The Window (Toraun Part 10)

Let’s see where were we? Oh Yeah, Alex is getting chewed a new one by her sister, while Musaafir is. Wait a second, where did he get off to. Oh yeah that’s right. Now, you wouldn’t have known this since I’m just barely telling you, but Musaafir didn’t just sit there as Alex went for the door. You see, as Alex reached for the door Musaafir took this opportunity to jet through the only opening he could find, which happened to lead into a small dining room. After he realized that he could only escape through a small window. He jumped clear through it, glass and all. Now you might ask yourself. How smart is Musaafir? I mean how long does it take to open a window anyway? Well the answer to question number one is a question in turn. How long would you stop and think about opening the window when you could just dive straight through it. After all, I just got through scaring you to death two days in a row between the howling steam hound and the pounding on the door? You have plenty of time to think about how stupid it would be to jump through a window. That’s all right take your time. You have all the time in the world as you sit in your comfy chair and eat who knows what, while you read this amazing story.

Speaking of which, how many friends have you referred to this amazing story? I sure haven’t seen any new likes or follows. You see this writing stuff really is hard, and it takes quite a bit out of a person. My fingers are raw, (not really) I cry myself to sleep over the lack of follows (only sometimes) and my brain hurts real bad (well tonight it does anyway, because of the massive headache). But I keep writing. Trying to lure you to my blog so that you’ll notice over on the right hand side the real reason….

Hold on just one cotton pickin minute here. I write because I enjoy it. I want others to feel good and get a good laugh out of this amazing, wonderful story. I could care less if they took the time to write comments, email their friends about it, or buy my books that are only $2.99 on Amazon.com right now. That’s right only $2.99 is all it takes to have countless hours of enjoyment. One simple….

Wait, wait, wait this is not a commercial. Let’s just get back to Musaafir, Alex, her sister and of course the steam hound. By the way the answer to question two really does depend upon several factors such as: how is it closed, is it painted shut, is it too heavy to lift, is it being held down by anything (I don’t know maybe an elephant or something. Don’t ask obnoxious questions) etc…etc…etc….

Anyway Musaafir dove through the window at the exact moment that Alex’s sister started to accuse Alex of bringing down the entire destruction of their people. The loud crash of course stopped her and she quickly pulled the shotgun from her back. Alex, didn’t miss a beat either as she focused on the inner energy within her. Within seconds, no nano seconds, a small ice ball formed in the palm of her hand. Musaafir on the other hand, immediately realized his mistake as he lay bleeding on the hard, cold ground. How did he think it would end? Seriously! I’ll tell you how. You see Musaafir had seen plenty of movies where people dove through windows and were just fine afterward. So, he figured that he would be just fine as well. The problem with his thinking is he forgot one very important thing. Movies are much different than real life.

The Sister (Toraun Part 9)

The knock on the door sounded hollow as everything stood still within the small house. Alex's mouth dropped as she stared at the door. Musaafir held his breath. Thud. Thud. Thud. The knock came again. "Open the door or I'll knock it down." The voice that sounded through the door sounded much to high pitch to really instill any fear, but given the circumstances, Musaafir's knees knocked together. "Alex," the voice came again. "I know you're in there and I'd rather not knock in your door." Now you would think that once a face had been drained of blood that it couldn't get any whiter, but in this case it did. She pushed herself up off the ground and slinked toward the door.

"I'm coming," her voice squeaked. Now, at this point Musaafir had lost all courage and he found himself sniveling on the ground. She reached for the doorknob. It shook as she clasped the knob and then twisted. She pulled the door open just as a flash of lightning streaked across the sky illuminating the most...

This is probably the most obvious point to let you know about one of our commenters.  April is one of the most amazing people in all the world. I know this on good authority. She has always been a great support for my books and has edited and read everyone of them even before they were released. This is one reason my books have done so well!! So if you ever get a chance to meet her consider yourself very lucky.

Alex fell backward as the door swung open and slammed against the wall. The bang of the door made the entire house shake like jello. The woman's glare would have scared a ghost away due to its intensity. She stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips. A sword handle and shotgun butt stuck up from behind her back while a bracer of pistols hung at her side. Her white blouse stuck to her black undershirt forming around her physique body. Her brown, leather pants shimmered as another lightning strike slashed across the sky. Great drops of rain water dropped of her hair and created a puddle beneath her brown, leather boots. "Alex, what have you done."

"Nothing, it wasn't me. Sister, you have to believe me."

"Sister," Musaafir whispered.

The Chow (Toraun Part 8)

Steam hounds are a mix of machine and an ancient bit of magic. The creator of a steam hound takes bits and pieces of steel, tubes, flesh, springs, more flesh, and gears. The creator will then fashion the steam hound into, well, honestly however he wishes. I mean he is the creator, and so he can do whatever he wants, right? He will then use a mix of necromancy and golemancy to create a rotting heap of pure nastiness. The steam hound has an internal burner that boils water into steam which in turn turns several different gears that makes it move. Its brain and muscles bind to the metal, springs and gears holding it all together nice and neat. This Steam hound has often been mistaken for a hell hound. They have similar names and are both mean as… well mean as anything I know. So if I were you and I saw one of these hounds, either a hell hound or a steam hound, I would run as fast and as far as I could.

Speaking of which, one time when I served a mission in California I had an experience with a hound. No, no, not a hell hound or a steam hound. Those are fictional creatures and really don’t exist, at least not that I know of. On the other hand they may exist in another dimension. You know steam punk is the idea that instead of coal our world turned to steam to power its way through… well, history. So, I guess there is always the possibility that a steam hound could exist in another dimension. Anyway, back to my story that’s real. My companion and I sat on a nice cushy sofa while our host sat on a chair closer to me. He had just finished telling us about how his dog, a chow, had just clamped down on a friend and they had used a pan to beat it in the head until it loosened its grip; when his friendly (not really) chow walked around the corner. I looked at his dog and it looked at me. My face went white and it charged. Now thankfully the dog’s owner was quick. I still remember the slobber on my pants leg. The moral of the story: run from steam hounds, hell hounds and any other kind of hound.

Oh yeah this isn’t about me, but Musaafir.

“I didn’t do anything,” Musaafir said a little too quickly. His eyes widened as he heard the howl pass through the wall like paper. The howl actually helped him think a little bit about the short time he had been on Toraun and he realized that perhaps, just maybe he had done something.

Alex, still close enough to smell, leaned in even closer. Now, even though Alex looked like an elvish Goddess from Musaafir’s dreams he could tell that he didn’t want to cross her, much less lie to her. So, when she said, “Tell me everything that you did since the moment you arrived here.” He spilled his guts without hesitation. By the time he reached the part about shooting the bird Alex’s face had completely drained of blood. “You…” She looked at him in astonishment unable to finish.

The howl sounded even closer and Mussafir jumped out of his skin. “What?” His voice sounded much louder than he wanted it to. He put a hand over his mouth and said much quieter, “What did I do?”

Alex shook her head and mumbled, “We’re all dead.”

Now you might be thinking this is the end of the story, because there is no way I can get Musaafir out of this mess. Let me tell you something though. Musaafir is rather handy and remember he may not be the bravest man alive, but he has age on his side. See just because he’s young here doesn’t mean his mind is young. Wait that may count against him….

So while you contemplate the fate of Musaafir you might take a moment to check out an amazing blog (http://positiveletters.blogspot.com/) where Hillary really knows her history. I can guarantee you that she will support my claim that in all of our history, in this dimension, there has never been report of a hell hound nor a steam hound, so you can sleep easy tonight. However, there really are chows and they are just as mean. Don’t let the picture fool you. I repeat don’t let the cute cuddly picture fool you. You’ve been warned.

The Steam Hound (Toraun Part 7)

Have you ever had a moment in your life when you are so scared that you can’t move? When the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end; when you’re afraid to turn around, because you don’t want to see the thing that’s just about to grab you. You know that time when you wake up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom or get a drink, and you’re not quite sure what it is, but you’re sure, no positive, you saw something in the dark. Now, picture that moment in your mind. Think real hard to conjure up that moment in your mind and let that fear coarse through your body. Let the hairs of your neck stand up on end and close your eyes. No silly not that long, because then you can’t read the rest of the story. Okay, never mind, don’t close your eyes at all just think about that moment. Now imagine that you’re out in the middle of a land that you’ve never been before and it’s dark. The mist has just come up over the ridge and is sliding gently down into the valley you’re standing in. The moon is full, but clouds cover it so it has a reddish hue to it. Then think of the low growl a dog makes. That real low grumble in the back of their throat that lets you know they mean business. Then it gives off a howl that chills you to the very bones and makes your knees knock together. You’re so scared at this point that you the only thing you really want to do or can do is to fall to the ground in a little ball and sob.

When the howl shrieked through the valley that’s exactly how Musaafir felt. Thankfully he had a little more bravery than you, because he didn’t fall to the ground, ball up like a little child, and start to sob. Or it could be that he had already made a bad first impression in front of Alex and a little voice (that’s mine) told him to stand strong and not cower. Still, he did start to shake and he struggled to not show the fear, besides the chattering of his teeth, of course.  “Get in here quick,” Alex hissed. She grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. “The hounds are out. They haven’t been out for a long time.” She started to pace back and forth with her first finger tapping her chin. She stopped and said, “Maybe.” She started then shook her head. “No, that can’t be it.”

“What? What is that thing?” Musaafir asked as he looked to the door.

Now, you would think that at this moment it would be a very bad place to interject a commercial, but I need to. It’s important to point out to all of you some amazing people. The first is an amazing up and coming author who has an incredible skill of building an atmosphere with words. Her name is Jennifer Schultz (https://www.facebook.com/authorJenniferSchultz). The second is my beautiful daughter!! She has always been one of my biggest supporters. She constantly makes comments and shares my stories with others. I really love her and think she is soooo amazing! Now before I start to cry we can go on with the story.

Alex tapped her chin exactly two more times then turned and looked at Musaafir straight in the eyes. “What did you do?” Alex smelt like sweet jasmine and it washed over Musaafir like a warm spring breeze. Musaafir couldn’t help but forget all his fears and the really real danger that stood only a couple of hundred yards away. (Now, you might say a couple of hundred yards really isn’t that close, but I think that it’s all about perspective and how fast an individual or in this case a steam hound can run).

The Name (Toraun Part 6)

Now, a name is a very important piece of who a person is. It’s how others identify a particular person and in some cultures signify that person’s personality and abilities. For example when my wife and I named our children we spent many days and even months thinking of an appropriate name for our children. We scavenged the history of our ancestors and thought how to instill a sense of importance in our children. We wanted them to be able to think of their names and what it meant to be called by a particular name. We chose to name our children after their grandparents and great grandparents so they could always remember their heritage.

In the case of young man, his name had great significance as well. Regrettably, unknown to him. You see, he had been raised by a distant great uncle, Fredrick Gulliver, who had no contact with young man’s parents other than one time at a family get together. While young man’s father, Jeremiah Sorentino, and Fredrick gambled a bet had been wagered that changed the course of young man’s life forever. Fredrick lost the bet.

Now one could debate for seconds or even minutes the outcome and if the change was good or bad, but really let’s not at this time.

Anyway, Jeremiah wagered the family house and Fredrick wagered raising young man. Now, before you go judging young man’s parents you must understand that the family farm really wasn’t all that significant in fact I wouldn’t call it a farm at all other than just to say that and Fredrick’s wealth and influence was vast. When I say vast I mean really vast like space is vast. Jeremiah saw the vastness of wealth as well and saw this as an opportunity for young man to have a much… much better life than he otherwise would have.

Anyway, due to the fact that young man had been very young at the time of the wager his parents never had the opportunity to speak to him the meaning behind his name. So, as young man stood on the steps of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen before he fumbled with giving his name, because he did not see the importance of his name and to be honest in that moment quite embarrassed of it.

Alex tapped her foot and squinted down at young man more intensely, hoping this would prompt him. When it seemed nothing would exit young man’s mouth she threw her arms in the air and turned on her heels. “Musaafir,” said Musaafir.

Alex stopped mid turn and turned back to look at Musaafir. “What was that?”

“Musaafir is my name. I have no idea what it means or why my parents gave it to me but that’s my name.”

Now I wonder at how many of you can figure out what Musaafir means and from what language it comes from. If you do find out comment below! Please just one little comment to reward a writer’s hard work. Please, please. I mean I’m on my knees begging right now…. Oh I mean I’m not desperate. Not me, not at all.

The Possible Love Interest (Toraun Part 5)

Now, the knocker that young/old encountered on the first house he came to in the small village, looked nothing like the picture of yesterday’s post. That truly would have been a bad omen, and I think even old/young man would have gotten that one…maybe. No the silver knocker did not have any of those features at all. The gold, turkey…

 Well it is Thanksgiving. No not in Toraun, of course not there. You see Thanksgiving is a holiday in the United States. I know because I referenced Wikipidea, and it knows everything! By the way here are some fun facts about Thanksgiving http://www.whsv.com/seasonal/misc/33852054.html. Check them out they are fun.

…seemed peculiar to the young/old man, but after the above clarification it made perfect sense to him (not really). He reached for the knocker and just then the door opened. He jumped back in surprise completely caught off guard by what he saw. The woman in front of him stood about five feet-seven inches tall and had long, white hair that fell to her waist. Small pointy ears adorned with many gold earrings poked out from under her hair. Her eyes sparkled from the moon light behind young/old man and brought out the purple in them. Her high cheekbones and sharp chin made her face look as if it had been chiseled from marble. Her lips full and nose small. Intricately designed tattoos formed a sun in between her eyebrows and curved and twisted around her face and pulled her carved features out. Her head sat upon a perfectly formed body.  He stepped back again to get a fuller view of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life.

Possible love interest. Not sure because I really don’t think this through as I write, but who knows. Interesting….Hmm that would be interesting, because clearly he is older in one sense but in the other he is probably more the age of the woman. On one hand he could be already married in his old form, but if he was, would that really matter since the young form clearly isn’t. This really is a conundrum. What if he isn’t married as old self? Then that would make the moral issue better, but then think of this beautiful, young woman hanging on the arm of an old man. Now when I say old I mean he’s old! O well I guess we’ll figure it out together... that is if anyone ever reads this. I mean seriously one comment! By the way I really appreciate Christine Rains, and she has some truly amazing books check her site out and of course buy her books http://christinerains-writer.blogspot.com/. (hint comment and you get mentioned in the story. Try it out). Wow I really get off subject. It must be the holiday.

So, back to the story. (I think I’ll emphasis the young part for a bit. I mean wouldn’t you if you had just met the love of your life). Young man closed his mouth quickly and wiped the drool from his chin even quicker. “Hello,” the beauty said. Her voice drifted through the young man’s mind like honey making his knees quake and his heart beat faster. She tried a new tactic as she recognized that this young man had been utterly smitten by her. She put her finger to her chin and tapped it. Her eyes brightened and she said, “My name’s Alex.” When young man still did not respond she tapped her chin again. Her eyes no longer twinkled but glowered and she put her hands on her hips. You see she did not understand the power her beauty had on others, since she had lived in the small village all of her life and the village had not had a visitor for millennium. Her hands on her waist was a mistake, because it only extenuated her curvy hips. The young man’s mouth dropped open again. “Seriously, sir. You must be daft.”

This statement snapped the young man out of his daze as he realized he had made a serious blunder in his first impression tactics. Now, sure it would be important to show a casual interest in the opposite sex the first time you meet them and to even possibly notice a feature that you like about that person and comment on it as well. But, to openly gawk. Now that is just stupid. He closed his mouth then opened and closed it several times before he finally spoke, “Hi.” Now this hi came out relatively well considering the circumstances. It wasn’t a Fabio “hi” by any means but it definitely wasn’t a Sheldon “hi.” “My name’s ….” 

The Knocker (Toraun Part4)

Young/Old man wiped the blood from his face and wondered at the strange bird that had just become jerky. He walked over to the bird and examined it. A tiny tendril of smoke lifted into the air from the main body of the bird and floated in an odd pattern toward the mountain. Old/young man squinted his eyes and pursed his lips as he watched the smoke float away. “How odd,” he said. He stuck his finger into his mouth and then held it in the air. “Just as I thought the smoke is floating into the wind.” He shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the bird. The few feathers that remained were made of metal and the beak as well. He picked up a stick and poked at the bird. “Now that’s odd,” he said as he revealed burnt flesh under the metal wings. “I’ve never seen such a thing.” He shrugged again, and pulled on one of the wings. It tore away from the main part of the bird easily. He smelt it, bent it, and even tasted it. The last bit brought a bitter taste to his mouth and he quickly spat several times onto the ground.

While tried to rid his mouth of the foul taste the air grew chilly as a cold wind swept up the small hill from the valley below. The old/young man rubbed his arms as he realized that it had gotten cold very fast and that he had best find some shelter soon. He gave the feather one last bewildered look then placed it gently into his pouch and looked around once again. Now that the sun had set, small lights appeared in the valley below, and he saw tiny huts nestled up against the base of the mountain.

Now the huts really weren’t all that small, they just looked that way due to the distance from which the young/old man saw them. If he had been closer he would have realized that they were quite large. In fact I wouldn’t call them tiny at all or even small for that matter, but I would think of them more as your average home built in the 20^th century. Anyway as he got closer (you see he started toward them) he too realized that the huts were much larger than he had thought in the first place. And in order to hurry the story on we will dispense with the walk, and just skip to him arriving to the first house.

Old/young man stepped up to the first home, and knocked without reservation upon the solid, wood door. This of course hurt more than he thought it would because, let’s face it, solid wood doors are hard, and to hit them without hesitation is going to hurt a little. So he stopped hitting the door without reservation, and decided that the metal knocker would be a much better way to knock on the solid, wood door.

The knocker was not your ordinary knocker. Now you may wonder about knockers and the significance a knocker can play, but truthfully all you have to do is recall the story by Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol, and then you can let your imagination think of how significant a knocker really can be. Seriously, if Scrooge had just taken the omen given by the knocker then the whole story would have been over before it began. He could have realized that he had better not go into the, obviously, haunted house, but b-line it to a nice little tavern and slept the night there. Or gone to his nephew’s house if he couldn’t spare to part with his precious money. I mean seriously.

Anyway….