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Thirty Days of Writing: HazeAfter an hour of restless tossing and turning in his bed, Trent finally fell into the welcoming darkness of sleep. His mind drifted in between several befuddling dreams before dissolving into a familiar area that felt more real than his usual dreams. He stood up from the ground and looked around to see a multitude of trees that caught the full moon light. Raising his eyebrow, he approached one of the trees and placed his hand upon the trunk. He closed his eyes and opened them again, wondering if it was even possible. There was only one way to find out. With a jump, he ran into the woods at an incredible pace.
The trees passed by his vision in a blur and it was not long before he reached the edge of the woods and halted just before a cliffside. He gasped sharply as he took in the sight that was before him. It was just as he remembered from his childhood. The waterfalls, the castle in the far west bordered by an ocean that sparkled in the moonlight and a few scattered villages throughout
Thirty Days of Writing: SnowflakeA muffled groan emanated from underneath the covers as Trent reluctantly opened his eyes and swung his legs over the side of his bed. Quickly he padded across his room to his window to discover the source of the noise that had awakened him from his slumber. It didn't take him long for him to spot Myra standing in his driveway, throwing pebbles that lightly rapped against his window before bouncing back down. He opened the window and leaned out, then in a soft voice so as to not wake the neighbors said, "What is it?"
"Trent!" Myra softly yelled back up to him. "The first snow's about to start! Get down here!" She beamed up at him and held out her hands in a pleading gesture. Trent rolled his eyes as he pulled back into his room and shut the window. In the two months that he had been here, one thing he had learned was to expect the unexpected from Myra Fischer. He rapidly pulled a black jumper over his pajamas and slipped his feet into his sneakers. Carefully, Trent opened the door of hi
30 Days of Writing: RestlessSeventeen year old Myra sat lazily in the window seat of her room with her arm hanging over her bent leg. She stared idly out the window at the neighborhood as the trees swayed in the gentle breeze. This breeze went through her slightly open window and wafted through the sheer, light blue curtains. It had been approximately seven months since she had last ventured into her world of Valaria, and she was becoming anxious to go back. There was one thing that held her back though, and that was the fear of getting attacked again.
The last time she had entered her world she had been plagued with nightmares after her traumatic experience. She had only been in the Evergreen Forest for five minutes when a deep black shadowy mist had enshrouded her then dissipated to reveal five heavily armored dark knights with broad swords that glinted in the sunlight. Using her bright blue pencil, she had quickly traced the outline of her most prized sword, Rachana, and had snatched it in mid air the moment i
30 Days of Writing: AccusationTrent led Myra up the stairs as the sounds of clinking dishes his mother was clearing followed them. They had had a wonderful dinner with his mother, who had been in such high spirits the entire evening. Now, though, was the time for Trent and Myra to do a little catching up of their own. Once they reached the top of the stairs, Trent turned, led Myra down the hall, and opened the last door on the left to reveal his childhood bedroom. Myra stepped in slowly, then twirled around with a kind smile on her face.
"It sure hasn't changed now, has it?" She observed as she did a once around while Trent closed the door behind him and leaned against it.
"No, it hasn't. I guess since mom wasn't able to see me, she wanted to retain some semblance of my existence. It must have been difficult to not even be able to see her own son." Trent's shoulders sagged with this thought and he averted his gaze to the soft carpeted floor.
Myra bit her lip as she saw this and immediately reached out to place her
30 Days of Writing: BeginningA soft sigh escaped the boy's lips as he swung his legs to and fro whilst sitting on the back of the moving truck he had just helped unloading with his family earlier that morning. The young boy looked around his new neighborhood as a light wind blew through the trees, loosing a few autumn colored leaves from their branches. It certainly was a huge change from New York, that was something that Trent was sure of.
It hadn't been a month since his parents had decided to make the move from New York City to the small town of Sierra Falls two hours north. Even though he was only eight years old, Trent had noticed something had changed between his parents. Over the last three years, his father had been putting in longer hours at the law firm in order to gain a promotion to partner. Trent and his mother had believed that once he got the promotion he so desperately desired that everything would return to normal for their family. Alas, this was not the case. Shortly after Trent's father was prom
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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