It will never end

I feel like this week isn’t ever going to end. I know I am exaggerating. As an author I feel entitled to embellish feelings every so often. It is my job.

On Monday we had our National Night Out celebration in the town I work in. As a dedicated employee and person, I did the honorable thing: I volunteered my entire family. They were a mixture of “Yay!” and “Why?” types.


The kids petting our town’s police canine unit dog. Town is so small that we only have the one.

Monday was also my second child’s sixth birthday. Lan, my son, was thrilled!


It was such a busy night that we didn’t get into bed until almost midnight. My kids’ bedtime is usually 7:30. They were a mixture of exhausted and too excited to sleep.

Tuesday I took my third child out for our “alone” time. Every few weeks I take one of my children on my day off out for shopping or a meal. Nate chose rainbow pancakes and to invite an honorary aunt to join us.

Wednesday was just a lot of working and I babysat my two nieces. Having the six kids here on the farm is always interesting. They decided they needed to play with the cats until Emrys, my oldest’ therapy cat, came running from the bean field to give them his mouth he caught. That ended the fun with the cats.


Tiger, one of the kittens, asleep after being the “prince” to the cat city they built in the back yard.

My “baby” sister had her third baby today, too. A healthy little boy they named Eli. She lives half the country away, but it is nice to know he is doing well.


Eli, my newest nephew.

I don’t usually post face pictures, but she already has a large following who has seen this picture.

Today I sat down to set up our meal plan for August.


Basic meal plan so I can get supplies for the month.

As I was sitting here I wondered to myself: when was the last time I wrote a blog post? Is this week over with yet? Holy buckets, it’s only Thursday! It’s Thursday?! What have I written this week?

Yeah, I also haven’t written anything new on any of my stories or books, either. It was just chaos this week. I also still have this week’s classes to do.
Tomorrow, Friday (finally), I have all six kids again. I bought that movie “Home” and so I plan on plugging in the TV and having it babysit for me for two hours. According to my schedule listed, I should be able to resuscitate my muse by Sunday if I finish all of my school work tomorrow night. Then I can get Casey finally updated, do the next chapter to New Camelot: Blackout, and work on the revised ending to Keeper’s Kinn. Only four more weeks of English left and then I will be able to tend to some of the deeper wounds.

Let’s hope this new movie is a success!


Dairy free “homemade” ice cream sandwich for my oldest, Ken.


Pulled too early, but still a decent size! My sister couldn’t wait and needed to see some. The rest will be pulled after the first frost.

The Storm Chapter Eleven

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Merlin or Disney’s Frozen.

Chapter Eleven

The small alcove inside of the three trees that held the young sorcerer was warm as his fire burned happily in the center. He impaled five large mushrooms onto a long stick and held them over the licking flames. Behind him in the dim light of the cave like area he had created shelves using vine made twine and long sticks. Using his magic he had forced branches to come out of the trees and turn into holding sticks. He really didn’t want to embed anything into the living trees around him. The wild life around him had been kind enough to let him move in and so far peaceful. He did not want to be cruel to it just because he could master it.

The wind outside picked up and blew against his vine hanging door. The storm, which he had forced away from his small clearing, was starting to come in again. He decided he would let it for a little bit water the area. A crack of thunder sounded high above him, and he questioned his sanity living inside of the trees. Allowing his magic to encompass his body and flow through his veins, he pushed the static away from his home. It would be stupid to allow the lightning to cook him, really, when he had the power to at least push it away from where he was.

He took the mushrooms, his dinner, off of the stick and let them lay on a flat stone to cool. Standing up, he went outside to gather some water into a bucket he had created from clay he had found on the banks of a nearby river. As he left his little doorway and stood straight he came to stare at three deer just feet in front of him. Their black eyes looked at him as they waited for possible danger. Two does and the fawn were posed to retreat back into the stormy forest as the rain started to finally come into the clearing around them.

Merlin smiled to himself and just watched the deer as they became comfortable again and ate the green lush grass he had pushed from the ground just the other day where there had been nothing. All was right in his world now, even if he missed Arthur coming to tell him stories from the other side of the door in the castle. Here Arthur could not kill him for what he could not control. Here he was one with the animals and the magic inside.


The king sat on his horse while his blond haired knight he had chosen mounted beside him. He looked up at the staff, his nobles, Morgana and his uncle. “Morgana I want you to help uncle while I’m gone,” he called to his adopted sister.

She nodded, “You just make sure you return safe, Arthur. We’ll handle everything here.”

They bowed to him as the knight and king took off into the now misting rain. They rushed through the gates and passed the lines of migrants coming into Camelot. The people were fleeing to higher ground or straight for their capitals all around Albion. The castles had been built high on top of hills for protections and currently it was the only way to save everyone from the mass flooding. The king ignored the cries from the hungry children and the signs of the dead along the road.

He needed to find Merlin and make him stop this horrible storm before it killed everyone.

“How are we going to find him, sire?” the knight asked as they slowed their gait to a walk. The rain started to pick up again and Arthur wished they didn’t have to be out in it.

“We will first go to where he is from and then follow up the boarder. There have been reports of areas where the storm hasn’t touched, but no one can actually get into the area,” Arthur said. “It’s alright, Leon. We’ll find him and I’m sure he’ll stop this when he learns how much it is harming people.”

“But he’s a sorcerer…” Leon started as he followed slightly behind the king’s horse.

“He’s also my friend and what I can remember from our childhood,” he thought bitterly to add to himself that he really should have more memories and somewhere they had been blocked, “he isn’t bad. This has to be some horrible mistake and I’m sure he’ll fix it once he realizes what he has done.” They continued on in silence. The monarch kept trying to think of what had happened before his mother’s death. He couldn’t remember a single instance in his entire childhood about magic, and yet he knew that Uther hadn’t attacked magic until after his mother’s death.

Had he known about Merlin’s magic as a child? He could remember playing with the other boy, but parts were fuzzy. He knew that as people aged their childhoods disappeared or only significant memories stood out. Yet, he also knew that somewhere along the line he had to have been exposed to magic. Not a single memory of his father’s court sorcerer or his best friend preforming magic.

His memories did include the purge. They included his mother’s funeral and a few vague memories of his mother alive. He remembered all magic after his mother’s death in snips and pieces before the users were sentenced to death.

Deciding that thinking about sorcery was useless at the current time he focused his thoughts on his friend. His memories were again haphazard at best, but he remembered playing in the castle on cool days. Merlin would laugh as they ran through the corridors and he was always a clumsy sort as well. He remembered scaring him from a hiding place at one time during a particular game of hide and seek; he remembered butterflies of beautiful colors surrounding them on a wonderful summer day.

As the wind picked up and turned each drop into pins he focused on the memory of the warm day with a smiling best friend before he had been locked away. He needed to find that friend again. He wanted to see those days again and he wanted to have a smiling best friend again.


The Storm Chapter Ten

Disclaimer: I do not own BCC Merlin nor do I own Disney’s Frozen.

Chapter Ten

His golden head bobbed in place as his eyes kept drooping down to close. His blue eyes flashed open as he heard the noise of his cupboard opening in the bed chamber. “Sorry, sire,” the servant, George, said as he realized he had shut the door a bit too hard and had woken the monarch. Arthur waved his hand into the air and yawned as he arched his back against the chair. Three days now of endless storms, rain, and sometimes just a mist that settled over the land. Three days now of him reading every inch of both of the journals. He had them now practically memorized. Merlin’s was the hardest, at first, to understand. The boy had written it starting from a young age and almost as an afterthought to the day. They were short logs of his musing, anger at being locked up, and then later his fear of Arthur finding out about him and killing him. He had almost felt like crying to read the scribble saying how Merlin had actually feared lighting candles for a week after the first sorceress had been burned in the court yard. The biggest thing, though, was the shock that went through him to find out that Merlin had never studied before he was locked away.

Then the anger came over him as he read that Gaius taught Merlin the words of the incantations needed to try and get the boy to control the wild side of his magic. Merlin, according to Gaius’ journal, wasn’t a sorcerer, but rather he was a warlock. A child who could do magic, powerful magic, from a very young age, and Merlin was even more special in that he could do his magic from birth. Merlin, in his journal, had thought he must have been cursed, but Gaius’ journal told that it hadn’t been a curse that the boy had been born with.

The sorrow filled pages of the physician countered the fear filled pages of the boy’s. Arthur had read both of them as if he could hear their voices in their writings. Gaius calling the child a gift and Merlin calling himself a monster was hard for the king to read.

He read in Gaius’ journal about his mother’s death and the time his father had enacted the law against magic. The account had continued and Arthur was sure that his own memories must have been erased at some point during his childhood. He saw in the journal that Arthur and Merlin had been best friends, he remembered that much, but he couldn’t figure out how the untrained magic user had not let magic slip during the time he was young. Arthur had gripped his head at that point and tried to remember if he could of any time where Merlin had used magic. He couldn’t though, and the storm raged outside letting him know his friend was certainly very powerful.

Council meetings had happened two and three times a day. Refuges were coming from all corners of Albion. They were trying to evade the storm that had now covered all of the kingdoms. Crops were drowned, live stock had been drowned, some villages had been buried in landslides, and new lakes were emerging where people had once dwelled. The lords were begging for the kings to do things in every corner of the lands. Arthur had sent messages to the other monarchs asking if they knew what they could do. So far the only thing he had received back was to get people to higher ground and pray to God to let the storm end soon. Two of the magic using kings had even sent that, even though they knew Arthur’s stance on magic, no sorcerer could end this plague. He knew, though, that what they had written was a lie. There was a sorcerer, or rather a warlock, who could end this terrible storm.

Arthur stood from his desk and popped his back in a few places with a good stretch. His servant quickly darted from making the bed to where Arthur was going to behind his dressing screen. He needed to dress quickly now since he had taken the small little nap at his desk over Merlin’s last entry.

At last he was on his way to the council for their morning meeting. They had too many deaths now from the torrential downpour. He walked through the large double doors and into the room where everyone was sitting on either side of the long table. He took his place at the end of the table in the larger chair, the throne room type chair, and nodded the meeting to start.

The lords started to clamor all at once about the state of Camelot and the kingdom. They had too many refugees and not enough rations. Wood was now scarce to keep people warm since the rain and mist had seeped through to make everything too wet for burning. A cold, cough, and pneumonia had begun in the people as their lungs were being filled with the moisture of the air and their bodies trembled from the perpetual cold. If drowning and starvation didn’t kill the people than the new sickness would surely do the final job of it.

Arthur looked over to his uncle at his right, “What do you suggest we do?” He needed guidance. This was not how he had thought his first week of reining would be like. He had imagined his best friend where his uncle now sat, but obviously that was not how fate had deemed his sovereignty to be.

The man looked troubled for a second being asked and then said slowly, “We need to finish this storm any way we can.” Arthur sighed and looked at the grain in the table in front of him. The smooth sanding job had brought out the knots and patches of perfection. He nodded to his thoughts; he needed to sand and smooth his friend into letting the storm go.

“I will end this storm,” he said definitely. “I will go out and find the one who created this storm and force its completion…”

“You cannot go alone, sire. It is too dangerous to approach the sorcerer,” his uncle protested. He leaned forward and put a hand onto the king’s shoulder, “Maybe I should go in your stead…”

“No!” Arthur said forcefully. He said in a softer tone, “No, Agravaine, I cannot allow anyone else to approach him.” His uncle looked liked he had been slapped and Arthur continued, “I know you want to keep me safe, but I did cause his outburst.” The older man nodded his understanding as he withdrew his hand from the shoulder. The other lords agreed with their king but insisted he bring alone someone else to keep him safe.

“I have a knight in mind and I think as long as it is only the two of us, then Merlin will listen to reason and release this curse,” he said as he stood up and dismissed the council. He would leave at dawn the next day and try and find what the scouts they had out for the three days now hadn’t. He knew he would be able to find the scared boy who had been forced to run from the citadel and he needed to tell him that he was sorry for his father’s transgressions.


Blaming Disney

He is four and impressionable. We don’t have access to an outside source of media, except for our radio which isn’t on a lot and my internet that the kids aren’t allowed to use. We use DVDs and VHS as our television expirence. Disney, and movies similar, are constantly on during the winter when the kids are stuck indoors for their own safety. The shelves of the toy’s department is  lined with these items as well. Who hasn’t seen a Disney’s Frozen item, whether it is the cereal or the 3 1/2 foot doll? You can’t escape these princesses.

I love that we have strong females for our girls to now model after. Elsa’s declaration of “You can’t marry a man you just met” alongside the sister-love is what makes this movie great. I love Merida in her quest to change their traditions to empower princesses, though I hope my kids never turn me into a bear or feel the need to rebel like that. Even the older ones, like Mulan going to war to save her dad and Jasmin catching Alladin in his lies, all have purposes for showing girls they can be strong.

The problem I have? My four year old is a boy who wants to be a Disney princess. He doesn’t want to be a prince, because the princes are dumb. I can’t blame him. The males in these movies are chauvinistic, lying, and most of the time not very bright. The men are either the bad guys or have a lot of problems in their character.

In Beauty and the Beast the roll models my boys can have are either Gaston, the Beast, or the dad. They don’t really see the other characters as male since they are all objects found in the castle. Gaston is the “bad guy” but also just wants his woman to be meek, pregnant, and ignorant. He cannot read and thinks his woman shouldn’t either. The Beast is turned into who he is by a witch. He turns his nose up to ugly things (which we are constantly reminded at the beginning that Bell is the prettiest thing in the country) and has major anger issues. The dad is a good guy, but he is considered insane for being brilliant. Not good models.

Alladin has a lot of issues as well. Alladin is poor and homeless. He steals, lies his way into the castle, and just generally teaches boys they have to be untrustworthy if they ever want to get their princess. They will be forgiven, though, because that is okay to do to a woman. The “king” is easily controllable and isn’t much of a man. And then we have the bad guy, Jefar, who is evil.

In Cinderella, the prince is a minor character who is needed to save the princess. The problem? He doesn’t even remember what she looks like! She puts on a pretty dress, gets washed up, and dances in glass slippers, but he didn’t look at her face? He rushes around the kingdom to put the shoe on people because he didn’t look at this girl’s face.
I’m not saying that having character flaws is what I am looking for. What I am saying is that give our boys something to strive to be. Also, please market something for them too. I can’t go into a store and grab a “Christof” outfit in the Disney section nor can I get them a 3 1/2 foot reindeer.

When being a princess is better than being one of the males in these movies, well, no wonder my four year old wants to be one!


(This is satire. Please take no offense to it. I came up with this rant as a joke while talking to my grandma about my gender fluid four year old. Disney will always just be Disney and I know TV isn’t raising my kids.)

The Storm Chapter Nine

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Merlin or Disney’s Frozen.

Chapter Nine

Arthur opened the door to the old chambers he used to visit frequently behind his father’s back. He had a suspicion that Gaius knew he was still coming to see Merlin, but the physician had never said anything. Looking around he saw books, old utensils of vials and things Gaius had used in his life but their new physician didn’t need, and Merlin’s bedroom door firmly shut. I was almost like those blissful days of childhood. Dust swirled around in the room and he wished for the sun to shine through to make the patterns like it used to in the air. He suddenly didn’t want to be an adult, or even king, but rather the child who just wondered why his best friend had locked himself away from the world.

He slowly walked into the room and went straight for the closed door to the smaller bed chamber where Merlin had stayed. A flash of lightning tore through the sky and the thunder shook through to his bones. That had been a close strike. He put his hand against the still vibrating wood of the door and said loudly, “Merlin?” He knew his friend was not on the other side, though. “Merlin, why would you learn magic?” he asked the vacant room. Sighing in resignation of not getting his answer by talking to air, he turned to the room around him. He needed to find something that would tell him why his friend would ever learn the banned arts.

His eyes scanned the shelves full of the books that Gaius had needed during his time in the castle. He would start there, he decided as he climbed to the top of the terrace to begin going through each and every book.

He had been searching for hours now, pulling one book down after another and looking through to see if he could find any indication of magic use within each cover. He was a fourth through the books when his uncle had walked in to find him. “Arthur? What are you doing in here?” he asked as he looked up at the boy putting back another large tomb and grabbing a slightly smaller book.

“I am researching,” he answered tersly.

“Well, I searched for you for a while now. I thought maybe you had gone after the sorcerer…” he trailed off as Arthur scanned the pages. “Arthur, you need to come and attend to your duties. As king, it is important to show strength right now, sire,” the honorific almost seemed like an afterthought. The newly crowned king ignored it, though, as he reached up for another book.

“I am doing my research for my people, Agrevaine. Please cancel all of my appointments for today. I will call a council meeting as soon as I find my answer,” the younger man said back.

“Answer to what?”

“To how and why my friend would do such horrible magic.” The room went silent as Arthur continued to search through another book. His uncle said he would have food sent up to him and left the room in a flourish of robes.

The monarch searched through the daylight hours and had to start burning candles before sunset due to the darkened sky. The rain started to come down in sheets again outside. He could hear it battering against the panes in the window and smacking against the stones in the courtyard.

He laid his head down against the table where his tray with his supper still sat. He had gone through most of the books in the room and now had started searching through haphazard places. He had found books not filed away on the shelf, but those didn’t seem to have any information. He turned his head to the side and laid his cheek against the cool grained wood. He shut his eyes and thought about how to continue. Of course Merlin and Gaius wouldn’t leave a magic book out in the open. Where would he hide a book he didn’t want anyone to find?

He wouldn’t hide a book, of course, but then he mentally shook that thought away. Where would they hide their magic books? …Or something that could contain information about magic?

His eyes snapped open and he ran to where Gaius used to sleep. Bending down he searched underneath the small bed. He couldn’t see anything underneath the bed, but he allowed his hand to do a quick sweep through anyway. His hand and arm were attacked by dust bunnies, but nothing else was in the dark. “Ugh,” he said aloud as he shook the balls of fluff off his fingers. Merlin really needed a lesson on how to clean properly, he thought.

Getting up from the floor, he turned to look at the one place he really didn’t want to go into. Merlin’s bedroom door stood imposingly on the other side of the room. He straightened up and marched over to the door. He was a king and a wonderful swordsman, but for some reason the thought of entering the room Merlin had been kept in was daunting. He hadn’t ever been allowed in there in his memory and it felt wrong to enter it now.

He stole some of his nerve back and climbed the stairs. Before he lost himself, he tore open the door and looked at the small room. He felt taken aback by the size of the room. It was a storage closet with a bed, a cupboard like wardrobe, a night table and random objects. The room had not actually been put in to hold such things and they took up most of it. He tore himself from looking around with just his eyes and started rummaging through the clothing in the wardrobe. Finding nothing in there he leaned down to lay on the floor and do a complete sweep with his hand there like he had with Gaius’ bed. He was surprised when he brushed out not one, but two books. Sitting himself straight he opened them both while they lay on the floor. To his astonishment they weren’t magic books but journals. The handwriting was completely different in both of them. Looking at the one on the left he realized that Merlin had possession of Gaius’ journal, and it had actually been written like a long letter to the boy starting with the time that Merlin had been sent to live with him. Merlin’s, though, started years later when the child had learned to read and write by Gaius during his imprisonment.

He grabbed them both and ran from the small room and the old physician’s chambers. He briskly walked passed all of his guards to his own chambers to start reading Gaius’ journal first. He needed to know why the first lines started with, “Dear Merlin, Welcome to Camelot. I hope that I will be able to teach you to control your power and that you become best friends with Arthur through time…”


Normal parenting can be hard

I don’t know how many people who read my blog are parents, but let me just say that normal parenting is hard. Parenting one child is an endless decision and exhausting expirence as a whole. I love being a parent and I love my kids – all four (plus two) of them.

I have four little ones, ages 3, 4, 5 and 7 and two of my boyfriend’s, who are 15 and 17.

I have mentioned before that my little ones have challenges, and this keeps me running most of the time. My laundry is piled up (clean but I have no energy to fold and take the stairs to put away) and I rejoice when I get a room looking as awesome as I can.


The living room/library. The pile in front there are the toys the kids need to bring back into their bedrooms.

I love it when I can say that I finished something that most moms do easily. “Sure,” you think, “you cleaned a room. The whole house should be done because kids live there!”

I wish that was the case, though. The kitchen is kept clean since I can’t stand cooking in dirt, and I don’t want to kill anyone. The kids’ rooms are barely traversable on most days. My stair way is becoming a member of the dirty laundry club since the kids have decided that is the best way to send their soiled items to my laundry room. I try to clear that daily. My mud room has never been unpacked and so we still go through the path to get from the stairs to the kitchen daily. I won’t mention the state of the media room, my bedroom, the laundry room or our stock room. I cleaned the living room and the kids were left unattended long enough to give me days of work. I know that my living room will be another hour of cleaning again tomorrow. Sadly, I have to work this weekend.

My normal day without appointments (meaning the days I work my retail job) are as follows:

5:30 am – finally turn off the alarm that has been blaring for a half hour. I don’t want to move. My bed has accepted me finally and I know it will feel rejected.

5:45 AM – hear the oldest boy’s therapy cat plunk down from his bed to come and greet me. It is now time to officially drag myself from my comfort. I meet Emrys, the cat, at the stairs. He runs back to wake his human for his breakfast. I throw last night’s washer into the dryer.

6:00 AM – oldest boy is now making my coffee while I try and get the youngest boy from his bed. Middle boy is dealing with the squealing guinea pig, Speedy, that he wanted so bad for his fifth birthday. Emrys is happily eating his kibbles bits as well. Youngest daughter is sitting in her night gown in the middle of the living room looking like she just got back from a rave.

6:15 AM – youngest boy might be up. The others are now playing instead of getting dressed. I am trying to drink a swig of caffeine.

6:45 AM – I am frantically getting into my uniform and yelling at the kids to help each other dress. Youngest boy is finally out of bed, but is naked now staring at his clothes. He has two outfits to chose from and he doesn’t like the one he will end up wearing, but the other choice will mean being himself and teased at school.

7:00 AM – we should be in the van and pulling out of our half mile drive way. We might be wrestling youngest boy into his clothes. Everyone else might be getting their shoes on.

7:10 AM – I am pulling a crying half naked youngest boy to the van. His shoes are in my hands. The others are carrying my coffee, phone, and keys. They might have their shoes on or are still barefoot. Hopefully someone grabbed their socks today. Oldest buckles in the youngest and the two others fight over the booster seats. I start the car and slowly try not to run over our kittens while I make my way finally down the drive.

7:15 AM – we are now on the dirt road leading to the highway. We are 15 minutes late.

7:30 AM – I am supposed to be clocking in at work. I am dragging a full tantrum four year old into the daycare now shoved into clothes hastily in the parking lot. The others are either following or using the key for the door to lock me out of the daycare “on accident”.

7:35 AM – I show up running into the front doors of my job. I get sympathetic smiles and told tohurry.

7:35 AM to 4:00 PM – I smile, help people find their things, joke around with coworkers, unload the trucks and do other things in a retail store. I might even cashier or bring in the carts.

4:15 PM – I park my van outside of the daycare and sit for five minutes to hear silence.

4:20 PM – I enter the preschool room and am immediately approached by one of the teachers for the run down of what my youngest two did that day. Daughter probably bullied or fought with someone. Youngest son lost his temper at some point or tantrumed until my sister was called to come calm him down. There might have been an issue with the dress up bin again with my youngest son, as well.

4:30 PM – enter school age room to find out what the other two did today. Gather soiled undies and clothes from middle child and cringe at whatever behavior needs correcting for oldest boy. We leave while I am still processing information given from the teachers. The ride home is me questioning them and usually not getting much real information.

5:00 PM – we start in on behavior correction. Youngest boy usually changes out of school clothes and into whatever clothes he passed up that morning when I gave him his choice.

5:30 PM – I make dinner while they are running in and out of the house.

6:00 PM to 7:00 PM – dinner time. This usually means I have to figure out who doesn’t like what and take things off of other people’s plate.

7:00 PM to 8:00 PM – reading, Lego’s, coloring, bath time, and then fighting over which bed and room the youngest boy will sleep in tonight. Bed time. I start dishes, putting kids back into bed, and feeling the day catch me.

8:00 PM to 9:00 PM – standing in the hallway between their bedrooms and browse my Facebook, text my sister, or my boyfriend and I whisper a conversation while we make sure the kids stay in their beds and go to sleep. I also gather the cats that the kids brought inside that need to be outside. Only Emrys stays inside to help the oldest when he is needed.

9:00 to when I go to sleep – kids might still be awake, school work needs doing, write a thousand words to another chapter of a story, or write on my blog. Maybe fall asleep at 9:00 just because I am that tired. Most nights I am up until midnight just to get school done or spend time with my boyfriend. I throw a load in the wash and take the dryer load to my pile. Maybe I will fold, but most likely I am showering and falling asleep.

Midnight to 5:00 AM – three of the four have woken up for drinks, nightmares, sleep walking, bathroom, or night terrors. They don’t do it at the same time, either. My sleep is now broken into naps. Time to start the next day and do it all over again.

Maybe it is my day off from retail and today we will be in the van going to our appointments…

I wonder sometimes if I should clean in the little five or ten minutes I have between each child’s crisis? Most of the time I just stand for a minute against a door or wall and center myself. My oldest boy will be 8 in September. I have been doing this for eight years.

This is my normal parenting. I didn’t even get into correcting speech, using signs, and their special needs things we deal with daily. I didn’t say much about my boyfriend or his two lovely daughters, because his shifts change and so some weeks I have their help and some I am on my own.

Then I also daydream, cram school knowledge into my head, learn more on how to help my kids with their challenges, and drift into my worlds for each story.


Youngest boy walking as behavior modification. He had a very tough time at school and was still very angry.

Most days I think I am lucky the kids haven’t staged a coup d’etat. Now everyone knows why I might be late on a few chapters every so often!

The Storm Chapter Eight

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

Chapter Eight

Arthur stood there frozen in the spot looking at the doors that his best childhood friend had just escaped through. Merlin had magic. It kept swimming around inside his brain and yet for some reason he couldn’t get himself to believe. He had seen it, though. His very own blue eyes had seen his friend do magic. His friend’s eyes had turned the gold color of a sorcerer. The boy who had been locked up into the physician’s chambers for years, right under his father’s nose, did magic; powerful magic, too.

The wind from the storm outside ripped into the large ball room from the now broken large windows above. His cloak whipped around as his guests screamed around him. He heard his uncle yell for the guards and knights to follow the magic user and capture him.

A bright flash of lightning snapped him out from his stupor and his uncle’s hand came down on his shoulders, “Arthur?” He looked over at his uncle’s concerned face. “Did you know?” he asked. The blond shook his head.

“All of this time he was trapped in those rooms, but why would he learn magic?” Arthur asked himself. His uncle shrugged beside him. “Uncle, have someone check on Morgana. I… I will be in my chambers. Have them bring him alive to me as soon as they catch him,” he ordered. He stormed out of the party and went straight through the castle to his own bed.

He sat at his desk when the first reports started to come in just an hour later. Merlin had used magic against the gate guards, but they were able to still follow his tracks into the forest around. The storm outside gathered into strength. The thunder shook the panes in his windows and the water came down hard. The heavens were crying in anger just like Arthur’s heart inside his chest.

Why would Merlin learn magic? Why did Gaius allow him to learn magic? He had been taught that sorcerers needed words, incantations, to perform their spells, but Merlin hadn’t spoken anything when his eyes had flashed. He had learned magic to the point of being able to cast a spell without even saying a word. It made him dangerous.

He stewed in his thoughts for the hours before dark. The forest had caught fire a while ago, though the rain was doing a good job of not letting it spread far from its ignition point. He stood up from his reports and looked out of the window as the darkened sky shone with the white from the electricity running across it and the glow from the fire burning still a safe distance away. His citizens were pulling animals out of flooded streets, and trying to get their roofs repaired as they cracked and leaked from the harsh down pour. Camelot had never seen a storm like this in her history.

A soft knock on the door behind him caused him to jump. He sighed and called for the person to enter. Behind him he heard the latch. Turning he faced his other childhood friend. “Morgana,” he greeted her with a small smile.

“Are you alright, Arthur?” she asked concerned. She walked to him and sat down casually onto one of his chairs at his table. “I know Merlin was your friend,” she said quietly, “I am trying to understand what happened. Did Uther know?”

Arthur shook his head and shrugged one of his shoulders. “I don’t know,” he said. He leaned against the table and looked down at the woman. “I am also very confused,” he admitted. “Why would Merlin learn sorcery?”

Morgana sighed and shook her head. The sound of the storm drowned out anything around them and the flash was so bright it caused them both to flinch. “Did he cause this storm?” she asked him. She rubbed her eyes to try and clear them from the dots that had been brought by the sudden light.

“I think so.”

They didn’t talk for a long while as they just sat there in their own thoughts. Arthur finally stood up as Morgana turned to stand and leave. They said good-night to each other and Morgana left Arthur to try and sleep in the chaos happening outside.

Arthur wished with every fiber that he could run to Gaius and ask him what was happening. He wished he could go and talk to Merlin through the door again. He wished once again that Merlin hadn’t been confined for so long.

As another blast of thunder hit the citadel a thought struck him. Had Merlin learned magic so that he could have used it against the king, Uther or Arthur, and free himself from his confines? Arthur had tried to make it clear that he was free as soon as Uther and Gaius had passed away, but could Merlin still had felt trapped? Did he continue to learn even after their deaths?

He turned away from his bed and ran for the old physician’s chambers. He needed to search it. He needed to know if Merlin had still been studying even after Uther and Gaius had died. He needed to know if they had a very powerful enemy. Could Merlin really have turned against him? Would Merlin have turned against him even if he had tried through the many years to continue to be his friend?

As he scrambled up the steps to the old tower he kept wondering if maybe he hadn’t tried hard enough to break through to Merlin. Was he not a good friend? Did his friend hate him now? He entered the dark chamber and used the light from the storm outside to start the candles around the room and begin his search. Had his friend been committing treason since he was a child and could he possibly find any contradiction to his thoughts? Did he want to find anything to confirm or deny what was swirling around in his head? His friend already did magic, but maybe he could find something to prove that his friend hadn’t had a choice? Could a sorcerer not have a choice in their magic?


When I write well, but fail the class

I’m an author, a writer, and an artist of words. I pull the muse toward me during work or sometimes in the middle of the night in dreams. She rambles in tangents while I am trying to make lists for my shopping or she sleeps when I have my computer open for the next installment in a story. Either way, she is my muse and she helps me be who I am.

Yet, from the time I was a very young girl, my teachers have seen my want to spin good stories. This acknowledgment is great if I needed praise or a steady guide, but instead they try to cage my muse. “Oh! You’re a writer? Great! Let’s put you into Creative Writing 101,” they crow. I then am shoved into a seat and told what to write and how I should proceed. I then fail the class, since I cannot be tamed like that. I cannot turn my muse suddenly into writing poetry when she has never had a knack for it. Sure, I can write a children’s story, but now you want me to illustrate it? No. I just cannot draw. So, I turn in half of the project.

It is happening again. I am in college, again, trying to get a degree to make money. I already have said my books aren’t published anywhere but online, so I am not making money off of them. I need a new degree to make it in the world. But, this means my counselor is once again thinking my English courses should be reflected around my love for writing. I’ll pass, because I have to, but my muse is being beaten every time.

My poor muse is sitting in a corner even now. On Monday I start another “creative English” class. She is crying and hoping that we can get through the next eight weeks without killing her. I hope so, too, since I have so many stories that need finishing.

I wonder if there have been any authors out there that actually cheered when they saw homework in these classes? Anyone ever think that a class with strict guidelines can teach creativeness? Sometimes I am too curious for my own good.

Here is to hoping that eight weeks goes by fast.

The Storm Chapter Seven

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

Chapter Seven

He ran with all of his might out of the double doors and through the castle. He could feel tears of panic come to his eyes as he stumbled down the front steps. He didn’t stop, even when the guards at the gate went to halt his progress out of Camelot. With a flash of his eyes they were thrown back to the ground away from him and he felt guilt run through his chest as they staggered back to their feet. He felt sorry, for the first time in a long while, that he ever was born with the magic. He left the path and ran into the forest as the rain pelted against his new clothes. A streak of lightning flashed across above him and he tripped on a root. Now covered in mud he let the tears release down his cheeks.

He needed to get up, he knew, because Arthur would be sending out the knights to capture him. He wouldn’t be able to live very long if he didn’t move now. He felt frustration build inside of him as he thought about Arthur hunting him down to execute him. His own friend was now king and his own friend would now have to kill him. He had all of this power built up inside and yet he was an outlaw. He didn’t ask for this. He never asked for this.

He screamed out and up at the blackened clouds. A lightning bolt came down and struck a nearby tree catching it ablaze. The rain came down into such a sheet that it immediately smothered the fire and covered everything into a haze. Now completely spent of energy he stood up and stumbled his way toward freedom hidden by the torrential downpour.

He didn’t stop even when the rain became just a steady companion instead of the sheets it had been earlier. He continued on deep into the night and felt nothing inside of him. His magic wrapped around him and warmed him without a thought as he felt despair grip his heart. He was so lost in his own melancholy ways that he didn’t realize he was at the edge of the cliff until the soft ground gave out from underneath him. His eyes flashed and a vine wrapped quickly around his wrist. He panted and looked up at the savior root as the rest of the side of mud gave way. Looking down passed his boots he saw the raging river below. It would have killed him to fall from that height and into the white capped waters. His blue eyes looked back up again and flashed again to gold. The root started to pull him back to the surface and he scrambled his nails into the side of the dirt to try and help it along. Without untying the vine he scrambled over the bank and back onto stable ground.

He couldn’t travel any further during the dark. The clouds, rain and everything that had helped his escape was now hindering him.

The rain didn’t stop, but he did continue to travel. He didn’t know where he was going. Gaius had never given him maps to study and he had been so young when he was imprisoned, but he knew he was just getting away from the citadel. With every step he took he continued to think Arthur was right behind him. Any moment that he stumbled he would hear the sound of the hooves from the horses, but when he listened very carefully he realized it was just the patter of the rain against leaves. He had found edible plants along the way and at one moment had caught a rabbit, but the fearful eyes of the creature had him setting it free. He couldn’t bring himself, no matter how hungry, to execute another living animal. It was different when the kitchens had brought meat up and he had eaten it since he hadn’t had to see the thing alive before.

A mist had settled around the area he was in and he found himself staring at three large trees smashed almost together. They blocked his path but he didn’t go around them. His black hair was matted down with mud, sticks, and rain. His clothes clung to him like a second skin. He felt trembles flow down his body as his magic rushed and waned beneath his skin to keep him warm. He needed to have a shelter and he figured he was finally far enough away to live in peace.

Stumbling up to touch the rough bark of one of the trees he smiled and looked up. He could feel the energy in the plant and could feel his magic respond in kind to the living thing. His eyes flashed for a second and he felt welcomed. Keeping his hand on the bark, he shut his eyes to feel the root systems underneath the trees intertwining and to feel the leaves above him gathering what sun they could through the haze of the clouds. It asked for more energy from him and he willingly allowed his magic to flow into the tree and through to the other two as well. With a powerful burst of energy he moved, created and allow a hallow to form from the roots of the trees. With his energy given they moved through to his will. He opened his eyes and stepped back against the soggy ground to see the hallow he had created from the trees. It would be his home. He knelt down and pushed more energy into the surrounding area to create bushes, trees and plants he would need to survive and give them the energy they would have usually received from the sun. He created through the mud channels to wash down the constant rain and not drown his new home.

He walked into the opening of his home and thought he would need a door of some form. Seeing a vining type plant covering the main tree of his alcove her pushed energy in to make it into a drape over the door. It blossomed out with beautiful purple and white flowers with the new energy and created color in the brown and green forest. He walked through the vines, they split for him to leave the shelter, and gathered broken sticks, twigs and dead branches. Taking them into his home he created a fire next to a small opening he had left as a chimney. Taking off his outer clothes he huddled near the warmth of the blaze to dry his under garments on his body. The area warmed quickly and a small smile came to his face.

He was finally free to do what he wanted. He could create, use and love his magic without worry of being seen. He knew that Gaius had wanted to protect him, but he also knew that deep down he could never be able to live without his magic. As long as he didn’t stray from his sanctuary he would be able to live in peace. Instead of crying about his friend back in the castle he rejoiced inside at finally being himself.