The Family We Never Had

Haven't posted in awhile, but still writing!  Here's something for you to enjoy!
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Max was drinking way too much lately. He knew that just by the look on Lena’s face. But going back to his old life hadn’t been easy. He’d spent too much time as a healer, helping people, preventing death rather than taking lives. It wasn’t that he couldn’t kill. He could kill without hesitation, especially if he was pissed. And he was really pissed lately.

He was angry because of the people who had tried to take his wife from him. He was angry because he had inadvertently harmed both Vi and Sefah in his selfishness to save Lena, to help give her more time. He was angry that he, a very skilled magical and non-magical healer had been unable to do nothing but sit and watch her slowly die. He was angry because he was willing to go so far as to die with her. He didn’t want a life with Lena even if it was stupid to take his own life. He didn’t feel he could do it all without her at his side.

Among the boiling anger there was grief. He only ever thought he’d feel like this if Lena had died. It was why he was drinking, to drown out the old memories that prickled through his mind day after day, hour after hour. He hadn’t really thought of his gang as family, not until he met Lena and the Phoenix. That’s when he realized that the kids he had banded up with had been like brothers and sisters to him. It hurt to know that they were killed because of him, because he had left them, abandoned them.

Quin had been killed by Pyrs, an old enemy of the gang. Clare had been killed by Emma, his old flame who accused Clare of keeping Max all to herself. Emma had thought that he and Clare were in a relationship. That wasn’t the case of course. Max saw Clare as his little sister and she thought of him as an older brother.

And then there was Dee. Where was he? Max had sent a letter, but he had not been given a reply. Max had used their old way of contacting. A message would be taken to the orphanage where the owner would hand it off to a kid who would then hand it off to a street kid. The street kid would then be able to find Dee. It might have taken a few days to get to him, but no one would have been able to open the letter, so even if it went astray it didn’t hurt anything.

But Dee had to know he was back with all the rumors circulating. Hell, most of the people involved in the underground society knew he had killed Pyrs. But still there was no sign of Dee.

On top of everything, Vi had announced she had a…a mate and she loved him. It wasn’t that Max didn’t want her to be happy. He wanted her to be very very happy for a long time and be able to spend her life making happy memories. But he didn’t feel she was ready for this. He uncle was still out there and if he was involved in her master keeping hold of her, then by now he would know that Vi was free. But who was he to stand in her way?

Maybe he was paranoid and acting rather insane, but he didn’t trust Harid one bit. He just had a very bad vibe about the man.

He sighed and set the bottle of rum down on the kitchen counter. He needed sleep and think about his next move. Emma had caught him unaware once. She would do it again soon as she could. She was just as injured as he was, but it wouldn’t stop either of them from attacking the other when the chance arrived.

He climbed back into bed and soon found himself drifting off into dreams full of memories.
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“Quin! Give it back!” A little girl with light brown hair and brown eyes cried as she reached for the tattered old teddy bear a boy with short gray hair and green eyes was holding out of reach.

“Nuh uh! It’s mine now, Clare and I’m gonna burn him!” Quin said.

“Don’t burn him, Quin!” Clare exclaimed as she grabbed hold of the teddy bear’s legs.

The teddy bear had seen much better days. It was old and torn in some places. One eye was missing and the cloth looked so thin that it might burst into flames in the middle of the hot summer. But it somehow stayed together.

A blonde haired boy with green eyes and much older, much taller than the other two stalked over and smacked Quin on the back of his head, “Just give the damned bear back would you? I’m tired of hearing her scream.”

“Ow…” Quin said, rubbing the back of his head. The jolt had caused him to let go of the bear and now Clare hugged it close to her, glaring at him.

They weren’t clean children. Of course there weren’t many clean children on the streets, but they were at least cleaner than some. Dirt clung to them and their tattered clothing. Their hair looked like it had never seen a brush, though even Clare’s was kept short.

Another boy came running down the street, carrying a satchel over one shoulder. He had black hair streaked with red. His skin was slightly browned. His eyes stood out the most. They were a brilliant shade of sapphire that seemed to almost glow in any lighting. He was shorter than the other boys, but taller than the girl. He looked much older than all but the blonde boy.

He looked over his shoulder where some guards were chasing after him. He hopped onto a nearby wagon and jump to catch the rail of a merchants stall, swinging himself up to a window ledge. From there he found small hand and foot holds on the side of the building, scaling up to another ledge. He didn’t stop as he ran along the top of the roof and leapt to another, climbing downward and leaping to another window ledge.

The guards sighed and turned down an alley expecting to catch the boy on the other side of the line of homes. But the boy had slipped through an open window. He climbed down the stairs of the house not caring if people were home or not. On his way through the kitchen he grabbed what visible food he could find—a hunk of cheese, some apples and another half loaf of bread. He darted out of the house and climbed back up another, leaping from ledge to ledge, swinging himself to others.

Eventually he dropped down by the other kids and handed over the bags of good, glancing over the crumbled ruins of a house to see if the guards were still following them. Clare cheered and wrapped her arms around the boy while Dee inspected the haul.

“You’re back Max! I missed you!” Clare said.

Max grinned and patted her head, “I missed you too Clare. I got us some apples. I know you like those.”

“Apples!? Can I have one, Dee?” She cried and looked to the blonde boy who handed her an apple.


“Remember we have to share all of this until we can get more. Guards’ll be lookin’ for Havoc now.” Dee said.


“Hang on…” Max said as he climbed up a broken wall, “Looks like I didn’t lose em. Stay here.”

“Havoc…you’re not gonna…” Dee started to say, but he was cut off by the sudden shouts of ‘Fire!’ He sighed, "Why did I even bother asking. Of course you're gonna set something on fire..."

“So…we should run now.” Max said as he grabbed Clare’s arm and ran off down an alley.

Later that night the four of them sat around a small fire Max had built. It was a good thing he had figured out how to use his fire magic early on. They passed pieces of bread and cheese around, only eating what they needed so they could reserve the rest for later. Food usually had to last for a week or more.

Quin sat by Clare and punched her in the arm several times, “Here ugly!” He handed her a piece of bread.

Clare made a face, “I’m not ugly! You’re ugly!”

“Nuh uh! You’re ugly! Your face looks like a horse’s ass!” Quin said and yanked on her hair.

Clare started to cry, “I’m not ugly!”

Max punched Quin rather hard in the arm, causing the boy to fall backward off the rotten log he’d been sitting on, “Stop picking on her!” Max looked up just in time to see Clare running to go hide. She was crying and hugging her teddy bear tight to her. He growled, kicking Quin and went after her, “Clare!”

Clare pulled her legs up to her chest in a corner, tears streaming down her face. Max came over and sat down next to her, holding out his arms. She fell into them and started crying more.

“I’m never gonna be pretty like those fancy laaaaaddiess!” She sobbed.

Max patted her back, “What’do you wanna look like them for?”

“Because their sooo preeetty. And the one in the maaarket…had a pretty…butterfly in her haaaair.” She wailed.

“You’re pretty just like you are, Clare. Don’t you listen to Quin. He’s just being mean.”

“No he’s not. He’s right. I’m uuuuglly!”


Max huffed. He stared at the ground unsure of what else to say when he spotted something on the ground. He pondered and then let Clare go. He snatched up a small piece of wood and a discarded hair pin. Clare made a sound when he let go and then looked up to him.

“What’re you doing, Max?” She asked.

He picked up a rubber band from the ground and began twisting the pieces together. When he was finished he held up the hair pin. The wood had been transformed into a crooked butterfly and fastened to the pin with the rubber band, tied tightly so it wouldn’t break.

“Here.” He said and kneeled down to slide it into her hair, “Now you’re even prettier than all those ladies.”

Clare touched the butterfly carefully and then beamed. She tackled Max in a hug and laughed,“Thank you Havoc! It’s so pretty!”


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Max curled into himself while he slept. Clare had been wearing the hair pin when he last saw her. It had lasted longer than it should have. It was still intact ten years after he’d made it. As he wondered if she had been wearing it when Emma killed her tears streamed down his face and he couldn’t help the audible sob that ripped from deep down.

He would never see her smiling face again; never see her bright eyes and her bubbly laugh that always made him smile.

When We Forget

I had a dream last night that lit up a flame.  I'm not sure why it did.  It had nothing to do with things that are going on in my life right now.  There is some truth, some part of my life in this story, so you could say it's a bit close to me, but it is not the story of my life.  There's only a fragment in there.

I don't normally write in first person, but this one sorta...wrote itself in first person you could say.  I also don't normally write in anything but a fantasy realm, so this was different for me.

I don't want to say more about it right now, but enjoy something that came from a dream!  I might write more of this later.

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It was a warm day when my brother and I went to see our dad.  It was somewhere between summer and fall when the leaves begin to cover the ground, but the air is far too hot to be rolling into fall.  It had been a very long time since either of us had seen our father.  Our mother remarried when we were very young and we moved far away from him.  But that doesn’t matter, because we’re here to see him now.

We sat on the porch in silence looking out through the half screened porch.  I ran my fingers idly down the lower, wooden part of the wall.  The wood was aged and dark, a mix of black, gray and a greenish brown.  The screen of the upper wall was widely knit together.  It was gray, but so covered in rust it was hard to believe it was made from metals.

The air buzzed in that way that places full of heat usually do.  Outside the ground was mostly barren, consisting of white hot sand that covered nearly everything.  There were patches of brown and yellow leaves that looked as if they had fallen many many years before.  Patches of bare trees with fragments of the same brown and yellow leaves granted some relief from the sun that bore down.

After what felt like hours of sitting in silence, I turned to my brother and asked, “Should we go see him now?”

He took a minute to reply as he studied the wooden floor of the porch.  He nodded slowly and stood, offering me his arm, “Yeah, I think it’s time.”

I slipped my arm through his and we strolled from the porch and into the barren heat.  I was glad that I had brought the floppy straw hat I wore.  It helped block out some of the heat, but not all of it.  My brother wore a simple black fedora.  I used to make fun of him about it, but it really looked quite dashing on him.

The leaves stirred as we made our way across the sand.  In the distance I could see where our father rested.  We were so young when we last saw him that neither of us really could remember what he looked like.  Even two years older than me, my brother couldn’t describe him.

We stopped in front of a short black iron gate that was rusted with the many years and the little amount of rain that it had seen in its lifetime.  My brother opened the gate for me and I stepped through, waiting just to the side for him.  my hand slipped into his and we approached slowly, both knowing that we were about to come face to face with the truth.

Tall brown grass had covered most of the clearing.  Stones that were once shaped into all sorts of forms scattered across the clearing worn down with time.  We approached a newer stone and paused there.  My hand slipped out of my brothers and I knelt down, brushing dirt to read the inscription.

“So this is where he is.”  I said.

I settled on the aged grass, my hands folded in my lap.  My brother simply stood with his hand resting on the headstone, his head bowed and his other hand stuffed into his pocket

“That seems to be the case.” He said.

“I wish I had known him better before he died.”

“I do too.”

On EQ2 Decorating

It starts with a simple floor, a single tile
It grows and grows and grows some more
Inch by inch, day by day, piece by piece
The walls are raised and raised some more

The ceiling is set, the windows carved in place
Each piece arranged with love and care
And then arranged once more

A vision has come to life in this simple home
It grew and grew and grew some more
Through the hearts and minds of a decorating crew

Now it’s finished and ready to share
But oh no, it’s not quite through
For the ceiling is too high, the walls too short

It must be rebuilt and rebuilt some more
Through and through, wall by wall, piece by piece
A decorator’s work is never finished
But in the end it is great
For a paradise we create

Return to the Shadows

So, I am still writing.  I just keep forgetting to write up an update.  I'm managing around 2 pages every other day or so.  It's not a page a day really, but I am writing.  I'm trying to get more focused on it, but of course there's always some distraction.  I just need to try and focus instead of being lazy!  These pages aren't going to write themselves.

Anyway, here's a piece I wrote today!  Enjoy!

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Blackened pillars adorned with shimmering silver blades rose up into the air, anchoring the high black glass stained ceiling to the blackened marble floor.  Several more shimmering silver blades adorned the floor in various spots.  A soft blue light glistened from silver blade shaped sconces on the walls and some of the pillars.  It was not dark in the room, but the way the light bounced from blade to blade gave off a feeling of standing in pure darkness.

At a first glance it seemed there was no one in the room, but all along the room stood groups of men and women.  They were dressed in blacks, grays and green and browns.  It was the colors of the night, the colors of those who did not wish to be seen.  They murmured soft to one another.  Money or items exchanged hands.  Whispers of information were exchanged.  Even laughter murmured through the room.

The soft thumping followed by a distinctive click of boots quieted the room.  Head’s turned to see who was entering.  Here only someone who wished to be heard would make so much noise.  Every noise, every conversation stopped as eyes fell upon the cloaked figure that had entered.  No one moved, but the shock was clear in every expressions.

It wasn’t the distinctive clicking or thumping of his boots that gave his identity away.  It wasn’t the way he carried himself into the room.  Nor was it the way his black cloak fell over the right shoulder, leaving his left arm exposed.  No, they didn’t need to see his face to know who he was. 

It was the scar that gave away the man’s identity.  It wrapped around his left arm from palm to shoulder.  They adorned each wave of the whip-like scar were runes following every curve of the scar.  The runes shone with a bright blue and orange that appeared as if living flames were flickering up his arm.  No one had ever been able to discover the magic that was used to create the runes.  Nor had they been able to determine exactly what the runes did.  But this was how they knew him.

Maximus pushed back the hood of his cloak, shifting his gaze around the room.  The streaks that ran through his blackened hair were brighter, more red than normal.  His eyes were the same dazzling; deep blue that seemed to glow in the darkness.

He said nothing as he began to continue his stride to the door at the other side of the room.  No one stopped him and no one spoke until he had disappeared behind the large marble doors.  And then the whispers began.  Fear swept across the room.  This was bad.  And there was only one thing on everyone’s mind.

Havoc had returned.

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“So you’ve returned, have you?” said a woman’s voice from the shadows.

“It would seem I have.”  Max said.

“Why?” She asked.

It was hard to determine just where the woman stood as her voice seemed to come from every corner of the room.  He instinctively glanced around, searching for her.

“Why does anyone ever return to a past life?”

“I thought you had given it all up.”

“You can’t run from the past for forever.”  He said.

“No, you can’t.”  She said.

Silence fell.  The shadows of the room loomed over the pair.  It was a while until Max broke the silence.

“You helped me get that scholarship, didn’t you?”  He asked.

“Of course.”  She replied.

“Why?”

“Because I knew you’d make something of yourself one day.  And I was right.”

“I suppose I ought to thank you.”  He said.

She laughed, “Perhaps it should be I to thank you.”

He frowned, “Why?”

“You were my best informant on the street.  And you were my best Blade.  It was the least I could do when I found out what you desired most.”

“And what might that be?”

“Magic.  How is Teacher?”  She asked.

“Dead.”  He said.

“A pity, but a relief for you.  Now you don’t have to keep looking over your shoulder, waiting for him to find you.”

“I have other enemies.”

“Others, yes, but none who would dare openly challenge you, Havoc.”  She said.

He shook his head, “There will always be one who will want my head on a platter, Lady.”

“We live such interesting lives, always waiting for that dagger to pierce through our back.”

“Aye, but we’ll not let it keep us from living.”

“You need something, don’t you, Havoc?”  She asked.

“Is it that obvious?”  He asked.

“No, but I know you and I have heard rumors…doctor, healer, Priory’s best, professor and…noble.”   Her smirk came through her words.

He sighed, “Never thought I’d make it that far.  I only ever wanted to not have to wonder where my next meal would be.”

“And now you’ll never have to.”

“So it seems.”

“And someone is threatening to take that away, aren’t they?”  She asked.

“How did you know?”  He asked.

“You know I hear many things.  A lot of information reaches my ears.”

He nodded, “That’s true.  Yes, someone or several someone’s seek to take my happiness away, though it is not aimed at me.”

“Your…”  There was a pause, “…Wife?”

Maximus was quiet for a moment.  It was no use hiding anything from Lady, she always knew somehow.

“Yes.  I nearly lost her…”

“And nearly lost yourself.”

“How did you know?”  He asked.

“Havoc…I know you better than anyone else.  You never really attached to any other women.  You never had anything until I landed you that scholarship.  Even here you didn’t have much.  It was just a job for you.  And now you have a better life and a wife who loves you.”  She said.

“You’ve really been spying on me way too much.  Do you still have a crush on me?”  He smirked.

“What woman doesn’t?  You are…yummy.”

“And off limits now.”

She sighed pitifully, “That’s too bad.  I wouldn’t have minded another night with you.”

He chuckled and then turned more serious, “Where is he?”

She shrugged, “Dead.”

He sighed, “When?”

“A year after you left.  Someone didn’t want him to get out of his line of work.”

“He always knew how to find the worst trouble.”  Max sighed again.

“Yes and you couldn’t keep saving him.”  She said.

“Yes.  That’s all behind us now.  I have something more important.”

“Yes?”

“What do you know of a group that calls themselves the Six?”

She smiled, “Mmm.  I think you’ll have to ask Pyrs.”

“Pyrs?”  Max scowled.

“Yes,” She said, “Pyrs.  Your old pal.  Did I mention he’s the one who killed Quin?”

Max scowled, “Where is he?”

“There is an old oak tree in the Hills.  You might find something interesting there.”

“Thank you.”  Max started to turn, but a hand touched his shoulder, lips brushed against his ear.

“Be careful Havoc, I don’t want to lose you now I have you back.  Even if it’s not in the way I had hoped.”  She whispered and then drew back into the shadows.

He didn’t look back as he left the Black Halls.  There was work to be done.

Beyond Death

I haven't been doing a good job keeping up with my writing and posting here.  I have been writing.  Not every day like I want to.  I came down with a rather bad cold a few weeks ago and I'm still recovering from it.  I know, you think, writing would be easier then, but its not.  i just can't focus no matter how hard I try.

So many times I've just sat and stared at the blank screen.  You can't force yourself to write.  You can just try to write.  If you can't, its okay, but you shouldn't give up.  I've been beating myself up a bit for not writing everyday.  But I'm trying not to do that.  I'm writing and I just need to keep at it.

Today, I woke up with ideas assaulting me, but of course some of those slipped away once I was awake enough to write, but this one stuck to me.  It's different than how it first came to me, but it's still good.  I admit that this one was inspired by an amazing woman who I am proud to call my guild leader.  She has a character with a similar story as this one, but quite different.

Time to get back to writing more on it!  Enjoy!

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It’s surprising how many times you can get so close to death.  I had never really given death any thought at all.  I never wondered what happened to people after they died.  It didn’t matter really.  I was here and they were not.  They’d had their time and now this was mine.

And then I woke up.

So many times in my life I have taken color for granted.  Here there was no color, only shadows of gray.  There were trees here.  They were tall with branches full of grey leaves softly tinted by green.   And they swayed as a cold breeze rushed past.

I shivered.  I guess when they say death is like an icy hand grasping your heart, they really do mean it.  I wrapped my arms around me and swept my gaze across the unfamiliar, grey clearing.  There weren’t just trees.  There were bushes and fragments of grass peaking up from under a haze of icy cold water.

Water?  I lifted one of my bare feet, suddenly aware of the icy water.  I looked for a dray patch of grass.  There weren’t many, but there were a few large grey rocks, so I hopped to one of them.  My feet were blue with cold, making my steps clumsy and I teetered as I hopped onto the rock as I would have done in life to keep my balance.

My eyes began their sweep across the clearing once more.  I wondered what I was supposed to do.  In the stories about Death, they always said there would be someone here to guide you.  Some said there would be some hallway of light.  You weren’t supposed to go toward the light, but everyone always did.  But there was none of that here.  There was only a dank, grey swamp.

I spotted what looked like a pathway not too far away.  It was hidden just behind a large bush.  It was as if the trees had parted, but refused to let go of one another.  Knotted branches twisted over the top of the passage entry and followed into the passage.  Each one was connected to another and none of them seemed inclined to let go.

Was I meant to follow the path?  Is this what they mean by seeing what’s beyond the other side of the veil?  If I passed through there would that mean I was truly dead?

I pursed my lips.  There were stones jutting out of the swampy, cold water.  They made a perfect path to the passageway as I hopped from one to the other.  I could feel their rough texture under my cold, blue skin that had begun to slowly return to its normal, pale color.  It made it easier to hop from the stones.

Finally, I hopped onto the last stone by the bush that hid the path.  I gazed down the branchy hallway, gazed up at the canopy of never-ending branches.  I turned back to the clearing and looked around it again.  It was really quite beautiful if you thought about it.  Everything was gray, almost see-through and tinted in various colors.  I could make out small gray-pink tinted flowers peeking up through a small bush.  If you stood still, you could even hear the soft calls of a raven.

And then I turned and stepped into the passage, not knowing where it would leave or what would happen to me.  Maybe that bright white light would come to guide me or maybe I would get to see Death firsthand.