Blank Slate Chapter Six

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: I have some strong language in this chapter.

Chapter Six

He should have known that the new family wasn’t the only problem he was going to have to face in this area. He sat in class and could hear the guys snickering behind his back. The teacher had set his new course schedule down in front of him and had looked him over carefully. Why did his social worker send him to such a bigoted section of the large city? As soon as he saw Alecia again he would question her on this and possibly beg for another solution. He would really rather not be here.

His day progressed slowly and painfully. He had been shouldered, shoved, and even spat on at one point by another student.

By the last bell he all but ran to his foster home to avoid the mass student body.


He fingered his necklace as he was sitting on the floor to the living room working on his science paper for his third hour. It wasn’t difficult, but he was struggling with how to apply the words he had knowledge of onto the sheet of paper in the limited amount that was required for the class. The subject amused him mostly.

He heard an aggravated sigh from the other side of the room where his foster sisters sat separated from him and his foster brothers. He looked up and saw the dark skinned and dark haired Dana chewing contemplate on the end of her pencil. She sighed again. He stood up and walked to the other side of the small room, “Are you struggling with your history?” His kind words brought everyone from their school work. Again he felt that maybe he had done something taboo.

He heard Waylon begin to laugh behind him and he turned to see horror on his foster brother’s faces and a cruel amused look on the biological child’s face. “You should be a girl Daniel. Maybe we should call you Danielle instead?” Daniel felt a temper he didn’t know he had well up inside of him.

“Helping other people isn’t just a female thing to do. It’s the mark of a true human,” Daniel defended. He clenched his fist beside his hips to stop from stomping over to the older boy.

“Compassion is what women have. Men are stronger than that and certainly not pussies like you are,” Waylon stood up from his spot in front of his own English work.

That was how Clarrissa found them as she walked into the room. She looked between the boys and turned to Daniel who was still near the girls. “Daniel, go to your room until supper,” she said quietly.

Daniel’s mouth opened like a cod. “What?!” he screeched. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

She didn’t talk again, but stood there with her arm pointing toward the hallway. He quickly and angrily grabbed his school work and stomped out of the room.

“And he PMS’s like a chick, too!” Waylon shrieked with a fit of laughter. Daniel could hear the other boys laughing, but it sounded very forced.

He wanted out of this Hell.


Another day and another horrible school adventure for him. He figured he must be Christian, but he was not like this family he was staying with. Their version of the Bible was a horrible misinterpretation at best. How could he read the same passages of the same book and not hear the same message? He stumbled on a crack in the side walk as he once again brought his thumb across the Christian symbol hanging from his neck.

“Fag!” he heard from a voice behind him. He pivoted nicely and stared at the group of ten or a dozen boys his age running toward him.

Fight or flight took over his body as his adrenalin once again shoved through his system. He took flight this time. He was not going to fight off a dozen twelve and thirteen year old boys, some of whom were larger than him. His lungs started to burn as he forced his legs to continue in a pattern toward his salvation and home of Hell. He didn’t make it as the first kid literally tackled him to the sidewalk.

The random punching and kicking ensued and he endured as best as he could. He brought his arms up to protect his head and forced his body into a fetal position to protect his innards from the bombardment. Then the most horrible thing happened right before darkness claimed him. He heard a boy yell out something, felt his braid grabbed and his head pulled back, and heard the horrible sound of a “skink” as his head became very light suddenly.


I am holding my paddle…

I feel like I am up *#&% creek without a good grip on that paddle. I still have it, though. Only thing is that I live in the farm country against a river that rushes through. I do not live near a gentle creek.


I know most people just drive across town or maybe to the next town over for a good doctor. I have a two hour drive up to the cities and then another two to come back. That is if I am lucky to avoid city traffic.

With a five year old along for the ride, things can get a bit interesting. It is his doctors that are so specialized we cannot just take the 50 minute drive to the town to see them. My other kids just ride for the 50 minutes, but my five year old son is different. They are still calling around to find a new audiologist for the poor kid in our state.

Some days I wonder why I ever left the city. I wrote well enough while I lived in Las Vegas as a teenager; then I saw the world. Doctors can stay in the cities, but I cannot deal with that chaos anymore.


I need the scene of the growing crops and the puffy clouds.

But, the kid’s need their doctors. I also love my job (which I couldn’t go to now for two days because of my son being so sick). In the end, my peaceful home is more important than moving.

My schooling is also getting more difficult to keep up with as appointments overlap with already tight work schedules. My kids are also having to do one activity according to their therapists to keep up their socialization learning. At least their school is out for the summer.

I just feel like my boat is drifting more and more toward the cities now. My paddle is shuddering under the current and I am wondering which is going to break first. I just hope it isn’t my stories, because they are my only sanity in my life filled with doctors, work, and college busy work.


The Storm Chapter Six

Disclaimer: I don’t own Merlin BBC nor do I own Disney’s Frozen.

Chapter Six

Arthur stretched as his best clothes were settled over his arms and shoulders by a servant. “I do not think, my lord, that we should expect Merlin to be at this ceremony. He is just a peasant and…” his uncle never got the chance to finish as Arthur turned to give him half of a smile.

“Uncle, I know you are concerned for how the people will take to me, but Merlin isn’t just a peasant. He is my best friend. I hope to give him a good job in the castle if he would let me. I just need to get him to see that he can be released from his rooms now that I am king,” Arthur said as he pulled his belt and sword around his waist. His uncle bowed his dark haired head to his new sire and left the room in a flourish of expensive clothing and cloak. As Arthur looked himself over in the mirror on the other side of his dressing screen he once again wondered why his father had locked away the other boy and why had Gaius not protested more against it. Why hadn’t either man wanted him to have a friend growing up in the cruel atmosphere of the cold castle?

Just a hallway down from the future king was Merlin standing in front of his own mirror. Another servant had helped even out his hair and he had been given new sets of clothing. They were nothing like the prince’s, but they were new. He hadn’t had any new clothes since Gaius had left and it brought up another pang of loneliness in his heart. His eyes flashed gold and a crack appeared in the corner of the glass mirror. He breathed in, shut his eyes and calmed his emotions. He pushed the magic as far down into his body as he could. He was glad that he was alone in the room now waiting for another servant to get him to watch Arthur become king.

He was excited for Arthur, but he knew that nothing would change, either. Magic would still be outlawed, because Arthur didn’t remember living with magic around him. Merlin remembered, though. He remembered making butterflies, and lighting the hearth before they would tell stories at night. His memories never left him and they made him sad now instead of happy.

“What do I do, Gaius?” he asked the mirror. He knew that no matter what he did his magic wouldn’t be able to bring his mentor and guardian back from the dead. He had to just now live in the moment and hope that Gaius wouldn’t be scolding him when he joined him in death. His magic rolled underneath his shields and he figured that he would probably be executed by the morning.

As the servant showed up to bring him to the large throne room where Arthur would receive his crown, Merlin pushed his magic further down and locked his emotions better. He had gotten better at controlling it through the years, but his best time had only been from sunrise to sunset with his magic confined. He became very ill with it not rolling through his body and as he threw up what he had eaten that evening for supper his magic had been released at such a torrent he was sure the guards thought he had blown up the tower. He couldn’t risk that happening again. He would need to get away from everyone for a while and use his magic quietly. His body shuddered as they walked through the large doors with the rest of the peasants and staff.

Arthur stood next to a proud man with cold eyes. He was speaking quietly to the man who was nodding and smiling slightly at what was being said. In the front row was the knights Merlin would watch training with Arthur and on the other side was a beautiful black haired woman in an ornate dress. Merlin’s brain filled in the gaps from his previous conversations with Arthur through his door (if you call just listening to the prince whine about his life as a conversation) and what Gaius would tell him during his imprisonment. The man next to the prince was his Uncle Agravaine and the woman had to be Morgana. It didn’t take long before the ceremony to make Arthur king started and Merlin’s mind drifted as he looked around the room.

The last time he had seen this room was when he was holding onto Gaius’ robes to keep from being a fidgeting toddler. It hadn’t changed in all of those years and Merlin felt like maybe everything would be fine in his life finally.

The crown was placed onto the blond head and as Arthur stood up for the first time as King everyone in the crowd shouted out at once, “Long live the king!” Merlin’s voice rose with everyone else’s and he smiled brightly with the feel of everyone around him. He felt joy fill him for the first time in years and he forgot for a moment that he wasn’t like everyone around him.

He was swept off to the side by the servant who brought him as the peasants were cleared from the room and everyone from the castle started to enjoy the party that came after the coronation. Merlin still felt the thrill around him as he pushed himself back against the wall and watched everyone. The nobles, lords and ladies, and the staff all did a beautiful dance of duties as he watched.

Arthur was laughing at something Morgana had said, but it didn’t seem she was enjoying the joke as much. She huffed something else quietly to the new king who stopped laughing and said something else with a smirk on his face. He turned away from the woman and found Merlin trying to hide against the tapestries. Setting himself into making the introvert actually mingle was now a new mission for the monarch. He came to stand in front of the lake blue eyes as they finished their path of watching everyone around him. “Merlin, it’s a party. Come out of hiding and do something. Learn something. I don’t care what it is. If you feel the need to dance, then go and dance, but get away from the wall,” he said as he went to pull on Merlin’s arm.

“Arthur, I can’t,” Merlin said as he pushed down the magic now swirling inside of him. Fear gripped him and he knew he needed to leave the room quickly.

The dark haired court lady came up behind the monarch, “Oh Arthur, leave the boy alone. He has been locked away all of this time. He wouldn’t know how to deal with these crowds.”

“I didn’t ask you, Morgana,” Arthur said sternly as he pulled again on Merlin’s arm. Morgana rolled her eyes, smiled kindly to Merlin’s fearful face, and walked away from them. Merlin watched her walk through the large doors and out of the party all together.

“Arthur, really, I’m fine right here. Please let me go,” Merlin said as he tried to tug his sleeve back. “I think you should apologize to Morgana.” He needed to run now. He needed to release the energy and soon or it would be a catastrophe. Arthur laughed, but the smaller boy was finally able to get free from the king. “I have to go,” he said as he quickly turned to follow Morgana out the doors. The blond friend called out and went to catch him. He couldn’t hold it any longer as he felt the power rise inside from the fear clutching his heart. He stumbled, fell to the floor and his eyes flashed. The stained glass windows shattered and a wind ripped through the party emenating from Merlin himself. He caught his breath, reigned in his magic and only saw the shock on the king’s face as he ran through the doors.

Outside the now broken windows the sky above pulled dark massive clouds. As the sky began to cry, Merlin ran from the castle. A bolt of lightning flashed above them all and Arthur stood still waiting for his reality to wake him from his sudden nightmare. Merlin was a sorcerer?

Casey Chapter Five

Casey is an average fifteen year old about to enter into the first year of high school. With an extremely Christian dad, and a deceased mom, Casey has more than academics on mind. Making new friends, creating bonds, but keeping a large secret is all in a day’s work.

Warning: This is rated M for a reason. Some of the chapters may seem tame, but it will get into sexual and adult situations. Please be aware. Do not read if these things may upset you.

Chapter Five

It felt like the day would never end as I was introduced to every class trudging through molasses. Finally, after a very uneventful choir class where I was praised for my high tenor, I stood in front of the doors to the male locker rooms. This was the first time I felt my body seize up. I had even walked into the male bathrooms between Geography and Science, but now I stood before another obstacle. I could easily slip into a stall in the bathroom to use the toilet; in the locker rooms I would be forced to change in the aisles. I didn’t think this through. Physical Education was forced to shower after class, but the dance class was exempt. I had thought that through when I read the student handbook during the summer. I just didn’t think about the fact that I would be changing my clothes still into the mandatory shorts and t-shirt.

The late bell hadn’t rang yet and I watched both girls and boys file into their separated doors for the gym classes. I had to make a decision. Could I skip class the first day and possibly just hide somewhere until the busses arrived? I was about to take that choice when a voice called out not far from me, “Casey!” I turned to see the boy from the bus bounding toward me. He seemed to be struggling to run, and I wondered why he was rushing?

I scrambled in my brain and finally remembered his name, “Ben?” He panted next to me and doubled over slightly to catch his breath. “Why are you running?”

“The bell,” he panted, “is going to ring soon.” He huffed some more and then stood back up again, “Have P.E. last hour?”

“Dance,” I told him as I turned back toward my original dilemma. With Ben standing next to me I couldn’t just take off anymore. At least no one would have recognized me from before, but now he could be a witness I did not need.

“Oh! Me too!” he said happily.

“I thought only freshmen had to take the physical classes?” I questioned as we slowly made our way toward the doors. I only hesitated again for a misstep before following him into the male side. He answered my question with a vague response of “Doctor’s note didn’t work again this year.” My ears started to ring as my heart rate climbed and I didn’t really register his answer. I purposely avoided looking down the main aisle toward the boys changing into their uniforms. We both walked up to where a table lay out with all of the uniforms not yet acquired. Lockers slammed behind me as more guys rushed out of the cramped smelly room toward where the gym doors now lay beyond. Ben shoved my shorts and shirt into my arms suddenly and snapped me out of my stupor. I looked at them as if they held the plague, “Do we really have to wear these?”

He laughed, “They aren’t so bad. At least we won’t have to go home in smelly clothes.” He shrugged and started off toward one of long lines of dark maroon painted lockers. He looked at me, “Are you going to change?”

I looked at my pile of clothes. The shirt was a horrible gold color with the panther mascot stamped on in maroon. The pants were a matching pure maroon. I mumbled, “Have to pee.” I took off quickly for the bathrooms near the entrance of the locker rooms and shoved myself into a stall. “What?” I heard him yell over a few of the other guys. I was already changing quickly, though, when I heard him call my name as he also entered into the bathroom area.

I flushed the toilet, and walked out to see him standing in the doorway. He looked like I had grown into a specimen for study, “Are you okay?” I nodded to his question and put my clothes onto the benches before washing my hands.

He watched me with curious brown eyes, “Jumpy still?” I sighed. I looked at myself in the mirror again and realized that to him I was the boy who he met on the bus. He didn’t know me, not really, and I was acting very odd. ‘Get a grip, Casey,’ I chided myself. I nodded to him and made him follow me out toward the gym doors.

“Seriously, dude, we ain’t going to kill you,” he chuckled.

“It isn’t that,” I sighed, “I’m an only child. I have never had anyone see me change before and I don’t think I’d measure up.” I know it was probably stupid to confide in the other kid I just met, but he seemed to be genuine in wanting to be friends.

He nodded, “I understand. That’s why I didn’t want to ever take this course. Man, I’m almost 200LBS. I can’t dance and I can’t run. I can’t do anything like that. My doctor signed a paper last year to waive me from this hell, but he refused to sign it again. He lectured my mom on getting me into shape before I got diabetes.” He looked over at me sadly, “I am going to be the only person to fail dance in the whole world.”

“At least it’s dance and not basketball or something,” I offered. “Let’s not forget the hot chicks in horrible P.E. clothes, too.” I laughed. He smiled and nodded. We stood off to the side as the teachers all filed in from the locker rooms.

“We are going to introduce ourselves and then we will ask you to follow your coach to your designated areas for today’s lessons,” a very tall blond man said out to the gathering of yellow shirts.

There were three men and four women teachers. I didn’t pay much attention to everyone’s introduction, until the last woman said her name, “I am Ms. Coleman. I teach the dance class here. I have been teaching dance for thirteen years. Do not make this my unlucky year.” She was short, all of the students were taller than her, and she had high frizzed black hair to make up for her lack of height. She wore a tight pink tank top over a very muscular body. It made me pause to see this short woman with possibly better arms than most of the men in the room. She intrigued me. I wondered if I could mimic her muscle tone to try and look manlier myself. She brought her dark brown eyes through the crowd of students. Gesturing toward a staircase I didn’t notice before that led up above the girl’s locker room she said, “That is my dance studio. Dance class follow me.” A few of us followed the short dark skinned woman toward our first class.

We reached the landing above the gym where a small studio was hidden. A mirror covered the whole side of one wall and on the other side we could hear the gym classes below past the balcony edge. We all were told to sit on the floor and we did so quietly. No one, I suppose, really knew what to expect from this powerful woman.

She sat down on the floor too and told us to spread out better. Our butts scooted across the plain floor as we made room between us all. “Good, now we will warm up while I talk,” she led us to stretching out toward our toes that we held in front of us. “This class isn’t going to be roses. I don’t teach dance because it’s easy. If you chose this thinking it was your best chance to pass without work, then I suggest you go downstairs and join them in volleyball.” She paused here in her speech to have us change our position to spread our legs apart and stretch to one side. “We have until December to whip you into shape, and I will not allow slackers. Mondays we will tone muscles needed to dance, Tuesday and Wednesday we will learn our dance moves and practice them, Thursdays we have the track to get our legs and lungs ready for real dancing, and Fridays is review days. If I feel that you slacked during the week, then Friday will suck for you.”

Standing up then she forced us to our feet. I bounded up quickly and we all realized that maybe dance wasn’t going to be our easy A this year. “Arms out to your sides. We will start this week with five minute holds. Don’t lower your arms until I say you can in five minutes!” As my arms started to shake and I felt the fire begin in my shoulders, I bemoaned the fact that I didn’t join P.E. I began to cry in my head as my fingers began to tingle, ‘Why was I born wrong?’ I could have been downstairs enjoying a good game of basketball with the guys. I heard a few of the others, girls since Ben and I were the only boys, start to cry out loud. We were all bemoaning our fate and felt this was a horrible punishment for wanting to avoid being sweaty.

As I was about to give in and just lower my arms as so many of my classmates were doing, I looked at Ms. Coleman again. Her arms were out as well. She wasn’t forcing us to do something she didn’t also force herself to do. I saw her muscles ripple again in her arms, and I knew that if I wanted to be strong like that I would have to force my body through the pain. I gritted my teeth together and held in my own tears. I was going to do this. I was a boy and I needed to show the strength of being a boy even if it was just to myself.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Copyright: 2015 France Gamble

Father’s Day to me

Today is two holidays for me: father’s day and the Summer Solstice. Both of them are important for two very different reasons. Yet, I always still feel drained every year following these holidays.

Father’s day hasn’t been a big celebration for me for years. I call my grandpa and my dad every year to say the words. My grandpa is an awesome man, though not much of a phone talker due to his hearing loss. My dad and I have always been distant. We don’t share the same views in politics or religion; both of those things are very important to him. What we do share is a love for a good book and adventure. He is one of the three people who have read The Keeper’s Kinn now before print. I don’t value his input on who to vote, but without him reading my book while I was writing it, well, I would have stopped halfway.

Since our relationship is strained, I find myself wondering sometimes if he is a “dad”. I never really saw him much as one. I think he tried to be there for me as a child, but my memories of him aren’t that nice. Most things I can think of somehow turn nasty when he was around. This makes me hurt inside more. So, now I do the motions of the holiday with a phone call, but I don’t even spend the energy or money for a card.

Yet, today was also the Summer Solstice. It is the longest day of the year and an honoring of the sun making the upper hemisphere warm again! Some things are starting to be harvested from gardens now (farmer’s market opens this Thursday in my town). Most common pagan groups around the world see the sun as a god (male form). They also can sometimes see him as a father to the harvest.

This year the Solstice falling on father’s day made me cry. I felt the tears well up while our church held services dedicated to men and the sun god for everyone. Suddenly, I did have a thought to a father who is there. The sun is above me constantly, a burning mass of fire, that warms me and gives me nourishment.

Today we celebrated the sun’s longest day and the two men in my life who have been there for me. I have never felt such emotion for a holiday before. It was as if this year I finally knew it was time for me to break out. As the day progresses, I felt more of a push than ever to write. I needed to fulfill the dreams for the god and the men who are there for me in their own ways.

Warmth, comfort and someone to critique my work are all standing and waiting for me. Now, this year, is when I will prove to them I can be what they know I am. This father’s day and Solstice, I am dedicated to publishing my work and finding my voice. May the world hear me as my dad, grandpa and the sun watch on proudly.


Blank Slate Chapter Five

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Chapter Five

He stood in the doorway of his new home. It was not as spacious as his last home. The coats hanging in the closet, which had no door on it, were crowded and shoved almost haphazardly on the hangers. He looked down and noticed the clump of shoes just tossed on top of each other at the floor of the entry way closet and flowing out like a sea of tennis shoes. Alecia followed his gaze and commented, “No shoes allowed in the house.” He nodded his understanding. Leaning down he carefully untied his shoes and placed them at the front of the tidal wave of foot wear. He stood back up and watched as a crowd came from a room in the back of the hall entrance.

“Alecia!” the man exclaimed and gently hugged Daniel’s social worker as it seemed they were friends. The man’s face was broken into a wide grin, which showed black, chipped and crooked teeth. His beard was full and trimmed neatly. It was dark brown, like his short hair, but flecked with white. He must have been in his forties, Daniel determined. A woman behind the man had bright blond hair that showed brown roots, meaning she needed to touch her hair up and soon. She smiled with her mouth closed and gently stepped forward to hug Alecia as well. Daniel looked at their clothes and determined they would not shop for him at any moment. The man was in denim overalls and a plaid button shirt. If they hadn’t just driven through the city, Daniel would have thought they were on a farm. The woman wore tight jeans that were two sizes too small for her girth and the boy thought the button should have popped off at any moment. Her shirt was a t-shirt that stated ‘White trash is the now the in crowd’.

Alecia stepped a little into the hallway and motioned for Daniel to follow her, “I’m sorry Bill, but I need to place another child here temporarily. I know you’re crowded as it is, but you know how it is around here. Too many kids and not enough people willing to take the older ones in.” Daniel followed her and his new family into a small living room area. A couch, which was ripped and worn beyond repair, sat against the far wall. An outdated television, one of the old box ones, was sitting on top of a TV dinner tray. Daniel wondered at how long the poor thing would be able to continue to hold the weight of such an antique. A recliner, which was in worse shape that the couch and stained to the point of not knowing what the original print used to be, sat in the corner next to a lamp that had an inch of dust on the torn lamp shade. It was a fire waiting to start and Daniel made a mental note to clean the light bulbs in this place as soon as possible. The carpet was also shredded in places, stained and needing to a replacement sometime soon. The family all piled in. Alecia pointed to the couch, giving Daniel the signal to sit down, which Daniel did reluctantly. He looked around some more and found the walls were not covered in beautiful landscape pictures like his last home, but rather pictures of children in front of many different settings. Many of the kids were all teenagers. “This is Daniel Francis. He is about twelve years old. I’m sure you’ve been seeing his picture on the nightly news.”

The man smiled again his creepy toothy smile, “Yes! I have! Well, you’re a celebrity I guess!” He sat down next to Daniel and patted the boy’s thigh. Daniel tensed up and nodded to the man. He was now extremely wary of this new family. The woman continued to stand next to Alecia.

Alecia continued, “Daniel, this is Billy Franks and his wife Clarrissa Franks. They are foster parents for the nine kids here,” she gestured to the other teenagers standing around the room. She continued to point to each in turn, “This is Jenny, Waylon, Dennis, Kevin, Lisa, Kerry, Dana, Charlene, and Laura.” The five boys and four girls nodded their heads politely as they were introduced. Looking at the children he deduced that Waylon could have been a biological child, but the other children were definitely foster children.

“Boys, why don’t you help Daniel gather his belongings from the car and get him settled,” Billy pushed gently on Daniel’s back to force him off the couch. Daniel followed the five other, and older, boys from the living room to get his suitcase and school bag from the back of Alecia’s car. Once of the front lawn of the small house the boys turned around and stopped Daniel from progressing in getting his things.

Waylon crossed his arms covering his blue t-shirt and separated his legs in an obvious aggressive stance. “We are crowded here, so you need to know now who is in charge,” he drawled out, sounding a lot like Billy, and confirming to Daniel that this was their biological child. The other boys stopped and turned around to watch their interaction. No one seemed willing to stand against Waylon. The peppered blond boy pointed his finger into Daniel’s chest hard, “I make the rules and you will follow them. Any snitching will get a soap beating and you stay out of my way.”

Weighing his options, Daniel decided that agreeing would just be best at this time. He nodded his head and smiled. “No probs. I don’t plan on stepping on any toes while here. I just want to get out of here.” The other four boys glared back at him as if he just insulted them.

Kerry and Dana shook their heads and leaned into the back of the car to get the two bags of things. Waylon led them all back into the house, through the entry, passed the others in the living room and continued down the hall to a bedroom in back. They walked into the room and Daniel looked around and wondered how this was going to work. Kevin seemed to notice his thoughts, “There’s four beds. We were rotating who slept on the floor, and it looks like you’ll be added to the rotation.”

“Except that one,” Waylon pointed to the top bunk of the two sets of bunk beds. “That one is mine. I don’t sleep on the floor and I do not share my bed.” He pulled himself up onto it without using the ladder. “I’m the real kid here, so I get the bed all of the time. This is MY room and you’ll be lucky I am willing to share any of it.”

Dennis, the tallest one of them all, went to the small closet and slid the door open. Reaching in, he grabbed down a fluffy, folded sleeping bag from one of the top shelves. “This will be yours while you’re here. I’ll get it down for you at night and you’ll hand it to me in the morning, folded, to put back. You’re too short to reach it without me, so don’t go being bratty on this.”

Kevin slid his bags underneath one of the bottom bunks. “We keep our stuff in our bags and they go under the beds when we aren’t in them. The drawers and hung up clothes are Waylon’s.”

Daniel sat on the floor while his new foster brothers started doing things around the room. Dennis sat on one of the bottom beds and pulled a book from the back pocket of his baggy jeans. His blue eyes moved rapidly back and forth on the page. He shook his head a few times to move a strand of his blond shaggy hair from his eyes. Kevin was a brown headed boy, but Daniel could hardly tell since his hair was buzzed very close to the top of his head. He brown eyes, but they were currently closed while he bobbed his head to his headphones. He sat on the floor, leaning against the wall between the beds. Kerry and Dana looked alike, and must have been siblings. They were playing a board game of some sort on the other bottom bed, under Waylon. They were dark skinned and had black hair. Their eyes were so dark that Daniel would have guessed black from far away, but seeing them close he knew it to just be very dark brown. He looked up at Waylon, who was glaring hatefully down at him. Daniel rose one of his brown eye brows, “Problem?”

Waylon jumped down from the bed and stood menacingly over the younger boy. “Are you a boy or a girl?”

Daniel was taken aback by the question. “Boy. I’m sure I’m a boy.”

“Then what is with the hair? You one of those trannies?” Waylon sneered. Daniel stood up, but only was as high as Waylon’s chin. His glare wasn’t strong at his height, but it said enough. Waylon balled his fists and Daniel braced for the punch.

Just as Waylon was bringing his hand up to hit Daniel the door opened and in walked Clarrissa. She looked at the scene in front of her, but didn’t comment on it. Instead she said in a small timid voice, “Boys, dinner is ready.”

Waylon shoved Daniel down into the post of the bed and walked passed him and his mother. She looked down at Daniel, and again didn’t comment on what had just transpired. Denny, Kevin, and Dana walked out the door, too. Clarrissa followed the three boys. Kerry held his hand down to Daniel. “You won’t find sympathy from her or Billy. Waylon is a golden child and we aren’t even worthy of third class citizens here.” Daniel took the hand up gratefully and followed Kerry down the hall to another door which led to a dining room.

Plastic outdoor chairs were set up with TV dinner trays in front of them. No table or a traditional setting was to be found in this place it seemed. Billy was served by his foster daughters, then Waylon was served, then Clarrissa was served, then the foster brothers and then the foster sisters and it seemed that not only was gender given priority, but also age. The youngest foster sister, Jenny at the age of fourteen, was the last to get a meal and she had to bring it from the kitchen herself. Daniel looked at her plate and realized that it also meant she got whatever was even left in the pans from the other room. Tonight his plate was flowing with bounty and she was missing portions. With him added to the family now it would seem she would be the one to suffer. He smiled at her and held his plate out to her, “Did you want my potatoes? I don’t really care for them.” Everyone stopped eating and stared at him like he had just announced that he killed the pope in Rome. Clarrissa’s eyes widen to fear and Billy looked like he was going to burst from anger.

Quickly Billy’s face turned from anger to slight amusement and chuckled, “Ah, Daniel, let me enlighten you a bit, boy. Girls aren’t worth your potatoes. They are, by God’s grand nature, to be slight, weak and thus under us. Eat your potatoes and ignore the girls.” Billy then went back to eating and so did everyone else. Jenny smiled slightly at Daniel as way of thanks, but ignored his still stretched out plate.

What kind of hell did his social worker place him into? If the boys weren’t even third class citizens, then what did that make the girls in this family?

It doesn’t pay the bills

I work a full time job at a retail store. When people I know find out I write they ask me why I am not just staying home and publishing things? I write online. My audience has always been instant with feed back.

While I was writing Keeper’s Kinn I realized that I craved the instant response. I kept asking myself, “Is this a good story?” I couldn’t answer myself because I rely on the feedback of my fans. I struggled through half way since I knew this was going to be my published work. This was the one that will be out there as a professional author and not just updated one chapter at a time.

So, while I work I talk to my coworkers about our second jobs. We all have something, because we all have dreams. Writing, though, doesn’t pay the bills. My kids would starve and we would be living in a tent if I relied on my writing to live. I know people are reading my stories when they go onto the web, but my biggest fear is they won’t read them when they are published. I tell my coworkers about my latest story and some have even been reading them online.

I hurt when I finally get home and most of the time I would rather drift into one of my stories just through imagination than turn on my computer. Writing takes energy, but shutting my eyes and daydreaming is relaxing.

Telling my stories aloud also doesn’t take much work. Little synopsis here and there or just a quick tale reminds me of my childhood. I always would give stories to my little sister while we did our chores. I remember she would beg me to write them down, too. I just never felt the urge to sit and remember back. I love thinking forward.

Even now I am sitting on my break and thinking about the ending to Casey. I am not thinking about the next chapter anymore, but the completion of the entire story. I won’t write it yet, because I always write in order, but I know the whole story. I know the ending of The Storm as well, though we are many chapters away from that. I have them both running in my mind and I will until they are down. When will I get the motivation to write them, though? I don’t know.

All I know is that my motivation right now is going back onto the floor of the store and stocking more stuff. I will be replaying their whole stories again in my head, too. That is my pay for the good story.

The Storm Chapter Five

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin BBC. I don’t own Frozen, either.

Chapter Five

Merlin sat with his hands in front of a candle as he leaned against the door to his small bed chamber. He would wave to the left and a flame would spring to life, and he would wave to the right and it would disappear in a puff of smoke. Trumpets and bells rang outside of his window, but he didn’t flinch nor acknowledged the sound. A single tear fell down from his face as he continued to play with the wick in front of him.

The sound of the outer door opening alerted him to someone entering the larger chamber beyond, but he knew he was safely locked inside of the room. The large pounding on the wood stairs gave away who it was that was visiting as the door shook a bit on its hinges as the person leaned against it.

“Merlin…” the voice called out softly. It didn’t hitch like it had when the boy on the other side had visited his mother’s funeral. “We sent Gaius and my father off today… People… People knew Gaius had you in here…” this time the prince had to clear his throat before continuing, “I told you yesterday you were allowed to come. I was surprised to see you didn’t. Can’t you come out of there?”

Merlin didn’t answer and he continued on with his task of keeping control over the flame in front of him. Magic flowing freely through his palms made him not feel the deep grief inside of him.

“Well, alright then… I have made it clear that these are now your chambers. The new physician has agreed to just keep working from his own chambers in the castle,” Arthur said through the door. “We really only have each other, you know? Morgana has also locked herself away, and I don’t think I’d be able to really talk with her anyway.” The blond sighed, “Can you please clean up this larger chamber and set out what the new physician will need? I’ll have some servants come by in the morning to pick it up and bring you some food, too.” The door shuttered as the pressure against it released itself and the clomping sound signaled the prince was leaving the room again. Before the outer door shut, though, he called out, “Right now my uncle is in charge of the kingdom, but in two years I’m going to be king, Merlin. I want you there to see it, and I will not allow you to sit in here any longer.”

As the door slammed on the other side Merlin stopped his hand from creating the magic. In two years would he have control enough of everything to not show his magic in a kingdom that killed those like him? He balled his fists and felt his magic release suddenly. The candles in the room ignited and then exploded in a flying mess of melted wax.

Why did Gaius have to leave him? He wasn’t ready yet to do anything on his own.


Arthur didn’t visit again after that day. At first it was a relief to Merlin to know that he could really exit his bed chamber at any moment during the day and not run into the monarch, but he still was weary to avoid being seen by the servants. He practiced constantly to control every amount of magic inside of him, but some day’s things just couldn’t help but be broken. He was sure the guards and servants who came into the tower were reporting his “fits” to Arthur, but the prince never came to tell him off. Through the windows of the chambers he could hear Arthur in the court yard below practicing with the knights and he would watch as dignitaries from other kingdoms came and went as the years followed outside.

Merlin was very shocked, though, one summer day when the outside chamber door burst open suddenly. He had been in his bed chamber folding his now dry washing behind his closed and locked door. “Merlin!” the voice boomed out. “Merlin, come out! My coronation is this evening. I warned you about it two years ago, now come out.” He heard the boots stomping against the flagstone, but they didn’t ascend the stairs like they had all the years previous.

Merlin stood stock still. He didn’t know what to do. Gaius had warned him to never leave the room and he still knew that his magic was volatile on the best of days. He still held deep in his heart anger for the executions of magic users and the depression of losing his mentor. Right now he breathed in calming breaths as panic started to seep deep into his chest.

“Merlin, you have to the count of five before I just start to torch this tower,” Arthur threatened. The black haired boy’s blue eyes widened at the threat. He really hated fire and never wanted to be burned alive. “One…!”

Merlin ran for his door, hit the latch and ran down the steps to look at Arthur for the first time almost fourteen years. There in front of him was hardened blue eyes, now a touch of brown colored the once pure blond of his best friend’s hair, and the guy was covered in chain mail, the family crest, and a sword hung at his hip with ease. He looked like a knight of the highest regard and Merlin almost didn’t recognize him.

Arthur as well was surprised at what his friend looked like. Deep dark circles fell underneath his other worldly blue eyes, his black hair was cut in a horribly self shorn and sticking in many directions almost untamed. His clothing was simple, ragged, and he was looking desperately skinny underneath it all. As Arthur had filled out during the years, it looked like Merlin had been starved. He knew, of course, that Merlin’s meals would come back to kitchen at times uneaten during the years between the death of Gaius and this day.

“You wouldn’t really burn this room down, right?” Merlin asked uncertain.

“Of course not, but you have emerged finally from your room. If I had known all I had to do was threaten you with a torch, I would have done it ages ago,” Arthur smirked cockily. Merlin scowled.

“That was very cruel,” he grumbled. He crossed his arms and went to turn back to enter his room again.

“Wait, Merlin,” Arthur clomped to head off Merlin’s retreat. He stood between the smaller boy and the stairs. “You can’t go back in there.”

“I am going back to my room, Arthur,” he said as he lowered his arms to his side and glared at the prince.

“I am not letting you,” Arthur said as he crossed his arms to show himself larger than his friend.

“You can’t stop me,” Merlin said confidently. Inside, though, he knew he wouldn’t ever be able to fight Arthur. He couldn’t let his friend, the prince of this kingdom, know he had magic. The soon king would certainly burn him no matter what he had just said.

“You’re scrawny. I’m a knight. I’m the prince. I can do whatever I want and you have to obey me,” Arthur said as he leaned forward, turned Merlin around with force and pushed him out the chamber’s main doors. “And I am telling you, that you’re going to get cleaned up, in some new clothes, and be ready in one candle mark’s time for my coronation,” he used his right hand to continue to shove the smaller boy down the stairs of the tower as his left patted his friend’s shoulder.

Merlin willed his magic down as hard as he could as he was dragged to what he knew would be his death by the end of the day.

Blank Slate Chapter Four

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Chapter Four

He was cold. His whole body seemed to be completely numb. His brain was shut down and he stared at the straight pattern in the linoleum flooring in front of the hard plastic chair he sat in. He couldn’t think, because every time he tried to tear his eyes away from the one spot, his brain came up the images of his foster mother lying on his bedroom floor. Why had she been in his room? What happened to her? The image once again came into his brain.

Suddenly a hand touched his shoulder. He jumped up and grabbed roughly onto the arm of the person who had scared him. His heart was racing as he forced his body to stop in its fight or flight response. This time he wasn’t going to flee, but rather it seemed his body was going to continue on and hurt this other person. Wide brown eyes stared at his at the other person realized he made a mistake in touching Daniel. The braided boy quickly let go of his only friend and turned and punched the wall behind the chair he had just been sitting in. He felt his knuckles crack against the wall as a spider web crack formed into the hard covering over the cinder blocks behind the paint. Sam rubbed his wrist where the bruise was forming from Daniel’s grip. Sam’s mother, a blond like her son, came forward and pulled both of the boys to her chest. “It’ll be okay,” she whispered into their hair as the brunette finally broke down and started to sob.

Daniel cried for a good ten minutes and then gently pushed away from the woman. Sam stayed in his mom’s arms as they watched Daniel compose himself. His long braid swung back and forth as he shook his head from thoughts that even he couldn’t comprehend.

A woman in a long white coat came into the room and saw them. She approached the small group, “Mr. Francis?” Daniel nodded and stepped forward toward the short cropped hair woman. “I have contacted your social worker, honey. You will not be able to return to Mrs. Snow.”

Daniel felt his world coming down around him again, “What happened to her?” He looked hopefully at the doctor, “Please, tell me she is going to be alright?”

The doctor looked undecided for a minute. “I can tell you that she will be okay. I cannot tell you her diagnose, because you are not her family.” He nodded and sat down in the seat again. Sam’s mother sat down next to him and again pulled him close to her flower blouse upper body. He didn’t cry this time, though. He just let the woman hold him.

“Can’t we take him, mom?” Sam asked his mother as they sat there waiting for Alecia. His mother shrugged her shoulders. Sam collapsed down next to Daniel and leaned into his friend. “I hope we can.”

They sat that way for over a half an hour when Alecia walked into the waiting room. She ran her hand down her black skirt that went to her knees, as her heels clicked against the flooring. Her hair was curled and put high into a pony tail on her head. Her button down plain blue shirt had a few wrinkles caused by her seat belt on the ride to the hospital. Daniel raised his purple eyes to her as she approached them.

“Daniel, I’m sorry to hear about Ms. Snow. I have gotten what I could from her house for you with her permission and so it’s all set into the car and ready,” she spoke softly to him as she brought her hand down to him to bring him to standing. He stared at it as if he didn’t know what it was.

Sam’s mom spoke up then, “Can’t we take him home with us?” Alecia looked at the other woman. Blue eyes looked deep into blue as Alecia’s went sad and she shook her head.

“I’m sorry, but unless you have qualifications through the state, he cannot.”

Daniel looked down at the flooring again, sighed, and stood up. His eyes hardened, once again, with determination. “I’m ready.” He didn’t grab onto the outstretched hand as he walked toward the doors. Sam ran after him and together they went through the doors as the adults followed behind him.

They reached the car parking area and both boys turned toward each other. “Call me, K? You still have to see that movie,” Sam choked a bit on the last word.

Daniel stepped closer and put hands on both of Sam’s shoulders, “Hey man, don’t worry, k? I have your number memorized. I’d have to have amnesia to not call, K?” They both laughed and hugged each other. “I’m sure I’ll be watching that movie with you next weekend if my new foster parents aren’t crappy, k?” They let go of each other. They gave each other weary smiles as they followed their respective female adults to the vehicles onto their new adventures. Both of them knew that no matter what they would always are good friends.

The angst

I’m not going to lie: my life is constant drama and action. When I get time to relax, I feel the angst.

I think it is almost a requirement for artists and writers to have angst. Most famous authors have a drama and angst filled back ground before they became famous. Most people in general have some level of chaos in their family, as well.

With one of my sister’s wedding this Saturday, my family is gathering in mass into the town I work in and she lives in. They are coming from all corners of the country. Even with everyone coming up here, to the far north of the Continental States, I feel even more depressed than before. The level of uncomfortableness is increasing every hour.

They are coming into my sanctuary, my salvation. My heart is clenching like they are bandits about to plunder my small village. We are being invaded!

Outside the grey skies are crying for me, but I am smiling with greetings rolling sweetly from my tongue. They are my sister’s guests. I will be polite. I will cringe inside as I once again hug someone I had left behind.

This angst is good to write with, since my stories are dramas, but the feeling is smothering my muse. This only makes me want to add to my book that has been lost to time, “Fantasy Life”.

Do not despair, I cry to my dreams. I will not die here today! We are and forever will survive! This angst will not drown me again!