Monday, March 30, 2015

Twitch

     Hello everyone! We have another wonderful guest entry this week by a talented young Steampunk writer named Nina. Those of you on OYAN or Neverland may know of her personally. She has a strong presence there. For those of you who don't know her, you are receiving the chance to read some of her fantastic work this week!

    We hope that you enjoy this piece and that you will read it and pass it along to your friends. Now, without further ado, we present to you...Twitch.

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~TWITCH~
We’ve reached Adagen. I stepped closer to the edge of the deck and flipped down the binoculars goggles to my eyes.  Zooming in to get a closer look through the dark grey smog, I stared down. The surface far below looked like clockworks, with thousands of gears all shapes and sizes.
“Stop the ship.” I heard Dr. Kennedy order the captain. Captain Clent’s footsteps echoed up the wooden steps. The low rumble of the blimp connected above us abruptly stopped. The airship rocked forward, the cords and wooden boards groaning to a halt. We hovered in the air about a hundred feet above ground, but it was nearly impossible to see through the dark fog and clouds.
We had left the city of Tharant, when Dr. Kennedy became certain that Adagen was really out there and the people ridiculed him, thinking him crazy. For a few years we lived under Tharant in the underworld—a tangle of old subways, the west wing being abandon. While he prepared to journey out and find Adagen, we had stayed in an empty station. It had been dark and gloomy down there and the polluted air made the man cough and ill. He had been eager to leave and built Helen—an airship created from the abandoned debris left below the city to do so.
Leaning over the deck with a tight grip on the rails, I stared down trying to get a better glimpse of what lay below. It took a moment, but I could see it. Massive gears; they made up the surface of the land below. The gears where laid flat and slowly rotating and whirling. They were such large gears that the cracks and open spaces linking them, went down into pitch blackness.  Smoke came from a city—in the center on top of a gear; spinning slowly with it.
We’ve found Adagen. We’re in the very clockworks of that old legend. Now they’ll believe us. But the legend never mentioned a city. That was never on the doctor’s radar or maps.

“Twitch?”  Dr. Kennedy’s low voice came to my ears and I straightened as the tall thin scientist came up beside me. We were near the bow of the airship, a soft rumble coming from the steam engine.
“My theory was right. Ha! Now they’ll have no choice but believe you and I.”  His laughter sounded warm and joyous.
“But there is smoke rising…” I said.
“Twitch, my boy, that’s impossible. Simply impossible. No one could live out there in that heap of machinery”
“ ….and a city.”
“Give me the goggles. Your vision is off—I’ll have to fix it.” He huffed, unbelieving. Clipping my goggles off, he peered through them, his face turning white. Was that fear? Shock? Worry? I couldn’t tell—people’s faces turn white from all of those things.
“By golly.” He gasped. “Let some helium out of the blimp! I want her to descend!” He clasped his hands together and Clent hesitated, but did so.  It took a while, but we got closer to the ground-gears and there was the city. Slowly rotating, it was in ruins. Crumbled skyscrapers, a broken bridge, and buildings degenerating, it was completely destroyed. Steam rose from the ruins in little wisps and something crashed to the ground with a groan. The fact that it was rotating, made it seem alive.
“We’re going to anchor down.” Dr. Kennedy’s voice was crisp and he glared at the hesitant Captain who scurried off to do his bidding. Something rocked the airship then and the doctor nearly stumbled to the ground. But he grabbed me and regained his balance. He cursed, but that turned to a gasp and he stumbled backward.
Two massive cat-like eyes stared at us. The largest automaton we had ever seen slowly stood, appearing to materialize out of nowhere. It was a dark shade of grey, made up of many metal plates, rivets, cogs and gears—like it was made out of the broken bits of the city. It reached out and its iron hands grabbed the airship as if it where child’s toy. Its huge eyes zoomed closer at us. I heard the captain scream as the wood groaned and a few cords snapped with the sudden pressure. 
“By thunder!” Dr. Kennedy slowly straightened and his face paled. He tried to collect himself and adjusted his coat, his face still bursting with utter disbelief. He looked at me and then turned to the huge machine.
 “By golly, you are large. Put us down and take us to your master!” The doctor shrieked. 
It didn’t understand. 
“Twitch!! Talk to it for me. Tell it to take us to its master.”
I looked it in the eye and felt the gears turning inside. My man wants you to take him to your human.
It turned its attention to me. I have no human. I am the ruler here. I destroyed the city and I will stop the gears from turning, it will blast Adagen and stop functioning the sky city. The humans must die.
But if you do that, we will die as well. No humans, means no robots. Who will fix us, bring us back to life when we are shut down, or give us the oil we need?
There is much oil below the gears. The oil has seeped through the cracks and there is a river of it down below.
Hearing this I stopped stunned. The doctor hadn’t heard our conversation—it was above the frequency humans could hear and back and forth through our mechanical minds.
“Tell me Twitch! Does he listen to you?”
Dr. Kennedy stepped forward and shook me, when I didn’t reply. I could hear my insides clanging against each other. The large robot saw him shaking me and flung the airship up, knocking the doctor against the cabin’s walls. The small captain’s legs shook and he clutched the rail. I also grasped the railing for support.  Everything crashed up and a piece of equipment rolled down the deck smashing a round low glass porthole.
“Curse you!!” Dr. Kennedy shook his fist at the massive machine who only stared at him in return.
I will take you away from this cruel human.  The frequency was loud and static flickered in my head. My insides seemed to heat up and I felt electricity spark through my heart, threatening to tear it apart. I looked at the man holding the key to shut me down. Was this what torn loyalties felt like?
 My man is lonely—he needs me.

~     *     ~

Nina Orellana is a dedicated story teller, hoping to one day write professionally. She focuses mainly on the genres of science fiction and historical fiction, occasionally writing short stories.  When not writing, she enjoys art and music.




Monday, March 16, 2015

Meet Me in the Meadow

Hello all you dear people! My faithful readers, we're trying a different type of submission this go around. The following series of letters that make up a short story are written by a talented young writer named Madison. We hope that you enjoy it and will read it and pass it along to your friends.

If anyone would like to submit a story or poem, please let me know!

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Meet Me In The Meadow




March 23, 2013

Dear March,

I moved into my apartment today. I promised I’d call as soon as I got here, but the landlady said the phone isn’t working, so it’ll have to wait about a week or so. It’ll probably be longer than that until this letter reaches you, but I couldn’t stand just sitting around not doing anything, and writing’s supposed to be therapeutic, right? Man, I can see you rolling your eyes at me now. Therapy, you always used to say when I talked about going to college and the things people learned there, Just go kick a tree.

I already miss our little town. I miss the people who lived there, always ready with a smile or a helping hand. I think people in the city aren’t as happy as everyone in our town. They don’t smile or laugh.
But I guess my view of Bedford might be a little rose-tinted. I only have happy memories, after all- although most of those are of us getting into all sorts of trouble, running about town and causing a ruckus. I think everyone there knew our names. In such a small town, it’s natural, of course- nothing’s private.

But we always had our secret place. The place we went to when it all got to be too much- just for us, our meeting place. Our meadow. It was sheltered from the rest of the town, hidden away completely.

Truthfully, I wish I was there now- everything here is so loud. In Bedford, all I could hear were the crickets outside my window; here I can’t even hear myself think and the window I do have I can’t open if I don’t want to let in the fumes and noises from the street. The couple next door’s having a fight, and I’m not sure whether to call the police or not- they’re yelling loud enough to make the other neighbors start banging on the walls and yell at them. Well, I’m sure it’ll pass in an hour or so- people can’t fight for that long, right?

I guess I’ll sign off by using what you always used to tell me.

Meet me at the meadow.

Yours,

Adam



March 24, 2013

Dear March,

I didn’t get any sleep last night, so I decided to write another letter- just a short one to stick in with the first. I hope you got a good night of sleep; it’s very important. There are dark circles under my eyes- I guess the city does start to drain you as soon as you step foot inside, just like you said, haha. Anyway, I need to run this down to the mail, so…

Can’t wait to hear from you!

Meet me at the meadow.

Yours,

Adam.



May 1, 2013

Dear March,

I haven’t heard from you in a while and you haven’t answered my letters. I hope everything’s okay. I tried calling, but the phone said your number was out of service. I guess you just got a new one, huh? Well, I’ll wait for you to send me your new one. In the meantime, I’ll tell you about what’s been going on.

I started my new job, but you already knew that. I know you’re probably laughing- who’d of thought I’d be flipping burgers? But it helps me pay for school. But I guess I would rather be serving tables at Anny’s- it always was Bedford’s one hotspot. Everyone went there to eat. We went quite a bit- those were always the best times! The restaurants here are really different. Everyone ignores each other- not like at Anny’s, everyone there always said hi to new people coming in and laughed together. Here people sometimes don’t even stay in the building to eat. But I guess they’re pretty busy- everyone here is.

The couple in the other apartment fight a lot- I’m right next to them, so they keep me up a few times a week. But I don’t mind a few lost hours of sleep, so long as they seem to work it out by morning. They do seem relatively happy when I see them.

I haven’t made many friends yet. You were probably expecting that, huh? Haha, little Adam in the schoolyard always sat alone until you came along. I was did suck at making friends. But you reached out to me and never left me since, and I just wanted to thank you. Now that we’ve been apart for a little while, I really miss you. I just wanted to let you know.

Meet me in the meadow.

Yours,

Adam.

December 24, 2013

Dear March,

Man, it’s been a long time since we talked, hasn’t it? I got your letter in the mail and your email, but I guess we’ve both been really busy. School’s gotten really hard. All that testing and all. What have you been doing? Do you still have your job in the school library? I miss coming in to visit you. Remember when you’d read to me during your slow shifts? The last book we read together was Beowulf- your favorite. I bought a copy today to read- I never did like it very much, to be honest, but you did, and it reminds me of you. So I’ll read it for myself for the first time for you. I hope that makes you happy.

I don’t really talk to anyone around here. Most of the people who live in my building keep to themselves and all my co-workers seem to just want to get out of work as early as they can. I had a bit of a bad day the other day- I spilled a customer’s coffee all over her. I tried to apologize, but she kept yelling at me, and the other customers were giving me dirty looks. Ben- he’s my manager- sent me home early. I couldn’t get any sleep, either- the couple next door moved out, but the guy who moved in plays his music quite loudly. I don’t really fancy asking him to turn it down; he seems a very bitter person.

Anyway…I hope to hear from you soon! Your letter and email didn’t really say much. Hopefully I can visit soon. I’d have loved to come home for Christmas, but I didn’t have enough money for a plane or bus ticket. But there’s always next year, right? I’ll come home and we can meet in our special place.

Meet me in the meadow.

Yours,

Adam.



March 5, 2014

Dear March,

Has something happened? Did I do something wrong, are you still mad that I moved away? I wish you would respond. I managed to get ahold of your sister, but she said you couldn’t talk. She sounded angry- but she never really liked me, did she? I’m sorry if I upset her.

If you do call, please call during the afternoon. It’s hard for me to get to the phone during the morning. I’m always so…tired. The people here are so…I don’t know. I bumped into a guy today and he spat on me. All people talk about are the bad things happening in the world. I get that they’re important, but I feel…stretched thin. People seem to be so obsessed with the things that are wrong with the world. I know, I know, you’d be scolding me right now, right? Look on the bright side, you’d say. But I don’t know how to be an optimist about this.

It’s not all bad, though. Sometimes, if I just close my eyes, I can imagine it’s all like it was before- that we’re in our meadow, looking up at the stars, just like old times. Like nothing’s even changed. I hope I can come home to visit soon.

Meet me in the meadow?

Yours,

Adam.



January 1, 2015

Dear March,

Sorry, March…I missed another holiday season. Everything’s just been a little…busy. I don’t have enough energy to make a really long trip. Money’s running low and my classes are getting really tough. I could really use your support, just one smile from you and I know I’d be all right. Mostly I just hang around by myself, and people don’t bother me. I think everyone finds it better to leave others to their own devices, you know? Or maybe it’s just inopportune timing. I think things’ll get better once I graduate.

I have something to confess, though… Sometimes I just want to give it all up and come back home. I wouldn’t be able to do much, then, but Linda- the one at the inn- she’d let me have a room till I got back on my feet. But I know what you’d say- Adam Gamblet, you get off your behind and work! No time for laziness! I wish I could take your advice, March. I really do. I’ll try harder.

Yours,

Adam.



February 26, 2015

Uh, hey, March…I was really hoping you’d send a letter or something soon. Maybe we could meet up?
I hope you haven’t moved or anything, did you move out of your apartment? Is your address still current?

I really wish we could talk. If I could just hear your voice. Do you want to hear mine? Do you want to talk to me? I sent you a Valentine’s gift. I hope you liked it- dark chocolate always was your favorite.
I hope that couple that used to live here had a nice Valentine’s. They didn’t fight as often just before they moved out- I hope they worked everything out. I really do! The guy who lives next door- uh, I’m sure he had a nice Valentine’s with..someone. He brings a lot of girls around, you know?

Everything’s so loud. People are always yelling for things, running around, never stopping for a moment. There was a woman in the street begging for money, but no one stopped to help her. Not one person.
Doesn’t that seem wrong to you, March? I tried to give her all I could, but I only had some change on me.

I’m really tired and I can’t write very much more, so goodbye.

Please respond.

Yours,

Adam.



March 3, 2015

March,

I got a letter from your sister today.

You never got any of my letters, did you? And you’ll never get this one, either.

Why did I leave. I could have helped you. If I had just been there. March, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I never knew- I didn’t know.

I’m sorry.

Adam



March 23, 2015

Dear March,

It’s been two years. Nothing is the same. I was so selfish, moving for my own wants and never considering yours. I wasn’t there when you-

I’m sorry. I haven’t been to school for a few weeks. I tried, but I couldn’t focus; I couldn’t stop crying. I haven’t went out of my apartment… the neighbors stare like I’m a walking zombie. I must look terrible. Someone yelled at me on the street to go crawl back into the hole I had come from. They must have thought I was a junkie or something.

I can’t do this anymore, March. I miss you. I miss Bedford. I miss our meadow. I miss having friends and being happy.

There’s no happiness here. There’s only darkness and hate. I hate it here. I miss you, March. I’m coming to meet you. Then we can be together again, and lay together and stare at the stars just like old times.
And I can make up for all those letters you never got to read. I’m sorry your sister didn’t tell me until- I guess, I guess she just didn’t want me to be devastated. But it doesn’t matter, because I’m coming to meet you.

Come meet me in the meadow?



~     *     ~

Madison N. is an aspiring young author who focuses on fantasy and adventure with a side in short emotional stories and poetry. She enjoys anime, music, and crafting bath products by hand. Check out her blog at: https://herbaleccentricities.wordpress.com/


Sunday, March 1, 2015

~ Lady on the Sea ~


Hey, guys! We have another guest author this week! Her name is Hannah Summy and she wrote a beautiful fantasy piece for us! I hope that you enjoy it. If you have feed back or comments, please email me at nevermoreemergingflame@gmail.com. 

Also, if you have anything you would like to submit to be published on the blog, email me! We are currently looking for submissions of any kind of prose or poetry.

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Lady on the Sea
In days past, it happened that a lady stood upon the sea. As it is told, she was destined to live forever, wandering atop the ocean foam because of a rare dark flower she held.  Her beauty, it is also told, can be seen in no other, and so had been the cause of many a drowning. This is the story of how she became bound to endlessly wander the ocean waves.

Imagine centuries ago, a young lady who loved the sea nearly as if it had been her very life; and this was a love undying. Her parents, who were very wealthy, feared this raging sea as if it had been their very deaths.

It came to pass that a storm arose from this ocean, and raged upon the land. The mere pleadings would not satisfy its wrath, and this fury was heard in the winds, and seen in the strikes of lightening, and the flooding of waters.

This the young lady did know, and so she came to stand along the shore. The winds blew about her hair and dress, the lightening flashed about her, the rain drenched her, and the waves spat at her. Still she stood along the shore, while her parents watched from the window, trembling with fear.

Among the roaring of waves and of the winds, came a voice whose words thundered through the air, with no known origin. This voice spoke of its displeasure that the parents of such a lady would fear it, and of its pleasure that such a lady would love it. This voice continued to speak of the storm, who would be lulled by the sacrifice of this young lady. She would not die, the voice assured, because of her love for the waters. Yet, she would live this eternal life upon the waters because of her parents’ fear and distrust.

The voice instructed that the young lady should pluck a flower of darkness from that had begun to grow at her feet. This flower would be should keep her above the waves so long as she lived. If ever she dropped it, she would sink beneath the waves and surely drown.

And it was so; the young lady did pluck the flower and venture to step on the waves, which calmed the storm. At this her parents wept, wept of gratitude that their lives would be spared, but also that they might never see their precious daughter’s face once more. 

In this, they called upon their wealth to save them, offering a reward to any lad who might brave the oceans and deliver their daughter safely to them. Many a lad did venture, with a desire for the wealth and the young lady promised. Close did they come, but the closer they drew, more violently did the waves rage, and so drowning any lad who ventured close.  As time passed, the parents died of terrible sickness, and only on occasion would a lad brave the waters in hopes to rescue the lady upon the sea.

Still, the lady lived upon the sea. Though she did love this sea, as it had then been her very life, a loneliness filled her soul with longing. It so happened, that a young lad did listen to these tales of old, and now wondered about this lady on the sea.

He stood along the shore, staring out over the waters to perhaps catch a glimpse of she that the tales spoke of. Not seeing her, he threw a plank of wood into the waves, and leaping onto it, he paddled further out into the sea. Further and further he paddled, hoping to catch only a glimpse. Then, he did find her wandering atop the ocean waves.

The loneliness he saw on her face swept over him, and he knelt in horrendous sobbing. As he sobbed, the waves grew violent, and the lady saw him kneeling in tears and was overcome with a greater sadness then ever before. And when the waves threw him into the ocean water she wished for death.


 And so, she stared down into the ocean, watching as his body sank to the depths. In her desperate grief, she dropped the flower and sank beneath the waves. And though the lad had already died, she lived in the promised eternal life, swimming beneath the waves and guarding the body of her loved one.  

~     *     ~



Hannah Summy is an aspiring author, having written a few stories under the pseudonym ‘Avery Hart’ and is currently writing a modern inspirational that features the personal dreams of herself and a friend. Her tagline is ‘…an intense reader, writer, and lover of Christ’, and you can follow her on Pinterest at https://www.pinterest.com/insanesparkling/