- >>> Chapter 1 >>>
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:iconsaevuswinds:
saevuswinds Featured By Owner Dec 7, 2012
I would love to, but I don't have tons of time. If you link it to me in Notes so I can't forget, I'll look as I have time.
Reply
:iconvioletense:
violetense Featured By Owner Oct 1, 2012  Student
What is the submission limit for this group?
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