tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71145575500585902122024-03-12T21:18:55.592-07:00Cooking AthanasiaWe weave new possibilities; we honor the earth and help turn the wheel of change. We are Guardians, weavers of magic...what we do is sacred.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7114557550058590212.post-72797440112450636682014-09-17T08:00:00.000-07:002014-09-17T08:00:00.417-07:00NEWS FLASH!athanasia<br />
[ath-uh-ney-zhuh] Spell Syllables<br />
noun<br />
1. deathlessness; immortality.<br />
<br />
<i>Cooking Athanasia</i> is a story about a culinary arts student who unwittingly concocts a spell for immortality. This leads to evildoers finding out about the spell, and trying to get their hands on it for their own selfish purposes.<br />
<br />
This is the first book in a trilogy, and I have already begun work on the second book, <i>Echoes of Enchantment</i>. Something has bothered me since I started working on the second book though. The two book titles did not mesh or easily identify the works as part of a set. Therefore, I made the decision to change the title, <i>Cooking Athanasia</i>, to <i>Echoes of Immortality</i>. In doing so, I also discovered the title for the third book (so far it is only in my mind).<br />
<br />
I introduce the Echoes trilogy:<br />
<br />
<i>Echoes of Immortality</i><br />
<i>Echoes of Enchantment</i><br />
<i>Echoes of Destiny</i><br />
<br />
<i>Echoes of Immortality</i> set for release on September 25th (which is coincidentally my wife's birthday). It is currently available for pre-order from Amazon. Please take a second to visit and like my author's page on Facebook as well to get updates on the print version of <i>Echoes of Immortality</i> and progress reports on <i>Echoes of Enchantment</i>.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00NKM6YPU" target="_blank">http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00NKM6YPU</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Kevin-McDonald-Author/158117641034321" target="_blank">https://www.facebook.com/pages/Kevin-McDonald-Author/158117641034321</a><br />
<br />
~K<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7114557550058590212.post-8604914575583605402013-07-11T22:49:00.000-07:002013-07-11T22:50:51.069-07:00Excerpt: Echoes of Athanasia<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This month finds me in the throes of Camp Nano, barely keeping my head above water against the paltry 30K word count goal I gave myself. I am working on the second book in the Athanasia Trilogy, <i>Echoes of Athanasia.</i> Set in the mid-1800s, the book is a look at Jenna's ancestry, particularly that of her great-great grandmother, Jennabel. Below is an excerpt from the book where Jennabel has just met the blacksmith's apprentice, Patrick, and thinks she may be quite fond of him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jennabel
enjoyed her solitude while she rode into town because just not thinking about
spells and schedules, if even for a short while, felt good. The new leaves on
the trees shone a bright green and the smell of new life permeated the air as
she rode through the thick canopy of foliage. She was a little disappointed the
ride was so short when she arrived in town. She sighed, dismounted and tied up
the horse, and then got right to business. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Several
tables and wagons belonging to local farmers lined the town square, which
together made the weekly farmer’s market, held every Friday. Items for purchase
ranged from fresh fruits and vegetables from local fields, to crafts such as
handmade quilts and candles, all available for a price. Jennabel started at one
corner of the market, sniffing and squeezing vegetables and placing properly
ripened items in the basket she brought along for the shopping trip. The farmer’s
wife manning the cart nodded and smiled in greeting to Jennabel. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jennabel replied in kind and commented, “The produce looks very fresh today.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Thank
you,” The farmer’s wife replied. “Did you see those shallots yet dear? They
were gathered just this mornin’.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">“I
did indeed, and they look </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">splendid</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"> But I am not in need of any today.”
Jennabel took some coins from a small leather pouch and paid for the items in
her basket. “Thank you ma’am.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
farmer’s wife took the coins and replied, “You are most welcome dear.” She gave
Jennabel a sidelong glance as she walked away. Some of the townspeople didn’t
necessarily approve of the coven lifestyle and sometimes demonstrated their
opinions verbally or even physically in extreme cases. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">Jennabel
was thankful that exchange was civil and moved to the next booth. She
eventually made her way through the entire market and her basket was full of
vegetables and herbs needed back at the coven. The townspeople had been
friendly this time, for the most part, but she could tell who the disapprovers
were by their brisk </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">responses</span><span style="line-height: 200%;">. Her last stop of the day was the blacksmith to
get a shoe checked on Elder’s horse. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">The
shop was half a block from the market so she carried her basket with her and
peered through the double barn door that was open a crack. She could not see
anyone, but it was dark so she entered the shop thinking </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">someone</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"> might be
working in the shadows. Once inside, she realized she was still alone.
Frustrated, she called out, “Hello? Is anyone around?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
blacksmith's apprentice, Patrick Miller, was on the side of the building
cleaning some tools when he watched Jennabel enter the shop. He was struck by
the beauty of her long blond hair that fell across her shoulders in intricate
curls, which bounced as she walked. He walked around the building and followed
her inside through the double barn doors. “May I help you Miss?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Startled,
Jennabel emitted a high-pitched yelp and spun around, dropping her basket in
the process. Patrick did his best to stifle a chuckle. “You should not be sneaking
up behind people sir!” Her face wrinkled in an angry scowl. “It...it is just
not polite!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">His </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">amusement</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"> quickly turned into </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">embarrassment</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"> when he realized how angry she was. “My
sincerest apologies Miss. It was not my intent to frighten you.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Her
ire softened once she took in Patrick's chiseled features, contrasted by his
soft brown eyes. Still wanting to appear cross, she looked away and half-closed
her eyes. “Fine sir. You did not frighten me. And I need the assistance of the
blacksmith.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">“Of
course not. I am Patrick. Uh...Miller. Patrick Miller.” Trying to get in her
good graces, he </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">squatted</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"> to gather her purchases that </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">currently</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"> littered the
shop floor. His gaze wandered up to her piercing emerald green eyes, which
caused him to stammer, “Maybe…perhaps I can offer some sort of assistance.” He
placed the last of her purchases back into the basket that she still held.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Still
cold, she replied, “You could help me by fetching the blacksmith for me Patrick
Miller.” She offered him a contrived smile.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Yes
Miss. I mean no-”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Amused
with his nervousness, Jennabel cut him off, “No? No! May I ask why not Patrick
Miller?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Patrick
stood back up and their eyes locked. “Perhaps we could start again Miss? I am
Patrick Miller, the blacksmith’s apprentice. How may I be of assistance to you
Ma’am?” A benevolent smile crossed his face, which caused Jennabel to flush and
look away.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“It
is one of the shoes on, er, my horse.” She thought it best to avoid the
explanation of why she was riding someone else’s horse and who Elder Golden was
for now.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I
think I can help you with that Miss, but I will need one thing from you first.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Her
gaze met his again and she felt her heart pounding in her chest, “Yes Mr.
Miller?” she asked softly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Your
name Miss. I need your name.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“It
is Jennabel. Procter.” She bit her bottom lip.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Well
Miss. It is Miss, yes?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">His
smile grew just a fraction wider. “It is indeed a pleasure to meet you Miss
Procter. Let us see about that horse.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jennabel
didn’t answer right away. She was lost in the moment wondering if he was
feeling the same sense of arousal. Instead, she just stood in front of him
studying the angular features of his face, the stubble of beard growing on his
chin, the kindness in his eyes, and his brown hair spilling from beneath his
black planter hat.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Patrick
drank in Jennabel’s beauty too, but was first to recognize the awkwardness of
the silence. “Um…the horse?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She
snapped out of her trance and blurted, “Oh, yes of course.” Her face blushed
again and she was thankful she had to turn away to exit the shop. “He is tied
off to the post opposite the square.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Please
lead the way.” He gestured toward the barn doors.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Thank
you kind sir.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They
engaged in small talk during the short walk. “Tell me Miss Procter, why is it
that I have never seen you before?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I
really do not come into town very much.” She thought for a moment. “And I have
never required the services of a blacksmith,” she looked in his eyes and
cracked a half-smile, “or his apprentice until this very day.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He
returned the smile and parried her playful quip, “I suppose your need for a
blacksmith’s apprentice on this very day is my good fortune.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I
suppose. Now you tell me something Mr. Miller.” She feigned anger once again,
and with slit-eyes asked, “Do you make a habit of skulking about your shop
grounds? Startling unsuspecting customers?” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Suddenly
embarrassed, Patrick defended, “I was not. I merely-”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jennabel
could not continue the charade and burst out laughing. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Oh.
I see.” He joined in her merriment. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They
arrived at the hitching post where Elder’s horse was tied. “Here he is. It is
this hoof.” She pointed to the hind leg closest to them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Let
us have a look, shall we?” He first walked to the front of the horse and calmed
him by stroking his nose and speaking to him softly. Once the horse seemed
comfortable with him, Patrick walked back to the offending leg and gently
picked it up and held it between his legs. “Here is the problem.” He held two
of his fingers on holes where nails should have been. “These nails are
missing.” He reached in his apron and pulled out a nail and tapped it in the
hole with a hammer. Once the tip of the nail protruded from the hoof, he took a
cincher and bent it until it was almost flush with the hoof. He then pulled out
a rasp and filed off the sharp edge of the nail, as well as the head where it
met with the shoe. He repeated the process for the other missing nail and then
gently placed the hoof back on the ground. Jennabel watched him work and was
amazed with his dexterity that was combined with gentleness, which she thought
revealed him to be a caring person. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He
patted the horse’s hindquarter and said, “There. That was not so bad was it?”
Then to Jennabel, “That should fix it for now, but he will need to be shoed
again very soon.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Thank
you Mr. Proctor. I will take that under advisement.” She paid him for his
services and mounted the horse. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Likewise
Miss Proctor.” He untied the horse and handed her the reigns. “The spring fair
is soon. Will you be attending?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I
might just. Perhaps I will see you there?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I
would like that. I would like that very much Miss Proctor.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">They
exchanged smiles and she rode out of town. During the entire trip home, she
wondered if she might just be smitten with Patrick Miller, the blacksmith’s
apprentice. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thanks for reading!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">~K</span><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7114557550058590212.post-81233553137194447092013-05-30T13:03:00.001-07:002013-05-30T18:08:44.317-07:00Editing Athanasia<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Before providing a progress update on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cooking Athanasia,</i> I should probably explain my editing process to provide some context. As most of you know, I wrote the final sentence in the book on April 5<sup>th</sup> of this year. I shelved the book for three weeks before beginning any editing to give myself a little distance, which I’m hoping provides more objectivity. After the three weeks elapsed, I began editing with chapter 7 because the first six chapters had already received a precursory pass before being published in this blog. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">While writing, I print each chapter when I finish it so I have a hard copy for backup, and to make editing notes as I think of them. I take the binder with my hard copy novel with me everywhere so I can do mark ups whenever I find some idle time. As such, my editing process has two steps. The first is the markup for changes on the hardcopy and any significant additions are handwritten on a sticky note and stuck on the appropriate page. The second step is making the changes on the electronic copy where I also rewrite items not identified during the markup phase. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxbIrpKEY3OkjmrSQYazCnM3b6F1Ozp9Vg5JFM8Uf5hWf7kr8i2aIZZE1Pr3bRFRYQeCGkaelo9MgNn2HLIqTKA3YMwYAWI5bS8H6FigGh5gn-48Kf_nBZdu28x-0KQOLu3ZhvVi7saW_T/s1600/602591_524496707606948_361935233_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxbIrpKEY3OkjmrSQYazCnM3b6F1Ozp9Vg5JFM8Uf5hWf7kr8i2aIZZE1Pr3bRFRYQeCGkaelo9MgNn2HLIqTKA3YMwYAWI5bS8H6FigGh5gn-48Kf_nBZdu28x-0KQOLu3ZhvVi7saW_T/s320/602591_524496707606948_361935233_n.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marked up page complete with sticky note.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Although I had been doing some of the rewriting when I was at home (it has to be done on my desktop (this is another plea for Scrivener to release the IOS app, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">please!</i>)), and doing the markups when I found spare time away from home, I finished the markups this past Sunday. This means only rewrites left for this editing iteration and I am on chapter 12 now, which was a monster chapter that I divided into three chapters during the rewrite. Another ancillary benefit to finishing the markups is that I am able to pick up work again on the sequel, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Echoes of Enchantment, </i>when I am away from home. I really don’t want to forecast when I might finish the rewriting phase on this pass of editing, but I think it will be close enough to done a the end of July so I can pitch it at the Northwest Writers Association Conference, which I hope to attend.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thanks for reading!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">~K</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7114557550058590212.post-5577720262884649882013-05-25T09:20:00.000-07:002013-05-25T09:20:36.298-07:00Versatile Blogger Award<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I was nominated for the Versatile Blogger Award by Julie at </span><a href="http://jcckeith.blogspot.com/">Rogue Mission</a>. </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">I was thrilled since I have never been nominated for anything in the past. Thank you very much for the award Julie!</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGYN4f3JqcMZpcxbP8YGv0e5cAUuDedd81m5AknSeIhgMdxSUDGdhfmRU1Atqh9PIjD697wkbvgcES9JgBL5XWXsvhSHotApHlOgyc1RZhz6uhAeCNj4PSVJzcoOj076-CbPNUNExIfI9n/s1600/versatile+blogger+pic.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGYN4f3JqcMZpcxbP8YGv0e5cAUuDedd81m5AknSeIhgMdxSUDGdhfmRU1Atqh9PIjD697wkbvgcES9JgBL5XWXsvhSHotApHlOgyc1RZhz6uhAeCNj4PSVJzcoOj076-CbPNUNExIfI9n/s1600/versatile+blogger+pic.png" /></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Rules for the Award are as
Follows:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</div>
<ol start="1" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Add the Versatile Blogger Award
badge to a post.<o:p></o:p></span></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thank the person who presented
you with the award and link back to him or her in you post.<o:p></o:p></span></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Share seven things about
yourself.<o:p></o:p></span></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pass the award to 15 other bloggers.
Contact the chosen bloggers to let them know about the award.</span><o:p></o:p></span></li>
</ol>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO96Yv0Ys6j5Dw_8_TQ253O1Y6re00c0HKo3a1UL1vD-Bs_36QMaagKN4dvALACze1XpWCIjQmMQV-z6OaOVA6bRgCOWCLFydNIpB6ys25Qq0qSyLumLHDIgrVLSLVpN0Nzho-zO7cmSRg/s1600/Versatile+Blogger+Award.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO96Yv0Ys6j5Dw_8_TQ253O1Y6re00c0HKo3a1UL1vD-Bs_36QMaagKN4dvALACze1XpWCIjQmMQV-z6OaOVA6bRgCOWCLFydNIpB6ys25Qq0qSyLumLHDIgrVLSLVpN0Nzho-zO7cmSRg/s1600/Versatile+Blogger+Award.png" /></a></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 32px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">SEVEN IMPORTANT EVENTS<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">#1-Marriage<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I knew my wife was special from the moment we met. We spent
every day together after our first date and I asked her to marry me about a
month and a half after we met. Of course nay sayers cautioned against the
union, “do you really know her?” they said, or “you know it won’t last.” We
were married about eight months after our first date and twenty-six years
later, she’s still the love of my life and best friend, and I believe we have
passed the test of time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">#2-Family<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We found out my wife was pregnant four months before I left
for a year-long tour in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">South
Korea</st1:place></st1:country-region>. My only son was born in October that
year and I met him three months later when I came home on my mid-tour leave. He
was a beautiful baby then, and is a handsome and caring man now. He amazes me
every day and I have a great time just hanging out with him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">#3-War<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the tail end of the summer in 1989, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Iraq</st1:country-region> invaded <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Kuwait</st1:place></st1:country-region>. I was stationed at <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Fort Bliss</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">Texas</st1:state></st1:place></st1:city>, at the time as a member
of the 3<sup>rd</sup> Armored Cavalry Regiment. I was a gunner on a Bradley
Fighting Vehicle and I was very proficient at my job. I knew that if the <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">United States</st1:place></st1:country-region>
became involved in this conflict, my unit would definitely deploy, as it did. I
think the defining moment for me during the conflict was preparing to cross the
Iraqi border from <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Saudi
Arabia</st1:place></st1:country-region> because of the paralyzing fear of the
unknown clashing with the desire to do my job because it was what I had trained
for four years at the time. I haven’t experienced another internal paradox like
this one in my life since.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">#4-Graduation<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Strong student was not a term used to describe me during my
high school years. A better description might have been absent. However,
shortly after the turn of the millennium, I realized that military retirement
was inching closer and I needed some type of higher education to be competitive
in the civilian workplace. I started my bachelor’s degree in 2002 and found
that I actually enjoyed school. I drank in the knowledge and loved it so much
that I started my master’s degree 37 days after finishing the coursework for my
undergraduate degree. I graduated with my MBA in 2007 and am now happy to be
done with school.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">#5-Retirement<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I lived the Army life for 23 years, starting as a Private and
working my way through the enlisted ranks until I reached First Sergeant, which
was my goal. During that time, I gave my life to the Army spending countless
hours away from home in support of national defense. I enjoyed the camaraderie
as I shared laughter and tears with my fellow Soldiers but in 2008, it was time
to hang up the pistol belt. At times, I miss that cohesiveness that is unique
to the military. But I am older now and the military is more suited to the
young not to mention that I get to go home at the end of each work day. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">#6-Layoff<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After retiring from the military, I took a job as a recruiter
for the university I attended for my bachelor’s and master’s degrees. I worked
for that institution for a couple of years until I was approached by another
university to do a similar job at a significantly higher salary. At the end of
2011, the group I was working for at the new university was determined to be
cost prohibitive and I was laid off. For the first time since I was a teenager,
I had to do some soul-searching to figure out what I wanted to do with my life.
During my Army years, that was the career I wanted and I established and
achieved the goals set within that organization. I had not thought much past
the Army and college recruiting was just something I was able to do, but it was
not necessarily an aspiration. I had always known I enjoyed writing and I
thought it was something I wanted to do someday. After the layoff, I decided
someday had arrived and it was time to get serious about writing. Had I not
been laid off, I may have never discovered my true passion. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">#7-Author<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wrote a couple of short stories to see if writing was
really what I wanted to do. I enjoyed crafting those stories and received
positive feedback so I thought it was time to start a novel. On December 8<sup>th</sup>,
2011, I began writing the outline for <i>Cooking
Athanasia. </i>Throughout the entire process, I never tired of the story and
looked forward to developing my characters who eventually seemed to take on a
life of their own. I wrote the last sentence of the book on April 5<sup>th</sup>,
2013. At present, I am editing the story and have started work on <i>Echoes of Enchantment, </i>the second book
in the <i>Athanasia</i> trilogy. Now I can’t
imagine a life where I don’t write. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My Nominees:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<ol start="1" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://darcysartlife.blogspot.com/2013/04/out-with-old.html">Art in
the Life</a> – Darcy Kline<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://stormcalling.blogspot.com/">Stormcalling</a> – Christopher Storm<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://jas-thinkingaloud.blogspot.com/">Thinking Aloud</a> –
Jaspreet Taunque<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://linzebrandon.blogspot.com/">Butterfly on a Broomstick</a> –
Linzé Brandon<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://geminirising1.blogspot.com/">Gemini Rising Series</a> –
Gemini<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://t-rytes.blogspot.com/">T-Rytes</a> – Tineeka De Silva<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://robertevert.blogspot.com/">Neurotic Novelists of the World
Unite!</a> - Robert Evert<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://janiefox.com/journal.html">Janie Fox Oil Portraits</a> –
Janie Fox<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://suteko.wordpress.com/">Suteko's Blog</a> – Lisa Williamson<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Still working on list<o:p></o:p></span></span></li>
</ol>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thanks
for reading!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">~K</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7114557550058590212.post-42146291360694395062013-05-07T11:01:00.000-07:002013-05-07T11:02:45.771-07:00Successful Failure<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Many magazine articles are geared toward managing a large project. Additionally, a myriad of software programs are available to help writers keep their thoughts in order and aid in managing long-term projects. Although the articles contain very useful information and the available software makes lengthy projects less daunting, managing my novel was not a concern when I began writing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cooking Athanasia</i> a little over a year ago. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I owe the ability to manage my novel over the long haul to my failed attempt at earning a doctoral degree, from which I withdrew last summer. I spent five years in the program and wrote a proposal for my research project during that time, but had to quit because it became cost prohibitive. However, I have no regrets because the information gleaned during that time is still mine, and the system I developed to manage my dissertation was easily adaptable to my true love of writing fiction. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I still take a pragmatic approach regarding my system and implement improvements as I see fit. In fact, I purchased Scrivener earlier this year because I can see the power of the program. I have not used it as of yet because I have no way to easily synch between my desktop and iPad as of yet, and I do a lion’s share of my writing away from my desk (hint, hint Scrivener). The bottom line is that some might view dropping out of my doctoral program as failure, but I see it from the positive vantage point: Everything I have done in my life thus far has a purpose to bring me where I am right now. It’s up to me to decide how to use it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thanks for reading!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">~K</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7114557550058590212.post-67643467415369993042013-04-29T23:03:00.000-07:002013-04-30T06:46:59.661-07:00Multitasking or Aimless Wandering?<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last Friday afternoon, at precisely
4:00 pm Pacific Daylight Time, the alarm on my iPhone sounded, indicating the moratorium
on <i>Cooking Athanasia </i>was over. I did
not officially start editing until Saturday morning because I had finally
wrapped m head around the new project, <i>Echoes
of Enchantment</i>, and had built up a full head of steam by Friday, which
resulted in the completion of Chapter 3. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I blew three weeks of dust from
the manuscript Saturday morning and, armed with a purple pen, started the
markup process on the manuscript. Because splitting my time between two
projects felt odd, on Sunday, during confessional, I asked my support group if
any of them had ever written on one project while editing another. The
overwhelming answer was to the negative, that they had never split their time
between projects in such a manner. That answer was somewhat of a relief to me because
it validated my instinct that I should probably commit to editing or writing. Sadly,
that means <i>Echoes</i> goes to the back
burner once again while I try to get through editing as quickly and painlessly
as possible. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just as a reminder for people who don’t
know, <i>Echoes of Enchantment</i> is the
second book in the Athanasia Trilogy, and the back story to <i>Cooking Athanasia</i>. The tale is already
written, but in screenplay format as per the rules for Script Frenzy, which I
won last year. If you would like a taste of <i>Echoes</i>,
I invite to take a peek at one of my old blogs introducing the story that I wrote
last year during the throes of Screnzy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Link to old Slayer blog:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://slayer--of--bs.blogspot.com/2012/04/update-from-enchantment.html">http://slayer--of--bs.blogspot.com/2012/04/update-from-enchantment.html</a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thanks for reading!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">~K</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7114557550058590212.post-66098482371078297352013-04-16T07:37:00.000-07:002013-04-16T07:37:18.922-07:00Other Projects<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This week finds me in a period of
transition. <i>Cooking Athanasia </i>is
presently on ice, waiting for editing. Despite trying to distance myself from
the story for more objective editing, I still find myself ‘what if-ing’ various
scenes in the book and Jonesing for some Jenna interaction. In effort to shift
gears, I have started the second book in the Athanasia Trilogy, <i>Echoes of Enchantment. </i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The really big news for this week
however, is the upcoming release of <i>Reflections
of the End, </i>which is an anthology of short stories and poems contributed by
writers in the Author’s Choice – Select Anthologies groups of Facebook and
Google+. The anthology is themed ‘Apocalypse’ and should be available in a few
short weeks.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Although the contributing to the book,
and its imminent release is exciting, the truly enriching experience for me is belonging
to these communities. The icing on the magic whichever flavor you wish for cake
is interacting with a multinational group of people on a daily basis who share
my same passion for writing. Aside from collaborating on the anthology, members
of the group share their successes and challenges on other projects with each
other as well as just having fun with writing. I hope all the members of these
communities who read this know how much they mean to me and how much they have
helped with some of my challenges, which makes me happy to celebrate my successes
with them. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now for the shameless plug: We are putting
on a book launch event for <i>Reflections of
the End </i>this coming Saturday<i>, </i>which
is open to the public. Links for the two events are pasted below so please take
a look and feel free to attend. I have also posted a link to both of the groups
if you just want to poke around. Just FYI: The groups’ consensus for the theme of
the next anthology was 'Secrets', and you have at least two months to prepare you
short story and poem submissions.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Google+ Launch Event:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span><a href="https://plus.google.com/events/cclluq8qnvvfbgoth0r7n0649s0">https://plus.google.com/events/cclluq8qnvvfbgoth0r7n0649s0</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Facebook Launch Event:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/146434792197675/"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">https://www.facebook.com/events/146434792197675/</span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Author’s Choice – Select Anthologies
Groups:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">G+
<a href="https://plus.google.com/communities/117516168918522615304">https://plus.google.com/communities/117516168918522615304</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">FB
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/454640414592387/">https://www.facebook.com/groups/454640414592387/</a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thanks for reading!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">~K</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7114557550058590212.post-10682453429419721892013-04-06T09:20:00.000-07:002013-04-06T09:20:26.359-07:00Now What?<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I missed posting anything to my blog
for the past two weeks because I had nothing to report. Since this blog is dedicated
to my work-in-progress, <i>Cooking Athanasia</i>,
writing that I had not finished yet but was still very close, did not seem like
a newsworthy piece. However, I have finished writing the book is most
definitely newsworthy. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last Friday, March 5<sup>th</sup>,
2013, I wrote the final words in the final chapter during my lunch break. As I approached
the end, I could feel it. My pulse literally increased and when I got to the
final sentence, I was juiced with a shot of adrenaline. That was very
surprising. I was also astonished with the mixed emotions that followed. On one
hand, I was ecstatic that I had completed the writing portion of a project
started over a year ago. This was contrasted by the sadness of parting with the
characters I have thought about all the time for over a year. Getting to know
them and watching them grow, and then one day I am suddenly done with them (for
the time being). <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I say for the time being because Jenna
and crew will be back for the third volume of the series. The second book is
the back story to <i>Cooking Athanasia</i>
and has already been written in screenplay format. I have started work on
converting it to a novel and plan to work on it for about a month while letting
the just completed novel cool off. After the waiting period, I plan to start
the editing process, which is daunting because I once again find myself in
uncharted waters. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have grown comfortable with writing
the story a little bit at a time and all I had to do was move the story
forward. It was somewhat intimidating when I started, but I developed a process
and I think my writing was strengthened during the process. But now I have a
manuscript that needs to be edited and that process is new to me. I’m sure I
will do just fine, and I know I am not alone if help is needed during this part
of the journey. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7114557550058590212.post-25120601063413910952013-03-19T07:42:00.000-07:002013-03-19T08:10:37.360-07:00Build to Climax, or Slide Down Slippery Slope<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the past few weeks, I have reported
how close I am to completing my story. I do truly believe there are only two or
three chapters left. The problem, however, is that I am finding it difficult to
figure out the details of the ending. I know how it will end, who will be the
victor, and even how I will set up the third book from this conclusion. Nevertheless,
thus far it is a fluid process and every time I think, “<i>okay, this will happen, and that person will do X, which will result in
Y,”</i> I take a step back and discard the idea. Various issues induce these
mental recalculations such as logic, reader experience, and character
involvement.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Logic refers to an unrealistic chain
of events based on the rules established throughout the book. Some of the
alternatives pondered are simply not consistent with the norms found in the
story. Reader experience is a matter of providing a conclusion that will
satisfy conflict(s) introduced in the story in a way that will please the
reader. For many months, I had a broad idea of how the story would end to set
up book three (I don't want to give too many details here), but a few weeks ago
I realized the ending I had envisioned would be very unsatisfying for readers.
Fortunately, I think I have worked out conclusion that will satisfy both needs;
making readers feel good about the conclusion and leaving the story open enough
for the basis of subsequent tale.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This brings me to character
involvement. Throughout the story, a core group of characters who should be a
part of the finale were developed, but the issue is that I’m not sure what I want
each character to do. I know who the hero or heroine needs to be, but the
details of how he or she overcomes the villian or villainess keep eluding me.
As I write this, I consider that maybe I haven't developed or transformed that
character enough, or perhaps it's just a case of too many cooks in the kitchen.
Of one thing I am sure though; I will figure it out sooner or later. On a final
note, this is not a rant and I am enjoying the process, really, I am. If you
have experienced similar issues, I would love to hear what you did to move past
your sticking point.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Thanks for reading!</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">~K</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7114557550058590212.post-41862462210744758702013-03-12T07:57:00.000-07:002013-03-12T07:57:55.851-07:00Constructive, or Just Plain Criticism?<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To those of you who have been
following the story, it is time to shift gears. I will not be posting any more
chapters from the book on this blog. From this point, I will update you on
progress and discuss the writing process until completion of the project. I am
aiming for release in April or May. Thank you to all of you who have followed
along until this point.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A very wise person once told me
"all of us scribblers are a bit odd." This bit of astuteness came at
a point when I seriously doubted my writing, and pondering if the entire year spent
on <i>Cooking Athanasia</i> was simply a
waste of time. At the beginning, I felt it was a story worth telling and continually
reassured by family that I was on the right track. Of course, I thought, family
is supposed to say things like that. I looked for body language after anyone
offered support, trying to determine they were really hiding the ugly truth.
What has been even more amazing to me, is readers of my blog have (and I thank
each and every one of you), for the most part, given favorable feedback. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> When I started posting chapters on
this blog, I thought the rules were clear that it<i> </i>was a work in progress and final edits were planned for sometime
in the future. However, there was a person on one of the social media sites,
which I frequent, who</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">single handedly</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> nearly derailed my confidence and the project</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">. As a newby, I am self-conscious about my work and have doubts that I
am writing <i>this </i>correctly or not
describing <i>that </i>enough, and I am open
to constructive criticism.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;">The
unsolicited review of my work, by this individual had valid points, which I included
in a subsequent edit. My problem with the review was how the message was
phrased. Without getting too deep in the weeds, the person essentially compared
my work to a high school composition. When this individual presented his
opinion,</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> the internal
editor and I were already engaged in mortal combat and he was not happy, thus verbally
abusive with me about the story. As such, receiving criticism wrapped in
negativity created a perfect storm and I almost gave up. If it was not for the
kindness of a stranger who picked me up out of the emotional gutter, I may have
scrapped the whole project. Since then, others have provided ideas of how to make
improvements, but they did so without judgment and as peers, which I readily
accepted. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The bottom line is that how one says
something is at least as important as what is said. In addition, just to allay
any concerns, the individual whom I speak of is not in any of my circles. On a
completely separate note, I leave you with a spoiler alert; Anna did not die in
the accident, she was merely in a coma (I found that out during an edit of the
prologue).<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Thanks for reading!</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">~K</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7114557550058590212.post-53961304957217744472013-03-04T22:56:00.000-08:002013-03-05T07:21:26.656-08:00Chapter 6: Eavesdropping<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Scott
Kennison was feeling sorry for himself. After all, he was still hung-over from
the previous night's drinking and gambling binge. He spent the evening nursing
his disappointment for life via a regimen of Jack and Coke and craps at the
local casino. The aftermath was cottonmouth, a Goliath-sized headache, and $500
in the hole; $300 more than allotted for the night's excursion. He ran his
fingers through his thinning brown hair and realized he smelled of the recent
bender. On his way to the coffee shop, Scott thought of the reason for his
Seattle trip: The Northwest Heath and Beauty Convention, a four-day event to
showcase the PH Cosmetics line to Northwesterners. He spent the agonizing
morning with at least a dozen elves tapping on god knows what inside his brain
while preparing his area for the event. Additionally, the fact that he was less
than thrilled to be working a boring convention booth for the next four days
didn't help his headache in the least.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Caffeine
was the first step to cure his ails, and Scott was impatient about the long
line at The Perk, which was moving at glacial speed. Adding to his misery was
the incessant babble of the women in front of him, which droned until he overheard
some of details of their discussion. The younger woman spoke about an old book
and a recipe. The older one took on hushed tones and thought no one could hear
when she said it was a spell book. His ears perked up at this statement. The
older one told the younger that there were witches in their bloodline, which interested
Scott because of stories about a witch his that his grandfather used to tell. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Scott
ordered his coffee, extra caffeine, which he used to wash down two aspirin, and
then searched for a table near the two women where he could continue listening
to their conversation. A tall table near the women was open, and he sat with
his back toward them so they couldn't tell he was eavesdropping. He pretended
to fidget with his Blackberry while the older one continued the story. She
mentioned a witch named Jennabel who was originally from Massachusetts. Could
this be the same woman in his grandfather's stories? The young one talked about
a recipe, to which the older one said it caused immortality. As Scott continued
to eavesdrop, he thought, <i>What's the big
deal? So she found a spell book.<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He
massaged his temples and reached into the memory bank to recall the gist of the
stories his grandfather told about Patrick, Scott’s great-great grandfather. In
the stories, Patrick had a relationship with a girl back east in Massachusetts
during the mid-1800s. The girl’s name was Jennabel and she was a witch. Patrick
and Jennabel fell deeply in love one summer and would have likely been married
one day if she didn’t have to leave suddenly. There was an power struggle in
her coven, which placed Jennabel in danger because of the position she held. She
ended up having to flee for her safety and Patrick stayed behind to hold off
the posse while she escaped. He never saw her again, but he never forgot her
and always said he had a hole in his heart because he wasn’t able to spend his
life with his true love.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Scott
had always thought the stories were make-believe, until this exact moment. He
found it too coincidental that the woman in his grandfather's stories and the
one these women spoke of were both named Jennabel. Especially in light of the
fact that both Jennabel stories centered on witchcraft. The conviction with
which the older woman told the younger about the immortality spell also added
credibility.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Scott
contemplated the marketing possibilities if the story was true, if the younger
woman had in fact accidentally stumbled on a spell or formula that provides
immortality. Perhaps it was the sureness in which the older woman relayed the
story made Scott want to believe it to be true. Maybe it was the multiple
coincidences between his grandfather’s and the older woman's story that made
him want to accept it as truth. Realistically, it was more likely that he
wanted to believe it because he was flat broke due to a gambling addiction.
That same addiction led to a nasty divorce and a large settlement for the
ex-wife, which caused frequent visits to the bottom of a whiskey bottle, trying
to forget his misery. Perhaps the constant threats of losing his job from
Kelly, his boss, made him want to believe.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Whatever
reason he used to rationalize that there really was a formula for immortality
and it could be a boon for PH Cosmetics and potential for personal success, it
required immediate action because the women had finished their coffee and were
preparing to leave the shop. He decided the situation warranted further
investigation. He pocketed the Blackberry, picked up his cup, cursed under his
breath because it was still hot, and nonchalantly followed the women out of the
shop. He watched as they hugged and said their goodbyes in front of the
bookstore across the street. The older one turned and disappeared inside the
bookstore and the other woman headed to her Focus parked on the street. Scott’s
rental was parked three cars behind the gray Focus and, luckily faced the same
direction. Doing his best to blend with other pedestrians, Scott crossed the
street and got in his car as the younger woman pulled away. He quickly started
the rental and slipped into traffic four cars behind hers, where he followed
her all the way to her apartment building. Scott filed the location of her residence
away for future use while he began mulling over the plan to get his hands on
the formula for immortality.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7114557550058590212.post-10528034999409287272013-02-26T06:30:00.000-08:002013-02-26T18:00:18.733-08:00Chapter 5: Revelation<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jenna
went to The Perk right after class Monday and peered in the window. She didn’t
see Aunt Donna so she waited outside in the April mist. The rain was very light
and in the air was the fresh scent of new life brought by spring. She stood by
the unused bistro tables outside the coffee shop, frequently checking across
the street for signs of Donna in the Enlightened New Age Bookstore doorway. The
previous owners of Enlightened sold it to Donna after she had worked there
forever. They were only too happy to sell it to Donna upon retirement because
they didn’t have any children and knew she shared their same affinity for
books. They also knew the business would continue to run as they envisioned. In
their words, “It was like keeping it in the family.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Soon, the Schnotz sisters emerged from the
bookstore, followed by a waving Donna. “Sorry I’m late,” she said as she
stepped onto the sidewalk outside the coffee shop. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“No
worries,” Jenna replied and hugged Donna, “I was just enjoying the arrival of liquid
spring. How is your day going?” They went inside the coffee shop and got in
line for their caffeine fix.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Today
wasn’t a bad day. I would have been on time had the Schnotz sisters not showed
up with a book order.” Charlene, Chenille, and Cherri Schnotz were triplets who
did everything together, which many assumed was because they shared a common
brain. “Everything with those three takes triple the time it should.” She
chuckled, “Those girls are a real hoot with their continuous nonsensical talk.
For some reason they insist on dealing with me exclusively. They say it’s because
of our history from high school, but they were three grades ahead of me. I
don’t think we even knew each other until well after we had all graduated.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I
have run into them in the past, but I don’t know them very well,” Jenna
admitted. “It’s truly a shame about their father.” The sisters’ father had
recently died suddenly, leaving the girls his newspaper, The Chronicle, and the
struggle to keep it alive in the digital age. Worse, they had not bothered to
learn the newspaper business while he was alive, so they were lost when it came
to the nickels and dimes of publishing a daily.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Donna
agreed, “The girls are skilled at sniffing out drama and reporting it but they
don’t know the first thing about running a successful business. Oh well, enough
about them. How is school going?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I
can’t wait to be finished.” They moved slowly toward the counter because of an
unusually long coffee line. “June can’t come soon enough.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I’m
sure you’re excited. Have you started looking for a job?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Not
yet. I think it would be better to wait until graduation is closer. And
truthfully, I think I would enjoy a mini-vacation before diving headlong into
my career.” Jenna recalled dinner from the other night. “You might find this amusing;
I used one of Grandma’s old cookbooks for help with my homework the other
night.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Donna
laughed, “Good for you! Recycling works! Which one did you use?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“It’s
an old, leather bound book with ornate decorations on the cover that were
obviously done by hand. It’s cool! It’s old though. In fact, I can hardly read
the title on the cover because most of it has been rubbed off over the years.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Oh
my.” Donna’s mood suddenly darkened, “What was the recipe called?”<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jenna’s
eyes narrowed and she tilter her head to the side, “Athanasia, I think.” The
tremor in her hands began as soon as she answered. Startled, she surveyed the coffee
shop for visible danger signs, but everything seemed normal. The line in front
of them moved slowly and continued to grow behind. A man reeking of old booze
got in line behind Jenna. Then two more women, discussing the high price of
gas, entered the shop. Despite the innocuous appearance of her surroundings,
her personal alarm had triggered, putting her on high alert. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Oh
my,” Donna was visibly concerned, “I was wondering where that book had disappeared
to.” She leaned in close to Jenna’s ear and whispered, “I think you may have found
a spell book.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They
were next for their coffee order. Jenna gave a half-hearted laugh trying to
alleviate the tension, “What are you talking about?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Still
in a muted voice, Donna said, “I looked for that book for weeks in your
grandmother’s house after she died. While she was sick, she told me it needed
to be protected once she passed. I thought maybe she had just gotten rid of it
and forgot.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jenna
massaged her forehead and eyebrows for a moment, then looked Donna in the eyes
and asked, “Okay. So what does all that mean?” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Donna
took a quick look around the shop and when she was sure no one was listening
she whispered in the quietest voice she could muster, “There are witches in
your...in our bloodline,” and then it was their turn to order.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After
retrieving their coffee, they went to the back of The Perk for some privacy.
Donna sat in an oversized chair and Jenna sat on the couch. They placed their
drinks on the coffee table between them. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Once
situated, Jenna asked, “Just what are you talking about?” Her voice quaked.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Keep
your voice down,” Donna cautioned. “Your great-great grandmother, Jennabel, was
a witch. That is as far back as I have ever traced our bloodline.” Donna leaned
forward, “The book belonged to her.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Why
have I never heard of this?” Jenna sounded anguished as the bricks that built
her reality began showing faults.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“As
far as I know, Jennabel had to hide her craft and eventually flee Massachusetts
to avoid persecution. She passed the secret on to her daughter, your great
grandmother, because of the unique skills that need to be hidden blend with
society.” Donna spoke very softly, “Your grandmother, my mother, was the last
to actively acknowledge the fact that they were witches. For whatever reason,
your grandmother did not tell your mother or me about the craft while we were
growing up. I assumed it was because the bloodline had been diluted, diminishing
our powers or something like that.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jenna
was at a loss for words for a spell, she just sat with her eyes closed,
massaging her temples. She opened her eyes but looked suddenly tired, “If
Grandma didn’t tell you, then how do you know about our ancestry?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I
know this is a lot to take in all at once,” Donna offered, sensing Jenna’s
anxiety. She continued, “Diana and I found the book and some other witch paraphernalia
in the attic. Your grandmother caught us examining it and scolded us. She told
us to leave it alone, it was only for adults.” She chuckled, “Of course that just
made us more curious and we explored more when we were teens.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“This
is too much.” Jenna’s head swam. “Okay. Suppose it is a spell book. So what is
athanasia?” Donna furrowed her brow. “I’m not sure.” She pulled out her phone
to do a Google search. “Ahh. It means immortality.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“So
you think I cooked up a spell for immortality the other night?” Jenna laughed
nervously. The laugh belied her feeling of unease because she had never heard
Donna speak like this. She looked at the ceiling and rubbed her chin for a
moment, “Come to think of it, both Randy and I felt a jolt of energy a few
minutes after we finished the dinner. It was an unusual. A feeling of
contentment that neither of us could explain.” She raised her eyebrows and
thought some more, then hypothesized, “Maybe it could have been a spell, I
guess.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Exactly!”
Donna was very solemn, “This is serious. There are forces you know nothing
about at work here. Using the spell book can only lead to bad fortune, which is
the main reason your great-great grandmother had to flee and the family had to
quit the craft.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jenna
was shaken at the revelation. She wanted to go home to digest the information
that changed the foundation of who she was. She finished her coffee and stood
up, “I had better get home. Randy will be there soon.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Of
course dear. Be very careful with the book.” They hugged and Jenna turned to
leave. “I’ll check on you tomorrow,” Donna called to Jenna, who replied with a
wave of her hand without looking back. “Dear Jenna, what have you gotten
yourself into?” Donna asked herself under her breath.</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7114557550058590212.post-8971569103404430512013-02-19T07:51:00.000-08:002013-02-19T07:51:04.233-08:00Chapter 4: The Marketer<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Scott
Kennison sat in his drab office at his desk, which was overflowing with work he
didn’t care about. The phone buzzed with an interoffice call from his boss,
Kelly Elias, which he ignored. Once the buzzing ceased, he picked up the
receiver and dialed the hotel in Seattle where he would be staying for the next
few days to verify they had received his FedEx shipment of marketing materials.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Mr.
Kennison, from San Francisco?” the registration clerk asked.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Yeah,”
Scott replied, <i>like a ton of Kennisons
FedExed marketing materials to you yesterday</i>, he thought.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Yes
sir, I'm looking at the box right now.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Fantastic,”
he offered sarcastically, and then hung up the receiver while the clerk was in
mid-sentence. The interoffice buzz from Kelly started again immediately, which
he ignored once more. It was likely she just wanted to remind him how much of an
idiot he was and not to spend too much company money during the cosmetics
conference. Neither thought was of much consequence to him as he opened the
bottom desk drawer and reached for the emergency bottle of Jack so he could
have a drink before heading home for the night. Kelly was leaning on the doorframe
of his office when he sat back upright.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“God
you're an idiot,” she informed him. Kelly was in her forties with long brown
hair and a thick build that she accentuated with clothes that were too tight, which
left nothing to the imagination. Her good looks had faded to rode-hard middle
age but her position of PH Cosmetics Marketing Director demanded a certain
youthful look, which she painted on with multiple layers of makeup. She traded
the dream of marriage long ago for a successful career, besides; she couldn’t
think of any man that she could stand on a social basis for more than one
night. “Why didn’t you pick up the phone when I called?” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I
didn’t hear it,” he lied.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Seriously?
I could hear the damn thing clear down in my office!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Oh?”
he said tipping his head sideways. “What did you need?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Look
moron, the marketing department is being scrutinized by the higher-ups. They
say we’re spending too much money so I wanted to remind you to mind your
spending during the conference.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Right.”
He took a pull of the amber liquor. “Always do.” He paused then asked, “Want a
drink?” and held the bottle toward her.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She
ignored the offer, “Bullshit, you always do! Last time you were on the road,
you pulled cash on your corporate card from a casino ATM. A casino ATM! Let’s
see, I think it was $600 that time. Is that right?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I
was entertaining clients,” he rebutted and put the bottle to his lips for
another swallow. “We just happened to be at a casino.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“You
were entertaining yourself stupid. Know this: I don’t need you. I could do your
job and mine, and still close more deals than you. You need to get yourself
together.” She turned to leave, “And watch your spending.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Right,
right. Got it,” he replied, but she was already down the hallway. He took one
more sip before returning the bottle to the drawer. He had heard it a million
times before, S<i>he doesn’t need me. She
could do my job better. Who cares? </i>he thought. Scott made sure the laptop
was in his briefcase, and turned off this time, then headed for the door. <i>I care. I need this job, </i>he thought
ruefully, eliciting a grimace of distaste.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He
pulled out of the parking garage into the San Francisco grayness. He preferred
gloomy weather and hoped the fabled Seattle rain lived up to its reputation. Dreary
conditions helped him forget how miserable he was, it acted like white noise
that countered the murky darkness surrounding his soul. <i>The slight buzz will make the drive home more pleasant</i>. During the
drive, he pondered more about weather, particularly about how sunny days
actually pissed him off. While people are doing fun things in the sun and
enjoying their families, nice weather is taunts Scott. It laughs at him because
of his failed marriage, scoffs about his abusive and controlling boss, and
heckles him about how everyone else is generally happy. Nice weather serves to
remind Scott Kennison that he is not allowed to experience joy. <i>Sunny days suck, </i>he thought, and then, <i>Was that a stop sign? </i>He checked the
rear-view but couldn’t be sure. <i>No red
and blue lights, so whatever.</i> He did his best to concentrate on the task of
driving for the remainder of the trip.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In
his apartment, he tossed his briefcase on the chair by the coffee table, on top
of a rumpled pair of slacks and two wadded up dress shirts, which reminded him,
for the third day in a row, that he needed to drop off his dry cleaning. He
loosened his tie on the way to the kitchen and kicked off his shoes by his
dining room set, which was a card table found at a garage sale. Once in the
kitchen, he picked up a glass from the sink, smelled it, and shrugged his
shoulders in acknowledgement that it passed the test. From the refrigerator, he
withdrew an ice tray and wrestled it for its bounty. The <i>klink tink </i>of ice hitting glass was the signal that reward was
close at hand. He filled the glass with the dark amber liquid to just under the
brim and raised it to his lips, uttering a satisfied <i>ahhh</i> after a long pull.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He
set the glass on the counter after another sip, and then opened the refrigerator
to forage for food. In one of the drawers was an opened, half-empty package of
bologna that had dried out long ago and was ready for carbon dating. The next
contender was a Chinese restaurant leftover box from one of the shelves, which
he opened to find what appeared to be sweet and sour pork and noted no fuzz or strange
growth. A quick sniff test did not raise any red flags, so he took a fork from
the sink and, after a quick exam of the utensil, dug in for his dinner.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
first Jack on the rocks went down smoothly with dinner, so Scott decided
another would make a fine dessert. The thought of going to the casino crossed
his mind briefly, but Kelly’s words echoed in his mind and he knew she would
blow a gasket if a withdrawal appeared on his corporate card from a San
Francisco gaming facility. <i>Beshides, I
gotta pack. Probably shouldn’t drive anyway ‘cuz even my thoughts are slurred, </i>which
made him laugh. He decided it would be best if he packed while he was still partially
coherent, after which, it was time for a nightcap and then to pass out in the
chair in front of the television while Hardcore Pawn droned.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Scott
was rudely awakened by the <i>bbbrrrriiingg</i>
of the old-style phone ringtone on his cell. It would ring, stop for a few
moments, likely sending the caller to voicemail, and then the process would
repeat. This pattern happened several times before he was fully aware of it.
Although willing to answer the phone, primarily to silence the din, he wasn’t
able to immediately because he didn’t know its location. It seemed that somehow
between passed out and present, he managed to shed his pants and move to the
couch, the latter suffering a fist sized puddle of drool as evidence. The rub
was that the pants were now rendered invisible somehow, along with the contents
of the pockets, which included his cell phone. “Shut up!” he commanded the
invisible phone, the uttering of which hurt his head worse that the incessant
reiteration of ringing. After an eternity of searching, he found the slacks
shoved under the couch, extracted them, and then dug the phone out of the
pocket to answer it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Christ!
What?” he said to the persistent caller.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Well
good morning idiot,” Kelly sarcastically greeted from the other end. “I knew
you would be passed put. Your flight is in two hours and you probably haven’t
even packed yet."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Ha!
That’s where you’re wrong! I packed last night!” any victory over Kelly, no
matter the size, was satisfying. “At least I’m pretty sure I remember packing.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Amazing
confidence this morning. Get your shit together and don’t miss your flight. I’m
gonna check on you in a half hour to make sure you didn’t just roll over. M’kay
Pumpkin?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Right.
Sure I won’t,” and he pressed the end button. He smacked his dry tongue against
the roof of his mouth a couple of times and looked at his watch. <i>Holy crap! Two hours?</i> He ran to the
bathroom and brushed his teeth while he ran the electric razor over his face. There
was no time to shower so once finished, Scott ran to the bedroom to find
something suitable to wear for the flight. <i>Why
didn't I lay this shit out last night? </i>he thought as he played clean,
dirty, or good enough with the pile of clothes on the bed. The sniff testing
finally revealed a clean shirt and good enough pair of pants. He elected to buy
socks when he got to Seattle and took a pair out of his packed suitcase to save
time. The wake-up call to out-the-door time was 13 minutes, which he thought
should be some kind of record. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Traffic
wasn’t bad and Scott pulled into the parking garage ten minutes later,
confident that he could still make the flight. However, there was a tradeoff
because his head was still throbbing and there hadn’t been any time for coffee
during the whirlwind of getting ready. He hoped there would be time for a cup
before boarding, but at the very least he would be able to get one during the
flight. Check in was smooth once the ticket agent was able to ascertain he was
not the Scott Kennison on the no-fly list. That took some time and people in
line behind him bore a hole through the back of his head with their glares,
wondering what he did to take so long. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finally,
he passed through security and arrived at his gate just in time to hear the
gate agent announce that people needing assistance boarding his flight are
welcome to come forward. Scott looked at the boarding pass and noted he was in
the third group. <i>Not enough time for
coffee. </i>Since he was no longer rushing to make the flight and just waiting
for his group, he was again acutely aware of his throbbing cranium, which felt
like a series of tiny TNT explosions timed with the beat of his heart. He
longed for a cup of coffee to wash down a couple Tylenol to hopefully disable
the demolition crew. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
gate agent called his group forward and he followed the procession of fellow
travelers onto the aircraft. He felt fortunate that he was in a window seat and
there was only one other person in his row, who sat in the aisle seat. The
plane taxied to the end of the runway and then opened up the engines to
accelerate to climbing speed. They passed through the grey layer of cloud cover
during their assent that always provided a bumpy ride, which Scott hated and
gutted through by keeping his eyes tightly shut. The craft reached cruising
altitude and the flight attendants started their refreshment service. Scott
already had the pills out when they reached his aisle and, when asked what he
would like to drink, he replied, “Jack and Coke please. Better make it two; it’s
gonna be a pretty long flight.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7114557550058590212.post-56801880765416740942013-02-12T08:05:00.002-08:002013-02-12T08:05:51.853-08:00Chapter 3: Inspiration<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /> The following morning, Jenna had a late class schedule. She woke still thinking about how to improve the previous night’s glaze and she decided she would thumb through some of the cookbooks in her extensive collection for inspiration. She dressed for class in a white kitchen shirt, white chef's pants, and black Crocs. While air-drying her hair, she set a stack of cookbooks on the granite bar, turned up Elvis Costello, and pulled up a barstool. <br /><br /> While Elvis crooned about <i>Allison</i>, Jenna thumbed through some of her more contemporary books, skipping to the sauces and glazes section of each, looking mainly at the ingredients for the different recipes. She searched for divine inspiration and, as such, did not look for a specific recipe per se. Rather, she sought an idea for an additive or combination of ingredients that would bring the glaze recipe to life. Her dilemma was that none of the books provided any inkling of fresh ideas. <br /><br /> She needed to leave for class and was fairly frustrated. One more, she thought. The next in the pile was a very old book she inherited from her grandmother. Jenna received all of her grandma's cookbooks because of her affinity for the culinary craft. However, Jenna did not remember seeing this particular book in the box Donna packed for her when she cleaned out her grandmother’s house. It must have been buried in the box with the rest of the cookbooks and that strange amulet, which seemed out of place when she found it. She always meant to ask Aunt Donna about the amulet but never remembered while they were talking. <br /><br /> The book showed its age. Handcrafted ornate patterns decorated the edges of the dark brown leather cover. Lighter patches of tan dotted the front from years of wear and the gold lettering of the title was almost completely smudged off: <i>Th- ----h's Co-kboo-</i>. Inside, the pages were discolored from age and several spots from archaic kitchen spills intermingled with the ancient text. One of the first recipes in the book was Athanasia and Jenna noted it was very similar the glaze recipe she used with the pork medallions. It seemed the major difference was the addition of cumin. Perhaps this could be the answer to making the glaze pop. She decided to give it a try after school. <br /><br /> After class, Jenna hurried home excited to take another stab at the apricot glazed pork medallions armed with new information. Athanasia was a sauce, so she marinated the medallions the same way as the previous night and then, once the meat was in the refrigerator, focused on the glaze. The old book was very specific about the measurement of ingredients, so she exercised dutiful precision while combining recipe items in a metal mixing bowl. Upon completing the glaze, she noted it to be extremely eye appealing because of its translucent, dark-peach color and velvety smooth texture, which had an almost glowing quality coming from within. Impressed with herself, Jenna placed the athanasia next to the meat in the refrigerator to serve time once again. <br /><br /> While waiting for the marinade to do its bidding, Jenna needed to find something else to occupy her time. There were dried flower arrangements in the craft room that needed attention, but, because of her busy school schedule, she had not had time to complete. She decided to occupy her mind with them. She clicked on her iPod and Jewel asked <i>Who Will Save Your Soul</i> while she added lilac to the edges of the dark blue orchid-centered arrangement. She continued working on the piece and a good bit later, she finished it. Sheryl Crow was<i> Leaving Las Vegas</i>, as Jenna began working on another. Time slipped away from her while she toiled with the flowers and was surprised when the DJ told her it was 5:45. She quickly came to a stopping point then jumped into the shower. <br /><br /> While toweling off, she heard Randy open the front door. “Hi. How was your day?” she asked when he walked into the bedroom. <br /><br /> “Good. Nothing exciting to report.” He liked when nothing exciting happened because excitement was invariably code for extra work. “What's for dinner?” <br /><br /> “We’re going to redo the pork medallions. I found an old cookbook that belonged to my grandmother and found a recipe in it which was similar to last night's glaze.” <br /><br /> “You know there was nothing wrong with last night’s dinner right?” Randy knew trying to talk her down once she focused on something was futile, but he honestly could find any fault with the meal. <br /><br /> Jenna chuckled, “You’ll see. These medallions will be infinitely better than last night’s, or my name isn’t Jenna Sims.” She was not sure if she was trying to convince Randy or herself. She moved to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner. She opened the refrigerator, pulled out the glaze, and thought it looked even better than when it was deposited in the refrigerator. <br /><br /> “Cool. What should I call you then?” he joked and sat down at the dark-stained oak dining room table, ready for a second showing of the previous night’s dinner. He couldn’t help thinking how appetizing the medallions looked when Jenna put them on the table. “Is it just my imagination, or do those look like they're glowing?” <br /><br /> She laughed. “I thought the same thing. I think is just because of the bright orange from the apricot preserves. Dig in.” <br /><br /> He obeyed and there was not much conversation during the meal. They both ate the medallions as if they had not seen food for very long time. It was as if the athanasia put them in a trance while they ate. Randy was the first to speak after they finished, “That was one of the best, if not the best meal you have ever prepared.” <br /><br /> “Well thank you sir!” She did her best version of a curtsy. “I told you there was something missing from last night's meal,” she joked. In her mind though, Jenna thought how spectacular the meal was. She could not believe that simply adding cumin put this dish over the top.<i> It was almost magical</i>. She looked forward to telling Aunt Donna about the book and the dish the next time they met at The Perk. <br /><br /> “Okay, you are still Jenna Sims,” and then he felt it, “Whoa! What is that?” He felt a burst of energy, not nervous energy though. More like a blast youthful vigor that washed over him leaving a feeling of contentment in its wake. <br /><br /> “What are you talking about?” Jenna asked. Then she felt it too, “Oh…oh my! That is amazing!” <br /><br /> Curious, Randy asked, “Just what did you add to the recipe?” He was feeling good, “ Not that I’m complaining.” <br /><br /> “Nothing out of the ordinary,” content Jenna replied. “Just cumin, but it was good.” The two finished the evening in an aura of indescribable contentment. Once in bed, Jenna reflected on the feeling they experienced. <i>Where on earth did that come from</i>, she thought, <i>Just cumin. Hmmm</i>...This lingering thought and feeling was followed by a thoroughly restful night of sleep.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7114557550058590212.post-79490805413025946792013-02-05T07:59:00.000-08:002013-02-05T19:41:21.834-08:00Chapter 2: Shaping the Girl<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">While showering, Jenna pondered possible reasons for The Dream. </span><i style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">Maybe it is because of school, </i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">she thought. </span><i style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">It's been a long road and I'm ready to be done. </i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">Not that she didn't enjoy culinary arts training, she thoroughly took pleasure in learning the skill of cooking at a higher level. It was more of a feeling of wanting to turn the page and start practicing her craft. Jenna had always enjoyed cooking, but was not always sure it was her calling as a career.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">After
high school she just stumbled along for a few years. She continued working at
The Perk for some time after graduation because of the shellshock from losing
her close friends and she just didn’t know what else to do. The Perk was also convenient
because it was across the street from the Enlightened New Age Bookstore where
Aunt Donna worked and eventually owned. Donna was happy to have Jenna nearby
and, just like when she lost her mother, she was there to support Jenna through
the grieving process. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When
Jenna was young, Donna did her best to make sure Jenna knew who her parents
were, and that they loved her. She told Jenna stories of how happy Diana and
David were when they were dating and what a happy couple they made on their
wedding day. She talked about how exited the two of them were when Diana found
out she was pregnant, but nothing compared with the pride of the new parents
when they brought their new baby, Jenna, home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">David
died in an Army training accident when Jenna was only a little over a year old,
which made her sad because she only knew him through Donna’s stories, but she was
sure he was a good man. Diana died a year-and-a-half later, after battling
cancer for six months. Many believed the cancer was borne from the broken heart
of losing her soul mate. She knew her mother would have been proud to see her
graduate from culinary arts school. A few nights before her mother died was the
first time Jenna recalled ever having The Dream.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">After
The Perk, she worked at the BuildRite Home Improvement Store, which didn’t last
much more than a month. Working with hardware, wood, cement, and such was dirty
and most of the stuff was heavy, which she did not appreciate. The garden
department was not bad though, and she was especially drawn to the wide variety
of herb starts they sold because they seemed to give her a sense of peace. She
also liked watching some of the ripped guys with whom she worked because the
heavy lifting gave them fantastic muscle tone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jenna’s
last job before starting cooking school was at Mike & Dave’s, a franchised
family restaurant. She worked first as a server then moved into the kitchen.
Three years at the restaurant culminated with experience as a kitchen manager
before she quit so she could attend the culinary arts program at the Art
Institute. The kitchen at Mike & Dave’s was fun except for limitations
placed on food preparation. She frequently saw ways the menu items could be enhanced
but the GM shot down each and every idea because “it’s not the company way.” When
she submitted her two-week notice, the GM told her he was proud and wanted her
back after graduation, but there was slim chance of that happening. “I want the
freedom of being a chef and don’t want to manage or cook in the kitchen of a
franchised restaurant,” she told him.
However, Jenna was thankful for the experience in the kitchen because it
led to the discovery of her calling and subsequent enrollment in college to
become a chef.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jenna’s
course of study included an element of homework that meant cooking different
recipes at home. She loved tweaking the dishes by adding this or that, which
resulted in an improvement the majority of the time. Randy was her guinea pig,
but he felt more like the benefactor of her efforts because there were many
more successes than failures. The current class had her working on sauces, the
thought of which got Randy’s mouth watering. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He
sat on a bar stool at the end of the dark granite breakfast bar dabbling with some
work on his laptop. Although there was a report he needed to review, watching
Jenna cook was far more entertaining. “What are you making?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> “Ginger-apricot pork tenderloin medallions,”
she replied while searching the cupboard for toasted sesame oil. Jenna’s
kitchen was her domain and everything was organized and stored according to
utility. Frequently used utensils and ingredients were stored within easy reach
and those used less often were located in deeper recesses of drawers and
cupboards. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“That
sounds good,” Randy replied. “What are you serving with them?” He thought to
himself that Jenna is an artist and pork is one of her best mediums. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Undecided.”
She answered without looking at him. When in the kitchen, she was in the zone.
“Probably rice something.” Once she had retrieved all the necessary ingredients
for the recipe from their assigned storage places, she lined them up in order
of use on the counter, like soldiers in formation. Next, she took a metal
mixing bowl from the bottom cupboard and in the same motion retrieved measuring
spoons from the drawer just above. Jenna had a knack for accurately estimating
measurements, but begrudgingly used measuring devices for precision in her
schoolwork. In reality, she planned to dispose of all her measuring cups and
spoons on graduation day and dance a happy jig over their grave. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Fascinated
by the culinary opus, Randy watched while she deftly added sherry and vinegar
to the mixing bowl followed by a strict half-cup of soy sauce. All of her
motions were fluid and confident without a hint of hesitation. She added the remaining
marinade ingredients to the metal bowl, and then carefully placed the
medallions in the brew and placed them in the refrigerator to serve their
four-hour sentence. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Without
missing a beat, she moved to the glaze. After a quick glance at the recipe,
Jenna measured two-thirds of a cup of apricot preserves and dumped it in
another metal bowl. The process was repeated with spicy brown mustard, which was
added to the preserves. Next, she added toasted sesame oil, a pinch of cayenne
pepper, sesame seeds, and then stirred the concoction with a whisk. Watching
her cook was reminiscent of a conductor leading a symphony orchestra in playing
Beethoven’s Fifth. Last, she transferred
the bowl to the refrigerator to serve concurrent time next to the meat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Later
that evening, once the masterpiece was complete, the two of them dined on the
fruits of her labor. Although Jenna followed the recipe from her school
cookbook to the letter, she thought the glaze was not quite right, which she
voiced to Randy. “What’s missing from the glaze?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">While
Jenna was deep in thought about the recipe’s apparent shortcomings, Randy was a
stark contrast because he was living in the moment and thoroughly enjoying the
meal. As such, he hadn’t really heard let alone understood the question. “Huh?”
he replied.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Focus
grasshopper. The glaze. It’s missing something,” she reiterated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Not
from where I sit,” he replied with a full mouth. He truly thought the
medallions were splendid, which was why he ate them as if he had been poisoned
and consuming massive quantities of pork medallions was the only antidote. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jenna
wouldn’t concede. “They’re missing something. Maybe more cayenne...” Her way of
problem solving was to push the issue to the back of her mind. From there, it
tumbled around and was ground into tiny bits, then reassembled in the form of a
solution eventually. More than likely the answer would appear when least expected,
so they cleaned up the after dinner mess and settled down to watch TV before
bed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">After
shutting down for the night, she still pondered the dilemma presented by the
glaze. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She climbed
into bed and tried to push the thoughts to the back of her brain so a solution
could develop. Even though she tried to get her mind off of the subject, her
last fleeting thought before she drifted away to sleep was, <i>maybe more cayenne...</i></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7114557550058590212.post-47371107969743783612013-01-27T08:54:00.000-08:002013-02-05T08:05:23.798-08:00Chapter 1: Seven Minutes Later<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She
frantically runs around the house gathering the important things. The sound of
many horses hooves draw ominously closer. The man says, “Hurry! You must hurry!”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dressed
in 19<sup>th</sup> century garb, she is soaked from head to toe from the deluge
outside. “I am almost done,” she replies frantically. “How close are they?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“They
are near!” He sweats profusely as he carries the hastily packed bags to the
wagon. “You do not have time for much more.” He places a lever-action rifle
next to the driver’s seat. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I
know! I know! I am almost done.” She slams the cupboard shut and throws her mortar
and pestle in an open bag. “Where is the book?” she asks for the tenth time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lightening
splits the sky and an ominous crack of thunder quickly follows “Already in the
wagon with the amulet. Hurry!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Alright,
I think that is all of it.” She quickly surveys the room for any forgotten
items. Clothes that wouldn’t fit in the bag hang haphazardly out of the open
drawer of the oak bureau. Dishes are scattered around the sink, some clean,
some recently used. It was clear the occupant had been in a hurry.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He
leads her out to the waiting wagon and pats the horses’ noses, “I will create a
diversion while you make your retreat.” He pulls her into an embrace, likely
their last. “I will miss you.” A tear rolls down his cheek and mixes with the
rainwater. “I love you.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They
kiss in the torrent for the last time. “I love you too.” The sound of hoof
beats is deafening. She mounts the wagon. “Come find me when it is safe!” she
calls over her shoulder. He does not hear because he has already disappeared
around the corner on his way to stall the posse. She picks up the reigns and
calls to the horses. The wagon heads west under the angry midnight sky. When
she reaches the tree line at the end of the family property, she looks over her
shoulder and sees the night illuminated by fire, which was undoubtedly her
burning house. She hopes her lover got away safely from the posse.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jenna
Sims awoke and shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs left by The Dream.
The Dream never really seemed like a dream at all. Instead, it felt more like a
distant memory brought forth while she
slept. She doesn’t know the man or the woman, but in The Dream it she watches
the woman from afar and is the woman at the same time. She propped herself up
on a pillow. Jenna knew The Dream did mean one thing though; something
significant was about to occur in her life. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She
looked at Randy sleeping next to her. The last iteration of The Dream was three
days before they met. She thought back to that weekend in early December. It
was close to the end of her first term at school and socialization was not at
the top of her list. A classmate was having a Christmas party and invited
Jenna, but she didn’t want to go. School
had been the top priority since starting at the Art Institute, and final exams
were approaching, so she needed to study. One of her friends convinced her to go,
“After all, it’s almost Christmas break,” she told Jenna.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After
a fair amount of cajoling, Jenna finally agreed to give the homework a break
and go to the party. Upon arrival, she made the perfunctory greetings to
classmates she knew, then pulled a Bud Light from the cooler and took a post by
the snack table, near the artichoke dip. After some people watching, she began
to wonder why she came to the party rather than studying, as she should be
doing. She closed in for more carrot sticks and dip and, when backing away from
the table, ran straight in to Randy, spilling beer down his front side.
Embarrassed, Jenna turned to apologize and her hands began tingling the instant
she saw him. Randy Yarborough stood a few inches shy of six feet with
sandy-brown hair that he kept parted on the side. The stubble of a beard
covered his angular face and his brown eyes projected an air of boyish
trustworthiness. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Randy
also felt an electric attraction when the short, raven-haired klutz turned to
him. She stood a little over five feet tall with jet-black hair, cut just below
the neckline. Her high cheekbones and velvet skin gave her a natural beauty
that required little makeup, which suited her fine. He couldn’t get past her
deep emerald-green eyes though, which were like magnets that wouldn’t allow him
to release his gaze. Her eyes locked with his for a brief second as well, and
there seemed to be an understanding between the two of them in that moment.
Once the moment was over, Jenna realized that she had run into him and switched
back to embarrassed. Red-faced and hands still buzzing, she apologized
profusely. He told her it was all right and asked her name. Mortified, she
continued asking for forgiveness, so he said she could buy him another beer if
would make her feel better. They both laughed and the tension from her gaffe
dissipated like a heavy fog lifting. They ended up talking for the rest of the
party and did not notice all the other guests had left, until late in the night
when the host told them it was time to go. They walked to a nearby all-night
diner for coffee and dessert and talked till dawn. They parted for their
respective homes with a plan to meet for dinner and had been together ever
since. The Dream revealed to Jenna when she had met her soul mate. She wondered
when he would come to the same realization so they could make it permanent.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She
questioned what The Dream could mean this time. It seemed premature to be foreshadowing
her graduation from the culianry arts program at the Art Institute, which was
still a month-and-a-half away. <i>Still </i>she
thought, it <i>has been a long almost-two
years</i>. Maybe the dream surfaced because she was so excited about finishing
school and embarking on her career at last. The approaching graduation finally felt
real when she registered for her last term, needing only two more classes to
graduate. Maybe the dream meant she should submit her application to the Full
Moon Steakhouse, her dream job. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Her
pondering ended as Randy stirred next to her. “Good morning.” She smiled at her
soul mate. Randy replied with a still-tired grunt. He worked as a warehouse
supervisor at Net Sales, a full-service online shopping company in Seattle. The
night prior, he had to work late because one of the automated product fetching machines
broke down, forcing manual product retrieval and machine repair to occur
simultaneously. An ‘all hands’ situation. “How are you?” he asked once he could
open his eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Fine
I think,” she replied. “I had The Dream last night.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This
woke Randy up. Jenna told him about The Dream and its significance. He knew she
had dreamt it a few days before they met, but never since they had been
together. He remembered her telling him that she had also dreamt the night
before her grandmother died two years prior. “What do you think it means? Maybe
it has to do with your graduation.” He had been holding down the fort while she
attended school and was ready to pass the torch, or at least get some help
carrying it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Over
the years I have learned that it means what it means, and I try not to
speculate.” That was not entirely true she thought. She always tried to guess
and was rarely right. She just did not want to voice that to Randy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Well
maybe it means we’re going to win the lotto,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.
“I’ll pick up a ticket today.” Randy tried to shrug off the apprehension, but
he knew she put a lot of stock in The Dream and wholeheartedly believed that it
was the sign of significant event that was coming in her, in their lives.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7114557550058590212.post-22835358146707687002013-01-20T11:02:00.001-08:002013-02-09T17:57:20.079-08:00Prologue: Bitter Premonition<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">This was it. Spring break of Jenna Sims' senior year was just around the corner, and she didn't intend to waste it. After all, this would be one of the last bits of freedom she would be able to enjoy before life's responsibilities-like college,work, a boyfriend/husband, etcetera-came rushing full force on the heels of high school. As of late, thoughts of the future weighed heavily on Jenna's mind and she looked forward to a reprieve in the form of a spring break camping trip with her best friends: Veronica Waters, Anna Starr, and Jessica Dalton.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">Jenna felt like a square-peg in a round-hole world throughout most of her school years, which made it difficult to bond with anyone, but this unlikely set of friends accepted her as-is, with no questions asked. To outsiders, rather than looking like a tightly knit caste of friends, the four resembled more of a random group of misfits who banded together against the ills of the world. Veronica always had her nose in a book and preferred the fantasy genre that described adventures of fairies, dragons, and the likes. The artist, Anna, saw things as they were and tended to draw her world with charcoal in black and white.Jessica, the motor-head, loved anything with wheels and an engine, which meant she could usually be found in or under her Jeep, or carving trails on her </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">dirt bike.</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"> Jenna completed the quartet and loved experimenting with culinary inventions in the kitchen. Although each of their individual interests seemed vastly different from the others', their diverse personalities meshed perfectly creating harmony and formed an inseparable bond between the four of them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Each girl looked forward to the camping trip with anticipation and talked about it incessantly for weeks prior to the break. All four members of the group agreed three days at Lake Easton campground, which was just on the other side of the pass, would be the respite needed to regroup before the end-of-year push. Although the plan was for each to provide a meal or two during the outing, Jenna volunteered to do a lion's share of the cooking. The thought of testing her culinary skills in a primitive setting excited her and she had ideas of things with which she would like to experiment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">At last, finals were over and teacher conferences were done, marking the start of spring break. The quartet planned to leave bright and early at 10:00 am Monday,well, bright and early in high school girl-think. They took the weekend to prepare by gathering and packing equipment, and shopping for provisions and sustenance items they would need during the trip. Jenna spent the better part of Saturday afternoon at the supermarket squeezing tomatoes, sniffing melons, and examining the wide selection of cheeses to find the right compliment for her planned menu items. She returned home with five overstuffed grocery bags and began the process of separating the various items into piles for each </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">of the</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"> intended menu dishes to ensure nothing had been forgotten.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Sunday morning, Jenna searched the garage for elusive camping equipment, none of which was where she thought is should be. She was thankful that Aunt Donna took the day off because she needed help finding all the gear, and she swore it would be stored in one location upon the completion of the trip. Aunt Donna raised Jenna since the age of three after the death of her own mother. Donna didn't mind providing help because she enjoyed the time with Jenna and knew it would not be long until she was ready to spread her wings and fly from the nest. Finally, with a little perspiration and a lot of dust, all the gear was located and packed. Jenna finished preparations by putting the food into a plastic bin for ease of transport. She called the other girls to make sure they had everything they would need, and reminded them to pack for sunburn-hot and blizzard conditions because the unpredictable Northwest spring can produce either, sometimes in the same day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">With all the readying done, Jenna was tired but excited by the end of the day. After a particularly grueling yawning session, she told Veronica she had to get some rest and hung up the phone. She quickly did her nighttime routine and jumped into bed. Although exhausted, Jenna had a hard time falling asleep due to the multitude of lists she mentally checked and double-checked to ensure she had not forgotten anything for the trip. Slumber finally found her around 2:00 in the morning and shortly thereafter, The Dream began. In The Dream, Jenna could see a woman, yet Jenna was the woman at the same time. She scurried around the house gathering things of importance. Garbed in mid-nineteenth century clothes,the woman was frantic about an impending danger. She had to pack quickly because they were coming. Jenna didn't know who they were, but was sure they wanted to hurt her. Jenna twitched in her sleep while The Dream played out.Hasty packing complete, the woman fled from harm's way on a wagon drawn by two horses. Jenna bolted awake just after the woman turned to see her house ablaze in the distance as she made her escape.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">The Dream was always the same. She always saw the woman, who was her at the same time, frantically packing. She watched the woman load and mount the horse-drawn wagon. Although she was always terrified in The Dream, the people who wanted to hurt her never reached the woman. Sometimes Jenna woke before seeing the burning house, but The Dream never went beyond the woman turning to see the night sky aglow from the fire of her home in the distance after her decampment.Some might consider The Dream a recurring nightmare, but it did not occur frequently enough to earn the clinical title of 'recurring'. However, what The Dream did do is always foreshadow a significant event in Jenna's life. The first time she remembered having The Dream was at three years old, a few days before her mother died. Since then, Jenna dreamt it a few other times preceding influential occurrences in her life, but The Dream never delineated between positive or negative experiences, it simply meant that something important would happen soon. Over time, Jenna learned to keep her guard up once The Dream reappeared.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">She sat up in bed. <i>Crap! </i>she thought.Through the window, she could see the sun hinting its ascent from behind the horizon with the promise of a perfect Northwestern spring day. <i>This can't be. I've been looking forward to this trip for weeks.</i> Although The Dream was not specific regarding the event, Jenna's initial gut feeling was that the danger was associated with the camping trip. This assumption raised several questions though: Was she the only one in peril or did it extend to the group? Did the danger lie in cancelling her plans or could the hazard be avoided by going on the trip? What about Aunt Donna? Would she be all right without Jenna staying home? These were exactly the type of questions she hated after The Dream occurred. The Dream was a major contributing factor to the reason she felt square-peggish, and often felt it would be better not knowing something was on the horizon, like real people.Instead, she was given a gift in the form of a clue that something important was imminent but with no context. With little context anyway, since she always received a tingling feeling in her hands when the crossroad introduced by The Dream was reached. Yet, the tingling still did not give any indication of the best course of action to take or whether she should do anything at all, they just felt prickly announcing the situation was at hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Jenna donned her robe and walked down the hall to Aunt Donna's room. She gently rapped on the door, "Aunt Donna, I have a problem." No response. A little louder, "Aunt Donna?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Donna was not a morning person and, after a few unflattering snorts, sleepily replied, "Wha...?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">"I have a problem," Jenna bit her bottom lip, which she did when she was unsure of herself. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">"Yes Dear. What is it?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">"I...Ihad The Dream last night."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">"Oh no." Donna was not a big fan of The Dream either because of its ambiguity."So what are you thinking?" Donna was fully awake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">"I don't know." Jenna was almost in tears. "I hate The Dream. It's impossible to worry about everything, to guess what it could possibly mean," frustrated tears rolled down her cheeks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Donna pulled her in for a hug and tried to give comfort, "I know. It seems impossible."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">"The worst of it is that I always worry it could mean I might lose someone I love,like with mom." She cried in earnest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">"I know," she stroked Jenna's hair, "It's frustrating. Let's go make some coffee and think this through." Donna had to get all the neurons firing if she was going to be any help.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">A couple of cups of coffee later, they sat at the kitchen table trying to figure out what to do. Jenna was torn between going on the camping trip to protect her friends at the outing or staying home to protect Donna. Another option was to scrub the trip altogether if she could get the other girls to agree. She tried to think of a way to tell the others they should cancel without sounding freakish or paranoid. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">The sun had fully risen revealing a bright blue, cloudless spring sky, a Northwest rarity, meaning Jenna only had about two hours before the girls would arrive to pick her up. Donna tried to get her to eat some toast but she was not hungry. A sickening knot had settled in the pit of Jenna’s stomach as she went through the motions of preparing for the day. She cried out of frustration in the shower because she had no idea what she should do, but a decision had to be made soon. She got dressed and still hadn't decided what she would do, if anything.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Jenna was in a somber mood as sat on the front porch waiting for the girls to show up. The sun felt good on her face but did little for her churning stomach.After a bit, she could hear the rumble of Jessica's Jeep and she watched it turn the corner onto her block. As soon as it was in full sight, the tingling in her hands began.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">The closer the girls got to Jenna's house, the more intense the tingling in her hands grew. By the time the Jeep reached the driveway, Jenna felt as if her hands were physically buzzing. It was at that moment that she decided to go with the gut feeling that had been building in stomach all morning; she had to convince the others to cancel the trip. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Jessica turned off the ignition. "Where's your stuff?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Jenna stammered, "Um...uhh...we have to...umm...a change of plans."Regardless of their friendship, she hadn't the foggiest idea how she should phrase her plea so she didn't come off like a crackpot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">"What?" Anna asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">"We can't go." Jenna thought it best just to get it out there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Anna repeated her question, "What?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">"Yeah, what are you talking about?" Jessica added.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">"Something bad is going to happen. I can feel it. We should do something else," Jenna pleaded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Veronica put down her book and joined the conversation. "Something bad? What makes you say that?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">"What do you think is going to happen? And how is it that you think you know this?" Anna said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Jenna had never revealed The Dream and its significance to her friends. She also thought this was a terrible time to tell them. It was hard for her to think though because her hands felt like they were plugged into an electrical socket.She had to do something and do it now. "I had a dream, a err...a special dream. I have this same dream any time something big is about to happen in my life.It has never been wrong."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">"A dream? A freakin’ dream? Like a <i>Final Destination</i> dream? You know that is only a movie right?" Jessica was skeptical. "It was only a dream girly, go get your stuff."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">"What's really going on Jenna?" Veronica asked. "You wanted this break as much as the rest of us and now you're changing your mind?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">“I really don’t think we should go,” Jenna was committed now. “Look, you can be mad at me or hate me or think I’m a creep,” she was sure her shuddering hands were audible by now, “but I know something terrible will happen if we go on the trip.” Tears rolled down her cheeks, “Please don’t go. I’m not going.” The instant she announced her decision, the hand tremors ceased. She stood in the driveway looking at her friends, who were all looking back at her incredulously.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Jessica broke the silence. "This is crap. Don't go then Jenna. We will tell you all about it when we get back and nothing happens to us," she punctuated the statement by waving her hands over her head, and then turned to the other two, "Let's get out of here."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Veronica, forever the glue of the group, said, "Hold on Jessica. Maybe we should talk about this and figure out what's going on."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Jessica replied, "Stay and talk if you want. I'm going camping." She got in the Jeep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Anna looked worried, as if she half-believed the premonition. Jenna caught her eyes and mouthed, "Don't go," to which Anna replied with a shrug, as if she had no choice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Veronica was sympathetic, but yielded to the group’s unofficial leader, "Sorry Jenna," she said and ran for the Jeep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Jessica started the Jeep and backed out of the driveway. She stopped in the road and turned to Jenna, "Last chance." <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Jenna only shook her head no and emitted a feeble, "Please..."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Jessica responded by dumping the clutch and speeding off. They left Jenna sobbing in the driveway, wishing she had been able to stop them, and dreading the next few days when whatever was going to happen happened. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Jenna stood in the driveway for a long time just crying and staring at the tire marks the Jeep left in the road. She hoped the gut feeling that had enveloped her stomach all morning had been wrong. She didn't want the last memory of her friends to be that of an argument where she tried, unsuccessfully, to discourage them from going on a trip that was months in the making. Second guessing took over her mind. <i>I should have done more, laid it all on the line. Or I should have stood behind the Jeep and physically stopped them from going.</i> Not knowing what else to do, she finally went back into the house to figure out how to occupy her week. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Since the time off for the trip had already been granted from The Perk, where she was a barista, Jenna's manager had already filled the schedule and couldn't give her any hours. That left only two options; stay home and sulk or go and help out at Aunt Donna's bookstore. The latter seemed the better choice. Interacting with other people would occupy her mind infinitely better than watching endless hours of mindless television and allowing her thoughts to run free, inventing multitudes of scenarios of what could go wrong for her three friends during the trip. Although the four days at the bookstore passed quickly, the camping girls were never far from Jenna's mind, but with each passing day allowed her to relax a bit more. <i>Maybe the dream wasn't about the camping trip at all, </i>the thought of which gave Jenna chills because that meant The Dream foreshadowed a different event. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">On Thursday, Jenna left the bookstore in the early afternoon because it was a nice day and she felt like cooking. She still had all the groceries meant for the trip and hated to see them go to waste, so she headed home with a sweet and spicy edamame-beef stir-fry recipe in mind. While she was cutting the yellow bell peppers into strips for the mixture, her hands began tingling wildly.Within seconds, the phone rang. Jenna immediately knew what the call was about.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">"Hello?" she said reluctantly into the receiver.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Mrs.Dalton's weary voice was on the other end, "Jenna?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">"Yes?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">"This is Jessica's mom," she paused to sob. "There's been an accident..."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">"Mrs.Dalton, no..." Jenna didn't want to hear the rest, but she already knew.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">"It was a drunk driver. He hit the girls head-on while they were on their way home,"she struggled against the urge to cry. "None of them..."Jessica's mom fell into sobs and couldn't finish the sentence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">"Oh my God! I'm so sorry," Jenna fought to maintain control herself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">"I just thought you should know..." She didn't wait for an answer before hanging up the phone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">Jenna held the receiver for a long time until the shrill </span><i style="line-height: 200%;">REET, REET, REET </i><span style="line-height: 200%;">reminded her the handset was out of its cradle.She looked at the tear-blurred phone in her hand as if it was the first time she had ever seen one. The shock numbed all of her senses and it sounded as ifthe noise came from another room or even across the street. It didn't matter at the moment because her friends were gone, not just gone, but also stolen from her. She hung up the phone and the mental inquisition started. </span><i><span style="line-height: 200%;">Why the hell </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">didn't</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"> they listen? What good is The stupid Dream if it can’t be used to help people, especially loved ones?Why them and not me? How will I go on without them?<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">The next few days passed slowly but in a blur. The weather turned to the typical Northwest grey of spring, which seemed appropriate for the girls’ funerals and perfectly matched Jenna's state of mind. One thing Jenna wondered, once she was thinking clearly again, was why Jessica’s mother called her when she found out about the accident; how she knew Jenna was not with the rest of her friends on the camping trip. At the funeral, she asked Mrs. Dalton how she knew to call.Mrs. Dalton told Jenna that Jessica called when they arrived at the campsite to let her know they had made it safely. She told her mother that Jenna had changed her mind and decided not to go. Jenna did not press the matter further,but hoped that Jessica had not relayed how she tried to convince the others to cancel the trip. Jenna didn't want Jessica's mother to have to live with that burden. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">The rest of the school year was spent in a grey haze, similar to the drizzly Seattle springtime, and Jenna simply went through the motions, surviving day-to-day. She did what was necessary at school to make it to graduation. She also worked as many hours at The Perk as her manager would allow, just to keep her occupied. She helped out at the bookstore on her days off. All because she didn’t want idle time to think about how unfair it was for some drunken idiot to rob three girls of their existence, especially when they were only beginning to blossom. The thought of the injustice made Jenna’s blood boil. Worse yet, he was virtually unscathed from the accident. “Just a few scratches,” they said.“He was very lucky,” they said. Jenna didn’t call it luck though, instead she thought of it as a travesty of the natural order. She did her best to keep it pushed to the back of her mind so she could merely function. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Time passed and graduation day came. Veronica, Anna, and, Jessica were the only students from the graduating class who died. Their smiling pictures were shown and favorite music played in tribute at the ceremony, which served only to tear the scab from Jenna’s heart that had only recently begun to form, and she was painfully reminded how empty she felt without them. Around graduation time,Christopher Stark was standing trial for driving under the influence and three counts of vehicular homicide. Although Jenna knew she couldn’t handle being present in the actual courtroom, she did pay close attention to news coverage of the trial. The image of the three girls' parents’ reaction in the courtroom would be forever burned into Jenna’s mind, when the judge announced the sentence of five years probation for the crimes. As it turned out, one of Stark's relatives was a detective or something and pulled some strings to get his sentence lightened. <i>This is not right! </i>she thought. <i>How can he walk free when my friends never had the chance to plead their case; to tell a jury why they should be allowed to live? </i>Jenna was repulsed and thought it unacceptable.A sickening knot of rage grew in her stomach. She silently vowed that someday;somehow, the deaths of Veronica Waters, Anna Starr, and Jessica Dalton would be avenged.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7114557550058590212.post-18477709344594864112013-01-20T10:42:00.002-08:002013-01-22T17:32:40.389-08:00The Players <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <i>Cooking Athanasia </i>is the<i> </i>book I have been working on for the past year or so. I decided it was time to introduce it to the world, so I created this blog. Many of you have already seen the prologue from the book, which was the <i>Bitter Premonition </i>story in my Reality Check blog. I will post it in its entirety in another post for whose who may have missed it. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I also thought this might be a good opportunity to introduce some of characters from the book, so without further ado:</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jenna Sims: You met her at the end of her high school years in the prologue. She is a 24 year old culinary arts </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">college student </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and she has a hidden secret so clandestine, even she doesn't know about it.</span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Randy Yarborough: Jenna's live-in boyfriend. He is a manager at a full service online shopping company and willing guinea pig for testing Jenna's homework.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Aunt Donna: Raised Jenna after the death of her own mother, Donna's sister. She is the owner of The New Age Enlightened bookstore. </span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Scott Kennison: He is a marketing representative for PH Cosmetics, based in San Francisco. He possesses an equal passion for gaming tables and whiskey.</span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Kelly Elias: She is the Marketing Director at PH Cosmetics and Scott's boss. She hates the world because she thinks it unfair that she alone is saddled with the burden of righteousness</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">.</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> There are a few more players who will be revealed in the following weeks as I post the first few chapters from the book. Next week will be Chapter 1.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thanks for reading!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">~K</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0