This Must Be the Ice Place

Hey, does this place look familiar?



And this?



If you answered in the affirmative, then welcome back my friends to the show that never ends!  It’s 5:30 AM and I’ve been up since fifteen after Midnight and on the road since one.  Yes, I’m heading home once more, stopping to blog at the same place I stopped at back in March.  And at this time in the morning, everything is pretty much the same–

Well, not everything . . .

Well, not everything . . .

I’m heading back home for a week in Red State Indiana, location of The Real Home, and where I’ll be helping my daughter celebrate her birthday.  That means I’ll end up driving her and a friend to Outback Steakhouse, where she’ll likely gorge herself on a nice hunk of well-cooked meat, which is something she really enjoys.

Who am I to say no?

Right now I’m running on two hours of sleep and Panera coffee, and while there were a couple of scary moments right before I hit the Ohio state line–like I thought for a moment I might actually hit the line, if you know what I mean–the sun is coming up, and my trusty CR-V is waiting for me to return so I can fill her up with gas and get back to driving westward at as high a speed as I can manage.  And I can manage some high speeds–

But last night wasn’t just about lack of sleep:  I also wrote!  I told you I would, and by the time I said, “I’m done,” I managed to get another magical sequence out of the way and put nine hundred more words in the story bank.  That’s how I roll:  gotta get the story told, otherwise I’ll be here with it forever.

Annie’s still up, getting ready to lay some more cool magic out in the Spell Cell:


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

Annie held out her left hand and slowly turned it palm up. She glanced over at Kerry, a wicked grin spread across her face. “Catch.” A thin stream of water rose from the bucket and as she twisted her hand and fingers it looped over the fire pit and around the ball of cold fire. Kerry held out his hand as if he were trying to catch the water: in reality he was helping bend the water back around so they could build a cylinder. He was laughing as energy flowed from his hand and into the water Annie was manipulating; she was giggling as well, moving her arms in circles as if she were physically sculpting the form.

Once the cylinder was in place, Annie stepped up close to the fire pit and stared down into it over the rim of the water. She began lowering it slowly, widening it slightly so it wouldn’t touch their log pile. Kerry joined her, looking over the opposite side of the cylinder, as the lower edge of the water form touched the bottom of the pit. She pushed her hands together, as if squeezing something between her hands, and water flowed from the cylinder walls to meet in the center and form a floor just under the metal grate the wood rested upon.

The cold fire hovered centimeters over the opening of the water cylinder while Kerry gently pushed the top rim down and away from the floating blue ball. He spoke without taking his eyes from his task. “You got it sealed off?”

“Yes.” She knelt next to lip of the fire pit to get a closer look at the bottom half of her creation. “It looks solid down here.”

“How much water did you use?”

Annie cut off the stream from the bucket and checked the level. “Maybe half. I didn’t think I’d need much.”

Kerry finally checked the walls of the cylinder Annie had created. “This isn’t very thick.”

“We talked about that. It’ll expand a little when it freezes, and since it won’t be exposed to real heat, it won’t suffer melting.” She stepped around the pit and stood next to Kerry. “And since it’s a magical construct, it’s not meant to melt until it’s time to melt.”

He nodded. “Ice encasement.”

“Yes.” She glanced towards the bucket. “And there’s plenty left over for the plug on top.”

“Okay, then . . .” He stepped away. “I’ll let you freeze this.”

She followed him as he move back two steps. “It’s not like we’re about to be attacked by ice.” She chuckled. “But if you feel safe there . . .”

He was back next to her in a flash. “I feel safe here.”

“Do you?”

Kerry nodded and winked. “Always, Sweetie.”

“Then I can finished this—” She waved her hands slowly from right to left; the water stopped moving and quickly turned an soft blue before morphing into a solid, glimmering white.


Ice in the Fire Cell.  Well, you got cold fire burning, so it’s not like you’re gonna melt this sucker.

But one last thing to do, and that’s Kerry’s cue to get on the magic line . . .


“Yes, it did.” He slid his arms around her. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

She pressed herself into Kerry’s chest, slowly rubbing her cheek against his jaw and shoulder. “Am I really that incredible to you?”

Kerry kissed the top of her head, burying his face in her hair. “Always.”

Annie tilted her back just enough so she could kiss Kerry’s neck. “For someone who doesn’t think he’s all that loving, you know how to make me feel that way.” She sighed knowing they couldn’t spend time in the spell cell snuggling and kissing—they had a project to complete. She stood away and touched him on the chest with her index finger. “Okay: time for you to finish up, my dearest.”

“Will do.” He walked over to the book on time and gave the pages a quick once over before snapping the book shut. “All right, then: time to play with time.”

“You’re certain you can do this?” Annie had never tried playing with time spells. Her mother knew a few simple ones, but what Kerry was about to do was something that her mother did on an extremely small scale. He seems so confident that I don’t want him to be hurt if he can’t do it—or worse, it goes bad.

Kerry turned to Annie, his head slightly cocked to one side, and spoke with an over-enunciated English accent. “My dear, you are speaking to Mr. Timey Wimey. Trust me: if I can’t do it, it’s can’t be done.” He straighten up and shook his head a couple of time. “With that said . . .”


It’s a good thing his family didn’t work on Downton Abbey, or Kerry would be slinging Dame Maggie Smith shade everywhere.  Though my daughter has informed me that no one her age ever says, “throwing shade”, and that the only people she’s ever heard use that expression are adults trying to sound cool.  I will, however, have a character say something that I know my daughter has at least written, and when I blog about it I’ll make sure to give her credit.

I’m certain she’ll be proud that her statement will be semi-immortalized.

That’s it:  6:00 AM.  Time to get back to the road.  The next time you see me, I’ll be kicked back in my old domicile.

Play nice until I get back . . .