The Write Life

Seducing hearts, one story at a time, Author - Crystal R. Martin

Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts










So as you all know I was nominated by the lovely and talented Sarah Foster over at the Faux Fountain Pen for a Liebster Award. So here it is…

 The Rules

 Post 11 random facts about yourself.
Answer the 11 questions provided by the person who nominated you.
Nominate 11 more bloggers who have less than 200 followers and let them know they’ve been nominated.
Provide 11 questions for those bloggers to answer.


So here are the random 11 facts

 I have written fan fiction.
I like anime and manga from Japan.
I love pork in all its glorious forms including bacon.
My favorite holiday is Winter Solstice.
I absolutely love Sailor Moon.
My music tastes are eclectic.
My favorite whiskey is Makers Mark (Useful for bribery. ;)).
I love chocolate and caramel.
I make fantastic, real-baked cheesecake.
My element is earth.
Last but not least, I am a Washi tape addict.
And my nominees are…sadly I don’t have 11. I have seen different rules on followers. So one says 200 followers, and another says 3,000. I could not tell how many people followed you guys so I hope you’ll forgive me if you are over 200.


Cedrix E. Clarke
Callie Deanne


Barbara Spencer
Joseph Eastwood


The 11 questions given to me…

 If you could dress up as anyone/anything for Halloween, what would it be? I just did, and I was one hot witch. Lol ;)

 If you could only write one genre of books for the rest of your life, what would it be? Paranormal Romance with other elements.


Where were you when you were struck with the idea for your current WIP? Did something trigger the idea or did you pull it out of thin air? I was at the Oregon coast.
Who is your celebrity crush? Hmmm this one is complicated, 1.) Neil Gaiman 2.) Wil Wheaton 3.) Chris Hemsworth 4.) Pharrell Williams 5.) Adam Levine. Top five, yeah I can’t decide either.


What literary character would you want to be best friends with? BONUS: Which one of YOUR characters would you want to be best friends with? Describe him or her. The Marquis De Cabaras, from Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere. I figure this gentleman would have some fascinating stories worth sharing.
You have to pull off a huge heist (such as robbing a casino like in Ocean's Eleven). Who do you want on your team? You can pick people you know, celebrities, or any fictional characters (but no magical powers!). Neil Gaiman, Hermione Grainger, Albus Dumbledore, and last but not least my someone special. If you can’t figure out the reason for my choices, we’re lost. It’s not magic obviously.


What is your least favorite household chore? Changing my sheets, I have a California king size waterbed with just a pillow top mattress.
Has there ever been a book/movie/TV show that made you sob uncontrollably? Several but two memorable ones The Last Unicorn movie, because I could really feel her pain at the end. Harry Potter and The Half Blood Prince, The book – Dumbledore’s death wrecked me, because he is like the greatest wizard like ever, hands down. I thought for a bit it was faked on purpose. :s
Has one of your favorite books ever been made into a movie and you hated it? If not, did you love it? Why? Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban – I thought they did a fairly good job. This is my favorite of the Harry Potter books.
How do you take your coffee? Do you like flavored coffee? (Or what is your favorite tea if you’re a tea person?) I only drink flavored coffees and my rule is one a day. A Caramelizer from Dutch Brothers is my weakness.
What would your demise be that gets you kicked out of Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory? (You can pick one from the book/movies or come up with your own!) The bubbly floating soda. I always wanted to drink some too.

And finally the 11 Questions for my nominees
What is your favorite childhood memory?
Which of your characters do you relate to the most and why?
If you had to pick an Avenger to save the world which one? Justify?
What does the Fox say? I need answers… ;)
What is your favorite Book or Movie or both?
Pantser or Planner?
How do you combat writers block?
What is your favorite writing beverage?
Have you ever attempted NaNoWriMo and if so were you successful?
Do you have a writing routine?
What music do you write to, if you do? If not what background sounds fill your writing mood?



I know, I know, I missed a week, trust me it doesn't sit well with me either. Plus the week prior I was late. But I'm going to explain. Three weeks back, my younger son began driving school. My youngest daughter started softball at the beginning of April, and my oldest son graduates from high school next Saturday.

So the last few weeks have been super busy. I put six hundred miles on my car all in local running. This go...go...go has affected me. I am sorry for being absent.  Although, I have had the opportunity to get some reading done while waiting.

I have finished "The Fault in Our Stars" by John Green. I originally bought it for my daughter to read prior to the movie coming out. After she finished it, I read it. I highly recommend this book. 

Just before that I finished a book titled, Tell the Wolves I'm Home, by Carol Rifka Brunt. This one was interesting. The first half was slow, but the second half was pretty amazing. Plus I have just started, I Am Not Myself These Days, Josh Kilmer Purcell, which came highly recommended.

So I am still here, still plugging away just crazy busy. School is out shortly and with that all the busy ends. So just know that soon, I'll be back regularly to bug all of you. Yay me.... ;)

Chasing Fireflies

Posted by Crystal R, Martin comments (0)

I do apologize for this being late. I missed #MondayBlogs and that sucks. It has been a strange week. This piece is just a little something I tinkered with. I do hope you enjoy. Feedback is always welcome.

Chasing Fireflies

We were young, full of ideals. The shining. It was meant to be contained, or so we thought. The full moon above us acting as sentinel. We ran with the wolves in our sheep skins, needing to be devoured. We saw the smooth surface of the still water. Time moves forward. We too have revolted. Now instead of capturing the light, we watch the dance. We howl at the moon singing the song of the wolves. The water is no longer still, our ripples grow as we discover new paths.

So Raven Pendrax on Google Plus had a wonderful idea last week. Twitter-sized fiction. You can read about it Here.

Her idea was simple. Flash Fiction in one-hundred forty words or less. Her prompt was even more interesting. Cow Spit. So, I attempted it and here is the result.


                                                                  It's What's For Dinner

We sat on cracked green vinyl chairs. I picked at the stuffing. Our scratched dining table seemed so tall. I remember my father setting our plates in front of us.

"It looks like tongue. What are the bumps?" I poked the blob with my fork. It jiggled.

"Just try it." I could tell by his tone that my dad was already frustrated. I stuck a tiny bit on my fork and brought it to my mouth. I tried to chew it the rubber bouncing around my mouth. I swallowed to get rid of it faster.

"You ate cow spit, did it taste like grass? You've got cow germs." My little brother couldn't resist making it much worse. I felt the rise in my stomach and darted for the bathroom even as his childish laughter trailed behind me.



I am sharing this piece...negativity be damned. You can judge it any way you see fit. I no longer care. I wrote it. That is all. Opinions are welcome. Just know that if you tell me it's crap, I've already heard that and then some. It no longer matters.  :)


Cirque Du Zombie

The cloying scent of rotting flesh hung in the air inside the circus tent like too much trapped cigarette smoke. The dimming lights signaled the start of the show. The ringmaster moved to the center. stage.

Gorm's small eyes and bulbous nose gave him a certain swine-like appearance. He'd pulled his long hair back earlier to avoid too much hassle when he vomited. Only white tufts floated around his face from the sideburns he wore. He knew with a sharp clarity that tonight with all it's meaning, he would over-indulge in spirits enough so that he could forget. Forget the sadness, forget the pain, forget his death. For later he was to be replaced with a younger less-rotten corpse, per the rules of the zombie social contract.

It was the only way the cleans allowed them to live. After so much rot, they were put out of their misery, or so the un-infected humans claimed. It was more of an excuse for clean humans to commit savage acts and claim it was for the zombies' own good.

Rotting flesh flapped and swayed with his disjointed movements. "Ladies and Gents,  I would like to welcome you to Cirque Du Zombie." Gorm's gravelly voice echoed through the big top. The applause was thunderous and immediate.

"Tonight...", He continued, then paused, looking around at the audience. "Prepare to be astounded...amazed...entranced." His arms flung wide; bits of rotted skin spattering the audience with oily residue. The people in the front row roared their approval.

"Let the show begin!" He stepped back into the shadows and out of the spot light as a troupe of tumblers began their awkward routine. He slid the flask from an inner pocket inside his coat.

"Let the consuming begin." He twisted the lid before drawing it to his lips and taking a strong pull. The alcohol burned against the rotting flesh, and he reveled in the sensation. He took another swig before slipping the flask back into the hidden pocket. He stood watching his family move through the motions of a regular day. The troupe performed three shows a day, six days a week in the carnival, only given Sunday as a day of rest. They were not paid for their performance, it was just an amusement for the humans allowing zombies a way to survive.

When the outbreak originated back in the twenty-first century the humans used the outbreak as a means to an opportunity to push their revival agenda. The outbreak was portrayed as God punishing sinners. Since that time any and all atrocities against zombies were accepted as God's will. Now Sundays were a traditional day of church and rest only.

Every three months or so on the last Saturday evening of the month, the oldest most rotten were collared with an iron ring and given five feet of chain which ended staked into the ground. Cleans went wild and butchered as many as they wanted. The humans sold tickets to the events and they were a giant revenue generator. Some people paid for tickets to see the event and others paid for the chance to kill a few zombies.

Gorm accepted his fate, he'd watched many older than him. It was just the way things were in the world. The fear that swamped him occasionally in nightmares and in rare lucid moments was just something he worked through and then moved on.

The tumbling troupe was almost finished. He noticed the crowd howl with approval and was saddened to see that Chus one of the youngest members had just lost a rotting limb. She would now join him in the ranks of the sacrificed.

A zombie with a missing limb was unable to perform, and therefore useless. She was taken to the family tent, even as another zombie jumped in to fill her place. Gorm slid the flask out of his pocket once more. This time two swigs were necessary to combat the fear he felt creeping in.

He stepped into the center ring once more. "If you will all look over here," He signaled to his left as he continued,  "The Flying Phantoms are ready to amaze."  He once again stepped back from the spotlight and listened to the Phantoms music. He pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at the time. He knew he had at least twenty minutes before he had to step in again for closing ceremonies.

With a disjointed awkward gait, he hurried toward the family tent. He knew that Chus would need reassurance, and as the ringmaster this job fell to him whether he wanted to do it or not.

He grabbed the tent flap and moved it aside enough to slip inside. Just as he expected they had set a shocked Chus at the dining table, where everyone gathered for meals. She sat staring off into space, not making any fuss. It was almost as if she didn't realize her arm was missing, still lying in the circus tent where the humans could point and laugh.

He moved towards the unresponsive girl and tried to think of how to begin. She looked up at his approach without much recognition.

"You okay?" He asked. He moved to the bench and made sure it was behind his knees before folding his body into a sitting position. Chus still hadn't replied and he glanced at her. Shock was holding her tightly in its grasp. He raised a hand, and slapped her across the face. He watched as her head bobbled around before her face turned towards him.

"I'm no good now...right?"

He nodded knowing lying to her would serve no purpose. "That's right. You'll come with us to the festival tonight." The words hung between them needing no explanation. She simply nodded, returning to her vegetative state.

He hated her in that moment, even knowing she'd shut down to not break, he wanted to hurt her, to see some reaction, some hint of the panic he felt growing inside himself. "They're really going to enjoy you, a few sick cleans might even have a go at you, before they kill you."  He spit the words out disgusted by his own perversion used mostly to wound her, but also because he would do exactly what he suggested.

He couldn't even detect a flinch from her. He slid the flask out and took another giant swig. The alcohol didn't seem to be able to burn away the panic creeping into the back of his mind. A dirty fleshy hand rubbed at his lips. He thought for a moment of his actions. There was no regret only shame that he'd acted out of cowardice. He couldn't bear the blank look she wore, and he left the family tent to return to the back of center stage.

He passed by family on his way. A nod here and shaking head there were the only acknowledgments, as ringmaster, that he received. The show was moving along nicely and the audience as usual was enjoying the zombies' antics. He moved into position for his last stage performance.

"Ladies and Gents, kind people, thank you for the opportunity you have given us to perform for your amusement." He felt a tear slipping from beyond his control. "We all hope you have enjoyed Cirque Du Zombie, and that you will tell your friends that they too should visit."

With a final wave of fanfare, Gorm signaled the end of the show. The lights dimmed and people began leaving the giant tent. He stood for a moment in the darkness thinking about all that he had seen from the center ring. He swallowed painfully against the sobs waiting, wanting to escape. His hand slipped into his coat once more. The cool metallic feel of the flask a momentary distraction. He popped the top, and took another swig. It burned his throat and he coughed harshly.

Hot tears found their way down his rotting cheeks only to drip into the mud below. He wouldn't allow himself to wipe them away, to pretend they didn't exist. He resealed the flask and slid it away. His thoughts were softly blurring from the alcohol. He felt the fear dissipate as acceptance moved to replace it. Every zombie knew the fate that awaited them, but knowing didn't make it any easier. He'd seen what was coming. The horror, the brutality, the gore. It wasn't something he could stomach, but it wasn't something he could fight either. It just was. Monday night when Cirque Du Zombie opened there would be a new ringmaster.  




Here is a little something I titled Forever Friends. As usual thoughts are always welcome.




 Forever Friends

 I glanced at Tara in disbelief. "Tell me you did not say that?" She nodded setting her blonde curls to bobbing. I laughed. Her cute voice always brought me smiles.

"She did, I was there. The whole room laughed." Lauren added reaching for the teapot. She poured herself a bit, and then put it back. The plate of cookies was almost gone. I usually did better at guessing how many my friends would eat.

Between the five of us, we'd emptied the package. Amy reached for the last one. Just before her hand grabbed it, she waited. No one moved and she swiped it up smiling triumphantly. It was her thing, she always had to have the last one.

She glanced at Mitzi, next to her, and snapped the cookie in half. She held out half. Mitzi the shyest of us all, accepted it with a small smile. We could barely hear her whispered, "Thanks."

Lauren glanced at each of us in turn. "So anything new and exciting this week?" I bounced softly, barely able to contain my excitement. I waved my hand gently signaling for her attention.

"Yes Livy?" They had started calling me Livy a long time before. Olivia just wasn't as personal or so they'd decided. I smiled. "I got the job."

"Way to go." Lauren tucked her dark hair behind her ear. The rest of the girls wore happy smiles. "So when do you start?"  

"First thing Monday morning. I am really a wreck." I chuckled.

"I can imagine." Tara added. "I couldn't do it." Mitzi nodded emphatically remaining quiet as usual. I watched my friends and my heart squeezed painfully. I remembered my manners. "Does anyone need anything?" I waited.
                                                                               
"Could I get a glass of water?" Amy asked. I nodded and stood heading for the kitchen. When I passed the mirror I glanced back. The four dolls sat unmoving around the table, their porcelain faces smiling. I love these girls...

Cosmic Eraser

Posted by Crystal R, Martin comments (2)

Last August This conversation took place via twitter.

  


·  Nat Russo ‏@NatRusso Aug 4
          tweeted randomly,


"Feel a bit like a mad god today. I just eliminated a character from my WIP as if he never existed. #amediting"

I simply asked, "Did he go gentle in the night? Or did you drop a piano on him? Your tweet is the first line of a short story. #amwriting :)"

His reply. 

"@CrystalMartin
I took the big cosmic eraser to him. None of the other characters are any the wiser :)"


This exchange made me think of "Eye In The Sky" The Alan Parsons Project. It stayed with me for a few days until I sat down and wrote it out. You really should listen to the song as you read it. ;)  So without further ado -

Cosmic Eraser 


The mad god must be angry. Let me explain, becoming a character in the mad god's universe is our ultimate goal. We are nameless, faceless, waiting for the mad god to call us to action. Our mad god has no rhyme or reason that we can see. He just calls us out, a few at a time, as he needs us.

What we become is up to him. So many have gone before me, and so many more wait for their turn. It's interesting really how we just wait here in this void. But that is not what this is all about.

This is about the one that came back. I'll call him Character X because like all of us he has no name, or if he received one, he won't tell us. Character X won't talk to any of us about what happened. It's really very peculiar, we're all unsure of what it means. This has never happened before.

Character X had left months before when the last call to action came. Character X had been chosen with a few others, and as usual they had left to great fanfare, knowing they would live forever in the mad god's creation. It is a great honor to be called into service. I only know that I want to be chosen as much as everyone else.

It all began on a regular Tuesday afternoon. We could hear the quiet scraping of the pencil on the paper. The mad god was in edit mode. He was molding and shaping his labor into something only he could see. I'm sure somewhere, somehow it served a purpose, but I couldn't know what that purpose was, outside of wanting to be a part of it.

The scratching came to a halt and we heard a deep sigh. The mad god was contemplating. His mood permeated our existential plane like a dense fog. It hung in the air almost as if he had written it into being. This too was new. A sound began, one that was unfamiliar. It sounded like soft rubbing.

The mad god continued with whatever strange event he was wrapped up in. The sound grew in volume, until with a crazy whoosh of the mad god's breath the fog slowly disappeared.

In its place stood Character X. He looked around at all of us with the saddest expression that I've ever seen. He said, "I've been erased." That was it. Since that moment Character X hasn't spoken a word to anyone. The mad god hasn't felt the need to explain what this "erased" is all about. All we know is Character X came back from creation. The first one...

Aberration - Thoughts

Posted by Crystal R, Martin comments (4)



This is a little something along the lines of a nightmare or fear. It's short and to the point. Does the possibility frighten you?  Share your thoughts.

Aberration

Nobody is left. I don't know what has happened. It's been two whole days now. Why or how I am still here remains a mystery. Aliens? Biochemical warfare? I can't answer that. I drove to the store and passed cars sitting at lights. The drivers eyes open, they were just sitting unmoving. The parking lot was the same, people sitting in vehicles.

The store was empty. I left my money on the counter and drove home. There is nothing on the television, cable is off. The internet is down. Even my cell phone is useless.

I sit here writing this, ignoring the voices I hear. It's too quiet. They are trying to get my attention, I think. If I don't acknowledge them, then I don't acknowledge that this is happening. I just sit here and continue to write until the madness takes over...

Dark Side of The Flame

Posted by Crystal R, Martin comments (2)



This is a little different, just something that spewed forth, and after a bit of tinkering, I really like it. Let me know what you think please. :)

Dark Side of The Flame

It was all heat and flame when the house burnt down. I couldn't help but be transfixed, like staring at an odd painting you don't understand.  Free floating bits of life, lifted into the air by the flames, drifted around us like hot snow. Each individual little spark seeking freedom from the prison of just existing.

That night burned into my memory like the favorite scar on my knee. I can tell you how the weather felt the day I got that scar. I can also tell you how the smoke tasted like burnt toast.

It burned our throats and made our eyes leak tears. Almost as if bits of ourselves were trying to soften its scalding. Noise and lights and voices all danced in a parody of some funny comedy on the television. I can't process the words of the song they were singing.

It's a distant memory of something my soul sang, but I don't recognize it in this new hot papery world. There is emotion here, it's trapped like fireflies, locked away in the jar, unable to escape into the cool night sky where the moonlight waits.



This is just a little something to make you think. Feel free to share your impressions.

Gloaming

The world is covered by a low-hanging fog as twilight approaches. This creates a weird silvery light, on my evening commute. I am taking a winding shortcut through the hills on my way home. I have driven this road hundreds if not thousands of times.

Rounding one of the winding curves, music playing, I am transported somewhere else. The world becomes a translucent void. My radio loses reception, changing to a static noise that hurts the ears. I fumble, my hand shaking, as I reach over to turn down the volume.

The road straightens out. What just happened? My hands grip the steering wheel a bit tighter, the familiar faux leather under my fingers is a strange comfort. The road is oddly frightening in its perfect straightness. This isn't a part of the plan.

The weird light has grown brighter in this strange place. Nothing is as it seems. Everything is whitewashed in translucent light. Color has been sucked from this world. The trees, at their greenest in a wet winter, are a sickly shade of ash.

The car is getting warm, but I am fearful of opening my window. Will the weird light suck my color out as well? My stomach revolts. Breathe in slow and deep. I can feel the prickly heat sliding over my skin.

I want to stop, pull over and wait, but something compels me to keep driving. I know, without knowing how or why, that if I stop, I'll never get back to where I was. Do I leave the world I know, for something entirely different, or do I keep driving and return to the road I was on?


So this is a little different, but again it is a slice of life piece. It is humbly dedicated to the original TDN forums. This piece was inspired by a real group of crazies that I will always love. *waving* Yeah a few of you may know the place. Anyway please read and comment. I love conversation. :)



The Bloggers of Darby O’Keefe

I once belonged to a forum with a group of thirty or so individuals, and we the regulars, became the Bloggers of Darby O’Keefe. Well at that time, Sprite was one of our regular members, a single lady in her thirties. Sprite, always in the middle of things, always livening things up, had an attitude.

The day MountainDewRules showed up, everyone knew things would never be the same. They sparked instantly, or, should I say butted heads? Those two would argue about any thing. If one said the sky was blue, the other would invariably butt in stating that no actually the sky was red.

We would all duck and cover when they pulled out the big guns. They sent the forum into a tailspin like you wouldn't believe. They were famous for some of the biggest fights the Bloggers of Darby O’Keefe ever saw. The funniest part was the regulars were all split up, one side backing Sprite, and the other loving MountainDewRules.

Did I forget to mention that MountainDewRules happened to be a male in his thirties, carrying around a chip on his shoulder, the size of Mount Everest? I might have forgotten to share that detail, but it is very important to the story.

Now this is where the story takes an odd turn. Sprite logs on one day to tell us all about how she met a man. Yep, love at first sight and all that baloney. Not that I disbelieve, mind you, but I just think these things take time to happen. Not Sprite, I tell you what, that woman had it bad. She sighed over her mystery man, and talked about him incessantly. We all listened to how great he was, until we were sick to death of every single story.

Around about the same time, MountainDewRules logs in with similar stories about a lovely lady he is currently dating. She means the world to him, and they just met. He waxes poetic about how much they are alike. People got sick of hearing both of them talk about their relationships.

This is where the story gets murky, but from what I understand, neither had spoken to their new partner about their identity on Darby O’Keefe. I don’t know how the truth came out, but I do know there sure were fireworks. By now, you have probably guessed.

Sprite and MountainDewRules were dating, and had already set a wedding date. Well, once they got over the initial shock things settled in admirably. Trust me I was there for the wedding.

We witnessed the two most opposite people marry in a wonderful forum wedding. Our local pastor, also a regular, officiated over the ceremony. Those were the days. Last, I heard Sprite and MountainDewRules had a daughter they named Shasta just for fun. They were expecting their second, and had picked out the name Sierra Mist.

So remember when you chat on these type of boards, you just never know whom you are talking with. Trust me I was a Blogger of Darby O’Keefe.
 



Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts

Monday, November 17, 2014

My Liebster Post - And The Nominees Are...










So as you all know I was nominated by the lovely and talented Sarah Foster over at the Faux Fountain Pen for a Liebster Award. So here it is…

 The Rules

 Post 11 random facts about yourself.
Answer the 11 questions provided by the person who nominated you.
Nominate 11 more bloggers who have less than 200 followers and let them know they’ve been nominated.
Provide 11 questions for those bloggers to answer.


So here are the random 11 facts

 I have written fan fiction.
I like anime and manga from Japan.
I love pork in all its glorious forms including bacon.
My favorite holiday is Winter Solstice.
I absolutely love Sailor Moon.
My music tastes are eclectic.
My favorite whiskey is Makers Mark (Useful for bribery. ;)).
I love chocolate and caramel.
I make fantastic, real-baked cheesecake.
My element is earth.
Last but not least, I am a Washi tape addict.
And my nominees are…sadly I don’t have 11. I have seen different rules on followers. So one says 200 followers, and another says 3,000. I could not tell how many people followed you guys so I hope you’ll forgive me if you are over 200.


Cedrix E. Clarke
Callie Deanne


Barbara Spencer
Joseph Eastwood


The 11 questions given to me…

 If you could dress up as anyone/anything for Halloween, what would it be? I just did, and I was one hot witch. Lol ;)

 If you could only write one genre of books for the rest of your life, what would it be? Paranormal Romance with other elements.


Where were you when you were struck with the idea for your current WIP? Did something trigger the idea or did you pull it out of thin air? I was at the Oregon coast.
Who is your celebrity crush? Hmmm this one is complicated, 1.) Neil Gaiman 2.) Wil Wheaton 3.) Chris Hemsworth 4.) Pharrell Williams 5.) Adam Levine. Top five, yeah I can’t decide either.


What literary character would you want to be best friends with? BONUS: Which one of YOUR characters would you want to be best friends with? Describe him or her. The Marquis De Cabaras, from Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere. I figure this gentleman would have some fascinating stories worth sharing.
You have to pull off a huge heist (such as robbing a casino like in Ocean's Eleven). Who do you want on your team? You can pick people you know, celebrities, or any fictional characters (but no magical powers!). Neil Gaiman, Hermione Grainger, Albus Dumbledore, and last but not least my someone special. If you can’t figure out the reason for my choices, we’re lost. It’s not magic obviously.


What is your least favorite household chore? Changing my sheets, I have a California king size waterbed with just a pillow top mattress.
Has there ever been a book/movie/TV show that made you sob uncontrollably? Several but two memorable ones The Last Unicorn movie, because I could really feel her pain at the end. Harry Potter and The Half Blood Prince, The book – Dumbledore’s death wrecked me, because he is like the greatest wizard like ever, hands down. I thought for a bit it was faked on purpose. :s
Has one of your favorite books ever been made into a movie and you hated it? If not, did you love it? Why? Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban – I thought they did a fairly good job. This is my favorite of the Harry Potter books.
How do you take your coffee? Do you like flavored coffee? (Or what is your favorite tea if you’re a tea person?) I only drink flavored coffees and my rule is one a day. A Caramelizer from Dutch Brothers is my weakness.
What would your demise be that gets you kicked out of Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory? (You can pick one from the book/movies or come up with your own!) The bubbly floating soda. I always wanted to drink some too.

And finally the 11 Questions for my nominees
What is your favorite childhood memory?
Which of your characters do you relate to the most and why?
If you had to pick an Avenger to save the world which one? Justify?
What does the Fox say? I need answers… ;)
What is your favorite Book or Movie or both?
Pantser or Planner?
How do you combat writers block?
What is your favorite writing beverage?
Have you ever attempted NaNoWriMo and if so were you successful?
Do you have a writing routine?
What music do you write to, if you do? If not what background sounds fill your writing mood?

Posted by Crystal R, Martin at 8:02 PM 2 comments
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Monday, June 2, 2014

Life or Something Like It



I know, I know, I missed a week, trust me it doesn't sit well with me either. Plus the week prior I was late. But I'm going to explain. Three weeks back, my younger son began driving school. My youngest daughter started softball at the beginning of April, and my oldest son graduates from high school next Saturday.

So the last few weeks have been super busy. I put six hundred miles on my car all in local running. This go...go...go has affected me. I am sorry for being absent.  Although, I have had the opportunity to get some reading done while waiting.

I have finished "The Fault in Our Stars" by John Green. I originally bought it for my daughter to read prior to the movie coming out. After she finished it, I read it. I highly recommend this book. 

Just before that I finished a book titled, Tell the Wolves I'm Home, by Carol Rifka Brunt. This one was interesting. The first half was slow, but the second half was pretty amazing. Plus I have just started, I Am Not Myself These Days, Josh Kilmer Purcell, which came highly recommended.

So I am still here, still plugging away just crazy busy. School is out shortly and with that all the busy ends. So just know that soon, I'll be back regularly to bug all of you. Yay me.... ;)
Posted by Crystal R, Martin at 6:08 PM 0 comments
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Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Chasing Fireflies

I do apologize for this being late. I missed #MondayBlogs and that sucks. It has been a strange week. This piece is just a little something I tinkered with. I do hope you enjoy. Feedback is always welcome.

Chasing Fireflies

We were young, full of ideals. The shining. It was meant to be contained, or so we thought. The full moon above us acting as sentinel. We ran with the wolves in our sheep skins, needing to be devoured. We saw the smooth surface of the still water. Time moves forward. We too have revolted. Now instead of capturing the light, we watch the dance. We howl at the moon singing the song of the wolves. The water is no longer still, our ripples grow as we discover new paths.
Posted by Crystal R, Martin at 1:20 PM 0 comments
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Monday, May 5, 2014

Twitter-sized fiction via Raven Pendrax

So Raven Pendrax on Google Plus had a wonderful idea last week. Twitter-sized fiction. You can read about it Here.

Her idea was simple. Flash Fiction in one-hundred forty words or less. Her prompt was even more interesting. Cow Spit. So, I attempted it and here is the result.


                                                                  It's What's For Dinner

We sat on cracked green vinyl chairs. I picked at the stuffing. Our scratched dining table seemed so tall. I remember my father setting our plates in front of us.

"It looks like tongue. What are the bumps?" I poked the blob with my fork. It jiggled.

"Just try it." I could tell by his tone that my dad was already frustrated. I stuck a tiny bit on my fork and brought it to my mouth. I tried to chew it the rubber bouncing around my mouth. I swallowed to get rid of it faster.

"You ate cow spit, did it taste like grass? You've got cow germs." My little brother couldn't resist making it much worse. I felt the rise in my stomach and darted for the bathroom even as his childish laughter trailed behind me.
Posted by Crystal R, Martin at 7:08 PM 0 comments
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Sunday, April 20, 2014

Cirque Du Zombie - Something New



I am sharing this piece...negativity be damned. You can judge it any way you see fit. I no longer care. I wrote it. That is all. Opinions are welcome. Just know that if you tell me it's crap, I've already heard that and then some. It no longer matters.  :)


Cirque Du Zombie

The cloying scent of rotting flesh hung in the air inside the circus tent like too much trapped cigarette smoke. The dimming lights signaled the start of the show. The ringmaster moved to the center. stage.

Gorm's small eyes and bulbous nose gave him a certain swine-like appearance. He'd pulled his long hair back earlier to avoid too much hassle when he vomited. Only white tufts floated around his face from the sideburns he wore. He knew with a sharp clarity that tonight with all it's meaning, he would over-indulge in spirits enough so that he could forget. Forget the sadness, forget the pain, forget his death. For later he was to be replaced with a younger less-rotten corpse, per the rules of the zombie social contract.

It was the only way the cleans allowed them to live. After so much rot, they were put out of their misery, or so the un-infected humans claimed. It was more of an excuse for clean humans to commit savage acts and claim it was for the zombies' own good.

Rotting flesh flapped and swayed with his disjointed movements. "Ladies and Gents,  I would like to welcome you to Cirque Du Zombie." Gorm's gravelly voice echoed through the big top. The applause was thunderous and immediate.

"Tonight...", He continued, then paused, looking around at the audience. "Prepare to be astounded...amazed...entranced." His arms flung wide; bits of rotted skin spattering the audience with oily residue. The people in the front row roared their approval.

"Let the show begin!" He stepped back into the shadows and out of the spot light as a troupe of tumblers began their awkward routine. He slid the flask from an inner pocket inside his coat.

"Let the consuming begin." He twisted the lid before drawing it to his lips and taking a strong pull. The alcohol burned against the rotting flesh, and he reveled in the sensation. He took another swig before slipping the flask back into the hidden pocket. He stood watching his family move through the motions of a regular day. The troupe performed three shows a day, six days a week in the carnival, only given Sunday as a day of rest. They were not paid for their performance, it was just an amusement for the humans allowing zombies a way to survive.

When the outbreak originated back in the twenty-first century the humans used the outbreak as a means to an opportunity to push their revival agenda. The outbreak was portrayed as God punishing sinners. Since that time any and all atrocities against zombies were accepted as God's will. Now Sundays were a traditional day of church and rest only.

Every three months or so on the last Saturday evening of the month, the oldest most rotten were collared with an iron ring and given five feet of chain which ended staked into the ground. Cleans went wild and butchered as many as they wanted. The humans sold tickets to the events and they were a giant revenue generator. Some people paid for tickets to see the event and others paid for the chance to kill a few zombies.

Gorm accepted his fate, he'd watched many older than him. It was just the way things were in the world. The fear that swamped him occasionally in nightmares and in rare lucid moments was just something he worked through and then moved on.

The tumbling troupe was almost finished. He noticed the crowd howl with approval and was saddened to see that Chus one of the youngest members had just lost a rotting limb. She would now join him in the ranks of the sacrificed.

A zombie with a missing limb was unable to perform, and therefore useless. She was taken to the family tent, even as another zombie jumped in to fill her place. Gorm slid the flask out of his pocket once more. This time two swigs were necessary to combat the fear he felt creeping in.

He stepped into the center ring once more. "If you will all look over here," He signaled to his left as he continued,  "The Flying Phantoms are ready to amaze."  He once again stepped back from the spotlight and listened to the Phantoms music. He pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at the time. He knew he had at least twenty minutes before he had to step in again for closing ceremonies.

With a disjointed awkward gait, he hurried toward the family tent. He knew that Chus would need reassurance, and as the ringmaster this job fell to him whether he wanted to do it or not.

He grabbed the tent flap and moved it aside enough to slip inside. Just as he expected they had set a shocked Chus at the dining table, where everyone gathered for meals. She sat staring off into space, not making any fuss. It was almost as if she didn't realize her arm was missing, still lying in the circus tent where the humans could point and laugh.

He moved towards the unresponsive girl and tried to think of how to begin. She looked up at his approach without much recognition.

"You okay?" He asked. He moved to the bench and made sure it was behind his knees before folding his body into a sitting position. Chus still hadn't replied and he glanced at her. Shock was holding her tightly in its grasp. He raised a hand, and slapped her across the face. He watched as her head bobbled around before her face turned towards him.

"I'm no good now...right?"

He nodded knowing lying to her would serve no purpose. "That's right. You'll come with us to the festival tonight." The words hung between them needing no explanation. She simply nodded, returning to her vegetative state.

He hated her in that moment, even knowing she'd shut down to not break, he wanted to hurt her, to see some reaction, some hint of the panic he felt growing inside himself. "They're really going to enjoy you, a few sick cleans might even have a go at you, before they kill you."  He spit the words out disgusted by his own perversion used mostly to wound her, but also because he would do exactly what he suggested.

He couldn't even detect a flinch from her. He slid the flask out and took another giant swig. The alcohol didn't seem to be able to burn away the panic creeping into the back of his mind. A dirty fleshy hand rubbed at his lips. He thought for a moment of his actions. There was no regret only shame that he'd acted out of cowardice. He couldn't bear the blank look she wore, and he left the family tent to return to the back of center stage.

He passed by family on his way. A nod here and shaking head there were the only acknowledgments, as ringmaster, that he received. The show was moving along nicely and the audience as usual was enjoying the zombies' antics. He moved into position for his last stage performance.

"Ladies and Gents, kind people, thank you for the opportunity you have given us to perform for your amusement." He felt a tear slipping from beyond his control. "We all hope you have enjoyed Cirque Du Zombie, and that you will tell your friends that they too should visit."

With a final wave of fanfare, Gorm signaled the end of the show. The lights dimmed and people began leaving the giant tent. He stood for a moment in the darkness thinking about all that he had seen from the center ring. He swallowed painfully against the sobs waiting, wanting to escape. His hand slipped into his coat once more. The cool metallic feel of the flask a momentary distraction. He popped the top, and took another swig. It burned his throat and he coughed harshly.

Hot tears found their way down his rotting cheeks only to drip into the mud below. He wouldn't allow himself to wipe them away, to pretend they didn't exist. He resealed the flask and slid it away. His thoughts were softly blurring from the alcohol. He felt the fear dissipate as acceptance moved to replace it. Every zombie knew the fate that awaited them, but knowing didn't make it any easier. He'd seen what was coming. The horror, the brutality, the gore. It wasn't something he could stomach, but it wasn't something he could fight either. It just was. Monday night when Cirque Du Zombie opened there would be a new ringmaster.  




Posted by Crystal R, Martin at 8:32 PM 3 comments
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Monday, April 7, 2014

Forever Friends - Thoughts?

Here is a little something I titled Forever Friends. As usual thoughts are always welcome.




 Forever Friends

 I glanced at Tara in disbelief. "Tell me you did not say that?" She nodded setting her blonde curls to bobbing. I laughed. Her cute voice always brought me smiles.

"She did, I was there. The whole room laughed." Lauren added reaching for the teapot. She poured herself a bit, and then put it back. The plate of cookies was almost gone. I usually did better at guessing how many my friends would eat.

Between the five of us, we'd emptied the package. Amy reached for the last one. Just before her hand grabbed it, she waited. No one moved and she swiped it up smiling triumphantly. It was her thing, she always had to have the last one.

She glanced at Mitzi, next to her, and snapped the cookie in half. She held out half. Mitzi the shyest of us all, accepted it with a small smile. We could barely hear her whispered, "Thanks."

Lauren glanced at each of us in turn. "So anything new and exciting this week?" I bounced softly, barely able to contain my excitement. I waved my hand gently signaling for her attention.

"Yes Livy?" They had started calling me Livy a long time before. Olivia just wasn't as personal or so they'd decided. I smiled. "I got the job."

"Way to go." Lauren tucked her dark hair behind her ear. The rest of the girls wore happy smiles. "So when do you start?"  

"First thing Monday morning. I am really a wreck." I chuckled.

"I can imagine." Tara added. "I couldn't do it." Mitzi nodded emphatically remaining quiet as usual. I watched my friends and my heart squeezed painfully. I remembered my manners. "Does anyone need anything?" I waited.
                                                                               
"Could I get a glass of water?" Amy asked. I nodded and stood heading for the kitchen. When I passed the mirror I glanced back. The four dolls sat unmoving around the table, their porcelain faces smiling. I love these girls...
Posted by Crystal R, Martin at 1:51 PM 1 comments
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Monday, March 24, 2014

Cosmic Eraser

Last August This conversation took place via twitter.

  


·  Nat Russo ‏@NatRusso Aug 4
          tweeted randomly,


"Feel a bit like a mad god today. I just eliminated a character from my WIP as if he never existed. #amediting"

I simply asked, "Did he go gentle in the night? Or did you drop a piano on him? Your tweet is the first line of a short story. #amwriting :)"

His reply. 

"@CrystalMartin
I took the big cosmic eraser to him. None of the other characters are any the wiser :)"


This exchange made me think of "Eye In The Sky" The Alan Parsons Project. It stayed with me for a few days until I sat down and wrote it out. You really should listen to the song as you read it. ;)  So without further ado -

Cosmic Eraser 


The mad god must be angry. Let me explain, becoming a character in the mad god's universe is our ultimate goal. We are nameless, faceless, waiting for the mad god to call us to action. Our mad god has no rhyme or reason that we can see. He just calls us out, a few at a time, as he needs us.

What we become is up to him. So many have gone before me, and so many more wait for their turn. It's interesting really how we just wait here in this void. But that is not what this is all about.

This is about the one that came back. I'll call him Character X because like all of us he has no name, or if he received one, he won't tell us. Character X won't talk to any of us about what happened. It's really very peculiar, we're all unsure of what it means. This has never happened before.

Character X had left months before when the last call to action came. Character X had been chosen with a few others, and as usual they had left to great fanfare, knowing they would live forever in the mad god's creation. It is a great honor to be called into service. I only know that I want to be chosen as much as everyone else.

It all began on a regular Tuesday afternoon. We could hear the quiet scraping of the pencil on the paper. The mad god was in edit mode. He was molding and shaping his labor into something only he could see. I'm sure somewhere, somehow it served a purpose, but I couldn't know what that purpose was, outside of wanting to be a part of it.

The scratching came to a halt and we heard a deep sigh. The mad god was contemplating. His mood permeated our existential plane like a dense fog. It hung in the air almost as if he had written it into being. This too was new. A sound began, one that was unfamiliar. It sounded like soft rubbing.

The mad god continued with whatever strange event he was wrapped up in. The sound grew in volume, until with a crazy whoosh of the mad god's breath the fog slowly disappeared.

In its place stood Character X. He looked around at all of us with the saddest expression that I've ever seen. He said, "I've been erased." That was it. Since that moment Character X hasn't spoken a word to anyone. The mad god hasn't felt the need to explain what this "erased" is all about. All we know is Character X came back from creation. The first one...

Posted by Crystal R, Martin at 4:42 PM 2 comments
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Sunday, March 16, 2014

Aberration - Thoughts



This is a little something along the lines of a nightmare or fear. It's short and to the point. Does the possibility frighten you?  Share your thoughts.

Aberration

Nobody is left. I don't know what has happened. It's been two whole days now. Why or how I am still here remains a mystery. Aliens? Biochemical warfare? I can't answer that. I drove to the store and passed cars sitting at lights. The drivers eyes open, they were just sitting unmoving. The parking lot was the same, people sitting in vehicles.

The store was empty. I left my money on the counter and drove home. There is nothing on the television, cable is off. The internet is down. Even my cell phone is useless.

I sit here writing this, ignoring the voices I hear. It's too quiet. They are trying to get my attention, I think. If I don't acknowledge them, then I don't acknowledge that this is happening. I just sit here and continue to write until the madness takes over...
Posted by Crystal R, Martin at 10:09 PM 4 comments
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Monday, March 10, 2014

Dark Side of The Flame



This is a little different, just something that spewed forth, and after a bit of tinkering, I really like it. Let me know what you think please. :)

Dark Side of The Flame

It was all heat and flame when the house burnt down. I couldn't help but be transfixed, like staring at an odd painting you don't understand.  Free floating bits of life, lifted into the air by the flames, drifted around us like hot snow. Each individual little spark seeking freedom from the prison of just existing.

That night burned into my memory like the favorite scar on my knee. I can tell you how the weather felt the day I got that scar. I can also tell you how the smoke tasted like burnt toast.

It burned our throats and made our eyes leak tears. Almost as if bits of ourselves were trying to soften its scalding. Noise and lights and voices all danced in a parody of some funny comedy on the television. I can't process the words of the song they were singing.

It's a distant memory of something my soul sang, but I don't recognize it in this new hot papery world. There is emotion here, it's trapped like fireflies, locked away in the jar, unable to escape into the cool night sky where the moonlight waits.

Posted by Crystal R, Martin at 10:36 PM 2 comments
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Monday, February 17, 2014

Gloaming - Thoughts Welcome



This is just a little something to make you think. Feel free to share your impressions.

Gloaming

The world is covered by a low-hanging fog as twilight approaches. This creates a weird silvery light, on my evening commute. I am taking a winding shortcut through the hills on my way home. I have driven this road hundreds if not thousands of times.

Rounding one of the winding curves, music playing, I am transported somewhere else. The world becomes a translucent void. My radio loses reception, changing to a static noise that hurts the ears. I fumble, my hand shaking, as I reach over to turn down the volume.

The road straightens out. What just happened? My hands grip the steering wheel a bit tighter, the familiar faux leather under my fingers is a strange comfort. The road is oddly frightening in its perfect straightness. This isn't a part of the plan.

The weird light has grown brighter in this strange place. Nothing is as it seems. Everything is whitewashed in translucent light. Color has been sucked from this world. The trees, at their greenest in a wet winter, are a sickly shade of ash.

The car is getting warm, but I am fearful of opening my window. Will the weird light suck my color out as well? My stomach revolts. Breathe in slow and deep. I can feel the prickly heat sliding over my skin.

I want to stop, pull over and wait, but something compels me to keep driving. I know, without knowing how or why, that if I stop, I'll never get back to where I was. Do I leave the world I know, for something entirely different, or do I keep driving and return to the road I was on?


Posted by Crystal R, Martin at 2:15 PM 2 comments
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Monday, January 27, 2014

The Bloggers of Darby O'Keefe

So this is a little different, but again it is a slice of life piece. It is humbly dedicated to the original TDN forums. This piece was inspired by a real group of crazies that I will always love. *waving* Yeah a few of you may know the place. Anyway please read and comment. I love conversation. :)



The Bloggers of Darby O’Keefe

I once belonged to a forum with a group of thirty or so individuals, and we the regulars, became the Bloggers of Darby O’Keefe. Well at that time, Sprite was one of our regular members, a single lady in her thirties. Sprite, always in the middle of things, always livening things up, had an attitude.

The day MountainDewRules showed up, everyone knew things would never be the same. They sparked instantly, or, should I say butted heads? Those two would argue about any thing. If one said the sky was blue, the other would invariably butt in stating that no actually the sky was red.

We would all duck and cover when they pulled out the big guns. They sent the forum into a tailspin like you wouldn't believe. They were famous for some of the biggest fights the Bloggers of Darby O’Keefe ever saw. The funniest part was the regulars were all split up, one side backing Sprite, and the other loving MountainDewRules.

Did I forget to mention that MountainDewRules happened to be a male in his thirties, carrying around a chip on his shoulder, the size of Mount Everest? I might have forgotten to share that detail, but it is very important to the story.

Now this is where the story takes an odd turn. Sprite logs on one day to tell us all about how she met a man. Yep, love at first sight and all that baloney. Not that I disbelieve, mind you, but I just think these things take time to happen. Not Sprite, I tell you what, that woman had it bad. She sighed over her mystery man, and talked about him incessantly. We all listened to how great he was, until we were sick to death of every single story.

Around about the same time, MountainDewRules logs in with similar stories about a lovely lady he is currently dating. She means the world to him, and they just met. He waxes poetic about how much they are alike. People got sick of hearing both of them talk about their relationships.

This is where the story gets murky, but from what I understand, neither had spoken to their new partner about their identity on Darby O’Keefe. I don’t know how the truth came out, but I do know there sure were fireworks. By now, you have probably guessed.

Sprite and MountainDewRules were dating, and had already set a wedding date. Well, once they got over the initial shock things settled in admirably. Trust me I was there for the wedding.

We witnessed the two most opposite people marry in a wonderful forum wedding. Our local pastor, also a regular, officiated over the ceremony. Those were the days. Last, I heard Sprite and MountainDewRules had a daughter they named Shasta just for fun. They were expecting their second, and had picked out the name Sierra Mist.

So remember when you chat on these type of boards, you just never know whom you are talking with. Trust me I was a Blogger of Darby O’Keefe.
 



Posted by Crystal R, Martin at 12:31 AM 3 comments
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