Sun Kissed

Her kisses burned like the sun, leaving searing marks in their wake. The heat was a welcome comfort now, warming my body like that familiar celestial orb, but I knew that tomorrow would be different.

The burn left by her mouth started red but would quickly fade to the blues and browns more often associated with anger and hurt. There was pain here too, in the sting of her teeth and the bite of her words.

"If anyone asks, lie."

"My father would kill us both if he knew."

"I love you too, but-"

I treasured the signs she left on my body, reassuring myself in the mirror hourly that I hadn't imagined the fire between us, that I wasn't burning up for no reason, that what we had was real.

Real.

What is reality when I can't discuss it with my best friends? When I can't tell my family?

The ache of missing her digs at me. The thought of her sends flames racing across my skin.

I can't take it.

I go to her house.

"What are you doing here?"

The words sputter out of me, dripping like lava from my lips, but the only one burning is me.

A commotion behind her; she turns away.

"Sorry, Dad. She was just leaving."

My veins run cold.

My fire is out.

I never speak to her again.

The Reluctant Bezonian 21-40

The Twitter story goes on! Here are posts 21 through 40, combined for your reading pleasure and ease. Enjoy!

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    "Poor little Sammie. The innocent, naive young girl caught up in things she doesn't know how to handle." Shaking his head, Bryce reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, ignoring her look of disgust. “But you're not innocent at all, are you?"
    Sam jerked her head away from his touch. "What are you doing here, Bryce?"
    "Whatever I want, Samantha, as always."
    "Don't bullshit me. Tell me why you're here."
    "Or what?"
    Sam jerked her knee into his groin, leaning out of the way as Bryce doubled over. "Or that." She stepped past him, finally getting out from behind the desk.
    He glared at her from the floor, pain evident in his eyes. "B*tch!"
    "F*ck you."
    "It was just a test."
    She was nearly to the door when his words made her pause. "What?" She didn't turn around.
    Bryce slowly pulled himself off the floor. "You know my dad, always wanting to push his assets to the limit."
    "Tell your dad--" Sam stopped, unsure. There was no escaping the power this man had over her. "Tell him I aced his test." She walked out the door, leaving Bryce to stumble after her. "And try not wasting my time next time."
    Sam made her way to her vehicle as quickly as she could without drawing suspicions. Tossing her pack in the back of the van, she climbed into the front seat and let her head fall back against the seat. "I hate this."

    Sleep was being coy. It needed to stop avoiding her and get back to bed so she could actually get some rest. Sam groaned and pulled a pillow over her face. When was the last time she got a decent night's sleep?
    Had to have been when she was a kid, before she was practically owned by a conglomerate, when she still thought there was light in each heart, and all you had to do to find it was look just a little closer.
    "Ugh." Sam sat up and shoved the pillow to the side. There was no point in trying anymore. She'd already gotten all the sleep she could. It would have to do, as it always did. She groaned again and shuffled to the bathroom.

    Fresh out of the shower, Sam patted her hair down with a towel. Maybe she should cut it short; cut down on upkeep. Not that she did much to it anyway, her dark curls spurned brushes and were only really tamed by braids and very strong hair ties.
    Lots of hair was easier to put into different hairstyles for disguises, but with short hair wigs were easier. That's a toss up, really. She'd probably keep the long hair a while longer; it's served her well so far.
    Her phone dinged as she was preparing breakfast. Sam glanced at it warily, then groaned. Today was supposed to be her off day. The day after a job always was. The last thing she wanted to do was go into the office and talk to the boss.
    Probably had something to do with what Bryce said about a 'test'. She had failed, and they were going to fire her? At this point though, that wouldn't even be bad news. This horrible situation would end, one way or another.
    After switching out her comfy clothes for something slightly more professional, Sam resigned herself to the familiar confines of her tiny sedan and headed for the office. Small but sufficient, that was her car.

    "Good morning, miss." The receptionist was a mix between a proper butler and somebody's grandpa.
    "Morning, Jones. Eleventh floor?"
    "Indeed, miss."
    "Stay shiny, Jones." Sam grinned despite herself.
    "Of course, miss."
    Sam often had to refrain from asking what a nice guy like him was doing working in a place like this. Did he know how devoid of morals his boss was? But that was often the case with corporate moguls, she supposed.
    The man's gotta make a living somehow, as do we all. Ideally, however, you pick your own way to get that coin. But not when you're practically owned.

    Sam huffed. This always seemed to be the slowest elevator. The door inched open and Sam saw blond.
    "Samantha, darling." Bryce leaned against the receptionist's desk like a model for spoiled brat office wear.
    "Not your darling, Bryce." She brushed past him and addressed the receptionist. "I was summoned?"
    "Ah yes, Miss Webster. Please, this way." The woman behind the desk stood up and clipped her way over to a door that Sam knew well. "Enter, please, he's expecting you."
    Sam took a steadying breath and grasped the ornate handle. The weight of the door always seemed ominous, like entering a dungeon. She half-expected to see a burly guard holding a large set of keys, but the only person inside was a different kind of jailer, and his keys were not so easy to spot.

The Reluctant Bezonian 1-20

Hello! Been a while since I posted on here, sorry about that. I've been doing daily story posts on Twitter (@avitalelizabeth), and thought I'd post them on here twenty at a time, since I know not everyone is on Twitter. Enjoy the story!

    Stealing things for a living-no, for your life-was not what Sam pictured when they asked her, ages ago, what she wanted to do when she grew up. Astronaut. Gymnast. Firefighter. WWE superstar. But forced thief-hood? Never.
    Professional thief sounds glamorous. Daring. Sexy. Reality? Sweaty, uncomfortable, exhausting. You're never the one who gets to don elegant attire and infiltrate an upper class shindig. No, you're the fake plumber who plunges the toilet as a cover.
    Sam heaved a sigh and tossed the plunger into the corner.
    "I'm so glad I'm wearing gloves," she muttered, resisting the urge to scrub her hands across her thighs.
    Common sense or not, cover as a plumber was the worst.
    Maybe not the actual worst. At least plumbers don't generally get sexually objectified while performing their duties. Not in reality, anyway, Rule 34 and all that. But enough stalling. Time to go rogue.
    Grabbing the toolbox she had left on the floor, Sam slipped out the restroom door, shifting the box into the backpack that was its original shape. She shrugged her arms through the straps and moved down the corridor, reaching into her pocket.
    She flipped the switch on the gadget inside, triggering the scrambler hidden in the handle of the plunger. Quite handy, the security room being right next to the bathroom. Less walking for the guards.
    Not that these guards walked much anyway. She honestly didn't even know why they'd sent her here. A job this easy was way below her skill level, but when you're not the one calling the shots you don't get much choice.
    Her thoughts skipped and meandered as she crept down the hallway. An easy job wasn't so bad. She could use the break after last week. Surprise dog patrols? Not a good time. More exercise than she wanted on that one.
    The door she was aiming for was only a few feet farther. Upon reaching it, she tested the handle carefully. No sense in picking an open lock, but this one was sealed tight. She slung the pack off her back and opened it.
    The lockpick kit was right on top. Sam pulled out one of the tools and made quick work of the lock, tucking everything away as soon as she finished. The door opened silently and she slipped in, easing it shut behind her.
    The room was opulent and showy. She rolled her eyes and moved further in, ignoring the lavish furnishings and making a beeline for a desk on the opposite side. The portrait was on the wall behind it, as promised. Rich people were so predictable.
    There wasn't even a trick to revealing the safe. You just grabbed the edge of the frame, tugged, and the painting hinged away from the wall without problem. The only question was if the safe would be as simple to deal with.
    A mechanical number dial? Who even uses those anymore? Sam shrugged and cracked her fingers. This had been part of her training, obviously, she'd just never had to utilize it. Well, first time for everything!
    She fished a small flashlight out of her bag and flicked it on, holding it between her teeth so she could have her hands free. Pulling the safe door forward as much as she could, she turned the dial slowly, listening for the telltale click.
    There! Once you get that, the rest is cake. Sam grinned as the dial hit the last tumbler and opened. Pulling the door open with one hand, she took the flashlight in her other hand and shined it in, lighting up the contents.
    The only thing inside was an envelope. Sam grabbed it, shining her light on the front. The words 'gold star' were scrawled there in an elegantly messy script.
    Oh no. She knew that handwriting.
    A low chuckle came from behind her.
    She gritted her teeth and turned around. "Bryce." It was a statement, not a question, and it ground its way out past clenched jaw.
    "Samantha, darling, how I've missed you. I hate how your obligations keep us apart."
    "My obligations?" Her voice, though low in volume, grew in intensity. "My OBLIGATIONS are the only reason I'm doing this at all and you know it! If your boss had nothing to hang over my head I'd be gone in an instant."
    The smirk never left Bryce's too-smooth face as he sauntered toward her. He was tall, blond, and... shiny. Everything about him gleamed, like pyrite in the sun, beautiful, yet good for nothing more than catching the eye.
    "My boss? It's cute how you call my father that. Trying to convince yourself that I have less power over you than he does? Oh, Samantha." He stepped into her space, making an amused sound as she leaned away, blocked in by the wall and desk.

Foxworthy

James was not one of the few weighted with the honorable title of Foxworthy, despite the yellowish tint to his brown eyes. The naming ceremony was not easily forgotten; he would remember it in detail. His red-tipped brown hair had never seen an herbalist's concoction, despite the continual inquiries about where he had obtained such a sought-after potion.

The sharp tip of an exceptionally ill-placed rock dug into his spine but despite his discomfort James didn't want to move. He cracked an eye open but squeezed it shut immediately.

It was still there.

Why was it still there?

Bright, staring yellow-brown eyes. Reddish fur. White neck and chest. Alert ears.

No. This was not happening. There was not a fox sitting on his torso, watching him with intelligence and expectation in its gaze. His dreams had suddenly become much more vivid and realistic.

*I know you're awake.*

And now he was hearing things. Perfect.

*One generally hears things when another is speaking to them.*

Sarcastic things. Even better.

*The quicker you come to terms with the reality of your situation, the sooner I will get off your chest.*

James slowly opened his eyes. The fox tilted its head and blinked at him.

*That took much longer than necessary. Please respond in a more timely manner in the future.*

James groaned. "Why me? What did I do to deserve this?"

*You were born.* The fox jumped off of James, landing lightly on the forest floor. *Have you never looked in a mirror? Never wondered why you so resemble the creatures your people pay such homage to?*

"Everyone else wonders enough for me." James sat up and brushed himself off. "I think I'll leave now."

The fox leaped up and landed on James's shoulder. *Indeed. It is past time for us to be going.*

Frowning, James swatted at the fox. "Get off me!"

Digging its claws into James's shirt, the creature settled into a comfortable position. *Head north.*

With a loud groan, James clambered to his feet. "I'm definitely missing dinner today."

Pre-Gen Con 2013

Yes, Gen Con is coming up. Yes, I’m going (my second time!) (all four days!). Yes, I’m wearing costumes (you heard me right-costumes. As in, more than one. On different days, of course). Yes, I’m dragging my boyfriend along (he’s actually pretty excited). BRING. IT. ON!

Excitement aside, I really don’t have much planned-just a few things I know I’m doing and a few things I might do. And that’s totally okay.

A Floridian friend of mine on Facebook recently asked for some advice on conventions. She said the Tampa Comic Con looked fun, and that she planned on going, but that she’d never been a comic nerd so she didn’t know how to prepare. I typed out a long comment response, and quite liked the way it turned out, so I thought I’d share it with you as a little advice for Gen Con (or any convention). Enjoy.

I haven’t been to a Comic Con before, but I have been to Gen Con Indy, which is a gaming convention. I was not a gamer at all before I went, but I heard that they had writing classes going on too, which is something I’m definitely interested in. So I went to some writing seminars, hung out with my friends that also went, and just walked around looking at everything.

Even if you’ve never been a comic geek (or gaming geek, in my case), they’ll have something that’s related to something you’re interested in. Just look at the schedule, see what’s going on, and check a few things out. Even if you’re not a comic geek, I’m sure their exhibit hall (where stuff is on sale) will be super fun to walk around in. They have lots of stuff that’s not actual comics for sale. So, just check out some stuff and have fun!

So that’s my last word on the subject of Gen Con (or any other convention): Check out some stuff and have fun! See you there!

"Mine to Avenge" Book Review

Mine to Avenge is not the kind of book I would have picked up off the shelf, simply because fantasy is more my style, not mystery and suspense. But I won a free copy of the e-book off of author Kerry Letheby’s fan page on Facebook, and I’m so glad I did.

This book picks you up and sweeps you along with its story right away. The first chapter almost made me cry, and the rest of the book continued to reach into my emotional center and grab my heartstrings, refusing to let go.

The family of characters was engaging and dynamic. The generational aspect of the story gave me a perspective into the lives of the characters that brought me close to them, and brought them close to my heart.

The familiarity the author had with the places in the book was obvious. I felt like I was walking through the streets of Australia’s cities, and experiencing the familiar sights and sounds of my own hometown, not a locale that was continents away.

I really enjoyed this book, and would recommend it to any adult or older teen reader, regardless of whether or not they are normally interested in mystery or suspense.

Check out Kerry’s fan page on Facebook and give her a like:

www.facebook.com/Kerry.Letheby.Author

Also, here’s the link for the Kindle e-book if anybody is interested:

http://www.amazon.com/Mine-to-Avenge-ebook/dp/B00AI2FTLA/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1367190787&sr=1-1&keywords=mine+to+avenge

A Beautiful Beginning

Browsing another old notebook (I’ve been cleaning my room) and found another written doodle I wanted to share. Enjoy!

Dated Saturday, May 20, 2006-in Toronto, Canada, on a homeschool group high school class trip, in the morning while on the roof of the building we were staying in

The day is beautiful; the air cool, crisp, and clean. Last night’s rains have washed the flaws and imperfections from the streets and the skies. The sun shines down through the clouds and the delicate blue of the morning to touch my face, my hands, my feet.

It is a good day to be alive, a wonderful day, an utterly amazing day.

The city awakes; taxis pick up their first passengers, friends and lovers take an early morning stroll along the sidewalks and through the parks. Inside those still sleeping begin to awake; there is a Frisbee waiting for an eager hand and a quick toss; a shop sits silently with doors locked, awaiting the key that will reveal the wonders inside to the rest of the world.

It is just another day like all the rest, but deep inside the quiet minds of a lucky few lies the unconscious expectancy of a new day, a new experience, a new thought, a new dream.

Today is a day for living, for being a part of the heartbeat of the city, for knowing the blessing of opportunity and living up to the great potential of this glorious day.

Today is a new day; remember that and keep it with you always.

To Be Attractive... Or Not

I was flipping through an old notebook and found an interesting little written doodle about attractiveness, and I thought I’d share. So here it is.

Dated Friday, July 25, 2008

I wonder why one person considers another person attractive. That’s a strange thing to think on. There are some people, like famous actors, that a lot of people find attractive. But not everyone will. I doubt that there’s any one single person in the world that every other person in the world is going to find attractive.

Beauty is such an ephemeral concept. The perception of beauty and what is considered handsome, attractive, or good-looking varies from culture to culture and society to society. The global information network allows for communication and transfer of ideas across seas and continents. Many stars are globally famous, and it is to be assumed that a large number of people around the world consider those stars handsome, beautiful, attractive, good-looking, etc.

There are also cultures in various countries whose ideal of appearance would be thought to be strange, if not downright unpleasant. It’s such an interesting phenomenon.

I also wonder what makes people attractive to me. My best friend and I have different taste in guys, but not entirely opposite. You could gather together, say, 100 guys, and I guarantee that there will be a group of them that my friend finds attractive and I don’t, a group of them that I think are attractive and she doesn’t, and then there will be some that we both find attractive.

That sounds about right to me. Glad I agree with my past self!

I Am Not a Gamer-Thoughts on My First Gen Con

I am not a gamer.

Yes, I spent 80 bucks on a four-day pass for Gen Con Indy (the best four days in gaming!) this year (2012-the 45^th anniversary). Yes, I was at the Indiana Convention Center all day Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday last weekend for said gaming convention (my first time!). That’s beside the point.

I didn’t go to Gen Con because I’m a gamer. I went to Gen Con because I’m a writer.

It turns out that there’s an entire writer’s track going on the whole time, with classes and workshops on various aspects of the art and craft of writing. I obviously did not know this, or I would have attended sooner. Having writing seminars at a gaming convention makes so much sense to me!

I went to Gen Con for writing, so obviously I attended no more than three writing sessions per day. I wouldn’t have been able to fully absorb all the information given had I attended more. And using the time outside of sessions to actually write would have been too taxing, so the only actual writing I did during the convention was taking notes (and drawing up one RPG {Role Playing Game} character sheet). Anything more would have been futile (I hope you can sense the humor in my logic here, or I’m going to looking like a terrible writer)!

I am not a gamer, so obviously I didn’t spend hours walking around the exhibit hall, browsing the vendors, eyeing unfamiliar games, and drooling over gorgeous costumes pieces that were for sale. I didn’t get coaxed into LARP-ing (Live Action Role Play) for the first time, and I certainly didn’t wear a costume while participating in said LARP. I didn’t spend two hours cracking up while listening to Mikey Mason (http://comedyrockstar.blogspot.com/) sing some ridiculously funny songs about gaming. I didn’t lose my table-top RPG gaming virginity at an uproariously hilarious and fun sci-fi QAGS (Quick A** Game System) RPG that several of my friends (including some that run a gaming podcast! http://www.theestablishedfacts.com/) threw together on Saturday night. And I most certainly did not buy my first set of dice (they weren’t a very pretty blue, either)!

Oh, wait… I did all those things. Maybe I’m a gamer after all!

P.S. You can see my pictures from the con here: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10152046747425206.889314.627610205&type=1&l=ba7381675f

iPod Inspiration: The Beat

I was lacking the push to write and decided to inspire myself. I put my iPod on shuffle and forced myself to listen to whatever song played, on repeat, while I wrote a 100-word mini short story. This is my first one.

Inspired by:
'The Beat' by Basshunter ( http://youtu.be/FsDyYaqnc7Q )

The worm ran through his brain, devouring everything it found. Night filled the space left behind, lit by pulsing and flashes of light. Control was relinquished to the man in the booth, worshipped by clothed and half naked bodies for his prowess in auricular synthesis.

Personal inclination to maintain inaction slipping out the hole left by the worm, his limbs acquired consciousness without permission.

His body followed, mirroring the neighboring opposite. Hair flew past his face, and he followed it to the alluring origin.

“Dance with me!” Her yell was intimate against his ear among the pounding noise.

He succumbed.