So, the other day I was feeling chilled. It's not that it is actually that cold here at home, maybe it was doing this writing exercise. Cuz honestly, I was freezing after I finished this one. Needing to warm up fast, I grabbed a blanket, turned up the heat a bit and imagined I was back on the beach in Jamaica....ahhhhhh. Then I opened my eyes, looked out the window and saw the mudsoaked plains that have become my yard, and reality crashed in...ugh...

Anyway, subject change! I do so love the colours in this image! Wow! Good and evil battle overhead of men below - shows the true fragility of man...

Surely my eyes deceive me, for I see the heavens open and angels appear.

Have I died?

But that cannot be...

I can still hear the howling wind ferociously rip at us. Feel the angry waves continously toss and batter our boat. I taste salt on my lips and feel it sting my eyes. I am soaked and chilled to the bone. My muscles burn and ache so bad they are beginning to seize.

No, I have most definitely not died. Yet, death is all around me. I see bodies cast about in snarling water and broken bits of timber slam against our small vessel. I hear the cries of men who've fallen overboard. My friends...my comrades...sickness engulfs me as the waves consume them.

Our boat teeters precariously on huge waves, then plunges steeply down only to be picked up again and again. The ocean, intent on devouring us too.

We are in the midst of a something truely beyond our comprehension. If I were not seeing it myself, I would scoff at the teller of this tale. Though, it is unlikely that any man will repeat these incredulous events, for They do not see us. Or, perhaps it is that we are insignificant, and not worthy of Their attention. This truth is staggering, and gives me the desire to best them...to survive.

For this story should be told...I must get through this...I must tell it. So that man will know that our Gods have failed us...

Fantasy genre is so awesome - you can do anything with it! Love it!

Spring is in the air! Well, kinda sorta. But it's not -40C, so I'm happy with that. Although, with spring, flooding may be an issue. There's a lot of snowfall all around us that may fill up the Red River and make it pretty uncomfy here. I may wanna get my canoe and hip-waders ready...

Okay! Let's write!


















Darkness creeps across alabaster stone, forcing back rays of sunlight. A chill settles, chasing away any warmth. The air falls still, stale and fetid. He rises from the earth, spreading distorted, broken and blackened wings, like angry spikes protruding from his spine. Black smoke spirals up and out all around him, stamping out the sun completely. Eyes, serpent red, glow beneath a dark hood. The power at this fingertips, crackles with intensity. He reeks of pure evil and burns with hatred.

They thought they could control him...to sentence their enemies to a gruesome end...but they were wrong. He feels no kinship. He does not hasten to any call. He does not abide by any rules. He feels nothing, except a burning desire to destroy...everything. They realize their mistake...too late.

Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. The ground turns to ebony glass beneath their feet. Fire sears their flesh. They scream, but there is no one to hear them. There is no one to help them. They brought this fury down upon their heads. Their city is on fire and crumbling down all around them. The horrific irony of the situation is a lesson learned, but there will be no opportunity to practice the lesson. The true weight of their decision being felt in full magnitude.

They cry out to the heavens, "How could we have known?!"

But, they should have known...that the moment they struck the bargain with something so vile, that their fate was sealed.

I popped back into the dark fantasy genre. The thoughts and ideas these dark images evoke are incredible.

I'm so excited!

Angry birds has a new 'seasons' version for St. Patrick's day! They've even Irish'd up the Angry Birds theme song. Now I can slingshot angry birds and jig at the same time.

So awesome! Just sayin...

In the spirit of St. Paddy's Day, I've composed a lil ditty. (Please note: I am not Irish, merely an Irish wannabe).

















Luck of the Irish,
Pots of gold and rainbows,
Leprechauns and magic,
Shamrocks and green meadows.

Fiddlin' and tappin',
Jiggin' and singin',
Good ole Irish ditties,
Fine whiskey for drinkin'.

Faeries and pixies,
Celtic religion,
Legends abound,
In every region.

Emerald green rolling hills,
Majestic oak trees,
Standing stones,
Cool ocean breeze.

Medieval castles,
Fine lords and ladies,
Deep moats and drawbridges,
Mazes and aviaries.

Clan tartan kilts,
Claddaghs and celtic knots,
Blarney stone fable,
Fathomless lochs.

So, go 'Fighting Irish',
Gotta love what they say!
'Kiss me I'm Irish',
And have a happy St. Patrick's day!

With so much happening in the world right now - the earthquake/tsunami in Japan - I honestly couldn't bring myself to comment/complain/or joke about the weather here at home. In fact, if the weather was the worst thing in my life right now, I count myself as very fortunate. My heart goes out to Japan and my prayers are with them.

So, I'm just gonna get right into my writing exercise. Gonna take another shot at poetry. I found the following picture in the fantasy genre images. This image evoked a lotta thoughts.












Like a siren's song,
on a peaceful night,
her voice so sweet 'n' strong,
to a sailor's delight.

Upon the wind,
she entices them,
changing within,
even the strongest of men.

Face like an angel,
smile like the sun,
voice like a bell,
eyes as blue as the ocean.

Far and wide,
she's known to all,
upon the tide,
she heeds their call.

When danger does befall,
they put their ear to the wind,
listening for their angel's call,
to guide them safely in.

Her love for them infinite,
protecting them as her own,
to the sea they will not commit,
she always guides them home.

I went for the good thoughts with this image -- wanted a positive message. Take care everyone.

Went glow bowling for my niece's 30th birthday on Saturday night. Three games in two hours. Good times! It's been awhile since I last bowled and I coulda sworn I was much better at it. Course, I did notice my game improved with the addition of spirits. Go figure. I thought about trying to bowl like Fred Flintstone - you know the way he bowled - he'd do the tippy-toe thing, the pirouette, then throw the ball...STEEERIKE! It works better in the cartoons...just saying.

Now, write on!

My son gave me this strange picture, as you see below. This was a toughy, but here goes!















Seeing is believing, yet they do not see. Layers upon layers of intricate labyrinths lay beneath the surface, yet they blindly accept face value. Fogged with delusions, the careful existence of man staggers drunkenly in ignorance, giving credence to blighters and liars. The dawning of hope dashed by inconsistencies and confusion, they spin perilously close to the edge, yet desire to be saved.

It takes only one to raise questions...to infuse doubt in a belief system...to effect change. Do not fear the unknown. Hold fast to that which sets us apart. Do not dither, or willfully follow those who bury their head in the sand. Ardently strive for more. Never allow them to dissuade or belittle you. Forge a new path and others will follow. Dreams and ideas can never be contained. Hope and love can be slighted, but never completely extinguished. Life knows no boundries, except those that we allow. Believe in yourself, and they will believe in you.

Strong words...inspiring words, yet still they wait...for someone else to step forward.

I often wonder where my thoughts will go when I write from these images. And I have to admit, I am very often surprised by the results.

I am a huge fan of the Angry Birds game on my iPhone, so my son bought for me the plushies for all the characters. He actually ordered them for Christmas, but they were on back order and only just arrived! They're very popular lil guys. I'm so excited!!

Check 'em out! Love it!!

















Okay, let's get to the writin'!

The night lay heavy. Twin moons sparked brightly, almost blasphemous against an ebony sky. The seascape, strangely calm, lapped gently at the toes of his jackboots. The leather of his gloved hands creaked as he gripped the hilt of his heavy sword tightly against his thigh. His heart thundered beneath his ribcage. His breath quickened.

How long had it been since he'd seen those very spires cutting sharply into the clouds? Since he'd lain next to the woman who claimed his heart? Since he'd held his son? A lifetime ago...

Yet the rage in his soul was fresh; cultivated daily, hourly, every second that the blood coursed through his veins. He braced himself for the images that scored his brain and blurred his vision...their screams for him...their life's blood at his feet...the inhuman cries that ripped from his throat...

All that was good in him died with them, and in its place a darkness was born.

He turned and looked at the men behind him, their faces stark in the moonlight. Horses stamped and snorted and pawed at sand, dimpled with the foot and hoof prints of the many that awaited his command.

The time had come. And those who had taken from him would bear the brunt of his wrath. Would experience true fear. Would understand his agony. And...would breathe no more...

You know, I really struggled with this image for some reason. I had originally wanted to go with a sweeter love theme, but my words kept leaning towards lost love, so I stopped fighting myself and went with it. Maybe it's his body language, I'm not really sure. But this image had a story that was intent on being told, even if only a snapshot of that story.

My daughter, Karagin, and I went to the spa last week. It was sooooooo amazing. We got the signature pedicure. Talk about getting pampered! We arrived a 6 p.m. and didn't leave until 9 p.m.! The beautiful pedicure was just the icing on the cake. We got big fluffy robes, a leg and foot massage, numerous different kinds of treatments like deep leg and foot moisturising and hot paraffin wax treatment for the feet, just to name a couple. There's yummy snacks and tea or water, or even wine if you'd like to buy a glass. There's even these little cabanas surrounded by sheers that you can recline in while your pedicure dries. Oh! Did I mention you get a massage?! Oy! :o)

Karagin would like to make it a yearly occurence...hmmmm...I like the sound of that.

On to the writin'!














Destination unclear to the naked eye,
Floating freely, weightless in the sky.

Desire to dream infinitely unaffected,
Focus of mind intensely perfected.

Inspiration true to form,
Ideology so easily born.

A gateway to a perfect place,
Leave far behind, the human race.

Time and space a veritable blur,
Peaceful message so sweet and pure.

But back to reality, one must come,
To the place that leaves one numb.

Body mired in fire and ice,
Soul mislead by fanciful entice.

Not to be fooled by beautiful dreams,
Nothing is ever as it seems.

I haven't written a poem in a very long time, especially the rhyming kind - they're tough! I have a re-newed appreciation for poetry.

Okay, old man winter is seriously getting on my nerves. It was -41C with the windchill today. On the way to the bus this morning, I had icicles hanging off my eyelashes and the rubber soles on my boots turned hard and I was slipping all over the ice. I REALLY don't like winter...I'm just sayin'... It's days like today that make me wanna pack up and head to Jamaica for good!

Have I mentioned previously that I LOVE Jamaica?? Okay, maybe once or twice.

So, my son, Jay, really liked my previous writing exercise -- liked that it was different. He sent me a very cool image with the challenge: "Let's see what you come up with on this one, this is a handful." Hmmmm...what to do....what to do...










I fear the worst.

On their knees, my comrades pray to whatever Gods still remain. I find no comfort in their words.

I turn my filthy, blood-spattered face toward the heavens. The dawning light chokes and sputters in a dismal, sepia-coloured sky, taking with it the faint, flickering hope in my heart.

The earth, soggy and saturated with the blood of our fallen brothers, gives with a sucking sound beneath our feet. The screams of the dying chill me to the bone.

Walls of our once great city lay in shattered ruins all around us. Neighbouring cities turn their backs on us, for what had we done to bring such wrath down upon our heads.

We are all that remains.

The high-pitch howl of gulraths send shivers up and down my spine. Gulraths -massive beasts that moved upon hind legs and knuckles, like great apes. Hideous spikes protrude from distorted spines, rows upon rows of razor-like teeth and claws that could rip a man in two. The ground trembles as they near.

I flex my trembling fingers on the hilt of my battered sword. What good is steel against warlocks. I see the lighted tips of their staffs in the distance - too many to count.

Weak with hunger and no rest. The few against the many. Steel against magic and beast.

Yes, I fear the worst...

I can honestly say that a whole story could come from this image, Jay! Thank you so much for this one! Can't wait to see what you come up with next. :o)