Trouble On the Site of Word

Well . . . if anyone can help me out I could use it.  It seems that I am unable to get into any of my blog posts without going through the straight up crazy little blue and green admin area.  I can access the post there and edit them, but I can’t view anything.  And not just my own posts, but anything attached to

Of course I can’t access the forums to even see if there’s a fix, so I’m sore of in a screwed position.  I can continue to post, but not much beyond that.

I’ve cleared cookies and cache and still nothing.  It’s also the same way on all my browsers, which leads me to believe I may have an issue with my internet provider, which I will check with tomorrow or Sunday.

So . . . if things seem a little slow the next few days, you know why.

B For Bewitching What To Write

“Why, wordpress?  Why do you vex me so?”

Spoken On a Hill of Dreams

As I am wont to say another chapter is in the bag.  I finished up Chapter Eighteen about ten-thirty last night, and this morning checked to discover it’s the second shortest chapter after Chapter Three, so I’m still bringing in a few scenes where a lot goes on but not a lot is said.

And that’s okay, because it’s not always a good thing to go on and on about nothing.  Like I’m doing now, right?

This is where the dreamwalk ends for our kids, or at least we get a fade out on what’s happening.  We had Annie speaking of her attempt to get a mobile phone or computer and getting shut down, and here we find out why she feels her parent’s reaction was far different that at other times . . .


(All excerpts from The Foundation Chronicles, Book Two: B For Bewitching, copyright 2015 by Cassidy Frazee)

“Their refusal felt different.”

“How so?”

“In the past when I’ve ask for something there’s always some hesitancy about committing, maybe even a few words along the line of ‘We’ll think about this’ in the hopes that I’ll forget about the matter.” Annie slid closer, her shoulder touching Kerry’s as she continued staring into the dream sky. “There wasn’t any of that this time: they tried to deflect the request a few times, then went right to no.” She rested her head against Kerry’s. “They’ve not done that before.”

Annie had already told Kerry a number of stories of things she’d requested or wanted over the years, and how she’d managed to wear her parents down—as she’d done with her lake house—or simply ignore them until things worked out for her in a favorably way—as had happened when she’d originally decided not to attend Salem. “What changed this time? Maybe they’re starting to get tougher on you because you’re now a teenager?”

“No, not that.” She chuckled. “If anything, they’d have to know I’m likely to become even more insistent.” A deep silence settled between them for nearly a quarter of a minute. “The way my mother phrased everything . . . I think she may have seen something, my love.”

There wasn’t any need to explain Annie’s comment: Kerry was aware that her mother had a touch of sight. “With you or with me?”

Annie didn’t want to worry Kerry right now: she’d dreamwalked him so they could spend loving time together. Now’s not the time to tell him what I truly believe . . . “I think she was speaking of both of us—”

“Meaning probably me.” He moved around until his head was resting against Annie’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Darling, I’m aware that things might not go easy for me this summer.” He almost rubbed the cheek his mother struck a day and a half before. “Mom’s not having an easy time adjusting to me, and I can’t imagine it’s gonna get easier a few months from now.”


Yeah, mom’s having a hard time adjusting to the new Kerry, and she shows it by slapping him.  He knows he has reason to worry, because there are three little words he needs to say when it comes time to return to Cardiff for the summer, and they are words Annie never had to utter–if anything, she heard them from her mother and father, and they swapped out the “I’m” for “You’re”.  Deep down inside, Kerry’s hoping his return home doesn’t turn into a Monty Python skit.

But he won’t have to face that alone, and from here things start turning a little lovey dovey–


Annie held him tight while running her fingers through his hair. There were times when she nearly forgot all of this was happening to their dream forms, for at this level of dreaming everything was incredibly real. Right now she felt his nervousness emanating from his body: a tenseness in his arms, a change in his breathing, the way he formed words. All the little tells her soul mate carried that told her Kerry was worried, and he was doing his best to hide his feelings. “You know I’ll be there for you, my love.”

“I know.” His voice carried a dreamy quality, as if he were starting to fall asleep in her arms.

“I may not have a phone or a computer when we return home for the summer, but we’ll write as we do now, and . . .” She gave him a soft hug. “When I get better at dreamwalking, I can come and we can talk here.”

Kerry rolled to his right and snuggled against Annie’s body. “I promise, I’m not going to obsess over this summer while we’re at school. We have your solo flights to work on; I’ve got to work on my Mimicking; and we . . .” He kissed her on the cheek. “. . . have way too much time to spend together.”

Annie wrapped her arm around his torso. “We don’t have that much free time any more.”

“I know. That’s why I don’t want to spoil everything with me focusing on my problems.” He kissed her again, then settled against her. “It’s not fair to you.”

She kissed him on the forehead. “Thank you, my love. You are nothing if not considerate of my feelings.”


If there is one thing Kerry does, it’s take Annie’s feelings into consideration as much as possible.  And here he is, snuggling up against her, because Kerry really does love to be held–somethings he’s not gotten at home in a long time.  He knows they don’t have as much personal times at school this year as they did the year before, and the last thing he wants to do is screw up the next few months for Annie because he’s scared at what waits for him there.  This version of Kerry is doing far better than the last version–you might say he’s . . . (puts on sunglasses) leveled up.  YEEEEARRRRGGGG!

Let’s finish this and see where my kids are going:


“Only the best for you, my darling sarmi.” He closed his eyes as he sighed. “Just a little over a week and we’ll be back in Vienna—”

“Together.” Annie felt him breathing against her. We shouldn’t be breathing; there isn’t real air here. It’s just something we carry with us from the physical realm. “And from there . . . back home.”

Kerry slowly moved his head. “Our home—for now.” He traced small circled upon Annie’s pajama top. “One day we’ll leave school together and not have to return to our parent’s home—”

“Where would we go?”

“Oh, you know . . .” He moved his finger upward until he touched her chin. “Maybe France?”

She nodded. “A little château of our own?”

“A little one with a wall and a garden and maybe a separate building for you to do your studies and keep your books.”

“Yes, my love—I would love to share a home like that with you.” Annie pulled Kerry against her as she felt her dream heart pour out. At that moment she didn’t want the dream to end—and when it did, she wanted to roll over and find Kerry sleeping next to her. It will happen. One day, it will happen.


There you have it:  they want a little château behind walls and Annie can have her own little building on the grounds where she can do her dark witchy things.  It won’t be long before they make this dream come true, and before you know it the little pitter-patter of tiny witch feet will sound throughout the house–followed by an explosion as a kid tries out one of Mama’s spells.  Annie’s also getting used to being called a little cabbage roll, so there’s that, too.

That chapter one, and one more to go before we leave Part Five behind–

See?  Just like I said.

See? Just like I said.

As for the next chapter I will tell you this:  it is going to end in a very unusual way, and hat’s going to lead to a rather strange opening to Part Six.  Don’t worry, though:  it’s all good.  Really.  Okay, maybe not that good . . .

To See the Almost Invisible Girl

The mind has been crazy of late, and by “crazy”, I mean I’ve been on a bit of a roller coaster.  The day wasn’t bad, but my emotions were all over the place, and at one point I thought I might have to hop on the phone and call the hot line that I keep in my contacts.  Which one?  That one.  The one you don’t ever want to go to.

It never got to that because I started writing.  I don’t want to say I was saved by writing, but it was doing a damn good job on me.  And I picked up right where I left off, with Jessica commanding her class, discussing with her eager young mind their assignment, and what they were using for their spell:


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

She pointed at several of the work cubicles as she walked past. “Today you’re going to attempt to transform the air as I did and render the items in the container you have have in a similar state.” She reached into one cubical and picked up a plexiglass box that contained three white mice. “The assignment is to turn each of these creatures invisible. I will considering anyone turning one invisible a minor success, while rendering all three invisible will make me look upon you with great admiration.”

She lifted the box over her head and turned from left to right slowly. “Though I know some of you are fearful of loosing control of your spell and killing your test subjects, but you needn’t worry. There are not real mice: they are simulacra, or simulated animals. They look like real mice: they move, they breath, they see and hear, they even bite if you give them the chance. You’ll encounter these in many of our tests, as you will encounter homunculi in your self defense class. Fitz, Adric, and Ramona cook these up for us, so we can work on our magic without fear of killing an animal—or another human.

“It is possible to destroy these simulacra, but their aren’t going to suffer, nor will they end up a bloody mess on your work counter. When a simulacrum is destroyed, it dissolves into a gray film that’s easy to wipe away—” She handed the container back to the student. “Though that film will tell me all I need to know about your efforts to perform the spell.”


Homunculi:  keep those in mind.  You’ll see them in the next chapter.  As for the mice simulacra–I wouldn’t worry about them too much.

"Do I look like a simulation to you, lady?"

“Do I look like a simulation to you, lady?”

Have some cheese before you dissolve away into nothing.

It was a good run at the scene, with the worlds flowing out effortlessly.  The night before was horrible, but that was due to distractions.  This time is was me and my kids and their story, nothing else.  Not even the bad thoughts I’d had earlier.  They were no longer seen, just like this:


There was a soft gasp from his left; Kerry recognized the voice as Annie’s. “Did you see that?” He turned to his left—

Annie was there, only she now looked like Patchwork Annie. She was visible in parts: a little of the upright right side of her head, some of her lower left arm and part of the hand, some of her waist, a little of both thighs. And even these parts that were visible didn’t come across as solid—Kerry imagined trying to see her through translucent glass painted to look like the classroom. She’s tried making herself invisible, like the professor showed us. He giggled as he reached out and touched her unseen right arm. “You are there.” He gave it a light squeeze. “This is really good.”


That Annie:  she only shows these things to one person.  Kerry tends to do the same thing, though . . .

If it hadn’t been that I was watching Fargo last night–which was a scary and heartbreaking episode–I’d have finished the scene.  I’ll do that tonight, then start the last scene of the chapter, which is going to extremely heartwarming, and then it’s on to the next chapter, which is not only going to be fun, but it’s going to change the path my kids are walking.

They be rollin', haters be hatin'.

They be rollin’, haters be hatin’.

Twelve hundred words last night.  Not a bad total for something you weren’t suppose to see.