Cold Opening practice 012221/ BERRY

Berry had been walking this same road for weeks. The well used road has no travelers on it. An oxymoron if Berry had ever thought. Cresting a steep hill Berry can see what looks like a dark cloud over a a dip in the topogrofy. It takes a second to match it with the idea of smog; if there is smog then there must be people. Berry picks up his pace. His rations are gone and a hot meal would be a lovely change.

Finley a city of brightly colored buildings appear in the distance. The idea he will be around others like himself brings a calming. He breathes heavily in relief.

Excuse me sir?

The sound stops him in his tracks. Berry look around and sees no one. He wonders if he had imagined it or if it was the wind playing tricks on him. Maybe it the lack of food since he had to ration his rations.

“Down here Sir.”

To hear that same voice came from so close a distance, but he only sees a bush that reminds him of poison oak back home. And the time his cousins talked him into jumping in it. The weeks of agonizing pain, the bloody skin that turned into scars.

Berry cant stop himself from jumping back.

The voice says with sprink of concern “Sir?”

Berry mind goes back to wondering why is a bush talking to him. 

That would never have happened in his home town, but now that he is here. Well anything must go. Even talking bushes. 

This could only mean one thing. and it’s about damn time. He has been waiting to try out his sword skills. Then the unthinkable pops into his thoughts… what if this is God come to fuck his shit up. Not that cant be… this is a new place.

With trepidation berry asks; 

“Do you have a quest for me?”

The bush responds with a serten amount of slyness.

“A quest…. yes of course i do.”

“Well then lay it on me.”

“Lay what apon you?”

“The Quest… what is it then.”

“Oh, I need you to take me to the lowest level in the tower of Baphamite.”

“Okay, sounds simple enough.”

“Simple you say.”

“Yes, where is that tower at?”

“At the top of the GorGon mountain you shall find an enterence to a Dungeon. There is where our journey shall begin.”

“Just out of curiosity… Why does a bush need to ascend a mountain and into a dungeon; wont your roots die or something like that?”

With a snapping of her lips.

“I’m not a damn bush you imbecile.”

Branches move like arms and Illusion magic is reviled to be a girl of about 10.

Berry cant help but thinks that it made more sense when she was a bush.

“Ah!” He scratches his short b town hair. “Why do you need to go up there?”

“Because it is my destiny… and all those who follow and survive shall inherit great wealth and Demi god like power. What say you.”

“Hell yes little lady… but did you ask your parents first?”

“You surely jest… i am a thousand years old. My family has fueled forests ten times over.”

“You sound kinda bitter.”

“I offer you a quest of a lifetime, and you mock me.”

“Who me? Not at all. I shall accompany you till death door allows us entery.“

It Sounded way cooler in his head then out loud.

“Well said, then let us be off.”


Wondering while i prep my gf lunch for tomorrow; how much backstory is needed to start a story?

If you rad the back cover of the book then it shouldnt take much, right?

I mean a boy takes on adventures to become rich, famous, and powerful. What else is their to know at the begging.

If you (the writer) cant get people (readers) to engage; then isnt it failure; not the readers?

Like, in rpg’s… its set in the same time period, same magic systems, same type of heroes.

The only difference is your (writer) observations, your way of thinking, your belief system… the first is the easy one. You can only see what you see. The other two cant be described in a paragraph,

Is this a rant or lucid-whining… not sure. I’m using Ruffles cheddar & Sour cream as a fuel source for my brain.

Ill have to give the simple opener a go tomorrow’s practice session.

Grant… practice scene starter

The sun fell hours ago. Twilight is firmly in place and VeGo the yellow moon rises to shower the land with its pungent light. For some reason the yellow son has always given him trouble. Mostly in his sight. It interferes with his night vision. Another handy race trait for the elves. As if being stronger and faster, with copious amounts of magic weren’t enough insults for the humans. They have the worst eyesight on any bipedal race. Grant throws pebbles every has picked rom the ground. He likes the sounds they make as they clack against the caves wall. His but gains the cool nights air moisture while being lost in thought over his predicament. He would sigh if he thought it would do any good. He doesn’t want to admit it but he is going to need help to scout this cave’s tunnel system. It might be a back entrance to the near by dungeon or a whole separate dungeon that has gone undiscovered. And that means lots of easy levels and copious amounts of (which he has desired to rename them) Energon Crystals. Grant hates the idea of it but he doesn’t have a chose, he will have to recruit party members. Its a drag every time he has to do it. Never once has it gone right of ended well. Metal coin and ring alike drive humans to their worst. But they are relatively harmless and they can be very useful in distracting the enemy so that he can get better shots. His fingers sweep across the divot filled floor. He’s Searching for stoney protrusions. But he has picked the area clean. He tilts to side side til he falls onto his back pack. This is his makeshift bedding. it sucks with this chill in the air, but he cant risk being caught. He must be ready to go in an instant if there are late night intruders. Static fills his brain as he falls asleep.

Sorry its a run-on, but its just a taste.

Jack and Jill

Went up a hill to fetch a pale rider. The man wore a black flag of a unknown guild. He who sat firm upon his Goddess given and blessed War-mount made of Kingbor. Jack bows, “If you promise to no do us harm you may come down and join us for meal?” The stone faced man bluntly says, “No”.

Jack’s sweaty hand holds Jill tighter. The man is of the barbarians, so known for their animal skin clothing and pig-iron axes, with beards, said to match like their women, or so it is said. Jack lifts his head and proclaims confidently. “For such a promise … we can offer you food, drink, and a bed to rest your weary body upon. the man scratches his fat belly. He lets out a chuckle that is akin to a sour grunt. Jack assumes that this contains the answer. “No”.

I know

Ive been ducking my social media responsibility as of late. I have had problems with health, not to worry; death is not knocking at my door. I am now unemployed, and free to pursue my writing. This will still be my Practice space. Always feel free to comment, like, and or share.

011921: up at 4 in the morning.

Feet are hurting. Forced down a bowl of Frosted Flakes; I haven’t had them since i was little. Milk is always the best part of cereal, well as far as i am concerned. I wonder if there is a milk flavoring agent that reproduces the taste of popular breakfast cereals?

Using Donmachi as a starter. I love the name they use for it in the anime… “Is it wrong to try to pick up girls in a dungeon”.

I’m blanking on a scene to write. Maybe i should go back to bed…

I typing this to start my fingers moving, hoping that they will start on their own. I know that is as likely as my being transported to this new world that has a firm grasp on my imagination these days….

… i think I’ve got something …

Conscious Creative Stream


PRACTICE #51720 / 

No editing allowed…



Scene: Metro City’s financial block.


James, Jim, Jimmy: 40 plus glasses, brown hair with a come over; think lonely science teacher. Jimmy is wearing a Tan colored suit. A white shirt contrast his slim black zip up tie. He looks like he just got out of aq job managing a Dairy Queen, al be it as a manager. Hunched over, Frail, desperate. 

[shit Ironman] keep going…

Juan: tall good posture (contest Jimmy). Juan is wearing s black tailored suit (it’s a greenblack), Red shirt and Yellow tie.



Well my gf yelled out WereWolf.

Werewolves and Vampire are the easy way out; Monsters are…?

Revenge on a Full Moon?

Person in a wheelchair; plus a sucker?

Revenge + sucker?

They are a sucker for believing in revenge.

Revenge + wheelchair?

Payback for a wheelchair. Being put in one. Putting some one in one. Taking one away. Not being helpful….

Not helping out with a wheelchair. Punish those with the means to help but chose not too.

Revenge + full moon? I dont know, this is a problem. I need to make this Its a physical and emotional link. 

But i dont know.

Not at this moment.

Let’s think about the moon.

Old black and white films.

Amore = itaian spelling of love

Amour = French spelling of love

Amor = Spanish spwelling of love.


Theatrical motivation?

Dancing with a Davil in the light of a full moon. 

Batman slash joker.



Two persons.

Poor and rich.

Have and have not.

Scene: street corner at night under a full moon.

This reminds me of an exercise i did in high school drama class.

A poor beggar, now an old friend trying to reconnect with a connection to money.


Gf trying to cover herself up on the floor at me feet.

Poor to prove a point that just because you have dosent mean it cant be taken away.

Or that the weak can easily take back the power when ever they want.

It really easy to take. Is it hard to give back?

The poor have to share because there is a finite amount of access to the things that could make there lives easier.

Decision of the value of Owning things vs The lack of owning thing.

What right do you have to – keep versus take.

Its mine. How childish.

When one cant move, they defend it with all the vigor they can muster, it that breaks down and they revert to baser communication.

Revenge + revenge? Revenge for revenge sake.


After i slept, easily the next morning i sat down to 5 pieces of bacon and a Celsius HEAT, the Cherry Lime; I friend that it is the only one that works for me. And now I’m going to Just start writing.

///Came up with the idea of him having a hard time in life.

Maybe the current economic situation is making his business fail.

All the people that depend on him will soon be on the street if he cant find a way to fix the cash flow problem.///

/// i imagine Jimmy on the street walking down a grim or gloomy business area.

He sees a familiar face (aka old high school dully).

This chance meeting sends the Bullied Co/ into disbelief when his high school bully could brush him off so easily. This moment he is mentally transported back to a place of feeling utterly weak and helpless. He shouldnt have to feel like this, no one should. But yet he stands a monster from the past would couldnt find the time of day to be polite. (this sets Jimmy on to a path of revenge).

/// i go back to the image of Jimmy walking alone and sinking into himself, as if the last of his hopes have just been dashed…///

/// i see his stop and gander at a man of prastege and influence, the guy is waiting for the vallete to fetch his no drought expensive car.///

/// James had come from the fith Bank to denigh him a loan to save a business.

Soon his whole life will be nothing but a forgettable moment in a history no one would remember. 

Wife left him for his female Rachet Ball Couch. He now has to pay for them to live in an apartment to get her and pay his wife an alowence, mandated by the courts.

Eldest daughter left him for a biker named Wesley the Weezzle. She likes to call his when Weezzle runs out of money for drugs.

Middle daughter moved over sea to another country in pursuit of a life that didn’t exclude him but his checkbook. With a simple text. Like “hey daddy” she expects him to send her thousands of dollars.

Youngest daughter is in need of a sex change, even tho he like girls. And expects him to pay for it. While living in his home, eating his food, playing video game online so no one can see him; yet still maintains that he has the right to yell at him for “not being fucking understanding”. About his feelings. 

And all would have continued except that the new pandemic had killed his business.

Thought break – 


/// oh shit, maybe they both have the same problem and they are in this together. They cook up a scenario that will make the company that Juan works for to pay a team million dollar ransom fee.///

/// Juan steals the whole team million dollars and leaves him High and dry. 

/// no leaving him with the Company sending goons after him to get their money back and make him pay.

/// Goons dont care about Juan, altho one of the problems is that Jimmy cant turn over Juan whom has disappeared, and with the money.

/// which has the FBI hunting for him. Plus the goons, his cheating wife. Junky daughter, missing kid over seas, home alone tranny.///

/// – how is he supposed to get out of this.

Arrested by the FBI

Beaten up by Goons.

Bikers looking for him, Weezzle now owes them a lot of money that he cant pay back. Jimmy’s daughter is forced to be a stripped at a dive club. While having sex with men to pay back the interest owed by Weezzle.

Evertime he gets a head his Wife manages to find him and telli the “bad guys where he is at”.

Thought break –


Being arrested by the FBI is the best outcome at the moment.

Oh shit, Juan is in league with Jimmys wife, Jimmy and Juan keep in contact via text, secure phone (not really, its a lie that Juan tells him, so he can track him.

Juan hated Jimmy at school because he had everything that Juan wanted, including his girlfriend.

Wife finds out and uses it to send the men looking for her high school sweetheart.

Hoping that they will kill him and she will get all of his money and then she and her two lover can escape to a country that dislikes America.

But Juan is using her as well. And Juan and Juliette (trainer) make a deal to escape with all the money and relocate to this island park dice as the two people that they are framing. Starting a new life’s free of incarceration.

The island that holds their future is called Hope. For the waters that serous day the island are as blue and sparkly and the Hope jewel itself.

Thought break – 


Juan and Barbera (wife) had a thing back in high school.

They slept around behind Jimmy’s back.

Outside Jimmy’s bedroom window a car in the back ground moves as to teenagers are having sex, but Jimmy dosent know that his nextdoor nighbor is screwing his girl.

[brain is tiered… lots of thinking]

Barbie used her beauty and sexuality to get what ever she wanted in high school.

Now that she is forty and melting; she needs this to re/establish her identity. Her sense of power. She is going to use these people till she gets what she deserves. What they all owe her, to pay for wasting her God given Potential to become ….


GF is awake and wants me to drive her to work, plus make her lunch. 


Open balcony door to let in fresh air.

Wondering what i am doing and if this story will ever even matter in the lang run…


Staring at the wall where i have posted another non-superhero Superhero Story. I keep hearing Everyone tells me that no one cal make a Superhero book sell. So why do i keep writing then. And that cant be true. Because Comics, Manga, Anime< and their Lite-Novels. I by them, they would not be in stores if others didn’t read them as well.


Back to James walking the street.

Sees Juan but dosent recognize him.

Finds himself jealous of the man’s wealth.

The man speak.

Sending James back in to being Jimmy.

That voice is…

“Juan is that you?

The tall, dark, and very handsome man speaks befor turning.

“And you would be?

Jimmy sees the look on Juan’s face as if her were nothing more then a bug that had already been smashed under foot.


Back hurts and the sun is up, but hiding behind the clouds.

Oh Wonderful Seattle weather.


I can smell my self, i know i should shower, but I’m not at a place where i can leave this yet.


Well this project went off the rails.

I blame the fact that i started to watch that old show called … shit, old lady with a hunch? No, Angila Landsberry…? Maybe, GF is staring at me like I’ve done something wrong… she has on her outside pants on… crap, she gotta go to work.

Ieeeeee, need to get dressed. Noooooooooooooooo, fuck it I’m going in my red polar bear pajamas bottoms and one of these discarded shirts off NoHer ground. 

I shall choose the one that dosent smell like i dead in it. Or the least dead, cause they all have a smell. I guess i shouldnt use them as hand towels, snot rags, nor wet wipes.

Oh, cay. Three minutes to make a lunch… oat meal with oat milk and raisins sound like a solid base. Pre-prepped salad we got from the store; extra Boiled eggs; Caprison drink, fruit punch or apple, not time to look (frozen) Seaweed snacks (stop, these are the ones sher dosent like.)

Murder she wrote …. ha universe. i win.

Winning is important to make the world turn for a writer.

So steal every once you can for the inevitable rainy day (yes its a poun because i live in Seattle.


Back in the Hot seat.


James meets Juan, the boy who bullied him in high school.


Practice #51520

Practice: Confession; Safety Deposit Box

No spellcheck or edits.

New suit… going to propose.

Needs to get something from this place he is rushing to in his expensive red car.

Tall, tattered black hair, shines like a glossy Ravens feathers.

Will walks in to a bank. 

He is escorted in to the back to where the safetyboxes.

The bank manager places his key in its slot names “staff”.

Will steps next to him and places his key in the “member” slot.

Manager says …

“One, two, three, and turn.”

They turn the keys at the same time. From behind a digital lock clicks. Setting free a box from the steel brushed wall. The box that pops free, is grabbed by the manager and set on the table in the middle of the room. 

“Let me know when you’re done.”

Its always seems to be in a different box, they must change them around for security reasons. He pulls out a second key to unlock the top of the reinforced steel box. The lid is thick and heavy, he has to forces it to slide back. Revealing a blackened leather cloth. Will lifts the mini chest size object and places it on the steel table. He uses both hands index and thumbs to unveil a plain looking chest. 

Will bleakly stares down at his inheritance. He wonders why it couldnt have been a Bugatti; instead of a Teakwood jewel box. Its creator stained it the color of Rosewood, which is way to feminate to have in his home, so keeping it here and its contents secure is the better option. 

Will flips the 14k latch to opens the lid. The top layer’s of compartments are empty. He removes it to a second layer which is also empty. The third layer and forth layer are combined in a secret compartment.

Will pushes on two wooden blocks to release the locking mechanism and slides the panel forward then pulls it up, pushes it back, then to the left. Till it titters at the edge. Will definitely thinks It strange how these two boxes have so much in common. Haven’t science progressed to the point to make these kinda things obsolete.

“Guess not.”

The inside of the jewelbox is a vibrant red silk linen that looks as if it was flowing like water. He’d never admit it to anyone but this cover catches his breath every time.

When his grandmother told him of his gift, he couldnt understand what she meant, now he wishes he had paid her words more attention.

Will moves the silk that flows like melted butter. To reveal a grey wrinkled Hand.

The fingernails were yellowed with brown spots.The cut at the wrist is jagged like it was sawed it off with a dull butter knife. Then some one had to have preserved it, because of the lack of blood; he guessed that it was wrinkled from dehydration, or some sort of embalmment. 

“Seriously, do you need to think of this nasty shit every time you come down here?”

“But there isn’t any blood. That means they…”

Will won’t say it, not that he would say it out loud; he might offend,

“ You Know Who.” 

His brain fight back the fear and says 

“She isn’t Voldemort.”

He here to do what he must, but he wonders how long it been in this box, he wasn’t the one who put it in there. 

“That is sick.”

Because the truth is; in actuality it was his mother who had placed the severed hand in here. A modified hand in the safety deposit box. So he could reap his inheritance.

Great grandmother is said to be weaRing a magical Ring. Mother told him it could only be removed from her hand and given to the girl he will Marry.

Will has rushed there every time he think he’s found the one.

Opening the jewel box and tugs. He has always failed to pull the Ring off.

He made himself a solid vow that if the Ring wouldn’t come off, well then, when he fails, He has to dump the girl and move on to the next one. Its a simple strategy.

Today is special because Will had met a girl at a house party just of campus. Sam was her name; she wasnt to smartest nor the prettiest, but she she went out of her way to make him laugh. This is something no girl had ever done before; they usually wait for him to entertain them, buy them things, fall head over heels to make their every dream come true while constantly kissing their ass’.

Today he’s sure he finds the one. The Ring, it has to come off this time.

He he tugs at it. But it doesn’t move. He picks up the leathery Hand and pulls harder.

“I know she is the one.”

The Ring dosent budge.

“Please, come on.”

For the hand of a frail old woman this Hand is quite defiant.

Will smashes it on the table in anger.

“Damn you blasted stupid piece of trash.”

The Ring glows, faintly. Will can feel the hands shape changing as it lessen in size.

The Ring comes off.

“Yes! Your mine. Finely, i can start my life. No more waiting.”

As Will places the Hand back into the Jewelry Box. The Hand crumbles to dust.

Will places the contents sloppily back into the safety box, he finds it difficult to get the container back into its slot, but keeps forcing it till he breaks a sweat. 

Joy emirates from Will as he rushes from the Cann‘s First National Bank. The Grey building mirrors the weather. It’s overcast and darkening with rain filled clouds. He feels the droplet tap his head. Then a down pore engulfs ever surface; will still smiles.

Till he remembers he left his keys inside the Bank. 


It fine ill just get a LYFT.

Pulling his phone out his pocket, the plane gold band drops to the ground; it starts rolling with the flow of water. 

Its headed towards a storm drain.

Will dives for the Ring.

His skinny finger catches it at the lip of the iron metal grate.

“Please, no!”

Carefully he maneuvers his body through the building water, till his other hand can grasp it more securely. Kneeling in the water Will picking up up the Ring and holds it close to his chest, like a newborn baby. 

His side aches, did he scape something. He looks down to she a stream of blood washing down the drain. 

“What the?”

This time the pain of what feels like a sledgehammer ignites his back.

Will tries to scream but a hand covers his mouth. He coughs blood from the knife puncturing his lung. The Hand forces the blood back down his throat, causing it to shoot out his nose. The knife is beeping moving around. The pain grows till Will is about to pass out, the knife is turned like a key, like a car his light go out.

When Will comes to. Sam is sitting at his side. Shes even holding her hand. There’s a look on her face and its not worry. 

“Maybe this is all too much for her, she’s probably freaking out.”

An overacted voice from the other side of the bed causing Will to turn his head. His eyes shut from the pain that’s shooting up his back to his neck, for a second he forgot he ha been stabbed. He scold himself.

“How does one forget that.”

“Oh dear god, your awake, thank the heavens.”

That voice it cant be… Will’s eyelids flick open to see a woman dressed in a black dress with matching lipstick. His mouth falls open. Will would have expected any one but her. With excitement will tries to sit up, but the pain shuts it down immediately.


Will thinks 

“How this is perfect.” 

Mother is here for when he purposes to Sam. He just needs the Ring and… In a panic Will such es his unexistant pocket. Will remembers the Ring.

“No, no, no.”

He stares at Mother. He knows she is going to be piss thats he lost the Ring, but he needs to tell her; Will stammers his words as he starts to tell Mother about the Ring; However she silences him with three fingers on her right hand. 

Mother shakes her head at Sam then uses her chin to point to the door. Sam stands up and lets go of Wills hand. Will instantly wants the connection back and reaches for Sams fingers; but she pulls her hand away. 

“Be a dear and watch the door.” Sam stops at the door, before she leaves. Sam confesses.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean…”

Mother make a scolding sound by clicking her teeteeth, the noise makes Sam hush. Sam places her hands in her pockets while the hospital room door shuts.

“Mother, she can stay, I’m going to marry her. She be family.”

“Oh dear…” she says it like the time his stuffed Penguin POKIE went missing.

Again Will starts to confessing about Grate Grandmothers Ring.

“It’s all okay, Sweetie.”

Mother shows him the Ring, them Will she the blood in her fingernails.

Will look at his mother and can see that she saw that he knows that it was her. 

Mother presses on the wound, while using her fingernail to scratch an X over his mouth. His lip seal together stopping any sound from coming out.

“Her magic was a waste on you. Do your mother a favor before you die? And tell me what the encantation is?, and don’t worry about lying to me, i hex you, so you will only be able to tell me the simple truth.”

Mother lets out a soft maniacal laugh in his ear. Will lungs force out air and his lips move. 


She looks at him in disbelief. Will catches the snarled and the stench from her mouth. Will chokes on the rotting vapors that spew from her pointy teeth. She snatches up a tuff of his hair and twists it.

Will’s face scrunches up in response, but the truth is that it only stings. Will gages it against the rest of his body. its nothing compare to the several stab wounds in his back. It may also be the fact that he has a Morphine Drip going.

“You stupid boy, the words that set the magic free.”

Mother moves her hand up his chest til it sits over his heart. A cold wells upend penetrates into his chest, it feels as if the fingers of Death itself were sweaRing their way in. Mother pulls up and down on Will’s chest like an accordion.

“Dont know.”

“You have to. She would have told you how to use it.”

“I really didn’t know what you’re talking about.”

Will can see the frantic look in his mothers eyes. It wasn’t like all the other times when he was growing up, when she had bothered to come to see him. Mother had always been kind to him in words and deeds. Will had stared into her eyes only once. Mother’s eyes reviled the truth. She absolutely Hated him. Will never look in to her eyes again. But he always wondered why she could hate her own blood.

The Ring is in his sight… Maybe this is it, is it this Ring. 

Then it must have been on the box. What was it?”

All this for a Ring, a stupid Ring? He wants to tell her that he would have given it to her if she had only asked, but all that comes out is.

“No clue.”

Will’s body is in a war with the cold of death and the warmth of the Morphine. cand feel cold creeping into his body, 

he know nearly nothing about this or any magic, his family tried to teach him, 

but he always that them ridiculous notions. 

It wasnt till Cousen willimina named after the same Greate GrandFather as he was did a spell; 

however she did set the horse stables on fire. 

All the bourse died. 

She cried for a month, 

till a woman came and took her memories of the day away. 

Will was forced to swear to keep it a secret. 

The fact that he was on his way to collage, 

Will has begone to study this magical stuff, but it’s like trying to learn a new language that has more squiggle lines then words in the entirerty of human’s egsistance.

Started by the first race, and every race has added there own adds. We are currently on humanities faith generation. Dose that make sense, maybe its like when you have never been exposed to the idea that any onther languages had ever existed. That makes less sense, i think.

Will has only started memorize the original three million “Marks” that he would need to know the basics.

but his death won’t be of natural causes; 

So Will dies in this hospital, 

not in the arms of the woman of his dreams, 

but the cold wet bloody ones of his mother.


Wake up you filthy pieces of trash, I’m not done with you.

The sound of a steam engine train fills his ears and he see a light off in the distance.


He realized hes dead, and he’s going to i heaven.

“Sorry for cursing.”

The white light gets brighter til it fills the entirety of his view.

The noise fads into the sound of little waves crashing on pebble.

Will tries to open his already opens eyes. 

The white light turns into a rising Sun.

“Boy didn’t any one ever tell you to not look into the sun?

“Yes ma’am.”

Will cant see where the voice is coming from.

“Who’s there?”

“You dont remember your Greate and powerfull Greate Grandmother?

“She past on before i was born”

Well I’m here now.

Are you here to escort my in to heaven?

Why would i do that?

Cause I’m dead.

Dont be ridiculous, your not dead, i needed to speak with you. 

But are you not dead?

What kind of sentence is that. Human schools are just the worsed.

I’m not dead, i live here in the after life… think of it as Florida for Witches.

Witches come from Satan, so how are you in Heaven?

Good lord, it everything you know based on some TV show or Movie. Witches come from Wicca which is also the name we use to describe our power.

We prey to the spirits of the gods to grant us control over the elements of the cosmos, or more common on Gia it is refers to as the Elements.

Lightning  and rolling thunder fill the sky and the disapated. 

We do this because the gods of old don’t come down to mess with you Mortals anymore… she winks at Will.

Your thinking about the next word before you finish this one , so th words are trying to conjugate.

Story engineering – Larry Brooks

Great stories don’t write themself.

How do we know: 

While its fun; your creating a product.

I want to be a better writer.


Can people guess how it would unfold.

Genre is in the original point of conception.


Feel the problem? Stop dulling 

They are important, 

If they fail it will harm us the reader.

We are the people.