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My main character, Sofia as queen at the end of the book :)

I love her so much!!! My OC Sofia <3

The bracelet, necklace,and ring on the necklace are tokens from the other three aces, and will be explained in her book. This is at the end during her coronation :)

Her hair gave me a hard time, but I defeated it!

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I’m so close to 100 pages guys! I’m thinking I might commission some art of the characters, so if anyone is interested, hit me up with some samples and prices!

I’d be doing this next Friday, so be ready to wait until then to start if I go through with it!

I might also link some of it here for people to read. It is a first draft, but I’m so bad at finishing stuff lol Also, I have a terrible habit of trying to write a final draft as a first draft, so it’s somewhat clean anyway. Don’t @ me lol

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if you’re a writblr, reblog this and I’ll follow you

trying to reach as many writblrs to learn from all of your knowledge:) 

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Challenge Days 1&2

I was super busy yesterday, so I’ve done 2k words today to make up for missing yesterday :) Characters belong to myself and @catherinewrites :D

This story isn't about my heroic deeds, some calamity I silenced, or even some woman I wooed. Frankly, this story isn't really about me at all. My name is Anton, and I've been on a few adventures in my time. It was twenty years ago when I first stepped foot on the path that would eventually lead me here.

I was born on the salty waves in a little fishing town far to the west of ____. My Ma always said I was born with the music of the ocean, and even my cries sounded like notes. My Pa would disagree. Whoever you believed, I grew up singing with them, ballads to bring in the salmon, a chorus to stay the sharks, and melodies to clear the skies. I always thought the songs must carry some magic in their key, but as I grew older, many others invited me along to sing with them as they sailed. It never rained while I was on deck, and I've never even seen a shark in my life.

At eighteen I started wondering if there was something to my luck, and saved my last pennies for my very own lute. It was old and worn, but I practiced for hours every night until I got even notes from the strings and I could tie together some kind of tune. The sailors, pirates, and tavern wenches always had a coin to spare at the end of the night, and we enjoyed many wonderful fishing seasons. But something was missing.

My missing piece found me one fateful evening in the form of a weather worn traveler at the front of the tavern. He watched me with a keen eye, and when I finished my performance, he beckoned me over. I took my complimentary tankard to his table and when he spoke, I suddenly understood the words my Ma had always used to describe me. His voice tumbled out in musical notes, though he clearly wasn't singing. "How long have you been performing?" He asked me.

"Professionally," I said as I took a theatrical swig of rum, "two years. But otherwise, Ma'll tell you I've been performing since birth." He chuckled.

"That, my boy, is clear. Tell me, how would you like to be a part of something bigger?" His voice took a conspiratorial tone as he tented his fingers in front of his face and looked at me expectantly.

I deliberated a moment over the rim of my mug and waited until I'd finished the rum off entirely before I answered. "Well, I'm certainly curious," I conceded.

"You, like so many before you, have a destiny, but it's not so flashy as you'll make it seem. Someday, somewhere, someone will need you. And you will be there for them, supporting them toward their destiny. You will never be a hero," he said solemnly, eyes piercing directly into my soul, "but you will be a part of something so much greater. A hero will not exist without you." I had so many questions, but he clearly had better places to be as he stood as soon as he finished talking. I rose to follow him, but he'd vanished as if by magic. There I stood, rooted to the spot, wondering just what he'd been talking of and why he'd disappeared, when I noticed something lay in the seat he'd vacated.

A well worn violin lay there, bow and all. I lifted it gingerly, afraid I might break it, and inspected the instrument. It had clearly seen many years of use, one of the strings needed replaced and the bow was threading badly. A long gash on it's back, from one end to the other, spoke of adventures as loudly as the mysterious man had. Strange as it sounds, this piece of wood and string sang to me, of wonder and adventure, of great deeds and incredible feats.

Much as I'd wanted to immediately take the bow to those strings, I knew it would only squeal in disapproval in its current state. I went to the peddler who'd sold me my lute and begged him to find some way to get it back into usable condition. He was clueless, a mere middleman, but directed me to the instrument's producer a town over.

I took my meager earnings and with them, my first step on what would become my new life. My new destiny.

This "Destiny", it would turn out, was tagging along on quests with other inexperienced teens to their inevitable doom that I would somehow survive, and then dragging myself to the nearest town to get myself patched up and, by some other miracle, weasel my way out of paying. After that, I found a slightly more experienced group of adventurers to follow, now with a few more songs and spells under my belt. The results were much the same. So much so that it became a routine.

Between the first band and now, I barely remember any of their names now. I learned over those years that the world is full of die hards, try hards, and blow hards, and dismally short of actual heroes. I'd just returned to a routine haunt after yet another horrifying disappointment a week before the real story starts. The tavern wenches all knew me, and the barkeep had my room at the ready when he learned I was in town.

On that stage, I sang as I always did, a few tunes that turned the room to merriment. They were all songs I'd learned elsewhere - I had been on no adventures worth relaying. This would be my life, I'd thought to myself as I drew the bow across strings that had become old friends over the last twenty years and let familiar words simply tumble from my lips. Honestly I didn't think I had another adventure in me. I knew I was getting old, becoming one of those has-been's whose glory days were long behind them. I'd expected so much more.

Feeling the melancholy tinge my words, I redirected my thoughts to perhaps something that might cheer me up. I scanned the faces at the tables, singling out any lovely young ladies that might turn my night around, if only the night. A lovely blonde in the front immediately caught my attention, entranced as she was in my performance. There was also a beautiful redhead leaning against the wall, looking all dangerous and exciting.

Neither gave me pause, however, like a young woman tucked away in the corner, dark hair spilling over her drawn shoulders, arms crossed on the table in front of her. She looked . . . tortured, haunted despite clearly looking quite young as well. She couldn't be over twenty, but when her green eyes rose to meet mine? I stumbled over my words for the first time since I was young. Something about her commanded all of my attention, and it took everything I had to finish the song I'd started. As I did, I took the violin from under my chin and bowed with my bow as I always did, and hopped off the stage. The barkeep shoved a tankard into my hand as I passed and I set a copper piece on the counter, asking for a warm cider as well. Armed with drinks and my good old bravado, I approached the corner of the tavern.

She seemed lost in her own world as I set the mug in front of her. Her eyes snapped up, wide and surprised as I sat across from her. "You looked like you could use a drink?" I started, tipping my own tankard toward her.

"I don't . . . drink," she said quietly, voice betraying perhaps a little more youth than I'd originally estimated.

"Fear not, my dear, it's cider, not ale." I took a swig of my own drink. "What's got you here in _____?" She didn't answer, instead more interested in the drink I'd brought her. She sniffed it curiously, suspiciously rather, then took a quick sip. It must have met her standards, as she immediately took a much bigger gulp after that. It took a lot of restraint not to laugh. "Are you from around here? I don't think I've ever seen you, though it's been a while since I've -"

"Listen," she interrupted, nearly slamming the tankard on the wooden table, "I don't know what you're after, but you won't find it here. I'm . . ." she trailed off. "I'm busy."

"Oh yes, busy," I chuckled, "sitting mysteriously in tavern corners all night?" She glared at me and I dropped her possible age down well below the twenty mark. This was a child I was talking to, and I felt her tug at some other part of me. "Are you on your own?"

"Yes, and I can handle myself just fine." She defiantly drank the rest of the cider and stood, turning sharply to leave. After a few steps, she paused and half turned around. "Thank you for the cider." But I was distracted by how . . . small she was. A full two heads shorter than most of the other patrons, and some intrinsic instinct in me pulled me to my own feet and out the door after her.

"Wait," I called, jogging a little to catch up. "Please." She stopped in her tracks but didn't turn around. I caught up and circled around her. "You must be after something, right? You look like someone searching for an answer." She broke eye contact, gaze falling to our feet.

"Why do you care?" She was defensive, well guarded.

"Everyone always tells me I'm too nosy for my own good," I joked. It fell flat, so I decided to take a more sincere route. "You're clearly young. Even if it's some simple task, you shouldn't be alone in places like this. Especially with a pretty face. Someone will nab you in a heartbeat."

"They'd regret touching me." I rolled my eyes. Was this why everyone complained about teenagers?

"Let me help? I have connections, experience, and the means to get you a room at the inn." She looked ready to deny me the same as she'd been doing all evening, when a gargling sound caught both of our attention. "Meals included." With a scowl, she crossed her arms over her traitorous belly.

"You'll get hurt. Probably die."

"Quit being so dramatic, that's my job. I've been through about two of your lifetimes. I think I'll be okay." I led her back toward the tavern. "What's your name?"

"Siren."

It was definitely a fake name, but I decided poking her anymore tonight was probably a bad idea. I requested another room and full dinner prepared, and the barkeep looked at me with confusion that I quickly dispelled with a gesture to my young new companion. He handed over a key that she took gingerly, making sure to keep from touching his fingers.

Her room was a number up from mine, so just passed my door. I bid her goodnight and heard nothing after save the wench that brought her dinner up from the kitchen. I had no idea what the next morning would bring, so I resigned myself to waking up before the sun.

When I woke, it was still dark out my window. I packed up my few belongings in my satchel and set off down the stairs. Siren was nowhere to be found in the dining room and I sighed, wondering if I'd been duped out of a room and food. Soft steps behind me denied this as I turned to see her not far behind me. There were dark circles under her eyes and she  looked even grumpier than she had last night. Clearly not a morning person.

"Where are we headed?" I asked.

"There's someone I need to talk to," she mumbled.

"Lead the way," I gestured in front of us. "Who is this someone?"

"He has information I need." Like pulling teeth. I concluded I'd spend much of our time together knowing absolutely nothing. Well, it couldn't be worse than being dragged into some deep cavern full of horrifying monsters just because someone sniffed out gold. She did lead, carefully, if a bit clumsily, weaving between people and not touching a soul.

-TBC-

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This is so lovely, you made me cry 😭😭

My best friend (@allisonswritingcorner) and I have decided to do a sort of nanowrimo-esque challenge for June, because Camp Nanowrimo isn’t until July. This is my first day submission, it is only about 770 words but it is something very personal and I wanted to post it in case anyone wants to read it. I will put it under the cut, but be aware, it is about my mother who passed away from cancer and my sort of vented feelings about it. It may be triggering to someone who has lost a loved one, but I hope it is a bit uplifting as well. Please just enjoy and let me know what you think, if you would like. Likes and reblogs are always nice as well, because I am newer to the Writeblr community. Thank you.

Keep reading

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AOH Excerpt #3

These are in no order, by the way :D

     Sweat dripped from her face, leaving a dirty feeling behind even as she wiped it away with her sleeve. In her moment of distraction, a hard pole caught her shoulder and she yelped. It was a lesson she learned ages ago, but nothing seemed to come of these exercises. Sofia lunged, striking with her left hand, then fainting with her right. Also something she’d learned nearly two months ago. Fletcher countered exactly how they’d practiced and Sofia read his moves to strike quickly again with her left. It was a song and dance that she knew now, but what purpose did it serve when her partner always took the same steps? What was she even learning anymore?

     When she asked, it was, again, brushed off. These were exercises, and despite being their best fighter, Fletcher was far from skilled. It seemed to sting when she demanded an explanation, and Sofia felt guilty for even asking.

     Hunting was something Sofia enjoyed less, but she found more to be taught in it. As a kid she’d wanted to be a vegetarian, and she still wished she could have tried a little harder to be, but she was no stranger to desperate measures. Fletcher showed her how to counter an attack she knew was coming weeks ago. Toby was teaching her to predict the unpredictable and react to split second changes in conditions. But a hunter is no fighter, and she couldn’t rely on being able to take out any of the other aces with distance.

     Slowly, over the course of the months she spent here, she began to truly understand the dire situation they were in. What she’d imagined before, underdogs with little to no chance, a steep mountain she’d have to climb to save herself. She wished it were so simple. Instead, they’d lost any chance they had decades ago. These people were making an effort, sure, but it was stained with a painful truth that they’d never escape this hell.

     She wasn’t facing a mountain. This was a stark wall, hard as obsidian, standing in her way like she owed it something, some explanation for her existence. Sofia faced the reality that only death waited on the other side.

     But, she saw, there were grips. A crushing blow came from a heavy pole, directly over her head. She only just blocked it with both weapons. Straining to hold the staff at bay, she shifted her weight and kicked, stunning her sparring partner and sending him tumbling.

     These grips were small, and far apart. She sunk an arrow into a hare’s hunched body. Though the arrow was silent, the others took flight, not ready to die today. She watched one, in its panicked frenzy, leap directly into a trap they’d laid earlier.

    They were sharp, made of the hardest glass. Everyone was watching now as she grew stronger, and Fletcher recruited others to distract her while they trained. Some yelled for her attention, while others broke the ring and tugged at her, pushing her into blows.

     But she would make it. If death waited for her then so be it. But she would scale this wall and stand atop it in triumph.

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AOH Excerpt #2

♥♥♥

     “You know training alone is really bad for you, right?” Sofia nearly fell to the ground as she spun in surprise. She hadn’t even realized she wasn’t alone until the Spade had spoken. The Spade sat on a nearby fence post, one knee drawn up to her chest and a cheshire grin splitting her face.

     “I’ve trained plenty with someone else,” Sofia retorted, chin high. “I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t forgotten everything.” The Spade hummed and Sofia took a closer look at her. She was all limb, foot brushing the ground despite sitting on a post, and she wore a sparser version of the armor decorating the soldiers she’d seen before but with the addition of a kite shield she was resting her other foot on unceremoniously. Strangely, while she had spades plastered all over, the shield bore a simple rendition of a flying owl and a six pointed star. She was also the only Spade Sofia had ever seen with a jacket over her armor. It looked like proper leather, rolled up at the elbows, and with a . . . red lining instead of the purple she’d seen everywhere else on Spades.

    “Sure, sure,” she agreed, “but wouldn’t you rather spar with a body and not a dummy?”

     “I suppose,” Sofia conceded, but made no move to stop her steps.

     The Spade shrugged her shoulders. “I won’t push ya,” she said, only the slightest defeat in her tone. “But hey, holler if you change your mind. Name’s Darya, and if you can’t find me, check Ranger’s stall. She’s the palomino mare by your ‘some pig’.” She hopped off the fence and strutted off, whistling as she went. It took a moment for what she said to sink in, and when it did, Sofia let out a loud gasp.

     “Wait!”

     With a smooth, probably practiced turn, the Spade, Darya, spun back on one foot. “Change your mind already?” The pin in her lip glistened as she spoke.

     “That’s not it,” Sofia took a step toward her, “the normal horse is yours?” Darya’s eyebrows arched in understanding, and Sofia saw yet another piercing there.

     “Yeah, she catches eyes for sure. Temper for miles but there’s no better horse for me.”

     “No other horse you mean.”

     “Well, I guess,” she laughed. “Funny how something so normal is the weird thing.” Sofia started to agree before she realized exactly what this Spade was saying to her.

     “Normal? Wouldn’t you . . .” she trailed off and Darya hummed a question through her smile.

     “Naught!” Darya spun around, jumping to attention.

     “Yes, Lieutenant?”

     “Quit your farting around and get back to work! If the Ace wants to spar, that’s fine, but we aren’t paying you to stand around and chit-chat!”

     “Yes, Sir.” The Lieutenant marched away and Darya followed, but not without a parting word and quick wink. “See you later, Ace of Hearts.”

     “It’s Sofia.”

     Darya waved without looking back and after she turned a corner, Sofia backed up to the fence, pondering just what on earth had happened. That Spade had referenced her horse as normal. That would mean she considered the others abnormal. But no other person she’d met or come across seemed to even bat an eyelash at the things that happened here, or the creatures that inhabited this world. So this Spade thought the world was strange. Not normal. Did that mean . . .

     She remembered where she came from? The other had called her ‘naught’. Sofia racked her memory for any mention of the word in her time with the Hearts. She knew it had been used, and explained at least once, but she couldn’t remember to save her life. And now her thoughts were spinning with curiosity, surprise, and unexpected relief. She’d have to catch her again later, but perhaps she’d do some research first. There had to be some kind of reference material in her little study.

     There was absolutely nothing. She’d have to ask someone, maybe even the “Naught” in question. She threw herself on the bed, arm covering her eyes. The worst part was that she was probably going to die here anyway so did it really matter? The doctor in her wanted desperately to make some sense of this, but she also knew that focusing too heavily on anything she just couldn’t comprehend would lead to an unhealthy brain space.

     Instead of playing tug-of-war with herself, she made some lunch and washed her night clothes. Her answers could wait at least until later today or tomorrow, so there was no use stressing herself out over it. Though, if she was completely honest with herself, she was more excited than anything. She found herself thinking back to the Spade, trying to place something else about her back on Earth, hoping to maybe prove with zero evidence that she was some kind of tie home. It was then that she remembered something else Darya had said. “Next to your ‘some pig’.” Some pig. Of course, it reminded her of Charlotte’s Web, but was there a similar story here? It was entirely possible she was reading much to far into things, but the hope lingered.

     A few hours after lunch she decided it would be a good time to take Hamlet for a bit of a walk. As she approached, she kept a keen eye out for the Naught, but Ranger’s stall was empty and the Spade was nowhere to be found. She must have run off for a ride or maybe they had mounted patrols or something. She did note that a lot of the other stalls stood unoccupied as well. Hamlet was happy to see her, squealing and pawing the floor of his quarters. She buried her head in his musty fur and let out a frustrated groan.

     Riding exercised her hog, but let her mind wander. She looked at the grounds around her and wondered if there were others like that Naught. Maybe there were some who did remember. It was possible what the Hearts told her was outdated. Maybe everyone from her world remembered it, they just hadn’t had anyone from her world in a long time?

     No one interrupted her training the next morning, and Sofia was beginning to wonder if she hadn’t imagined the Naught the day before. She’d nearly convinced herself when she caught sight of the owl shield on a Spade in a regimen passing by. She waved cheerfully and Sofia waved back in reflex. So she did exist, but would she get a chance to talk to her again?

     It wouldn’t be that day either. Sofia dreamed of Chicago that night, sitting at her little desk by the window in her childhood bedroom. The sound of her mother calling her name permeated the entire dream, but she was devoted to her writing. When she woke, she had no idea what filled the page, but she could swear her mother’s voice echoed in the room.

     She strolled toward the stables to greet her mount and, to her surprise, saw the Naught there tending to her horse. Her heart sped up with her feet as she tried desperately to keep from running over. Still, she was embarrassingly out of breath when she reached Hamlet’s stall, and had to catch it before she could say anything. Darya noticed her first though, and waved.

     “I wasn’t expecting you to be here right now,” Sofia said a bit lamely, struggling for a second to open the stall door as her hog tried to crane his head over it to see her.

     “I spend as much time with Ranger as I can.” On cue, the horse dropped her chin on Darya’s head and let out a breath through her nose. “Besides, most of us are focused on our own Ace, and so training stops at noon. Most of the others have some kind of job to do, but they don’t really trust me like the other Naughts. Wonder why.” She didn’t sound upset, more curious as she slid out from under her horse and scratched Ranger’s jaw.

     “Speaking of which, I have a question for you.”

     “Shoot.”

     “What’s a Naught?” Darya looked at her, brows furrowed.

     “You don’t know what a Naught is? I know they mentioned you didn’t have any with you, but I assumed . . . hmm.”

     “And about that! Why would I have any with me?”

     Darya sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Must be worse than I thought out there. Naughts are just those of us that haven’t been here for more than twenty years.” Twenty years, Sofia caught, analyzing every word that came from this Spade’s mouth. Not two pips. “And Aces are supposed to be flanked by two Naughts. Seconds, if you will. We’ll even it out somehow, no worries. She’ll probably just drop them entirely, but our Ace is a little more . . . frantic than the usual.”

     “The youngest I met in the Hearts’ place was . . .” she thought back, “a three. Two threes.”

     “Yikes,” was all she said in response. Then after a few moments of silence she asked, “Want to go for a ride?”

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@catherineofearghail

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Feel free to check out the musings and brainstorming @catherinefarrellauthorblog done for our Anthophobia project! Critiques are welcome, but keep in mind it's all just jotted down, so some things may not make sense how we wrote it or maybe we mixed up some characters. Let us know what you think!

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Ace of Hearts Excerpt

Sofia took a deep breath, steeling herself as she pulled the bound reed door away from the frame and looked out. The air was sticky, thick with moisture and the stink of rotting wood; a perfect atmosphere for the wet, muddy, and hot swamp she seemed to be in. The trees were enormous, but almost entirely dead wood, covered in crawling ivy and moss and dripping with dirty condensation. All around her bugs tittered and strange birds called above her. She could hear bubbling in the water, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to know where it was coming from. As she scanned her environment, her eyes drifted downwards and locked with another pair. The same she'd seen on the other side of her mirror. Sofia pulled back, an angry yell on her lips. She quickly noticed there were several other pairs of eyes, all attached to odd, round faces with deep sockets and large features. They were dark skinned, but with more of a red hue than any people Sofia had ever seen. Each pair of eyes was a different shade, but all red. They wore rags and leaves, all hanging loosely on thin, malnourished frames. Several of them were wringing their tree root fingers and glancing about, backs hunched and looking overall absolutely terrified. They dragged her here, from her home, what the hell did they have to be afraid of? “Wh-who are you?” She cursed her nervous stammer. “What are you? And where am I?” She looked around at the creatures. The closest one spoke up. “We're Hearts. And you're in our home, on the other side of the mirror.” It spoke so calmly, so frankly, that Sofia started wondering if this wasn't a dream. It made more sense than anything else. “The . . . other side of the mirror. Right,” Sofia nodded, not really comprehending. “So you're saying this is some kind of Alice in Wonderland bullshit?” “That's what they always say,” she chuckled, “but this is . . . far from Wonderland.” She looked over Sofia's shoulder for a second, like she was trying to catch a stray thought. “Anyway, I'm an Eight Pip. We'd usually have a Ten Pip here to talk to you, but . . . well . . . we haven't had any Ten Pips here in a while. Come,” the Eight gestured to somewhere behind herself, “sit by the fire and we'll tell you why we've brought you here.” Sofia followed, a little hesitant, but not to long after. She stepped carefully around rocks and rotten wood, watching the ground more closely than the back she was trailing after. As it was, she couldn't get lost anyway, as she was surrounded by thick underbrush or water on either side, making her trip rather predictable. The Eight took her passed several rotted bridges and rock paths, around small huts and toward a small campfire. There were several thick stump benches dotted with termite holes and wet with humidity. Sofia inspected them closely before choosing a relatively dry spot to seat herself. The Eight sat across from her and warmed her hands by the flames. “I suppose I'll start at the beginning. But I'll warn you now, the story is quite long.” “Just . . . whatever.” Sofia resigned herself to the discomfort of the log and pulled her legs up to cross them. “Might as well get it over with.” “I'll try to shorten it where I can.” She looked to the other Hearts who had gathered around. “These stories are all written down somewhere, but I'm afraid those accounts have been lost with the land we once roamed. Be sure to remind me if I've missed something.” The other Hearts nodded, some of them sitting down, but none on the same bench Sofia occupied. Her uneasiness must have been contagious. “Many years ago, before any of us ever existed, there was a single tribe. It was small, but growing, and this tribe lived quite successfully. They spread across much of the land, covering East to South, though they never really wandered any further. We're currently in the Southern part of the continent,” the Eight added helpfully. “As the years went by, as is inevitable, disagreements arose. Some believed the tribe was growing too large, too heavily populated. Sickness swept through too easily, food was wiped out too quickly. The others claimed this life was best because they knew it, they could predict it. Anything anywhere else was a mystery that could lead to great fortune, yes, or the extinction of their entire people. This was the Great Parting. It was also here where they began to mark themselves differently from each other, so as not to be mistaken for one another. “Those who stayed were branded with an inverted triangle. We refer to it today as the Chalice. The deserters took on a standard triangle; the Blade.” Sofia recognized the terms, something she'd seen in a movie or somewhere similar. The Eight continued. “They did not interact for many years, and in fact, both prospered far more than they had before. They were no longer overpopulated, and the land began to heal. However, it was not long before the two would meet again. Generations later, after old hurts were forgotten, they crossed paths. But they had grown so different, so foreign to each other, that they were immediately at odds. “But not all of them. Some wanted to live in peace. A few groups merged, some fought. By the end of this, we had roughly twelve new tribes. Everyone wanted to be prosperous, but this had different meanings for each. The newly born Coins wanted power, to make sure everyone followed rules and did their jobs. The old Chalices just wanted to live in peace and on the land they’d known and cultivated for hundreds of years. There were too many of us, too many differing opinions and desires. Skirmishes started. Soon, war broke out. “It lasted for many pips, nearly a hundred years if I remember correctly. So many died in those battles, it was truly a tragedy. You might not believe it, but we Hearts are actually the last of the Chalices; the oldest tribe in the land. They always called us sticks in the mud, so I suppose it was only a matter of time before we found ourselves here,” she gestured to the muddy swampland around them. A few chuckles broke the silence. Nearly an hour later, after her butt was completely numb, Eight seemed to be finishing up her story. “Now, there are just the four Suits. Us, the Hearts, the Spades, the Diamonds, and the Clubs. By this time, we’d all lost many and were wearing of the fighting. We came to an agreement that all of us could potentially benefit from: Every ten years or one pip, we are all eligible to rule for the following pip. Those who rule are granted more land for their people, more resources, and may pass laws of their choosing.” Sofia glanced around at the sorry state these people were in, putting the pieces together. The Eight noticed, letting out a chuckle that was more like a sigh. “No, we have never ruled once. You have to fight for the crown, and the Hearts are not fighters. We never were.” “I have a sinking suspicion I know what you're about to ask me,” Sofia said blankly, letting her hand fall to her knee and stretching her back out. “The only way you can get home, is if you do what is asked of you.” Sofia's eyes snapped back to the Eight as her mouth dropped. “Excuse me? So this is a hostage situation?” “No. We are not the ones holding you here. But the only way out is after the next pip, when the cycle starts anew. We cannot lose again. We have nothing left. We're a handful of Sixes or more, no Naughts in sight, and if this continues, we'll die off with none to replace us. But you don't have to do this for us. We won't be upset if your only goal is to get home. I understand. We all do. What matters is that, in doing that, everyone would benefit anyway.” “But that's ten years from now!” Sofia leaped to her feet. “What's the point of going home when I would have lost everything I had? I was going places! Things were just starting to work out for me! I was going to see them again!” The Hearts flinched back, eyes wide. “If it's possible to go home then, it's possible now. I don't want your stupid excuses.” She stormed off, tears trailing down her cheeks, with no idea where she was headed, until she was alone. It didn't take long at all, as no one was following her. The air around her was stifling, and bugs bit at her incessantly. Somewhere in this ugly place, there had to be a clue. She was smart, she didn't need to ask for help. Not from people that only wanted to use her. “If I'm lucky, I'm just in a coma or something, dreaming up this stupid place because I've read too many fantasy novels,” she grumbled to herself, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Hang in there kiddos, I'll be there to get you soon.”

[allisonswritingcorner]

Who Am I?

Hello! So, my name is Catherine and I am a 24 year old writer from Ohio. I have always written stories and have wanted to actually publish something for a few years now. My love of books and reading comes from my mom and has stayed with me since I learned as a kid. The idea of being able to create a world that someone could enjoy and cherish has been a dream of mine for so long. So this blog (and my social accounts) is my attempt to finally force myself into the world so I can start putting work out there. I am completely welcoming of constructive criticism and support of any kind. My inbox is always open if you have questions, comments, or anything.

Here is a little info about my current works in progress under the cut if you would like to learn more about the projects I am currently working on.

Keep reading

[allisonswritingcorner]

About the Author

My name is Allison, and my favorite genre to write in is pure fantasy, though I dabble in realistic fiction and a few others. I work on my projects very sporadically and I tend to flip-flop between them with no warning and even less reason.

Currently I have five projects I dance around in. Anthophobia is one I work on with my friend catherinefarrellauthorblog whenever we have time and inspiration to do so. It is a psychological horror/suspense story about your usual group of young adults in scary scenarios, but with enough original ideas to be, I think, quite interesting and almost completely realistic. Ace of Hearts is one of two projects that are sort of books I want to turn into video games. AOH follows a character in a world based on the rules of a standard 52 card playing deck. I’ve always loved the symbolism of playing cards and they work well in a fantasy world. Roswell is a tough one for me, but one I want desperately to make and succeed at. It is a story of an average man in New York who falls in love with a childhood friend and the hardships that face them. They are a gay couple, but I didn’t want to linger on that too long, and the antagonists of the story actually have little to do with their sexuality, unless you count the LI’s damaged ex. There are no bad guys, only people trying to live life to the fullest. Virgin Queen is my oldest project about insects as sort of fairy people. It follows a, surprise, virgin queen of a honey bee hive. She is separated from her hive and wants desperately to return. A ragtag group help her, wherein she learns about the outside world in a way a queen bee would never truly understand it, and she grows as a character before returning home. This one also has a little pinch of forbidden romance in it. Fantasy Western (name pending) is my most recent project. It was born of an idea that there are fantasies about many different areas following many different peoples and mythologies, but almost nothing about the Western US. When I realized there was so little of it I was suddenly struck with a million ideas for such a thing. This is also my least fleshed out story idea. Really, it’s just a string of concept drawings and some world building at the moment. But it’ll get more work and love soon enough.