Setting Sail: The Chestnut Ginger

First of all, Happy Ostara and a welcome spring.  If  this were my novel, Kerry would have had a big night last night performing in front fellow students, and this morning–let’s just say it’s gonna be a rather interesting morning for both Annie and he.  Real interesting.

Speaking of interesting mornings . . .

Wait:  before getting into interesting mornings, allow me to say that I have passed the two hundred and seventy-five thousand word mark, and it only took thirty-four days to write another twenty-five thousand words, which puts my average output at seven hundred and thirty-five words a day.  Not bad considering I took off something like five days from writing during that time.

And for once, "is" is the word.  Is it?  It is.

And for once, “is” is the word. Is it? It is.

I had the most difficult time writing yesterday as you already know.  It didn’t improve going into the evening, and it was all I could do to string together a few hundred words before saying the hell with it and heading off to bed.

The morning is a little better due to some good tunes and thinking about another of my kid’s European side trips that would see them having lunch near a famous statue–well, famous to Kerry–and getting a good look at a house where literary history was made.  All of this come in the future which, as I said yesterday, I’ve thought of a great deal lately.  And this is probably a good thing because I realized something while thinking this stuff out, and when I started working out the whys and wherefores of the situation, I came to a conclusion that had never hit me before then–and that mean altering a bit of the timeline I’ve had in place for a couple of years because of reasons that made sense.

But you aren’t here to hear about my day yesterday–you’re here to hear about my kids and the night they’re having.  A night that ended in another excerpt with Annie telling Kerry he’s her husband.  Which is sort of a heavy thing to lay on your not-quite-thirteen-year-old boyfriend, but hey:  Kerry’s proving himself to be resilient tonight.  Can he keep that up?  Let’s see–


(All excerpts–except where noted–are from The Foundation Chronicles, Book Two: B For Bewitching, copyright 2015, 2016 by Cassidy Frazee)

They huddled together in silence for maybe fifteen seconds, warming each other against damp night air. Annie pulled Kerry’s arm around her and snuggled against him as she’d done so many times before in the last year and a half of school. She waited for Kerry to pull her tight against him before she began saying what was on her mind. “You understand what was said about our bonding tonight, don’t you?”

He cooed softly in her ear. “Sure I do.”

“That we’ve been this way since birth.”


“And while we could be with other people, in reality we’ll never be happy with them.”

Kerry raised his hand and lightly traced lines against Annie’s cheek. “I’ve never wanted to be with anyone else.”

She looked up at back into Kerry’s face. “Neither have I.”

He returned to caressing Annie’s cheek with his fingertips. “Is that why you called me your husband?”

“Yes.” Annie closed her eyes as she grew warm in her soul mate’s embrace. “We’re bound together through the astral realm; we’ll never love anyone as we love each other; and we’ve already seen evidence that we marry.” She began tapping her fingers against Kerry’s leg. “As far as I’m concerned that makes you my husband.” She pressed her head against his shoulder. “You feel the same as well.”

“I’ve felt that way for a long time.” He lay his head against Annie’s. “I just don’t express it as well as you.”


So . . . Annie’s finally getting said something she’s probably wanted to say for a while:  you are my husband, like it or not.  Fortunately Kerry likes, and while he’s not saying the word “wife” yet, he’s down with the concept.

Then again, he’s not as if he hasn’t heard this already.  Remember this scene?


Just then the airport public address system sounded to let everyone know an announcement was forthcoming. “Ihre Aufmerksamkeit, bitte. Wird Herr und Frau Malibey bitte an der Kasse melden? Ihr Flug wird bald verlassen. Danke.” The message repeated in English. “Your attention, please. Will Mr. and Mrs. Malibey please report to the ticket counter? Your flight is departing soon. Thank you.”

Kerry continued looked upward for a few seconds after the announcement completed. He slowly lowered his gaze towards a smiling Annie. “Mr. And Mrs. Malibey?”

Annie quickly stood, pushing her chair back in. “I had to leave a message for when it was time to leave, and I wanted something that would catch our attention.” She took Kerry’s hand after his chair was in place. “We’ll be leaving in about twenty minutes.  Shall we?”


That was from their time in the Vienna airport, awaiting their departure via jaunt back to the school.  In case you’re a little sketchy about the time, that happened only two-and-a-half months earlier, novel time, and she did this in an international airport where a lot of people, Foundation folk included, heard it all.  And as kinda stated, a year before our couple had conversations about the married life.  And do you remember this?



The following excerpt is from The Foundation Chronicles, Book One: A For Advanced, copyright 2013, 2014, 2015, by Cassidy Frazee)

Annie took Kerry’s hand in hers and held it tight. “About a month before my eighth birthday my mother and I went away to a house her parents own just outside Pocancy, France. That’s in the Champagne region—do you know it?”

“I know of it. It’s like north-east France, right?”

“Yes. Beautiful country: lots of low rolling hills and fields and wooded areas. My grandparents have had that house there since the 1950s, I believe.”

“Why did you go there?”

“My mother had spent the summer on a project and she wanted to get away and rest.” She cuddled up against Kerry. “We spent three weeks there, with my father popping in every so often when he wasn’t testing or racing.” She smiled as the memories came back to her. “Every other day my mother and I went bicycling.”

“You did?”

“Yes. We’d ride maybe ten, twelve kilometers, stay out all day. That was how I got to see so much of the surrounding area.”

Kerry squeezed Annie’s hand. “Sounds wonderful, Sweetie.”

“It was.” She paused just a moment before telling him the rest. “I’d love to live there one day.”


“Yes. I have it written in my wedding book. A little château, walled off, with a garden in the back where I can grow vegetables and herbs. Maybe a small house in the back where I can have a lab like my mother’s.”

Kerry turned to Annie, a huge smile upon his face. “You have it all thought out.”

“Yes, I do.”

“What about your lake house?”

“Oh, I’ll always have my lake house; it’s not going anywhere.” She turned and gazed into Kerry’s eyes. “That will always be there for me to use, and once we learn how to jaunt, it won’t matter where we live, we can go there for a night or a weekend and get away from everything, just rest and relax and . . .” She pressed her cheek into Kerry’s arm. “Do whatever we like.”

He didn’t need to have “whatever we like” spelled out for him; Kerry’s suspicion was that it had something to do with what they’d already seen in their wedding vision. “You just said something telling—”

“What’s that?”

“You said ‘we’. When ‘we’ learn to jaunt ‘we’ can go there no matter where ‘we’ live.”

She lowered her head slightly and looked up at him. “Does that bother you?”

He shook his head once. “No.”

“Good. Because given what we’ve seen—given the possibility that it’s going to be true—my lake house will be your lake house one day.” She gave him a quick kiss. “And my house, wherever I live, will be yours as well.”

“A little château in France?”

“That’s one possibility.”


“You have it all thought out.”  Damn right she does, Kerry.  She’s been planing this shit since she was about six, about the time some Ginger Hair Boy read to her in a dream.  You know, some things have been stated about how a girl, at the age of six, could fall in love with a boy that may have been nothing more than a dream–unless, just as Kerry had something in his mind reminding him that his Chestnut Girl was still around, Annie had something poking her as well.  Is it possible she felt something for this boy–a connection as one might say–and a little voice in her head whispered, “Hey, he’s the real deal.  Don’t let this one go–like you could.  Haha!”

Enough of this crazy past stuff:  Annie’s concerned about the present.  Though there is something from the past that’s on her mind–


“You did when it was most important.” Annie had considering not saying anything about what she’d seen only an hour before, but she now felt it important to tell Kerry how she felt about the incident. “When you confronted you—other half—you told her that she was going to screw things up for you—” She felt him stiffen slightly. “That you were happy and you didn’t want to go back to how you once were.” Her tone softened slightly. “You meant us, didn’t you?”

Kerry sighed slowly and gently. “Yeah.”

“You thought if what you knew was coming happened, then we were through as a couple?”

He spent a few seconds in silence before he found it possible to respond. “I didn’t want you to know; I thought it would hurt you to know . . .”

Annie finished his statement when it became apparent he wouldn’t. “To know my husband-to-be might become my wife-to-be?”

He tightened his embrace as if he were afraid Annie would slip away. “Yes.”

“You were going to keep resisting this dream, weren’t you?” She sat up and turn so she was facing Kerry. “Even if you could have said what was happening, you would have kept it to yourself—because you were afraid of upsetting me.”


After all these years Annie has hubby’s–I mean, Kerry’s number, and that number ain’t 867-5309.  He’d have kept quiet as long as possible to keep from upsetting Annie–even though that would have had extremely detrimental effects upon his mind:


“I didn’t know what was happening, Annie.” He cast his gaze downward. “I knew something was going on, but I couldn’t say anything, which really sucked. But once I figured it out—” He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I was afraid of upsetting you, which is why I didn’t want this to happen.”

“But now you know you can control it, so there shouldn’t be the same fear.”

Kerry finally looked up. “Yeah, I know now. I didn’t then.”

Annie raised his left hand to her lips and gave it a sweet, loving kiss. “I appreciate you wanting to spare my feelings, but at the same time—” an admonishing tone crept into her voice. “Do you understand how devastated I would have become if you’d driven yourself crazy?” She lightly thumped his chest. “Ot vreme na vreme si neveroyatno glupav!” Annie smiled while holding up a warning finger. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Kerry pulled the finger towards him and kissed the tip. “Yes, malko sarmi.”


Yeah, Kerry would have gone nuts rather than hurt his little cabbage roll, while not realizing going crazy and getting sent off to “a facility” would have likely pushed Annie around the bend as well.  As some characters in a movie where the title has little to do with the source material might say, Kerry is one of the dumbest smart kids ever.  Actions can have unintended consequences, kid, and you should know by now an Upset Annie the Dark Witch is a nasty thing to behold.  Isis probably would have needed to dart her ass from behind if you got hauled off to “the facility,” dude.  Don’t let that happen again.

This all leads up to the end of the scene, and there is only one real way for this to end:


Annie stood and, smiling, pulled Kerry to his feet. “We need to get to the hospital before Coraline gets there—however—” She held each of his hands in hers while facing him. “However what is affecting you affects us, we’ll find our way through and deal with whatever comes.” Her smile grew bright. “We are one, my love. While Foundation and Normal law don’t see it the same way, you and I both know we are husband and wife, and when it comes to each other, we have to take the bad with the good.”

A smile appeared on Kerry’s face as he chuckled softly. “In sickness and in health?”

She nodded. “To love and cherish.”

His smiled softened slightly. “Until death do us part.”

Annie pulled Kerry close and gave him a deep, passionate kiss. “Until death do us part, my love.”


Give that your bonded lifelines won’t break until one, or both, of you are dead, yes, Annie:  Kerry and you are together until death do you part.  Sure, one could say that either kid could wander and hook up with someone for a one night stand or two, but really:  does anyone believe that now?  Kerry was willing to go a lot bit crazy to keep from hurting Annie with the possibility she was going to end up with a girlfriend for a soul mate–and as far as Annie straying, with all she has invested in this relationship, she’d likely torch the first guy who started hitting on her and wouldn’t take “no” for an answer.

And no:  not telling Emma to fuck off and leave him alone is not the same as letting her believe she still has a shot.  He’s let her know without trying to hurt her too much that they are not a thing, and when you get right to it, he’s not responsible for killed the delusions of others–which, honestly, if a person is really that delusional, there’s nothing you can do to stop them from feeling a certain way short of killing them–

Which Annie would do without blinking an eye.  Because she can.

There will be trials and tribulations ahead for my kids that are likely to get nasty–and I don’t mean Tribble-ations here, that’s in another universe altogether–but as far as they feel about their relationship–

The good ship ChestnutGinger has sailed from Pier Lovey Dovey, and it ain’t coming back.

Korasami is a ship that sailed.  Believe that.

Move over, Korasami:  it looks like there’s another couple heading your way.  Maybe you guys can, um, go shopping or something?

Anxiety and Affection

Some people don’t like new technology–some don’t like it, period.  Last night I was going to do something with my new video camera, and technology decided to bite me in the butt.  Hard.

"Don't worry:  I totally got the shot.  No problems, right?"

“Don’t worry: I totally got the shot. No problems, right?”

Getting the shot isn’t the problem, though, is it?

"It's an eight minute video--why are you going to hell on me?  Why?"

“It’s an eight minute video–why are you going to hell on me, you demon computer? Why?”

That was me last night.  Every time I shot a video that lasted more than, say, five minutes, the software I was using to download it to my computer had fits.  Lots of fits.  As in, “I ain’t gonna be your coded slave, bitch.  You figure out another way to get this down.  Bwah, hahaha.”

It was very frustrating to say the least.  But, in the end, I figured out the problem and managed to get the first video up to YouTube.  And . . . I may reshoot it, because it was done in poor light.  Hard to say what I’ll do, because by the time I managed to get it up there, I was pretty frustrated by the whole process.  Then again, it’s new for me, so there’s a learning curve.

What this also did was cut into my writing time.  I managed almost seven hundred words, but I’d wanted more.  Tonight I need to go shopping, so that will cut into time–

Oi.  What’s a girl to do?

My kids went to a bonfire after the dance and walked back to the center of the school, so when finally reach a point where they can rest, it’s late–probably the latest they’ve ever been up.  And this happens . . .


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

Rather than take the return portal back to the Great Hall, she asked if they could walk back. Since the temperature was dropping, Kerry asked if she would like to take the tunnels back, but Annie refused; she’d brought the beautiful crocheted shawl her grandmother had made for her earlier in the year and it kept her warm; the path back to The Pentagram was illuminated; and she was wearing flats.  She didn’t see a single problem . . .

She wanted to enjoy the darkness and silence with Kerry by her side, hand in each other’s hand.

Neither broke the silence all the way back to Founder’s Gate. Never once did Kerry even seem as if he were going to speak: to Annie it felt as if he knew she wanted to linger in the quiet night and enjoy the spark between them, and would only speak when Annie was ready to speak. He knows my moods and perhaps my thoughts. Once inside The Pentagram she turned him onto the second left hand garden path instead of entering the Great Hall. She knew it would be cavernous and dark inside; here there was still the abstract indirect light that made walking though the Pentagram Garden at night such an enjoyable and loving experience.

It wasn’t until they were nearly to the opening of the covered walkway leading to their tower than Annie uttered her first words since leaving the bonfire. “Moyata polovinka.” She slowly ran her left finger down the Kerry’s left arm.

He waited until she was finished before responding. “What does that mean?”

“Moyata polovinka—” She stopped the moment they stepped onto the path between Cernunnos Tower and the Great Hall. “My soulmate.” She gently pressed against Kerry and gave him a peck on the cheek. “If you say the last as two words it’s moyata srodna dusha.”

“Moyata polovinka.” Annie thought Kerry’s pronunciation was almost spot on, though the accent needed work. “I like how that rolls off the tongue.”

“You can say it in a much softer, gentler tone, too.” She tugged on Kerry’s arm. “Let’s sit at our bench.”


Our bench, our sofa . . . our time together.  It’s starting to get real serious here, and I’m gonna try to get to that tonight, at some point.  But I’m getting there.

If I’ve not pulled what little hair I have left out by then.

The Zen of Artful Crying

During editing last night I was tripping through the part of my novel that I have to say contains some of my favorite passages.  Nothing major, just little scenes that get the characters into their new home after a strange situation, and allow them time to grow.  And to allow some interesting things to slip out.  Such as . . .

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

Does your doctor do a glowy-hand thing with you before talking about crazy spirits?

Does your doctor do a glowy-hand thing with you before talking about crazy spirits?  I thought not.

But there’s a line right in the middle of the above passage that I like a lot:  “Hey, Red.” Coraline’s soothing, caring tone, drew Kerry’s attention back to her. “Nothing to be ashamed of—we all need a good cry now and then.”  And that’s one truth about Kerry:  he cries.  A lot.  Oh, it hasn’t actually happened yet–well, okay, it has.  He cries in the middle of his E and A–actually has two near-meltdowns–and is crying when he returns to Isis and Annie, and there’s a moment coming up . . .

But you get the idea.  Some might say that for an eleven year old boy he cries far more than he should.  He admits at one point that he last cried just as summer was starting, and that he hadn’t since arriving at school.  And in the course of his tenure at Salem, he’ll lose it more than a few times each year.

Annie cries as well–oh, boy, does she–but people would say, “Hey, that’s all right:  she’s a girl.”  Yeah:  she’s a girl.  A girl who as the story progresses could leave your rapidly cooling body in a bloody heap in the middle of any floor of her choosing, and would do so with little to no emotional response to wasting your ass.  Probably because she didn’t like you saying, “She’s a girl.”

I used to get that a lot.  I cried a lot as a kid, and I’d get the, “You need to toughen up!  You act like a girl!”  Well . . . yeah.  Sorry to disappoint you there, parental units, but your kid is a mental and emotional mess, so the tears are gonna flow–and insulting me with gender stereotypes isn’t going to help.  It wasn’t until I was into therapy like four decades later that I came to the realization that (1) it’s okay to be in touch with your emotions and if you gotta cry, let that fly, and (2) yeah, I’m also a big girl, so deal with that.

Kerry is, quite frankly, a mess as a kid.  He’s smart.  He doesn’t care for sports save for a few things here and there.  At home he feels unwanted and unloved, and emotionally he shut down over the summer of 2011–in part because of his home life, in part because of something else.  Coming to school forces him to confront issues he’d rather forget, and those issues make him open up to the world once more.

Particularly when this happens:

Yes, when a girl tells you she's your soul mate, you must do the kissing parts, Kerry.

When a girl tells you she’s your soul mate, you must do the kissing parts, Kerry.  You can’t say no.

He’s a clumsy kid who doesn’t know what girls are like and whose first kiss doesn’t end in jubilation jumping up and down with some fist pumping.  It ends with a smile and a softly spoken “Wow,” because he’s never been to this point before, and what else is there to say but “Wow”?

I like him and I like Annie, and I enjoy the dynamic they share, because as smart and as powerful as they both are, they’re still kids who probably won’t know the best ways to handle the situations they’ll encounter.  Which means a lot of doing things that feel right, but are probably not the right thing to do.  Like, you know, putting your life in danger by flying along a race course at extremely high speed because it’s fun, and you’re just racin’.

Don’t know how much I edited last night, but it was fun.  I got the kids in their fishbowl:  now to return to the dawning realizations and clean them up.

Cleaning up the realization that your a witch is not the same as a clean up in asile five.

Cleaning up the realization that your a witch is not the same as a clean up in Aisle Five.  It’s messier.



Voyages Among the Dreamscapes

It is done.  Her Demonic Majesty went out to Harper Voyager last night, about 8:15 PM.  Now all that remains is the wait.  Harper Voyager states that if you haven’t heard anything after ninety days, then you didn’t get the brass ring.  So, I figure, if nothing has come through by 5 January, 2013, then the novel was not deemed fit for their ebook section.

No matter.  Should that happen, I’ll send it out again–or self publish.  Who can say?  I can.  Ultimately, I decide what happens.

I’ll keep my fingers crossed, though.

With everything that’s happened over the last few weeks, I have suffered from a singular lack of sleep.  Yesterday I took a two-and-a-half hour nap after returning from breakfast.  Last night I went to bed about 11 PM, and didn’t crawl out of bed until a little after eight in the morning.  That’s nine hours of sleep, plus the nap, and that’s more sleep than I’ve had in a long time.

During the night I had some really vivid dreams–vivid enough that it almost felt like they bordered on lucid.  It isn’t often I get that deep into my REM, but last night it actually felt as if I was directing myself in several instances.

It was a bit strange as well, but then, those are my dreams.  If they weren’t strange, they wouldn’t be mine, would they?

First off, I was seeing everything from point of view.  It was as if I was there, and not looking over my shoulder, or seeing this from a third-person perspective.  Second, this was a Cassidy dream.  I know this because ever so often curly red hair would fall into my line of sight, and I’d need to brush it away.  And lastly:  I was a mutant.  I know this because I was told several times I was.  Though I didn’t seem to have any cool X-Men like powers, unless I could do something like throw sparkles and dress like a fashion victim–which would mean my name was Jubilee, not Cassidy.

Everything seemed to take place in a Crapsack World.  Everything exude an air of extended entropy; things were shabby and run down.  Everyday items looked as if they were makeshift and ready to fall apart.  Trash was in the streets, and every building looked run down.  All we needed were hookers on every corner and constant rain, and the environment would have been complete.

For some reason I was looking for an item for someone.  I found what I was looking for:  a TARDIS model.  Seriously.  That constituted a huge part of the dream.  I went from building to building searching for a present, and that present happened to be a TARDIS model.  I finally found one among a very cluttered dump that reminded me of an antique store where I once worked.  The model wasn’t that great, either, but I found it, and I took it–without paying, I believe.  Hard to say.

One last thing:  I ran into someone who told me that everyone in the world, save mutants, had disappeared for thirty days, and we now had the run of the joint.  Also, I needed to spend those thirty days finding my soul mate.  Yep, not only was the world reduced to a million or so mutants, but my soul mate was out there, and I needed to find them.

I know where some of that was coming from–an idea I have for a story.  Not to go into details, but it’s one I’ve thought about off and on for a few weeks, and I’m wondering what to do with it–besides write.  I’ll get around to that eventually.  For now, it’s just an idea.

As for the soul mate . . . well, one can never tell, right?  I might turn a corner and find them tomorrow.

Or they could already be here–