The Realm and the Writer

I remember dreaming of the day I could join the others. Their fight was for a new revolution, an end to the thousands years of suffering we had endured up until the final days of Ozez.

The final days of the end were horrifying. The death, destruction and poisoning that lay waste to the planets population occurred within a weeks. The main land had sensed an uprising from the islands and over-reacted to a meteor shower by launching the H.A.I.L, a missile produced from the radioactive crystal deposits located under the Espus Sea. The force of the impact jump started our planets sleeping tectonics and opened a great rift between the islands and the main land. It released a noxious gas the color of fire, which melted any metallic structure and either killed or horribly mutated any person in it's path. The few of us, farthest from the drop point, who survived found refuge in the newly created gorge between the two largest islands Tean and Zosos, so affectionately called "The Protector" or Tapiel now.

Those few deformed survivors, left maimed and mentally slowed by the gas still wander blindly near the coasts of the destruction in our newly remodeled land. The changes that occurred left no familiarity to our home planet. Beaches and harbors that once provided a gate to the bounty of the seas are now the mountains and valleys of our mountainous interior lands. The islands have all shifted and split, leaving new oceans and lakes to be discovered. The one thing left untouched, strangely enough, by the destruction were or electronic communication devices. While they exist only in a rough form of wires and plastils they have given us the window to our new world. Feeding down satellite images for our eyes to gaze upon feverishly.

I wouldn't give this new world up for anything and think back shamefully at my childlike ideals. The war has brought an end to our commercialized and over economized way of life. To the residential areas and the generated foods. It has brought us back to a time of harvesting and family and to our ever changing planet.

He paced back and forth, glancing up at the moon through the rough stone opening above him. It all seemed to be unfolding like a horrible nightmare. The spell had to be cast during the night of the waxing moon or it wouldn't work and the apprentice hadn't even arrived with the child.

The child, the unknown heir to the royal throne of Topamon. The one who's blood flowed with a thousand years of pure celestial energy. The one who could give him all of the power that he had wanted for so long.

His frantic pacing was cut short by the scuffing and stumbling of his apprentice. He burst atop the stairs holding what seemed to be a bundle of dirty blankets. The wizard rushed to him and threw back the blankets in haste. A small boy, near the age of 6 cycles of the sun, lay asleep. Thin and frail, he held the demeanor of the poor herdsmen of the area.

A bolt of lightning flashed across the round opening in the ceiling. The wizard chuckled to himself and carried the child to the pedestal in the center and began reading the incantation from his leather bound book.

The storm outside raged stronger as he read, the bolts of lightning flashing nearer and with more force. The incantation was drawing to an end and the wizards eyes seemed to glow with determination. Just as he utters the last word amongst the clatter of the most brilliant bolt of lighting an owl bursts forth through the hole above and takes the brilliant blast, saving the boy from sure death.

The wizard screams out in agony as his skin begins to froth and bubble. He turns to his apprentice with a look of hatred. "You! You contaminated the spell. If you had been more careful this never would have happened," he shrinks back in agony to the corner of the room. His screams fade off into the morning light as sunshine filters in through the towers windows. Birds sing and the wind rustles in the beginning of a new era. The king has been reborn.

January is almost to an end and it dawned on me this morning that it will be the end of the beginning, in a sense. The end of starting off the year 'fresh' which gave me the thought for my StumbleUpon search for today.

How surprising to find that my first stumble using todays word takes me to a blog called How to Live Online and it's December 16th entry, 100 Ways to Keep Yourself Happy. With all our worry about New Year's resolutions, weight loss and personal achievement I think many forget one of the most important steps in reaching any goal. To be happy. I can already hear the scoffs in the audience and the 'I'm-already-happy-though's' being spouted from under a hot breath, but ask yourself one question. Are you really truthfully happy or do you just pretend to be 'okay' with the circumstances and wait around patiently for your silver lining?

The truth is many of us aren't really all that happy, I myself admit that there are time's I turn my mind off to what's bothering me just to avoid the discomfort of the situation. With a long collection of 100 ideas I'm sure even the most pessimistic person can find a reason to smile, I know I sure did.


For my last interesting stumble I've decided to share a wonderful recipe I've stumbled upon...Fresh Strawberry Pecan Cookies! Hope you enjoy and don't forget to have a happy weekend.

I must go on and on about this site but I really must say it can be, not only a source of entertainment, but a source of inspiration on days of extreme writers block. StumbleUpon is it's name and random web surfing is it's game. The pure excitement is held in the wonder of what will come next!

While I can sit for hours and merely push a button, I find it challenging to pick a random word (with help of net based word generators) and share the most interesting finds of the day.

With the help of a search engine and the phrase 'random word' I found a nice generator to give me my first word.

The word I was given was poll and on my first guided stumble I came across the most interesting political website, WhoWouldTheWorldElect.com. I find it a little controversial but interesting to see the reasoning behind the choices made.




The second site stumbled upon offered an entertain and interactive look at topics ranging from autos to travel that everyone can vote on. RockYourVote.net seems like a great place to voice and opinion and kill some time.

Clint Barner was his name and he wore it like a badge. Holding himself as a shield against humanity. On that evening, in that cold unforgiving rain he walked. Walked to shed the despair which seemed to follow him like a faithful servant. Walked to forget the hardships and the solitude which hounded him relentlessly. He walked to find the reason behind it all, the world, everything.

The icy wet air stung at his rugged face, tearing his eyes and rustling his chestnut hair. His shoulders hunched against it's whirling force, the collar upturned around his strong neck. Hands stuffed securely in his pockets barring him further from natures fury. His heavy masculine gate splashes a cold spray of water around him. Under the cloak of his heavy khaki trench coat not even the darkness of his eyes can be seen.

A passer by, a woman, huddles close to the wall away from him. An unconscious urge to avoid his masked presence enshrouds her. Her dark flowered skirt wrapping dangerously around her pale legs.

He can hear the click of her heals hurrying off into the rainy distance. The roaring of the north wind in his ears. He stops for a moment to gain his bearing and walks on. Into the dark night of the city.

“I quit!” Bernard yells. He’s the only one in the office, the only one who is ever in the office. It has seemed like eons since he last saw someone other than the morning and night secretary who bring him fresh paper and refill his cup. But today was the last straw. He had been planning his resignation for some time, right down to the finest detail. He had packed his bag the night before, being there wasn’t very much to pack it was a quick job. He set his job right as soon as the first secretary had said her ‘good-byes’ and now sat waiting for the familiar click of the heavy door lock, alerting him to the night secretaries arrival.

He’d play it all cool and keep to his work, nothing should awaken suspicion. He placed the envelope containing his resignation letter perfectly in the center of the immaculate white desk. At that moment, for the first time, he took notice of the color of everything around him. The desk was white. The walls were white. Everything other than the taupe desk chair and almond colored square ottomans that lined the walls were white. It sickened him; a man could go mad looking at white for so long. Bernard chuckled to himself at the thought.

The buzzer sounded and the heavy door latch made a grinding click. A squat little woman with a dark black bob and oriental eyes rushed in with a stack of manila folders, the kind with little flaps. Her strait black dress did nothing to accentuate her femininity and only swooped slightly as her pale short legs hurried across the white tile floors. She busied herself with replacing my paperwork and organizing the usual day’s paper mess. Bernard watched her solemnly from behind one of the large metal cabinets. It churned from inside for a moment and almost made him yelp. He had to wait for just the right moment.

Being finished with her duties the stubby woman turned quick on her heel and scurried to the door. To Bernard she resembled a fat black rat startled by a predator. He rushed from his prone position and scooped up his bag as he watched the giant white metal door slowly swing shut. He had less than two feet to go before it shut and just when he thought he’d missed it he slipped through to the dark night beyond.

The office remained large and still, the only sound came from the slight whirring of the metal cabinets in the center. It took till the next morning for the one in charge to find that Bernard had gone. It was the morning secretary that found the resignation letter. She had hurried it on to the one in charge and he had read it calming upon receipt. It said:

I, Bernard B. Cloggin, here by resign my position as time keeper.

The one in charge shook his bearded white head and cleared his throat, “Murial, would you please reset the sands again. This is the third time keeper in over 4 millennia and I’m getting rather tired of starting over.”

“But sir,” the secretary shifted uncomfortably in front of the desk, “wouldn’t it be easier to just create another mass extinction?”

The one in charge peered over his spectacles, “My dear, it has taken me far to long to get that place going and I will not have some silly sands destroy millions of years of evolution. Besides, a little jolt in time while do them good.”


Meanwhile, all across the globe, every individual is experiencing a simultaneous déjà as time is, once again, restored. No thanks to Bernard.

I owe a lot to my new found friends and the inspiration they have given me to open new and exciting doors in my life. With this first post I would like to thank them for their support and positive influences! Thank you girls.