That Which I Left Behind

If you come here looking for more of the novel today, nope, won’t find it.  There was some, but not a lot.  Why?

Sickness.  For the most part.

I did as I am want to do; blog in the morning and head for work, though sometimes those lines get blurred just a little.  But if you’ve been following me for the last few days you’ll know I’ve not been feeling one hundred percent, or even close to seventy or eighty.  It’s been like a low-level “blah” that had taken over, and it was messing me up something bad.  A few headaches, some dizziness, and a bit of nausea.

It was the last that really hit me yesterday morning, and I was unable to work through it as I have over the last couple of days.  So it was a quick walk to the bathroom to, um, purge, you might say, and then back to my desk.  I repeated that about ten minutes later, and once back at my desk I was about to pen an email to my manager telling him I was leaving for the day when he strolled in and I told him in person.

"I have to leave for the day; I don't feel well.  PS:  sorry about the bathroom."

“I have to leave for the day; I don’t feel well. PS: sorry about the bathroom.”

After a slow walk home I crashed and slept for about an hour, hour and a half.  I think it was more than an hour, but I’m not really certain because my head was kinda spinning a little by the time I made it through the door.

The thing is upon waking up I felt fine.  My head wasn’t spinning, my stomach had settled down, and I could actually wear my glasses without feeling like my head was spinning out of control.  In short, I seemed much better, and told my friends this amazing fact.  With this I changed my clothing and went out to pick up a few groceries, then decided much later to do an early dinner, with my computer, and get in some writing.

See?  Pretty much better.

See? Much better because I’m doing what I always do.

The writing wasn’t there, however.  I knew what I wanted to write, but I couldn’t get my head around it.  I’d written twelve hundred words the night before, and a lot of times when I do that I can’t find the focus to do the wording.  I manged just a little over four hundred, but when I realized more wasn’t coming without some teeth pulling, I shut it down, just as William Gibson suggested.

I realize today that I will be incredibly busy over the next week.  I have a novel for my book club to finish, a letter or two to write, and a few other things planed.  Next Friday I do my shot in the morning because I have labs in the afternoon, and the next shot after that I’m going to do a little video for.  I’m also planing on doing another video reading, probably within the next couple of weeks.

And the novel; don’t forget the novel.

This is all going somewhere.  I just wish I knew where.


Abomination Time, The Fight

This is what it’s come to, and you knew it was coming.  If they’re moving and contact, and the last thing you remember is someone getting dragged off by Octo-boy, then there’s gonna be a fight.  And here it is–

It’s not a good place for Kerry right now, and things are about to dive right down the toilet for the poor kid.  How bad is it going to get?

"My money's on the not-human."

“My money’s on the non-human.”

Your money’s no good here, Hastur.

Let’s look in and see for ourselves.


(All excerpts, this page, from The Foundation Chronicles, Book One: A For Advanced, copyright 2013, 2014, by Cassidy Frazee)

Kerry was frozen, held in place by surprise and terror. This was on of the creatures that made it through the screen breach: some octopus-like monstrosity that seemed to scurry along or spider or crab legs. He sat there on his PAV, Emma’s broom in his right hand, and listened to her scream as the creature kept her pinned against the wall of The Diamond—

It’s going to kill her.

Another voice in Kerry head responded. What are you going to do about that?

Do? I can’t do anything.

Yes, you can. You have the call sign of a hero, a woman who wasn’t afraid of anything, who would do anything to help her friends. You are a witch and a sorceress; you can do anything. Are you going to let your wingmate get eaten?


Are you going to let her die?


Keep your wits about you

Kerry mumbled between clenched teeth. “—When everything is going to hell around you.” He raised the broom in his right hand and charged his broom forward, screaming as loud as possible.


When all else fails and you don’t know what to do, attack.  Scream.  Go at . . . things.  Even if you’re not sure you’re doing the right thing.  Because sometimes you score–


The sixth or seventh blow failed to attract the creature’s attention, and Kerry knew he had to do something fast or Emma was gone. He he couldn’t use an Air Hammer foci to chop at this thing—but there was nothing that said he couldn’t use the spell for stabbing. Kerry pulled back a couple of meters and fashioned the spell around the forward tip of Emma’s broom. He didn’t know how many shots he’d get with this, or even if it was going to be effective, but he had no choice: Emma’s screams were fading, and for all he knew she was already dying . . .

Kerry sailed into the creature again, this time using the Air Hammer foci for Emma’s broom to harpoon the monster. A blueish-green liquid jetted out of the puncture wound, splashing all over his jacket and gloves. He pulled it out with difficulty; this creature may look like an ambulatory octopus, but it wasn’t an invertebrate, making it far harder to damage—

He finally managed to get its attention, though—and piss it off at the same time.


And sometimes you piss off the wrong thing.  Not like that wasn’t going to happen, though, right?


The creature spun around and knocked the broom from Kerry’s hands. Three tentacles reach for him, but he was quick enough to back away some six or seven meters before they could latch on and drag him away. His breathing quickened; he fought to keep from shaking and loosing control of his senses and mind.

He had his first real look at the monster he faced.

He saw the thick spider-like legs, eight of them holding the creature off the ground. He couldn’t tell how many tentacles the thing had: there were at least six around the body, maybe eight, but there are more around the face, perhaps six, maybe more. The mouth was lip-less and wide, stretching nearly all the way across the three meter wide body. It was impossible to tell the color of the creature’s hide; everything in the low-light goggles was tinged green.

But the eyes . . . They weren’t human, or even like those of an octopus, but rather eight large saucers maybe twenty or twenty-five centimeters across, ringed around the mouth and up onto what passed for a forehead. It opened its mouth and showed a double row of pointed teeth, perfect for piercing and tearing.

It reared back and turned loose a low rumbling growl that made Kerry’s teeth vibrate. He knew what it was: ultra low frequency sound. It must be adapted to do this . . . It hurt his head and nearly made him throw up, but as Professor Lovecraft taught, he kept his wits about him. For the first time since the breach he was glad he had to ride a broom due to his damaged knee, because Kerry knew he couldn’t out maneuver this thing on foot.

He would have died the moment it turned on him.


In case you’re wondering, twenty to twenty-five centimeters is eight to ten inches, but those Foundation people:  they drill the metrics into you.  And those are big eyes–all eight of them staring back at you, sizing you up for dinner.


It moved slowly towards him, snarling, not with low frequency sounds, but as an animal would do before killing its prey. The tentacles around the mouth began writhing, and Kerry figured it was going for a quick kill: probably grab him with the larger tentacle’s, then pull him close to the mouth, have those tentacles latch on, and . . .

And he wasn’t about to make himself a late afternoon snack for some mutated Spawn of Cthulhu.

The creature leapt at him, screaming, it’s mouth wide open, the tentacles reaching—

He pulled hard to his left and dodge it, then turned to face it in time to dodge another leap. He wanted to check on Emma, but he couldn’t take his eyes off this thing, not for a moment. If he did—

Kerry couldn’t help himself, however; he had to know. He glanced to his left—

The monster charged forward.


Important lesson learned:  never take your eye off the Cthulhu creature.  Even if it’s driving you mad.  Fortunately, the kid has his wits about him . . .


Kerry threw up his hands and tossed out the biggest Air Hammer spell he could pulled together. The creature slammed into it and stopped dead in the air about two meters from the front of his broom. He didn’t damage it, but he did shield himself from the attack.

I can’t keep this up for long, though. Kerry figured someone would come soon, but he was worried that if he continued to fight this thing it would grow bored and go after Emma again—or, worse, attract the attention of identical creatures.

He couldn’t continue to wait.

He had to act.

He was frightened, breathing hard, fighting to hold himself together—

He held out his right arm and extended his middle finger at the monster intent on killing him. “Come on, bitch.” He spit at the thing. “Come ON.”

The creature hurled itself at Kerry.

There was only one thing to do . . .


He jerked upward on this control shaft as hard as possible and shot forty meters into the air. He was vaguely aware that the creature was off the ground and coming for him. He turned hard to his left and sailed over the roof of The Diamond, accelerating as he turned towards the north and The Pentagram. He cast a quick glance behind: the creature was there, maybe eight meters behind. It kept pace with him as he picked up speed and rocketed over the Flight School and Selena’s Meadow.

He was running; the only thing left to do was get on the comm and tell someone. “Nightwitch, this is Starbuck.” He looked out over the school before him, trying to put the things intent on devouring him out of his mind. “I’ve got something chasing me, and I need help. I need it now. Someone, HELP.”


There you go.  Emma left in an unknown state, and Kerry zooming through the darkening sky with Octo-squid monster after him.  And that’s where I’m going to leave her, because the next scene takes us back into the Great Hall–

Because I don't like leaving people helping people out of the action.

Because I don’t like leaving people helping people out of the action.

–Which is going to move the action forward just a little more.  Chapter Twenty-two is almost finished.

And it’s going out with something of a bang.

Abomination Time, Contact

A strange last twenty-four hours, mostly because I didn’t know I was going to make it to this point today.  Because yesterday, at work, I nearly passed out.

I’m breaking in these new glasses, which are not only bifocals–yes, I need those–but are larger lenses as well as high definition.  Which means everything is so bright and clear.  I also received a new computer monitor, which is also bigger and HD and bright and clear . . . and I was sitting way too close to it because my other glasses were kind of the suck.

The upshot of all this is I was getting some wicked vertigo while coming down with something at the same time.  I realized I was getting sick when I made it home and relaxed with my glasses off and my eyes closed for a bit, and felt the illness coming on.  That was when I slipped into my warm red flannel pajamas and slipped into my comfy Fuug boots (fake Uugs, if you’re wondering), and drank tea to get the warm fluids into my body.

If I'd had the blue cozy I'd probably been sitting at my computer in it as well.

If I’d had the blue cozy I’d probably been sitting at my computer in it as well.

Did I mention sitting at my computer?  Where else would I be?  I wrote nine hundred words towards that character I told you about on Sunday, and then . . . well, I have a novel I’m slowly building too, yeah?

The last time we saw my kids they were ripping along the south end of the school when they got word the comms were back on line.  Ergo, it only makes sense to let someone know they’re alive . . .


 (All excerpts, this page, from The Foundation Chronicles, Book One: A For Advanced, copyright 2013, 2014, by Cassidy Frazee)

Though he wasn’t suppose to respond, Kerry felt he had no choice but to let the professor know Emma and he were still alive. “Nightwitch, this is Starbuck. Selene and I are still out here; we’re trying to get to safety. Please respond—over.”

Vicky was on the comm immediately. “Starbuck, Selene, where the hell are you? Over.”

Emma took this one. “Nightwitch, we’re on Gloucester Bend going flat-out towards The Diamond. We want to get underground. Over.”

There wasn’t any time wasted making a decision. “Okay, stay on the Green Line and head for The Diamond. Pop over Chicane and proceed to Exit Two. Everything’s sealed, but I’ll contact Fortress and see about getting them to drop it long enough to let you in. Acknowledge—over.”

Since that had been their plan all along, Kerry didn’t wait for Emma to give her okay. “Got it, Nightwitch. Over.”

“Copy on that. We don’t have the detection grid up yet, so radio in when you’re at the exit. Over.”

“Copy, Nightwitch. Over and out.”

Emma quickly looked back at her wingmate. “See?”

“Yeah, I see.” Kerry didn’t try hiding his smile. “Good call.”

“I told you.” They finally straightened out on their finally approach to Chicane. “They lost the detection gird, too?”

“Sounds like it.” Kerry slowed as Emma did, sliding into the sweeping left/right meant to slow racers before heading for the Start/Finish Line. “Don’t go too high—”


Yeah, don’t go too high because you never know who might shoot at you or see you.  But they get there okay–no one blasts them–and they make their way to the place they’re suppose to go . . .


Emma dropped to the ground and leapt off her broom some fifteen meters from the exit, allowing it to drop to the ground. She gave the status report as she ran for Exit Two. “Nightwitch, this is Selene. We’re at the exit. Over.”

Kerry settled slowly to the ground as Vicky responded. “Roger, Selene. Fortress is sending someone for pickup. Hold tight; they should be there momentarily. Over and out.”

Emma was standing next to the exit. It was not only physically sealed, but was covered with a screen that shimmered with a dark red. “Roger. Over and out.” She waved at Kerry. “Come on; hurry up. They’ll be here soon.”

Kerry dropped his broom as low to the ground as possible without scraping his bad knee and retried Emma’s broom. “Why you dropping your equipment like that?”

“Oh, please.” She stood with her weight planted on her right leg. “It’s not like—”

Something large dropped from above the exit, wrapped Emma up in two long, thick tentacles, and dragged her screaming form along the ground for nearly twelve meters before picking her up and slamming her against the side of the building.


. . . and everything goes straight to hell.  ‘Cause when something wraps their tentacles around you, it’s never a good thing.  Then again, this is Lovecraft Country–maybe this thing just wants to say “Hi.”

"Hey, tell her 'hi' for me, too!"

“Tell her ‘hi’ for me, too!”

Anyway, you wanted the Abomination–you got it.  I’ve got a thousand words even on the scene, and if I get into a good writing grove tonight, I’ll probably get closer to two thousand.

After all, Kerry just can’t stand by and watch Emma die–

Can he?

"And he watched the creature bite her head off, after which he just boogied on out of there."  Well, that would certainly be easier to write . . .

“And he watched the creature bite her head off, after which he just boogied the hell on out of there.” Well, that would certainly be easier to write . . .

Abomination Time, Moving

We’ve come to that point in the story where people may die.  Well, they already had, but this is getting more personal now, isn’t it?

But I didn’t have time for writing yesterday.  Not really.  I went over a few things about this character I’m creating–for one, her name is Lauren Rafferty, her month is Cecilia Rafferty, aka “Cici”, and her father was Jacob Rafferty.  Also, since I was on the road a lot–I was actually twelve hours away from home–I was pretty knackered by the time I rolled back though the door a little after six PM.  But I had fun:

Pumpkin Spice Latte from Starbucks and kinda Ugg boots.  Total Basic White Girl stuff going on here.

Pumpkin Spice Latte from Starbucks and kinda Ugg boots. Total Basic White Girl stuff going on here.

And I brought home some new friends . . .

All hail my new ponies!

All hail my new ponies!

As I said yesterday I’d written a few things, almost five hundred words, Saturday, and since I didn’t get to it last night, I’ll have to get to it tonight.  But since I already have something, it would be poor of me not to share it with you.  So let’s go!


(All excerpts, this page, from The Foundation Chronicles, Book One: A For Advanced, copyright 2013, 2014, by Cassidy Frazee)

18:26 to 18:30

Kerry followed Emma along the wall gap, flying south at a good rate. He fell in behind her because his knee was killing him and it made it difficult to things clearly, and with Emma relatively undamaged and clear of thought, having her pick their way at high speed along the Cove Path wall towards the Reservoir curve was a far better thing—

He was about doing this right, not letting his ego get in the way of who was best for this kind of flight. Emma was the best right now, that’s all there was: let her lead.

As for the rest . . .

Once Kerry had admitted that her plan made sense, it was difficult to convince her that they were better off staying and not moving. It was a bad thing to say it aloud, for once that was past his lips there was no taking it back. And there was no chance of Emma saying no. Not now.

The only thing to do was saddle up and make their way towards the wall.

Kerry had to admit that Emma’s plan was good. Using the night vision ability in their goggles they were able to take their time inching through the forest. Finding southwest wasn’t hard with the HUDs working, and they made their to the Cove Path in about five minutes. Then it was another few minutes of creeping through the forest before they reached the wall gap.

After that Emma led them south, reading the wall to know when it was safe to jump onto the Green Line, hop back over Cove Path—keeping close to the trees—and then winding up the speed on Gloucester Bend. Kerry kept his eyes tied to her back, because his mind was bouncing a little. He was trying to push the pain in his knee away, as well as reminding himself that leaving it wasn’t that bad an idea to leave their hidey-hole. Mostly, though, he kept remembering something he promised Annie, and he felt he’d broken some kind of bond by flying through the dark with Emma right now.

“It’s right here.” Emma pointed to her left and popped up and over the trees. Kerry followed and couple of seconds later found himself on the apex of Reservoir curve. He kept turning to the left, following Emma as she popped over Cove Path again, then dropped in behind her as they accelerated through Gloucester Bend and the southern most section of the Green Line.

He was just passing two hundred kilometers an hour when Kerry once again felt like someone was sitting directly behind him. He was about to say something when he heard Professor Soloman’s voice. “Attention all fliers. This is Nightwitch. Communications have been restored. Report to your rendezvous points if you are not already there. Do not respond to this transmission. Over and out.”


There you are:  Salem is back on the air.  And a couple of kids are racing like mad, in the dark, to get to safety.  What happens next?

I’ll write that tonight.

You better, girl, or the abomination is coming for you!

You better, girl, or the abomination is coming for you!

Back to the Character Boards

Before getting to all the Abomination nastiness–of which I wrote close to five hundred words last night, but it was the boring setup so no need to worry–I realized that I’m doing a quick post because today is one of those days where I’m out doing stuff again–you know, things . . .   And really, I am.  Oh, the things and stuff I’m doing . . .

But that’s beside the point.  Here’s the point of this post . . .

'Yes, Cassidy, enthrall us with you wisdom of stuff and things . . .

“Yes, Cassidy, enthrall us with you wisdom of stuff and things . . .”

I have a couple of ongoing projects this coming week.  I have to finish a book I’m reading, and . . . I have a make a character.

Let me explain that last.

I’m back to writing with someone.  It’s a strange sort of experimental thing, because we’re going to speak epistolary story.  If you don’t know what that means, our characters are telling a story through letters.  Which we are really doing, because we’re sending the story to each other in letter form, but ass our characters.

You fallow?

Like I said, a strange and interesting, and perhaps wonderful thing.  And considering I haven’t done anything hand-written in a long time, I’ll probably have to send along a decipher key so my friend will be able to understand my chicken scratch.

The thing I’ve started this week is developing the character.  There was a time when I used to knock this out in no time back in the old days, but today I know a little bit more about creating characters that are real, who have real body and interest and desires.

How I usually do that is by walking around my apartment and talking to myself.  Seriously.  That’s usually how I create all my characters.  I get an idea, and then I start talking.  Yeah, I know:  I sound like the eponymous character from last night’s Doctor Who episode, but that’s pretty much how I do it.

Or I do it while I’m driving.  I’m blogged before how I’ve worked out scenes for my stories–particularly this story I’m working on–where I’ll just “speak out” the character’s dialog while I’m zipping down the road at 80 mile an hour.  I’ve worked out many a scene that way, and there’s a good chance that I’ll do that today.

See, I already know what this character is like; I already have some ground rules for her, and I have an image in my head for how she looks.  That’s always important, because I need to see them and feel them before I can write them.  When that doesn’t happen, it shows.

I don’t want it to show here, because this has the ability of being something great.  I hope.

It’s always a writer’s hope that when they start off on something, it’s going to be good, and there is always the outlying possibility that it’s going to be great.  I would settle for good, but what I really want is magical, because that comes oh, so rarely with every and anything.

And magical is, really, what I love.

Awake Time, Emma Makes Her Case

It’s been a busy morning for me, and here it is, just a little after eight AM, and I’m now getting around to writing my blog post.  That’s because I finished up the Awake scene, writing about six hundred and fifty words last night, and then finishing up with five hundred and thirty this morning.  I really wanted to get it out of the way, and considering I wrote nineteen hundred words in three days, it shows.

I think it’s due to coming up on the last three scenes in the chapter, when things sort of get crazy for everyone.  Not to mention, the next chapter is really important for my kids, and there’s one scene, Dreams on the Ward, that I’ve been waiting to write for a long time.

I see you hiding there.  Won't be long before I make you give up your secrets.

I see you hiding there. Won’t be long before I make you give up your secrets.

The last time we were here Emma was feeling a little uncomfortable with their hiding arrangements.  How are they doing now, you ask?


(All excerpts, this page, from The Foundation Chronicles, Book One: A For Advanced, copyright 2013, 2014, by Cassidy Frazee)

He really didn’t want to discuss the matter. “Emma, we’re fine. As long as we stay here, we’ll be okay.”

“Someone could find us.”

“No, they can’t.” As painful as it was to move his leg, Kerry rolled on his right side so it was possible to more or less face his wingmate. “There’s fifteen square kilometers of land inside the school walls; that’s about nine and a half square miles.” He shook his head. “No one’s going to find us if we don’t want to be found.”

The produced a silence that lasted all of twelve seconds. “It’s gonna get cold, though.”

Kerry chuckled, trying to keep the mood light. “We’ve been flying in cold conditions all day. It was this cold when we took off this morning, and the wind chill made it colder.” He tugged on the wool collar of his flight jacket. “These’ll keep us warm until we’re told what to do.”

“But what . . .” Emma looked worried. “What if they don’t?”

“Why would that happen?”

“What if there’s no one—” She started at the ground near her knees. “What if something happened?”


“What if there’s—”

“Emma.” It wasn’t as if Kerry hadn’t thought about this possibility, but there were too many things happening that made it seem impractical. “Have you heard anything bad happening?”

“No, but—” She appeared a bit sheepish. “We were asleep.”

“Are you hearing anything now?” Kerry slowly looked around their hiding spot. “It’s quite. If there was a war going on out there, we’d know.”

“Would we?” Emma chuckled just a little. “We didn’t hear those drain things go off.”

Kerry didn’t meet Emma’s gaze as he tried to come up with an answer, but couldn’t. She has a point; they didn’t make any sound. And if they didn’t— “I would think—”

“And we didn’t hear anything when those things were slamming into the defense screen.” Emma leaned closer to Kerry and spoke in a loud whisper. “We don’t know what sort of magic they’d use to break into The Pentagram. For all we know—”

He shook his head. “No, that hasn’t happen.”

“You don’t know.”

Yes, I do.” Kerry wanted to believe that The Pentagram was safe, that no one was attacking, or had attacked, it, and that it was still standing. It has to be okay, ‘cause . . . “It’s there. I know it is.”


Don’t go talkin’ about The Pentagram blowing up, Emma; you’re gonna get Kerry all upset.  And you don’t want to see him when he gets upset.  It’s telling, though, that bringing up mention that a certain someone may be in danger doesn’t set well with Kerry.  One would almost think . . . nah.  Not going there–

But that gets Kerry thinking . . .


Emma was way ahead of him, however. “Now that there are bad guys on the grounds.” She chucked. “If they’re locked down, why aren’t we?”

Kerry didn’t have a good answers for this question, either. The simply answer was to stay put, but Emma was quickly changing her mind about that. She wants to go and she wants to do it soon. He knew she was worried about being in the open, maybe even a little scared, but moving now wasn’t a good idea—Not to mention I can’t walk.

There was something else, too: a promise he’d made before leaving the Dining Hall. If you’re paired with Emma, don’t let her talk you into anything. He didn’t want to break that promise, not if he knew he was right. “I can’t move around well.” He slid his hand down his left leg. “You know?”


Yeah, don’t listen to that crazy ginger girl, the one that already tore up the knee you’re having trouble with again.

Unfortunately, she has a captive audience, which gives her the opportunity to chat on:


“But we have the brooms enchanted now; we don’t need to walk.” She moved closer to Kerry, under her head was next to his. “I have an idea; would you like to hear it?”

Everything was telling him, No, I don’t, but Kerry knew it would be rude not to give Emma a listen. “Sure.”

“Okay, okay. I’m thinking we could make our way over to The Diamond.”

“Whoa.” The Diamond was the huge indoor racing complex located away from everything in the southeast corner of the school grounds. Kerry had flown over it several times, and with racing season under way, he’d been there on a couple of occasions to watch the PAV oval racing. The Flight Class had been there at the beginning of October, touring the facility so they could familiarize themselves with the layout before they started flying there later in the year in order to learn the basics of racing. “That’s like a kilometer from here.”

“Yeah, but here’s what I’m thinking. You know how there’s a gap between the wall and the tree line?”

“Yeah.” Kerry had seen that line plenty of times flying around the school.

“Right. So . . . we can make our way over to the wall, and then fly south until we hook up with Reservoir—

“I see.” Reservoir was one of the main turns on the Green Line. It came out of the central woods, flew over the Cove Path, then turned close to the wall and hopped up over Cove Path again as the course turned east along the south wall. “Then once we’re over the path—”

“We’re on Gloucester Bend, and we open it up all the way to Chicane.” Emma face lit up for the first time since they’d fallen out of the sky. “It might take us like ten minutes to get there.” She pointed at Kerry’s PAV. “And since you got the brooms working for us again, we can make it.”


Kerry should look up the expression, “Hoist with his own Petard,” because he just did that.  Sure, totally not the same as being blown up, but you can bet this isn’t gonna go well for Kerry.

Then again, who is gonna get hoisted in the next scene?

Awake Time, Rise and Shine

Now we’re getting down to the end of the wire.  We’re out of the Great Hall and back onto the school grounds once again.  We’re back with Kerry and Emma, Team Myfanwy, and we’re about a half hour after sunset.  Of course, the whole “darkest before the dawn” stuff doesn’t work here, because dawn’s a long ways off, and chances are good they wouldn’t make it out in the open until then.

Maybe.  Who knows?  Do I?  Yeah, but I’m not telling.


Let’s get this party started . . .


(All excerpts, this page, from The Foundation Chronicles, Book One: A For Advanced, copyright 2013, 2014, by Cassidy Frazee)

18:04 to 18:20

Kerry awoke to a dark forest and silence. He didn’t see much beyond the trees around him, which made the darkness a bit claustrophobic.

He lay upon his back breathing slowly, trying to remember falling asleep. He charged the enchantments in both PAVs, then became a bit dizzy, laid down—and now he was here, having no idea how much time had passed since then. He figured the person who would know best would be Emma—who was strangely silent as well.

“Hey, Emma.” He kept his voice low as he turned his head to the right. “Do—?”

Emma was sound asleep next to him. She was curled up on her left side, facing him, and her head was resting upon his outstretched arm—which he was just noticing was numb beyond the elbow. Kerry noticed she’d removed her goggles before laying down, which he took to mean that she’d probably decided to join him right after he’d passed out.

He tried slowly pulling his arm from under Emma’s head; that’s when he realized that she’d folded her hands under his arms before deciding to use it as a pillow. Since extracting himself quietly was out of the question, that left only one option . . .

“Hey, Emma.” Kerry shook her gently. “Emma. Wake up.”


Just want you want to discover:  your wingmate using your arm as a pillow.  Kerry finds out there’s no mystery as to why she conked out–


After a couple of shakes Emma’s eyes opened slowly. She looked around without moving her head, then realizing Kerry had shaken her awake, she slowly raised it from his arm. “Oh, hey—” She sat up and stretched. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.” He flexed his arm a few times to get the circulation flowing before sitting up. “Did I just pass out?”

“Yeah. The moment you laid down, you were out.” She looked past him into the gloom for a second or two. “I laid down maybe two or three minutes later. I was feeling so tired—”

“Adrenaline crash.”

“What do you mean?”

Kerry looked for his goggles and realized they were still on his helmet. He took them off and wiped them. “We were high on adrenaline after nearly—well, not dying. Heart rate jacked up, breathing hard—we didn’t notice it.” He slipped the goggles back over his helmet. “After getting here and resting a little, it all stops and you crash.” He slowly brought his gloved hands together. “Boom. You just sort of pass out after that.”

“Yeah, that’s how it felt.” She nodded towards here broom. “Plus you also charged these up.”

“That I did.” He brought up the HUD of his broom and nodded. “Thirty-eight percent.”

Emma checked hers. “I’m up to forty.”

“That means we can fly just about anywhere now if we have to.” He shut his down and leaned back on his elbows, trying not to move least he twist his knee. “Now to just wait for the comms to come up again.”


Being out on their own as they are–in the dark in a lot more more than one way–they have no idea what’s going on around them, and that people are working to get everything back to normal.

And being out on his own, Kerry has to deal with the fact that he’s not alone . . .


“Yeah.” Kerry didn’t want to lay down because he was afraid he’d fall sleep again, and he didn’t want to leave Emma awake alone. On the other hand, there wasn’t much to do right now save to sit and wait. And sit is all I can do at the moment . . .

However, Kerry was worried Emma wasn’t going to be content with sitting and waiting. Since they’d awoke he’d watched her the best he could in the darkness. He saw the slight shifts in her body, the way she looked about, how she stared up into the sky when she radioed for help, hoping that someone would answer. He was aware that even though they were well hidden, Emma was worried about being out in the open.

He hoped she wasn’t going to mention their situation—

Emma soft sighed. “Kerry, I don’t know that we should stay here.”


Maybe he shouldn’t have charged up the brooms and told Emme they could fly now.

Another seven hundred and almost fifty words into the scene, and I do believe I’ll finished up tonight, because I don’t imagine it’s going to be a long one.  Then we get into the nasty stuff, huh?

I mean, how bad can it get when your next scene is titled Abomination?

I mean, how bad can it get when your next scene is titled Abomination?

Maybe if I’m really lucky I can almost finish this chapter by the end of the weekend–