Thursday, August 30, 2007

The End of the Whole Mess

My Friends,

How be it, all? The Cold Mountain series has flopped on me. I'm sorry to say it because I was having so much fun with it. But, unfortunately, the story I thought I had in my head, evaporated and a new one took its place. I'm working on a new novel now, and it has taken most of my attention the past couple of days, besides moving to our new house, of course. Ice Mountain, the story of a mother risking her own life to save her son from an evil dragon, has ended at Part 8, and may never be completed. It's sad...but at the present time I can't think of where to go with it. Time to move on.

And moving on, I will be posting a first sentence assignment here in a couple days, after the move. Either Monday or Tuesday will be the best time to come back and see what the first sentence is. I don't want to waste any of your time, and I won't. So, we'll see you either Monday or Tuesday. Until then...keep kicking ass! Keep writing!


Thursday, August 23, 2007

Ice Mountain: Part 8

My Friends,

This will not be the final Part, as I thought it would be. Sara's story is still unfolding for all of us, and, right now at least, I can't say when it'll end. I had envisioned the series stopping at eight. But while I was writing this I knew that wasn't possible. There's still a bit more we must know about our new hero/mom. There's still more story to be told....

Gentle cool hands fell on her shoulders.

"I will show you, dear Sara," whispered Gilead in her ear.

"I will show you the power in yourself."

Days passed like years as Sara dug into parts of her she never knew existed. Tapping a raw power in herself, and trembling with the quake it made through her veins.

And all the while she thought of Andrew. Had she spent too much time all ready with the wizard? Three days. Sara wondered if the dragon had killed her son yet. The thought provoked hot anger that bubbled up within her very soul, rippling her body into gooseflesh.

"One more thing must be shown, dear Sara," Gilead spoke from the shadows of the private chamber he had given her for this "showing".

She started in her bed and sat up, heart hammering.

"Tis alright, Sara. Tomorrow we shall well out the power that shall destroy the dragon."

Sara sat there, peering in the darkness and finding nothing but, darkness. She sighed. She supposed Gilead really meant her no harm, otherwise he could have beheaded her while she slept on that first weary night. The night he had shown her how to make her hands blaze with blue fire. All the powers Gilead had shown to her were new to her, and she had no true idea where they came from. Inside, she supposed, but that still seemed unimaginable. Even now, after the blue flaming hands, which Gilead promised was hotter than any fire made by man or nature. After the discovering she had the strength of ten men, and finding the wisdom of an ancient hole dup inside her head. All of these powers fascinated her, of course they did. But they also frightened her. They seemed so unnatural.

"Good night, my dear," Gilead spoke softly from the shadows.

Sara felt a light breeze pass her face and then she knew Gilead was gone. Somehow she just felt it, as she felt the various powers coursing through her mortal body. Like pounding blood.

She lay back down and pulled the quilt up to her chin. She shuddered.

As sleep found her then cradled her, as she drifted off into the slumber, she thought of her poor son, and how he was doing.


"Hold your hand out to me," Gilead said.

They stood in a great hall adorned by golden walls and a blue domed ceiling. She had never been in this room before, but she loved it. It was beautiful. Gilead, she had a feeling, made the room for just that purpose too. To be beautiful.

Sara held out her hand, palm down.

Gilead smiled, took her hand with his own, and turned it so the palm faced the round ceiling. His multicolored eyes never left hers as he spoke.

"Here is your advantage,"

Sara blinked, looked at her hand and then narrowed her eyes on Gilead.

"My hand?" she asked.

Gilead's smile lengthened slightly.

"No," he said. "Your palm."

"It is your palm where your advantages lie. The touch. A mother's touch."

Head reeling she opened her mouth to ask what he was talking about, but he silenced her with a swish of his free hand.

"Your palm," Gilead said, "is the outlet."

Even more confused, Sara shook her head. Outlet?

Gilead sighed.

"Tis where you advantage power will expel from, dear heart."

Sara nodded, not really understanding, but close enough.

Gilead nodded back.

"Now," he said and let go of her hand.

He placed his other hand on her left breast. He did not cup it or caress it, merely place it there.

"Here is where your power is built. Here is where it is stored."

Gilead stepped away. He snapped his fingers and a goat appeared at the center of the room, six feet or so from Sara.

He pointed at the goat, which stood glancing around as if lost. It was defiantly that.

"See the billy?" He asked.

Sara nodded.

"Turn him into ash," Gilead said.

Shaking her head, Sara backed a way a couple steps.

"Point at him, and say: Ashes, and it will be done."

Sara continued to shake her head. TI wasn't killing a goat that made her do so, it was the fact that if she tried it just might happen.

Gilead chuckled.

"Do not fear. This is for your son," he said.

This ignited both sorrow and anger in her. She thrust a finger at the old billy goat ans said.


There came a flash of blue light, and the goat was nothing more now than a heap of gray ash.

Amazed, Sara turned to Gilead. He smiled and nodded.

"That, my dear, is your advantage," he said.


The next day she was given a horse. And not just a horse, but a mare. A very familiar mare. White Girl came trotting through the village and Sara nearly dropped to her knees to weep. She thought she'd never see that old horse again. But here she was.

A bony finger tapped her on the shoulder. She turned.

Gilead stood, his face soft and kind.

"Ride well, dear Sara. Ride well and slay the beast. You are the only hope. Not even I can stop that monster. I am too old for battles."

A tear slipped down Sara's face and she embraced the old wizard. She felt his body stiffen at first, and then his arms were around her and holding her firmly.

"You, dear Sara," he whispered in her ear, "are the only hope for this world. Andrew awaits."

He let her go, smiled, and then hurried back into his massive mystical cabin.

Ruog led White Girl to her, bowed.

Sara smiled and mounted her lovely mare. She checked to make sure her father's sword was strapped tightly about her waist, gave Ruog a smiling nod, and then trotted away from the village.

Soon, Sara was at the base of the mountain. Ice Mountain.

(To be Continued)

Friday, August 17, 2007

Ice Mountain: Part 7

"H-Help," she managed. Her throat burned with misuse.

Gods, the creature had been brutal to her body.

The bearded man gave her a nod and soon they led her to their village.

These men were tall, broad, and in all likeliness resembled those kind but brutish trolls from the Under Grounds, which were slow, clumsy and calm. But it was just the bodies of these men, if that's what they really were, made Sara think of them as so. They were quick, both in wit and body. And they were warriors. She knew that just by the look in their pale blue eyes. They all had blue eyes. She could also tell by the way the long legged creatures were no longer after her. How those ugly monsters lay in pieces back at the clearing.

They surrounded her, leading her into a small, but teeming village. Woman, men, and yes, even children, some as tall as Sara was, milled about doing chores, talking amongst one another or hammering out, forging, massive battle axes. It seemed their only true trade, those dangerous axes. The children chased each other in between cabins and through what could have been a vegetable garden. This made her think about her own child, her son, Andrew.

She prayed the devilish dragon that had stolen Andrew away from her almost two months ago was gentle with her dear Andrew. Although, in all likeliness, her son was probably in pain. With such a vile creature as, The Outward Dragon, anything was possible, even Andrew's death. She wondered if what the poison had told her was true. Had Andrew fallen victim to a similar poison? Was his body now being controlled by said poison as she walked with these giantish men? Terror capered at the thought. Suddenly she wanted to break away from these men and continue on her journey. That thought, however noble, faded, though. These men had saved her, had brought her to what she assumed would be relative safety. She must follow their lead, and be humble to them. It was only the right thing to do. Still, her belly twisted with the want, need, to find her Andrew and slay that demon dragon where it lay.

As they entered the village the women shot Sara untrustful glances. She supposed she could not blame them. She was, after all, an outsider, and a woman to boot. If she were tossed into their position she would be wary too. Perhaps she would even wonder about her husband's loyalty for a brief second or two.

The bearded men led her through the small streets and to a massive cabin built of various colored stones. The lead man tuned to her.

"My name is Fuog. This is the home of our king, Gilead. Here you will be able to present your troubles. Our king will decide how to help you."

Fuog smiled softly, blue eyes kind, gentle.

"And he shall help you, I promise this will all my heart," Fuog said and gestured her toward the double doors.

Sara, her heart quickening a little, stepped to the doors. When she glanced back, the warriors were gone. She drew a deep breath, and knocked.

The doors opened and a voice, calm, kind, spoke.

"Please, Sara, come in. We have much to palaver, I suspect."

Wide eyed, Sara entered the huge cabin of stones.

The light in here was dim, almost soothing. The doors closed behind her as if by their own accord. Sara stepped further into the house, cautiously.

"Come," Said that kind voice she had heard upon opening the doors.

"Come forward, dear Sara."

She did not see the man standing before the her until she nearly ran into him. With a slight shriek, she halted at once. The man, tall, and thin, smiled down at her. Although, this man was not as tall as the warrior men, Sara's face only reached to his narrow chest.

The man stepped back a little, still smiling.

"I have something for you," he said, and unsheathed a sword that hadn't been there a moment ago. Or had it? She could not remember.

The sword, was her father's.

"H-How-"Sara began.

The man chuckled lightly and said,

"You will need his sword for slaying the dragon, dear Sara. It is the only one in existence that can."

He handed her the sword. Then he pointed to her side.

"That one, will not."

Sara glanced down and her breath caught. Her sword was back in its sheath. She thought she had dropped it back there in the clearing. She had forgotten all about it. Unless, one of the warriors had found it and placed it back where it belonged. She wasn't sure.

"I am Gilead. These kind folks call me their king, I am more widely known as a wizard, however."

"That's how you know my name," Sara said, a shred of light entered her mind.

Gilead nodded. Gilead pointed at her father's sword, the one that had been buried with him so many years ago. It seemed to have aged not at all.

"And it is how I have this to give you," said Gilead.

Sara lifted the old sword to look at the blade, which appeared keen and shiny, not a scratch or a nick in it. It was as if had never been used.

"The sword heals itself, Sara," Gilead said, as if reading her mind.

Then he motioned fro her to follow him. She did, awestruck. He walked lightly across the stone cobbled floor. They soon entered a gargantuan chamber alight with many candles.

"Your father found that sword, you know. It was never made by human hands. It was made by Ricul, the Under Earth God. Ricul forged it himself and hammered its keen blade. He then gave it powers. It is indestructible, and can cut through the heaviest of armor, even dragon scales, the toughest of them all. Do you know where your father found it, Sara?"

Sara remembered.

"On a journey to stop the Great Horde of Slogguth," She said.

"Yes," Gilead said, "but where?"

Sara shook her head, that much she could not remember.

Gilead laughed. He stopped walking and turned to her. In the light of this huge chamber she could see his face more clearly. It was gaunt, but not so to make the wizard seem either vile or mean. Just old aged. His white hair was cropped short to his skull.

"'Tis okay, dear Sara. Your father found the sword in Caves of Boil Rock. It was planted into a dragon's skull. Only one of honor could pull it out, and among those companions with you father, it was he who pulled the sword free."

Sara frowned.

"How did it get in my mind? The poison--"

"Yes," Gilead said. "The poison. Such vile things, to be true. It was I who sent the sword there, my dear. I saw your pain, and I sent forth the sword. It was the least I could do. Your son, Andrew, is of importance you know? And not just because he is you son."

Her frown deepened.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Andrew," Said Gilead, "is destined to be king of All World."

Sara stood, gaping. All World. That meant he was to be king of every kingdom! But--

"In time, you shall see. But you must rescue him from the devil in the devil in the mountain. The Out Ward Dragon. He is waiting for you, I can feel his evil glare even now. His eyes are fixed upon you, Sara. IF Andrew dies, it will mean the end of all kingdoms. One by one they and their kings will fall to the dragon's power. But the dragon also needs you, Sara. IT needs your blood to give it greater power. Your father's blood, Andrew's blood."

She turned away from the wizard, feeling as though she would weep. How was she to stop such a monster? How?

Gentle cool hands fell on her shoulders.

"I will show you, dear Sara," Whispered Gilead in her ear.

"I will show you the power in yourself."

(To be Continued...)

This was much longer the other parts, and if it deterred you any, I apologize. This part was always meant to contain the most information. I felt it as I began to write. Sometimes you just have to follow your feelings. Thanks!

Sunday, August 12, 2007

Ice Mountain: Part 6

With all her will, she pushed herself into the hole in the darkness. She pushed, growling with both rage and desparation.

And slowly, she began to re-enter her foremind.That's when the thing, the posion, whirled and she saw it face to face. She saw it, and screamed.

It stood like a hunched lizard, black fork tongue lashing the air in her direction. It was truly hideous. Its scaly face regarded her with what could have been rage. Sarah had escaped her prison, somehow, and here she was. The creature, she noted, did not like that at all. She was supposed to die. It was supposed to take over. But Sarah, not been one to give up so easily under pressure, unless so ill her mind could not work properly, had acted on instinct when the hole opened in the darkness. Instinct, sometimes, could be trusted more so than any known fact. Instinct was one of life's many truths.

The creature, the poison, glared at Sarah., its slanted amber eyes narrowing on her. Its red naked body heaved with each and every angry breath. Its large clawed hands clenched, unclenched, clenched.

It lurched forward on feet sporting sharp curled talons.

Sarah held her breath, she didn't have a weapon here, in her own mind. There was no way to--

Her eyes drifted to the beast's ominous feet. There lay not her sword, but her father's. The poison glanced down, spotted the sword, and then looked back up at Sarah. It chuckled.

"Naughty, naughty, little girl. You should not be playing with such dangerous things," it said and stooped to pick up the sword.

Sarah did not know where the sword had come from, nonetheless, she darted forward and kciked the giant liazrd being in the face. The thing squealed, staggered backwards and away from the sword.

Sarah swept it from the floor, and attacked.

The creature proved quicker than she might have expected. It dodged her every attenpt to slice it to bloody strips. IT laughed as it did so, mcking her.

Sarah roared, side stepped, faked to the right, and then whirled left just in time to pull the sharp blade of her father's sword across the viel thing's mid-section. It shrieked and flailed away from her, one claw holding its bleeding middle.

Summoning all her strength, Sarah spun, and lopped off the poison's head. It flew out into darkness, she hoeped never to be seen again. She did not much like the feeling of having some abomination's head floateing around in her mind, but it was too late now. Its body crumbled to the floor, smoldered, and then liquified into bubbling goo.

Her father's sword droppped from her hands. She turned and--

"Woman?" asked the hairy faced man, poised so close to her face she could smell the stench of long ago ale.

"H-Help," she managed. Her throat burned with misuse. Gods, the ctreature had been brutal to her body.

The beared man gave her a nod.

Soon, they led her to their village.

(To be Continued)

In case you haven't had a chance to see the ealier post, do so. Just scroll down. Thanks everyone!!!

Friday, August 10, 2007

Intermission: VBC

My Friends,

I've been lucky enough to have all of you. Let me get that out right now. I'm damn lucky. I enjoy the company and the discussions we have here, and I'm glad at least some of you like reading my work. Oh, don't worry, I'm not quiting blogging. I know that last bit sounded as though I might be saying good bye. Nope. You got me forever...he-he.

No. What I want to tell all of you is to go check out Josh Witte's blog, his link is amongst my feathery friends over there to the right. He's a close buddy of mine and he's currently in college for broadcasting. The radio station he's working for right now is called VBC.

He's a great guy and is working extremely hard to make it in the brutal world of radio. And, I must say, he's very good at what he does. So, if you want to be verbally entertained, go check out his blog. Leave a comment too. Like most all of us struggling to either be published or to be known, he needs all the feedback he can get. Thanks to all of you, and Part 6 of my little series will be posted this weekend.


Tuesday, August 7, 2007

Ice Mountain: Part 5

My friends,

There's been a lot going on lately, as always. I'm starting a new job at John Deere the 13th and we're moving into a new house on the 31st. It's a busy time. So, as a consequence, my blog entries may be slackening a bit more here in the near future. I hope not, but it's possible. I enjoying blogging. We'll have to see.
Anyway, here's Part 5. Enjoy.

"I'm going to kill you, Sarah, and then this will be my home, your body.

""No!" Sarah screamed, graping crazily at the air.

Her fingers brushed something, and her breath caught in her chest, both inside and out.

The something was cold, wet, and yeilding, like dead flesh. Sarah pinwheeled away from it. A stench like rotting tomatoes filled her nostrils. Whatever was in this dark space with her wasn't human. She knew that, but it wanted to be. She could feel its need wafting from it. Terror like never before racked her and she swam in the darkness, backstroking away from the thing in here with her.

"Oh, yes," The thing crooned. "I must kill you."

Sarah suddenly realized, perhaps she caught a whiff from the creature's own mind, the thing was poison. The cut on her arm. From the thing that snatche dout and cut her. It was posion, and it had a mind of its own! It wanted her body!

Cool, rancid air puffed in her face and Sarah shrieked, swimming backward frantically. She had no sword with which to defend herself. She was caught defensless for the first time in her life, and it horrified her to know so.

Something roared, the air whooshed, and hot agony bloomed across her stomach. She wonder about Andrew. Was her son all right? Or had the monster, that vile dragon from the depths of the world, killed him already? Gods, she prayed not.

Then the pain roared and she cried out with it.

Another whoosh, another roar, and pain etched itself down the middle of her chest. Screaming in both agony and frustration, Sarah flailed backward, heart hammering, hammering, hammering.


"Wake woman! Wake now!" A loud, deep voice echoed in the darkness.

Something sighed, and then Sarah was alone.


It opened its milky eyes to gaze upon some brutish bearded face straring intently down at her. The man-thin'g eyes were a bright, clam blue, he looked worried.

"Woman? Are you-"

The thing sat up and said.

"Fine. Now leave me be."


Sarah saw all of this. A hole appeared int he darkness and she saw the huge bearded man. She heard his voice, as well as the thing that wanted to kill her.

She could not allow this retched thing to simply wave off help. For Sarah instinctively knew this large bearded man was indeed help; her rescuer, in a sense.

With all her will, she pushed herself into the hole in the darkness. She pushed, growling with both rage and desparation. And slowly, she began to re-enter her foremind.

That's when the thing, the posion, whirled and she saw it face to face. She saw it, and screamed.

(To be Continued...)