I’ve been thinking about the new blog and the long process of transferring all of my old content over here and I think that I’ve changed my mind. I’ll continue posting new stories and regular blogs three or four times a week, but if you want to reread my old material, you will have to go to the old blog. You can always ask for it to be reposted if you want, or I could even email you a file, but for now you will have to find it on blogger. Stories should come out pretty regularly, depending on the ever elusive creative flow, and slice of life posts will pop up as I think of them. Thanks for reading.
Meet Melody: Part 6
Alright, we might be on track again. Here’s the first official new piece to go up on the blog. I’ll have the next part of one of the other stories up soon as well. See you tomorrow, or maybe the day after.
Almost at the same moment, the town’s alarm bell began to chime, galvanizing the crowd into movement. Less than a day earlier, Melody would have been swept away by the masses, but now she held her ground and shouldered her way through the chaos. The kitchen maids had already fled, bolting out the rear door at the first sign of danger. The girl crossed the room in a bound and wrenched open the door to the servant’s stair, taking the steps two at a time. Mary, in her panic, had fled the blaze, moving deeper into the servant’s quarters instead of escaping down the steps. Melody could hear her through the roaring of the fire, weeping and crying as the flames crept closer.
“You’re a dragon!” roared the voice as Melody hesitated, her still human instincts recoiling from the heat. “Dragons don’t fear the flames!”
She growled and jumped through the fire, feeling the weakened wood start to buckle under her feet. Mary screamed all the louder as she appeared out of the smoke and fire, her clothes and skin steaming but untouched. The frightened woman beat at Melody’s face and arms, shrieking madly as the vampire pinned her down.
“Shut up Mary!” Melody thundered, her voice a roar that shivered the walls. “And stop hitting me! I’m trying to save you!”
Mary fell silent, her mouth opening and closing like a fish in her shock. Ignoring the woman’s pitiful whimpers, Melody threw her over her shoulder and kicked down the nearest door. Glass shattered and wood splintered as she used her free hand to rip the small window out of its place. Mary found her voice once more as Melody jumped into the open air, soaring through the smoke and snow to land on the boardwalk by the pier. Mary yelped as Melody dropped her to the ground and bounded down into the shallows, seizing a heavy skiff. The boat’s wood splintered in her hands as she turned it over, filling it with frigid seawater. Yelling with exertion, she hauled the skiff above her head and hurled it high in the air.
On the other side of the inn, the firemen, already rushing to the blaze with buckets, scattered in fright as the boat slammed into the roof. Hundreds of gallons of seawater hissed and sizzled, filling the night with billowing steam as the fires died away. Melody ducked under the water, listening to the cries and shouts of startled colonists as they streamed around the in and crowded to the water’s edge.
She settled deeper into the silt and sand, as comfortable in the icy water as she had been in the fire. Her eyes narrowed in worry as men gathered around Mary, demanding to know what had happened.
“An angel…” Mary said after a moment. Melody’s eyes widened and she drifted closer to the surface.
“An angel saved me from the fire,” the girl continued. “Then she lifted the boat and put it out!”
Melody sank back down to the bottom of the harbor, wondering just how long she could hold her breath. At least when she wasn’t breathing she didn’t feel the full strength of the thirst. She watched in curiosity as the people began to disperse, looking at Mary and the empty harbor in awe.
Eventually Mary was left alone, after resisting even her husband’s urgings retire indoors. Melody could see her standing, white faced and shivering on the end of the pier, staring down into the water. She gave a soft gasp as Melody surfaced, backing away nervously as she clambered up to stand on the dock.
“What are you doing?” Melody hissed. “You’re going to catch your death of cold out here!”
Mary shook her head, her voice a frightened squeak. “Me? What about you? What happened to you Melody?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, shaking icy water from her hair. “I was working my traps and something hit me and I woke up like this… now get inside before you get sick!”
“I didn’t mean to shoot you,” Mary whimpered as Melody propelled her gently inside. “I thought you were a vam….”
“I don’t know what I am,” Melody cut in, ignoring the voice’s exasperated hiss. “But I’m not going to hurt anyone!”
Mary nodded and went into the kitchen, shooing away the gossiping serving girls.
“My husband and some of the men are inspecting the damage,” she said, working up the courage to push Melody over to the fire. “I don’t care if you are an angel or a demon, you’ll stay here with us tonight… just wait here while I get you some dry clothes.”
Melody tried to decline, but Mary waved her off. “I tried to shoot you and you still saved me. It’s the least I can do.”
She returned in moments with fresh clothes and a soft towel. She turned away as Melody stripped off her sopping shirt and pants.
“Are… are you a vampire?” she asked as Melody toweled herself off.
Melody sighed. “I… I think so.” She draped the towel next to her clothes, eyeing Mary’s extra dress. “I know things that I didn’t before and I can do things that shouldn’t be possible.”
“Have you ever… eaten?” Mary asked, not daring to look her in the eyes.
“Wolves,” Melody said quickly, slipping into the faded blue dress. She dropped her head, wondering if she could still blush with shame. “I… I don’t want to hurt anyone and I’m afraid I will.”
“There’s those in this city that could use some hurting,” Mary said, the words slipping out before she could stop them. Her eyes widened. “Oh… but don’t listen to me. Come on, I’ll take you to my house.”
Aliens Among Us
If I ever look at you like you’re an alien, it’s a pretty good bet that you might be an artisan.
I don’t know how many, if any, of you have ever studied personality theory, so let me explain. My favorite personality theories are all derived from work done by the Myers-Briggs personality tests. At the most basic, people can be divided into four personality types or temperaments, the psychological characteristics that build us into the people we are. People react differently to the same stimuli and usually the differences can be traced back to their personalities. The impact is actually pretty incredible, ranging from what we value to how we process information to how we react to stress and beyond. An author named David Kiersey studied personalities in action for more than fifty years before his death and created one of the most fleshed out personality theories that I have ever heard of. He divides people into four temperments, Rationals, Guardians, Artisans, and Idealists. The categories are decided, at the most basic, by how people use tools, anything and everything around us, and how people use words.
When it comes to using tools, including such things as buildings, cars, or even organizations, people will either act cooperatively or act as an utilitarian. This means that cooperatives will generally use tools in a way that benefit, or at least isn’t a detriment, to those around them. Utilitarians will generally use the tools around them to complete the task at hand regardless of the social impact.
Word use is perhaps a little harder to understand. People will usually either use concrete words or ideas or they will speak in abstractions. Keirsey writes that concrete words send signals that are readily interpreted with one or more of the five senses. Abstract words tend to convey messages through symbols that can only be seen or understood with the mind’s eye.
Using this format, Kiersey built a grid that shows four basic temperments. Rationals use abstract words and are utilitarians in their use of tools. Guardians use concrete words and act cooperatively. Artisans use concrete words and are utilitarians and finally, Idealists use abstract words and act cooperatively.
I encountered a particularly dramatic instance of these different personalities today. I was invited to a discipleship event at my church and there were to different lessons, one presented by an Artisan, my polar opposite when it comes to personality, and the other by a fellow Idealist. The basic premise of each lesson was the same, but the each leader’s approach was worlds away from the other and I even found myself recoiling from the Artisan’s competitive (almost combative) energy and instead gravitating toward the Idealist’s warmth and earnest passion. This, I believe, is the reason for the great diversity in the body of Christ and at once its greatest strength and its greatest weakness. Every personality will react slightly differently to the same message, and those that were captured by the Artisan’s fire might easily be driven away by the Idealist’s emotion and vice versa. Unfortunately this can easily lead to people building cliques or walking away in offense.
Meet Melody: Part 5
I’m too tired to think of an intro, so here you go.
She pulled Melody back into the room, away from the crowded common room. “What are you doing here like this? I thought…” she hesitated. “Melody, what happened to you? Your eyes!”
“It’s a long story,” Melody said. She looked around as one of the cooks slipped and pricked her finger on a knife. The scent of blood filled her nostrils and she swallowed uncomfortably as the thirst began to return. “Mary, I need help. Do you have my room open?”
Mary hesitated again and nodded, leading her up the back stair to a small but cozy room on the inn’s third floor. The woman bustled about, lighting candles and oil lamps.
“I’ll have my girls bring up coal for the brazier,” she said as she worked. She looked at Melody in concern. “Are you sure you’re okay? Is there anything I can get for you?”
Melody shook her head, struggling to ignore the sound of her friend’s heartbeat. “No… no, I’m fine. I just need a place to rest.”
Mary stared at her carefully for a long moment and left with a nod.
Sounds of the inn and town outside filled her sensitive ears as she stripped off her coat and crossed to the frosted window. Her eyes pierced the darkness outside, cutting through the dark and the smoke. Clouds obscured the sky and it had started to snow. She glanced up, momentarily forgetting the burning of the thirst as she saw past the cloud cover and into the endless stars.
“It almost makes up for the thirst,” whispered the voice. It look Melody a long moment to realize that the thought was her own.
“I guess I’m getting used to this,” she mumbled, groaning as she dropped into the soft bed.
There were footsteps in the hall outside and she sighed, realizing that she could recognize Mary by the smell of her blood.
“Thanks for doing this Mary,” she said, closing her eyes as the door opened. “Something happened, I….”
There was a clicking noise and her eyes snapped open.
“What are you?” demanded Mary, leveling her husband’s flintlock pistol at Melody’s head. The weapon wavered slightly, matching her trembling voice. “I’ve heard the stories! You’re not my friend!”
Melody froze. “Mary, no, it’s me….”
The woman shook her head, frightened tears filling her eyes as she edged closer. “No! You’re a vampire, a demon! What did you do to Melody?”
Melody started to move, started to reassure her friend but Mary panicked, her finger tightening on the trigger. The gun went off with the sound of thunder and something hard hit her in the head, knocking her back into the soft pillows. The bullet, glancing off of her iron hard skin, slammed into the oil lamp on the stand by the bed. Shouts and screams filled the air as flames spread through the room, biting hungrily into the bedding and wooden walls. Mary dropped the gun and clapped her hands to her mouth in horror, screaming hysterically as Melody jumped to her feet and dove headlong through the window.
She landed easily on her feet in the street below, the voice screaming at her to run.
“No,” she growled, forcing the voice away as she looked up at the smoke pouring from the shattered window. “Mary!”
Guests inside, already unnerved by the gunshots and screams, turned in shock as Melody burst through the door.
“Fire!” she screamed. “The inn’s on fire! Everyone out! Get the buckets!”
Meet Melody: Part 4
Melody wasn’t actually supposed to be a blood dragon, or even a dragon at all. When I first created the character, she was a photographer, struggling to survive in the city. I had intended for her to meet a dragon, but as I began to write her main story, set some 250 years after this timeline, she became the dragon and Barnabus the human. Blood dragons were also an accident, created as I simplified an overly complicated system for dragon society and magic.
“When I talk to you, you know you’re talking to yourself right?” asked the voice after a moment. “I’m magic and the memories your maker passed on, nothing more.”
“Well your company’s still better than nothing,” Melody growled, coming to a stop on the hill overlooking the settlement. Her eyes focused on the people moving through the growing evening. She cocked her head, suddenly hearing a complaining lamplighter as if she were standing at his side.
“What am I looking for?” she asked, more to herself than to the voice. “How do I know if there are more supernaturals down there?”
A sound in the distant forest behind her brought her around with a start. To her new eyes, the evening was still as clear and bright as it had been at mid-day. Movement on the trail to her cabin caught her eye and her breath quickened.
“I think you had better worry about what’s out here!” warned the voice. “Quick! Hide in the town!”
With barely a thought, she was in town, moving almost more quickly than the eye could see. One of the night watchmen swore in shock as she went, the wind from her passing lifting the tricorn hat from his head. She stopped in the darkness not far away, resisting a sudden and overwhelming urge to laugh.
“This isn’t funny,” grumped the voice. “We should get inside before the hunters get here.”
Melody nodded, slipping through the streets unseen, her new powers making it easy to hide from watchmen and townsfolk alike. She stopped beside a small tavern by the waterfront, owned by the husband of a woman she had known in the orphanage. The woman, a pleasant girl named Mary, and her husband, were the only people in the colony that knew her secret.
The common room was crowded and Melody kept her head down, ignoring the raucous noise and curious glances as she crossed to the kitchen. Mary looked up as she opened the door.
“Melody?” she hissed, her eyes widening in surprise. “Is that you?”
Meet Melody: Part 3
So? Had enough of my mild insanity yet? Here’s some more just in case.
Melody’s legs started to move by themselves and she was suddenly running, a drab blur moving through the winter woods. Her trapline was one of the longest in the area and the trek to her cabin, which should have taken days in the deep snow, took less than an hour. Though nearly twenty, Melody, an orphan, had spent almost two years posing as a fourteen year old boy, earning his income by trading furs. The remote cabin and trapline offered a hard life, but compared to the life of an orphan in the colony, Melody thought it preferable. Even as it was, it was getting harder to avoid curious glances every time she went into town.
“You won’t have to hide anymore,” said the voice as she opened the cabin door. Unbidden memories of the men other girls had warned her about came to her mind. “You’re stronger now….”
“Then what are we running from?” she demanded as she went to the hearth. The winter cold didn’t bother her, but the familiar ritual of lighting a fire was comforting. “If I’m a blood dragon, what’s there to be afraid of?”
“Our maker was running,” replied the voice. “The dragonflights are the founders of the supernatural courts, but it doesn’t mean that we’re above their laws.” Melody gasped as a flood of memories and knowledge filled her mind. “Our maker was being hunted by the Court of Magi and the mage dragonflight.”
“But I didn’t do anything,” Melody groaned, dropping miserably into a rickety chair. “They don’t need to hunt me!”
“Our maker was a renegade,” said the voice. “Courtless. Until we find the Court of Blood and our own dragonflight, the Court of Beasts and the Court of Magi will consider us a threat. Other courts would be eager to gain the favor of a dragonflight… without our own Court to back us we are vulnerable.”
“How do we find our Court then?” Melody asked wearily.
“I don’t know. The Blood Dragonflight will search for us though… a new dragon is too valuable to ignore. We just have to survive until we’re found.”
“We have to get to town,” Melody said. “They’ll be less likely to attack there… I, I have to get ready.”
“Look in the mirror,” commanded the voice. “You’re disguise won’t work. We’ve changed.”
Melody got up and went over to the single old mirror. Her breath left her in a gasp. Even under a layer of dirt and ash and blood, her face was… beautiful. Too pretty to be mistaken for a boy any longer.
“My eyes,” she said, running her fingers over skin the color of ivory. “They’re purple!”
“The color of our dragonflight,” said the voice. “Blood dragons and their vampires all share purple eyes. Your friends will know something is wrong. We need to be careful.”
Melody threw off her stained and dirty clothes, suddenly filled with an uncharacteristic desire for elegance.
“What else do I need to know?” she asked, forced to choose a pair of heavy woolen breeches and a man’s shirt that was several sizes too large.
“You already know it,” the voice said. “I’m your memories. I’m nothing but a way for you to cope with the turning.”
The voice faded away and Melody was left feeling strangely alone as she gathered what little money she had and shrugged on her heavy, fur lined coat. The new memories and knowledge was becoming easier to process and the subconscious piece of her mind that made up the voice, opened. Melody swayed and fell against the doorjamb, feeling like her head was going to split in half. The psychic pressure faded and the girl swore, growling under her breath as she stepped out into the snow.
Moving In
Due to changing over from Blogger to WordPress, I’ll be posting more often than usual until all of my stories are back in my archives. Because I haven’t posted anything new about Melody’s origin story, I’ll be focusing on that until I can post new content. Please enjoy, share and like if you are willing to and let me know what you think.
Meet Melody: Part 2
If you haven’t guessed yet, I have an odd imagination. One slightly demented result is the blood dragon, the most feared member of the three dragonflights. All dragons refuel their innate magical abilities by “consuming life force”. Wild dragons and mage dragons hunt prey, typically devouring it whole, but blood dragons drain their victim’s blood, allowing them to leave victims alive.
“What are you talking about?” screamed Melody, a deep growl ripping from somewhere deep in her chest.
“We’re a blood dragon now,” the voice snapped. “I’m your ancestral memories. The one who turned us should be helping us, but right now I’m all we’ve got! So shut up and listen!”
She froze in shock as a vision of a tremendous creature with shining red, black, and purple scales popped into her head. The dragon spread its sail like wings and roared, spouting flames. She felt the beast inside of her at the same moment, straining, begging to be unleashed.
“No!” commanded the voice. “Not yet! Not here!” Melody subsided, her breath coming in great, heaving gasps as the voice continued. “Blood dragons don’t need to show their true form. You have all the strength you need as you are.”
“My throat,” she choked. “It hurts!”
“It’s the thirst,” said the voice. “We have to feed!”
*
Melody dropped the last wolf to the ground, wiping blood from her mouth as her fangs receded. She looked around at the four others, equal parts horrified and exhilarated. The wolf pack, once so terrifying as she followed her trapline, had been no match for her newfound strength and ferocity. It had been a simple thing to chase them down and drain them, their jaws not even scratching her skin in the few moments they had to fight.
“I killed them,” she panted, the thirst finally sated. “I drank their blood!”
“You’re a blood dragon now,” the voice said. “One of the three great dragonflights! As well as the most powerful vampires in the world!”
“Vampire?” she whimpered, sinking to her knees as she stared at the slaughtered wolves. “Blood dragon? No… no, no, no, this can’t be real….”
“It’s real,” snapped the voice, losing patience. “But our turning attracted attention! We should go, we’ve been out here too long already.”
Through the Bridge of Worlds: Part 2
I’ve only read a few stories that deal with alternate history and technology, steampunk and gearpunk and the like. The idea of a world where technology took a different path always intrigued me and was a part of the reasoning for this particular story.
The man smiled. “My name is Baird. This is the capital city of Revalan. Do… do you remember anything? Anything at all?”
“Reapers,” Blink whispered, struggling to piece together her past. “They attacked Mauradin. I tried to stop them but… but they captured me.”
“Mauradin?” asked Baird. “There’s no place called Mauradin here.”
“You dreamed of me,” Blink said, her head still swimming. She looked over at the wide window and up through the tattered clouds at the single moon. She pointed. “I… I don’t belong here. This… this is wrong.”
She stared at Baird as he sat down, forgetting for a moment that the mask was still hiding half of her face. “I’m not crazy.” She tried to sit up. “The Reapers, their magic did something to me.”
“You appeared out of thin air, right on my porch,” Baird said carefully. “It happened right in front of me. It was like magic.”
“It was magic,” Blink said sourly as she lifted the mask, fighting the headache as it threatened to return. “What else could it be.”
Baird moved his chair closer, folding his hands together. “Magic doesn’t exist here miss. It hasn’t for hundreds of years.”
“Well it exists where I came from,” Blink growled, squinting her eyes as the headache began to lessen. “Damn it, Damn it, Damn it! I need to get home.” She stood up too quickly and nearly fell. Baird caught her shoulders, helping her catch her balance. She glanced at him. “Were there ever two moons in your sky?”
“Once,” Baird answered. “I’ve read legends about a second moon in the sky. People used magic and traveled freely between the worlds.” He got up and looked up at the night sky. “The elves say they came from somewhere else. They still tell the stories if you ask them.” He turned on Blink with a strange expression on his face. “But I’ve never even heard stories of a kingdom named Mauradin. And that still doesn’t explain why I saw you in my dream.”
Blink, transfixed by the spectacle of the strange city, didn’t answer for a moment. “Seers say that dreams bridge the worlds,” she said softly. She looked at Baird. “But you don’t look like a seer.”
Baird blinked. “I’m not a seer, I’m a storyteller.”
“Maybe you are a seer after all,” Blink quipped. “All the seers I know love to tell wild stories.” She put her hand on the window, pushing out into the cool night air.
“Where are you going?” asked Baird, following her out onto the flat, rooftop patio.
The woman held up her hand as a chilly wind began to blow. “Hold still,” she commanded. “Reapers… they’re coming. Back, back inside!”
In the War of Light and Shadow: Part 2
I had a headache when I posted this last time, so I didn’t really give any inside info on it before. I actually wrote this on my commutes between my house and New York City. It helped me take my mind off of the crowds and the noise.
“I… I can’t,” stammered the knight. “You’re a Deathknight… you, you’re one of them!”
“A Deathknight that is fighting on your side!” snapped the elf, losing his patience. “Leave the chains if you must but let me save the city!” His eyes flashed with a cold blue light and he raised his commandeered blade. “Or would you like to try to kill me instead?”
With his strength and stature restored, Aravos stood on a level with the knight. Even chained, the Deathknight was an imposing figure, with his silvery skin etched with softly glowing runes. The soldier swallowed nervously, eyeing the long sword in Aravos’ powerful hands.
“Here,” he said shakily, digging a ring of keys from one of his pouches. “What do we do now?”
Aravos let the chains fall to the ground and rubbed his raw wrists. “The hordes are lead by greater undead, Deathknights, liches, vampires… we need to find whatever is holding this together and kill it.”
“Where?” panted the knight, following Aravos as he jogged away. “Where is it? How do we find it?”
Aravos hesitated at a crossroads, disoriented from his long imprisonment. “If we get close enough, I should be able to sense it.” His jaw tightened. “Without my own blade and armor my magic is weak. If the undead take my mind again, you need to take off my head, understand?”
He pierced the soldier with his strange blue eyes. “Understand?”
“Yes,” said the knight. “How will I know?”
Aravos gave a half-hearted chuckle. “When I stop killing the dead and start trying to kill you.”
To their relief the gates were intact, though skeletal warriors swarmed the ground outside, some raising crude ladders while others clawed their way up to the ramparts. The throwers had stopped, though the damage was already done. Aravos could hear the screams and sounds of fighting as more of the flesh golems stalked the streets, adding to the rampant chaos. The sun had long since vanished, overcome by thick black clouds. Thunder rumbled as the knight and the Deathknight fought shoulder to shoulder, sweeping shambling zombies and ravening ghouls from off the battlements. Aravos fought carefully, conserving the magic of his crude runeblade as much as he could.
The undead had overcome many of the knights manning this section of the wall. The few that remained were trapped near the guard tower, hemmed in by dozens of moaning corpses. Zombies turned on Aravos without fear only to fall beneath his blade. The men at the guardhouse watched in awe as the small swarm disintegrated.
“Hold this wall!” thundered the Deathknight, barely slowing as he shoved through the door to the guardhouse and across the deserted room to the far door.
The center of the wall was little better, though he could see clusters of knights gathered around shining paladins. The mighty champions fought with unequaled fury, fueled by the light and a deep hatred for the undead. It seemed, though the monsters roved the walltop, that nothing could stand against the holy men and women of the Church of Light. A cold feeling pierced Aravos’ heart and he hesitated.
The knight stopped. “What’s wrong?”
“A lich,” Aravos replied, pressing his thumb against his blade, wincing as it bit his calloused flesh. The knight watched in concern as he drew a series of crude, bloody runes on the wide blade.
“Lich?” the man asked. “Aren’t liches wizards?”
“Most of them were wizards once,” Aravos said grimly. “Men who turned to undeath to extend their lives and their research. Their magic is strong… stronger than mine.”
“How do we stop them?” asked the knight.
“They are creatures of ice,” replied the Deathknight. The runes on his skin and sword flickered and bluish fire lined his blade. “We need to use fire… it will weaken it enough to kill it.”
The knight spun around and ducked into the guardroom before returning with a brand from the fire. Aravos nodded approvingly. “Good. Now let’s go!”
Almost at that instant, something appeared at the walltop beside the nearest paladin. A tall figure, ghostly and shining with a pale light hovered over the battlements, its translucent robes fluttering in a non existent wind. Only its skull seemed solid, staring down at the champion with red lights that shone from empty eye sockets. Several smaller spirits, lesser ghosts, flanked the lich, striking at the knights with spectral swords. The blades drew no blood, but more than one soldier fell, stricken by the horrible chill.
Aravos swore. “Knight, do you wear a holy symbol?”
The man nodded and pulled a pendant from under his breastplate. “This.”
“Good enough,” said the Deathknight. “Wrap the chain around your hilt and repeat after me.”
When he said the once familiar prayer, the words caught in his throat. For a moment he felt sick, but gathered his strength, barely skipping a beat as he forced the incantation through clenched teeth. The knight followed quickly, stumbling over a handful of the larger words. Aravos grunted, glancing back at the lich and the paladin.
“That will have to do,” he said. “A consecrated blade will drive the ghosts away. Try to keep up!”
Within the Endless Skies 