Where It All Went Wrong | 11

Wesley had clunked his way into the house a little bit ago. Lucy was awake and jumped out of bed to get ready. She doubted he had just come over for breakfast and coffee.

“Hey, Lucy.” Wesley was sitting at the kitchen counter eating toast and drinking coffee.

Lucy’s mouth turned up. “Hi.” She squinted her eyes a little bit and stood across from him, leaning on the counter.

He was happily munching on his food. When he caught her stare he grinned. “I’m only like Sully during work, if that’s what you’re wondering.” He pushed his plate over to her. It had another piece of toast.

She slowly nodded and grabbed the piece, not being able to—or rather, not caring to—take her gaze off him as she took a bite. Wesley didn’t seem to mind as he took a swig of his coffee with a wink.

Sullivan marched through the room when they finished their breakfast. “Let’s go.” He didn’t wait for them to follow.

The trio took the short walk to the main house where Piper and Enzo were waiting for them. Another woman stood behind them with buzzed hair and striking eyes.

“Good,” Piper said, looking at Lucy, “you’re all here. Take a seat.” She moved around the table, so they could sit down. “Lucy, this is Grace.”

Grace, with an expression rivaling Sullivan’s, nodded once towards Lucy and sat down.

Within the short amount of time Grace actually looked at her, Lucy wasn’t able to change her wide-eyed look to a normal one. She sat down, running a hand through her hair. She wasn’t good at first impressions, especially when the new person looked like she could break her in half.

“The book is still a priority,” Enzo began, “but we need to continue our surveillance.” He stood at the end of the long table. “We won’t be able to do anything if we can’t find the WDS.”

“Grace and Wes,” Piper looked down at a list, “you work on tailing them. Remember, stay in contact, but you’re not to been seen together. If one of you is seen, the other can still follow them.”

Grace met Wesley’s grin with a smirk. “After you.”

The two stood up and left the house. Their voices faded as they went, but were filled with jokes and insults. They were eager and that sent chills down Lucy’s spine.

“Lucy, we want you to look in your shop. Sullivan will go with you. If that’s where you found the book, there’s more to find,” Piper continued.

“How do you know that?” She couldn’t hold back the question.

Piper’s gaze hardened, but only for a moment. “We don’t know anything for sure, but your future self had it sent there. Most of us found our note at our home with nothing of importance happening after.”

“And the ones that didn’t?”

Sullivan sighed. “I found mine at a park and then something happened after that we believe will be useful knowledge in the future.”

Lucy waited for him to elaborate on his stark words. He didn’t, just stared at her until she wimped out and looked away. Looking back at Piper, she nodded.

“You’ll be fine with Sullivan there, but” Enzo paused, “just be careful, as always.” He shared a look with the others and suddenly Lucy knew she was missing something.

“Try to stay out of sight,” Piper got back on topic. “The WDS has limits on what they can do, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. We never know when or why they back off.”

Sullivan stood, so Lucy followed suit. Out of habit, Lucy said thank you as they started to leave.

“No,” Enzo said, stronger than he had before, “thank you, Lucy, really.”

She took a deep breath with her forehead creasing and anything but confidence showing through. She followed Sullivan out without another word.

Thank you for reading!

I’m curious, have you read the story from the beginning or just this chapter?




Welcome to my blog! Have a look around and enjoy all my photography, short stories, and rambling thoughts!

Here’s to kicking 2018’s booty!


Dancing: Who’s dancing and why are they tapping those toes?


The rhythm is steady, aside from a few late taps that cause the next to be much louder from trying to get back on beat.

She smiles because of it.

Music has always been her thing and she loves to she others enjoying it, even if they lacked any sort of rhythm.

That’s why it’s so beautiful to her. Music doesn’t discriminate. It’s there for anyone and everyone to love, to create, to listen to and it’s always there. No matter the situation, music is there to calm, to relax, to rejuvenate.

She gets lost just thinking about it. Closing her eyes and letting a smile grace her face, she takes it all in, beat by beat.

She can sit there for hours in the little live music cafe down the street. At least, it seems like hours, even if it’s just a few minutes.

That’s even more beauty of it. She can leave her reality and relish in a whole new one brought on by a melody laced with words, or perhaps a melody alone.

She opens her eyes and scans the floor. Tapping toes are everywhere. Another smile pulls at her lips because tapping toes only comes from one thing.


Sometimes I think these need to be longer, but then I remind myself there’s no rules to writing, just many guidelines (aka grammar–definitely follow grammar guidelines).

My goal with these prompts is to be writing everyday and pushing my creativity, my way of weaving words together, and my story lines in general.

It’s working very well so far.

Join in the challenge of pushing our writing limits with me! Write a prompt everyday and make sure to let me know, so I can read and cheer you on!


Unrequited Love

The Unrequited love poem: How do you feel when you love someone who does not love you back?


It’s the weekend and time to run the monotonous errands of buying groceries and miscellaneous items for around the house.

I roll of out bed and wobble straight into the bathroom, barely managing to walk around corners and desperately trying to rub the sleep from my eyes.

It only takes an hour or two to get fully ready. I’ve dressed, cleaned up, and eaten breakfast. It’s time to get on the road and I haven’t spoken a word.

The trip around the grocery store goes quick. I have a list that is extremely similar every week and I know right where to go. A few closed mouth smiles to strangers are given as I walk, but mostly I keep my head down. I mumble a thank you to the cashier, but only if I decide to not do self checkout, which is quite rare.

I leave, rushing to my car, with only a few bags to carry.

The next store goes the same and before I know it, I’m home again. It’s quiet because it’s empty, so I immediately turn on some music or a movie to fill the space.

Everything gets put in its place and I collapse on the couch, mumbling a curse word because I sit on a remote that changes the channel. My voice is a bit hoarse. That is probably the third word I have said all day.

I get all comfy with blankets wrapped around me and sink into the couch when I realize I left the entryway light on and my snack on the bar table. Groaning, I roll out of my cocoon and drag my feet.

After I get settled a second time, I channel check because my movie is over. Strangely there is a holiday movie on even though the holidays have passed. It’s about a couple, so I move on, but mostly I move on because it is about the holidays.

I finally land on some reruns of my favorite series and drift off to sleep.

I think the hardest part about loving someone who doesn’t love you back, or the more common being alone and growing up alone, is watching people who have someone to do simple daily tasks with them. They always have someone by their side to make decisions, to have fun, to grab the remote when it sits all the way across the room. 

I think its hard to be alone and have no one to talk to about silly little things, but knowing it’s happening to others.

Story prompt #2! Already broke my goal of one a day, but that’s okay!

This one kind of veered from the original prompt, which is normal. No one knows where their writing will go!

Here’s the link to 365 story prompts if you want to join the challenge of writing as many as you can!


Discovering Faith (or something like that)

Today’s post isn’t exactly religious because I’m not exactly religious. I don’t really know what I believe or who to believe, but I know there has to be some sort of good out there.

What brought this on is actually sort of silly in a way, at least for those who don’t follow or cherish sports.

If anyone is a football fan, you may have heard or watched a video on the recent Vikings and Saints game.

I’m from Minnesota and pretty much went through 20 years of stress in ten minutes. All my nails got chewed off, I was wrapped up in a blanket like a cocoon in the corner of my couch, and there was nothing I could do to calm down my pounding heart.

Recap: We were down by one with like 20 seconds left, had some incomplete passes, a false start, and all our hopes were shattered… again. That is until Case threw a pass to Diggs and instead of just stepping out of bounds for a chance at a field goal to stop the clock when the other team missed the tackle , Diggs ran into the end zone right as the time expired and we won with a walk off touchdown.

I’m honestly still reeling and this was two days ago.

Anyway, that’s not the point of this post. When asked about the play, both players pointed to God and gave Him all the glory.

Again, while this is heartwarming and humbling for me to watch, I just don’t know where I stand with religion, but what I learned is that God or whatever good force of nature is out there will never give you a chance if you give up.

Those boys played to the literal last second, never giving up, and succeeded.

The chances won’t come if we give up, so I’m not giving up.

Here’s to a renewed faith in never giving up.



Lack of Hope

I just recently turned 25 and while I can look in the mirror and still feel 21, it’s hard knowing I’m not. I thought I would be in a much different place than I am now.

The year of 24 was plagued with a lot of anxiety that only let hope trickle in. It was my darkest year yet and I’m still struggling on pulling myself out of that hole.

The only thing that helped was my obnoxious imagination.

It still helps today and pushes my writing even further, but unfortunately it acts as a curse, too. My dreams stretch so far that sometimes I’m left in the dust behind them with little hope I’ll ever get there.

But I’m trying and I’m taking one step at a time. Things will never happen if I don’t try and that’s what I have to remember everyday.

I wrote this at some point in 2017. Written for a little writing challenge about flying, it became a short story outlining anxiety in a different way.


Wind glided across her skin, melting into her hair and flowing around her body. Kya held her eyes closed, not needing to see the darkened clouds blending into the bright sky around her. She was used to it. Instead, she marveled in the feeling of being up high and alone— the feeling of being in control.

Her lips slowly turned up into a grin. Kya flipped to her back and stretched out her arms to the side. She reached through the tips of her finger and toes. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, erupting in a giddy shake. Her hips and arms danced. She wiggled all the way down to her fingertips.

Kya’s long mane of hair whipped around her face and she grasped at her neck, pushing away the strands. She held her palms to her forehead, keeping her locks out of the way and finally opened her eyes.

She seemed to be in a cloud at this point. It was a hazy gray, but light enough to see through. The bright blue of the sky shown through like a diamond through dirt. It was beautiful and gave her an extra jolt of energy.

Kya brought her knees to her stomach, flipping back around, and pushed up even higher in the sky, like a rocket taking off into space. She twirled in circles, bringing her hands up above her head.

An icy touch sparked her fingertips. She jerked them back to her sides, but the damage was already done. She felt the cold run through her veins, causing the hairs on her body to stand taut.

She began falling, the force that was pushing her up no longer swimming around her. It left slowly, draining from her body inch by inch. It was only when the last of it left her toes that her smile left with it.

The air twisted and pulled at her legs, her arms. She could barely see through the mess her hair had become. It was knotted and plastered to her face. Her breathing became shallow because each time she opened her mouth to take a breath, her throat closed up to keep everything out.

She spun in the air, the speed of her downfall pulsing into her chest. She tried to maneuver into different positions, anything that might help slow her down, but it was no use.

The darkness was in clear sight. The hole was smooth and deep. She knew because she dug it herself.

Kya opened her eyes as wide as she could and took one last look at the beautiful blue sky above her. With a sigh, she accepted the darkness and it swallowed her whole. She landed with a thud on at the bottom. The ground was comfortable and she was used to it, but it didn’t make her like it.

She let her body fall back and her head bounced on the dirt underneath her. It was almost like a pillow, though not as reassuring.

Her eyes closed and she placed her forearms over them. After a few deep breaths, Kya let herself fall asleep, her stomach still in knots.

She knew what was happening and she knew the logical way to get out of this hole, but all she wanted to do was sleep and attempt to get her mind off of it. She couldn’t explain the exact reason why she wanted to because she didn’t even know herself.

It was just another happy day, followed by a sad night. Her ups and downs were endless, but she still kept going. After all, it’s one step forward and two steps back and one day her step forward was going to be a whole hell of a lot bigger than her two steps back.



It’s been a while since I’ve written on this blog, but I’m excited to get back because I let myself be myself here (aka swear words and rambling).


I am writing a book that I love and yes, I realized I will say that every time, but this one is gold, for real.

I’m on the second-ish draft, which is the one where I completely retype it to add in more scenes because I actually didn’t have enough words. I don’t know if that’s a good sign or not.

I’m trying to reach 70,000 and I ended at just over 50,000, so this will be interesting.

This serves to be the first update, though, of my journey to publication. My life dream is to be an author who can sustain herself (and a family) on just writing. My pipe dream is to turn that into screenwriting and filmmaking. I definitely should have went to school for that during one of the two times I went to college, but oh well, we all make mistakes.

My book is called A Hero’s Secret and here is a just for fun cover I made for it! Yay!



Seriously, though, how cool would it be to hold a physcial copy of your own damn book in your hands?

I think I would cry.

New Year, New Ways to Fail, New Motivation

I’m returning to this blog with a different motivation than I have had before and I would be lying if I said it didn’t have to do with money and my age.

I am still young, yes, I know, but I just turned 25 and I’m still on my dad’s benefits and have a part time job.

Holy, reality check.

Now I have less than a year to either find a full time job that I will probably dislike, or somehow monetize my hobby of writing, which is what I want to do, duh.

So here we go, one blog a day on the journey to live my life for me and be able to afford it.

I’m going to write about things I love, things that went wrong, things that make me mad, and things that make me proud. I’m going to write everyday, as much as I can.

And honestly, it’s going to be hard. I’ve never been able to push this goal to fruition.

Take the steps along with me in this “new year, new me” and hopefully I won’t let it drag me down and run me over any longer.

A Mirror of Another World

I’ve started writing a story that is literally my favorite idea so far and trust me, I’ve had a lot of ideas. I am truly that person who daydreams for than thinking of reality because for me, at least right now, daydreaming is better.

Here is the (and shortest) chapter. There is still a lot of work to be done, but I am way to impatient to wait for that. Also, the cover is a bigger work in progress. 😉

Let me know what you think! I love opinions!




Our reflections are truly wonders of the world and they will continue to teach us of fantasies we’ve never dreamed, adventures we’ve never been, and tragedies we’ve never seen.


A jolt caused the young woman’s hair to swing around her face. She stumbled a few steps forward, her knees slightly buckling, before she caught her balance and glued her feet in one spot. A barely audible groan emitted from her mouth as she pushed her long hair back behind her shoulders.

“Pick up your feet,” Holland whispered to herself.

She moved forward again, this time more conscious of cracks in the sidewalk that shifted different slabs of concrete up or down. Her legs were scraped and scarred enough from innocent childhood roughhousing. Holland Scott would have fallen under the fearless child category, although her mother liked to call it recklessness, but that never stopped her father from taking his daughter out to play.

It was late in the afternoon and the sun was no longer high in the sky, allowing a cool breeze to curl through the town. Holland relished in this kind of weather, taking as many walks as possible. In fact, she had just left a few moments ago to enjoy the fresh air. Deep down, she knew she also just liked to get out of house, which she could never quite call a home. It was a standard government issued house—one level with an underground basement. Hers had two bedrooms, her room and a guest room, but only one bathroom. The number of rooms depended on family size, but they all held the same basic features that are needed to live.

Holland took one step in front of the other with no direction in mind. Her eyes scanned over the dulled colors of vehicles that drove by, their matte surfaces blending into the trees and grass around them. She squinted and tried to visualize how bright the hues would be if they held that reflective quality she had learned about in secondary a few weeks prior.

Of course Holland grew up hearing fanciful stories about such surfaces, but the government decided to withhold the facts until the very last lesson in school before careers started. The lesson did not disappoint, opening up a whole new beauty to the world, and the young woman wished she could see herself in a reflection other than water full of ripples.

The facts, albeit fascinating and mysterious, were quite minimal, in fact Holland could boil it down to two simple sentences.

Everyone in the world became so vain and so worried about themselves that they missed opportunities to enrich each other. This caused all hell to break loose and violence, war, and discrimination to become the norm, so all reflective surfaces were banned.

That was probably the most Holland had ever payed attention during secondary. Those three years were really a waste of time. They were supposed to ready students for their choice of career, but most figured that out during the first eighteen years of life in primary, mostly from parents and relatives, but some were intelligent enough to take the corresponding electives.

Holland didn’t follow that path, so she really should have focused in secondary, but having tested out of the prelim exam as administration, she quickly lost interest in the whole program. Now, graduated and signed off, the twenty one year old had one week to secure a position in administration, unless she defected to maintenance, the career below hers and the only other option. Lack of qualifications had set her low on the totem pole. Truthfully, Holland didn’t know what she wanted to do and nothing caught her attention. She’d always been more of a wanderer.

The sidewalk Holland had been walking on crumbled to an end, turning into bits of gravel mixed with dirt. At the edge of town, which coincided with the end of her street, the pattern of green grass and proper housing ended. Instead, broken buildings and overgrown nature lined the road, which itself was cracked with weeds growing out in all directions.

The background noise grew quiet the farther Holland walked into the rubble. The road went nowhere, as it’s a dead end an obnoxious number of miles down, so vehicles had no reason to drive through. Sometimes the occasional group of kids would find fun running through the buildings, but mostly the area stayed deserted. It was common knowledge that parents disliked their children playing or exploring in the broken part of town, so it became a normal place to avoid.

Holland quite enjoyed that aspect of it. Quiet and mystery were found in every corner and crevice, plus her parents weren’t there to tell her otherwise. Before she started secondary, her parents decided to move to a city a few hours north where her father’s family resided.

The appeal of a big city almost pulled Holland out of her small town life, but she had had a gut feeling that influenced her to stay. Recently, she wasn’t so sure if she’d made the right choice. Nothing had happened in the past three years to make her think otherwise. She missed her parents too, which didn’t help, but at the same time Holland liked living away from them. She loved her parents, but it didn’t take a genius to see the distance between them. They were never the tightest knit family on the block.

Holland took a sharp right to follow a curvy path of stepping stones. Hopping from one to another, the she found herself at the steps of the tallest building around town. It was three floors high and incredibly wide. It was so old it was built before the standards were put into place by the government. Maintenance tried to keep it up to code, but that didn’t last long or so Holland heard. The house had been abandoned since way before she was born.

Slowly, she went up the steps, each one creaking under her weight. The front door stood slightly ajar, so Holland pushed it open. The sun immediately shined in and revealed a very dusty set of staircases, one set went up and the other went down.

A shiver erupted through her back. Even during the day, she couldn’t keep those haunting rumors from her mind. It was said that long, long ago this was the house of a man, a serial killer, who would bend his victims to fit into boxes, like a puzzle, before burying them in his backyard. Supposedly he was never caught and died a natural death, but the spirits of those he killed trapped him in the house for eternity—his own box.

The stories, no matter how creepy, were just stories that held an absurdity used to frighten kids and that in no way kept Holland’s curiosity from burning through her mind. She shook her head, mentally laughing at her fear, and warily took the stairs going down to the basement. She wasn’t about to fall through a rotting floor. The lower Holland went, the dirtier everything got. She was careful to keep her hands to herself and away from any mold or strange bacteria sticking to the walls of the narrow staircase. With one last step, she let out a sigh of relief upon reaching the room at the bottom.

Light was dim and scattered around the room in a subtle spotted pattern through old cracked windows that were hardly boarded up, showing just how much this place was not up to government standards.

Holland walked slowly into the center of the room, clutching her hands together tightly at her chest. Her breathing grew shallow for the first time since entered the old house, but she kept her mouth closed. The air quality matched exactly what a left for dead room that hasn’t been opened in years would be—thick of mold and dirt.

Taking little time to assess the dangerous air, Holland let her legs draw her towards a shadowy shape looming in the corner. The closer she got, the more she saw. She honestly had no idea why she decided to come here today, but she was glad she did. Her eyes were glued to a foreign surface that she could only guess was described as glossy. It reflected the dim light around her, casting weird shapes of light on the floor around it. Holland’s feet came to a stop merely an inch from the tall object. Her fingers met the rough wood. Splinters broke off and fluttered to the floor. The frame went all the way around the reflective surface and displayed an intricate carving that wove in and out of itself. Holland’s hand didn’t make it to the top, as the frame became out of reach. Her arm fell back into her side and she once again found herself entranced with what the wood encased. It was smudged, smoky, but there was no denying the clear picture.

Holland had stumbled upon a piece of history.

Holland had found a mirror.


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