The Maker hums as he finishes his work for the day. Tools get laid out in a row at the back of his wooden bench, drawers are pushed in and scraps are tossed into their respective bins. Metal clinks in the copper bin, bits of jewel flash in the jewel bin, and fabric gets folded for cutting later. In the center of the bench lies a half finished dragon. She’s going to be slender and majestic.

Dragon WingThe shelves around her are filled with other perfectly crafted dragons but, even half finished, you know she’s going to be something special. Not all dragons are created equal, as you well know. Some have wings intricately designed so their metal plates fold smoothly against the dragon’s ribs. Others boast jeweled eyes that sparkle as they see in the night. And still others balance on edges with needle like claws. All these dragons are useful, beautiful and graceful.

You are not one of these, however. You hide amidst the pile of discarded metal parts and watch the others through a single murky glass eye. The Maker tossed you aside when he found your thin wings were too small to carry your weight. Months have passed since that day and other discarded bits weigh down upon your frame, sharing their rust with you right along with their weight.

Dragon ClawsThe Maker’s current project holds a lot of hope for you, though. She’s small, like you, and many of the parts not deemed worthy of her perfect shape might fit you. One in particular caught your eye while the Maker worked today.

You wait as the Maker finishes putting everything away. The half finished dragon’s new ruby eyes flash as he turns out the light. Although she’s not finished, she can now see the world.

The Maker closes the door and the lock clicks. You wait even longer, watching for those ruby eyes to darken into sleep. Finally, when they do, you work your way from beneath the discarded parts.

The shop’s wooden structure absorbs the grind of the metal pieces like a sponge but many of the sleeping dragons have excellent hearing.

You pause once free of the rubble to see if any of the graceful creature awaken at your noise. None do.

Early that morning you watched the Maker toss a green jewel because of a flaw, a small crack, deep within its depths. That jewel would work perfectly beside your murky glass eye. You might actually be able to see the whole room for once in a casual glance.

The tiny green piece lay atop the discard box of flawed jewels. He’ll return the lot of them later and receive more perfect pieces in return. That’s why you have to make your move tonight. The jewel seller will be by in the morning and then your chance at a second eye will be gone.

The other pieces in the box are of varying sizes. This is the first time you’ve seen one that might fit your small frame. The others are too large.

You tuck your thin, useless wings against your sides and step lightly to the workbench. The jewel box sits on a shelf just to the right of it. If you climb the drawers of the bench, you can reach the shelves from its top.

Your claws grasp the handles easily but you find the next drawer handle too far away.

Thankfully the Maker finished most of your tail before he gave up on your wings. You turn upside down and reach for the next handle with your tail. Its metal coils encircle the ring with a faint clicking and you haul yourself up.

You repeat the process until you gain the top of the workbench. It’s scarred from long, daily use.

EmeraldsThe green jewel glitters with light from the overhead window. You tiptoe past the half finished dragon and grasp that wonderful
piece in your claws. It’s perfectly sized. You snap it into place with an audible pop.

The world turns green to your gaze. Beautifully layered in shades of emerald, aqua, and jasper. There’s a gray quality to it from your glass eye as well, but this is familiar to you, comfortable even.

“What are you doing?”

In your moment of triumph, you did not see the half finished female open her eyes but now those ruby gems burn with life. She’s lacking wings and a tail yet, so movement is not easy for her, but she’s obviously aware and fully capable of waking the others.

“Cleaning up,” you say.

“Not likely,” she responds and opens her mouth to give one of those piercing calls only a small female can.

Thinking quickly, you can either offer her one of the other sparkling gems from the box beside you or roll off the table into the discard heap in order to hide.

Do you…

A. Offer a gem?


B. Hide?

In the comment section, please cast your vote for which option you’d like to explore. Next Thursday, we’ll see how you handle this new turn of events.




The Letter – Guest Story By Kat from The Lily Cafe


Every once in a while I get to share stories from other writers here at Adventure Awaits You. Today I’m excited to post a story from Kat over at The Lily Cafe. Kat blogs everything from short stories, to mothering experiences, to family recipes and book reviews. I love it. Check it out.

And here’s her fun short story:

The Letter

            It was an exceedingly well-kept and equally respectable neighborhood and not one person would stoop to spy on a neighbor. It was a rather quiet place and even the children knew to keep quiet. The gardens were perfectly groomed and the houses shone with a new coat of paint every other year.

This air of quietude was not to last, however. It came to be shattered one morning with the daily mail.

It all began with a letter delivered to the house of one very respectable and elderly Mr. Connolly and his wife. It would seem that an unusually square envelope arrived in the mailbox and instantly attracted Mr. Connolly’s interest, as it did have his name written in a rather ornate fashion. Curious, he opened it right there by his mailbox as his neighbors wandered out to retrieve their own letters. None, of course, paid much attention to the elderly man, other than a genial smile.

Mr. Connolly stood for some minutes, silently contemplating the square letter he had received, before turning abruptly and heading into his trim white house to show the letter to Mrs. Connolly.


“My dear,” he said rather gravelly. “Come see what the mail has brought me today.”

Mrs. Connolly wandered in calmly from the kitchen, a apron around her waist and a dish towel in her hands. She carefully took the letter from Mr. Connolly’s hand, took one glance, and fainted dead away.

Startled, Mr. Connolly instantly went to the phone and dialed for an ambulance to take Mrs. Connolly to the hospital.

Though not curious folk, the neighborhood gathered in the street outside of the Connolly house to see why an ambulance stood at the curb. There were many a gasp when Mrs. Connolly was rolled out and still more when Mr. Connolly refused to leave with them.

They certainly were not inclined to go poking into other people’s business, but they could not help listening when Mr. Connolly proceeded to explain that Mrs. Connolly had collapsed after viewing the daily mail.

“Would you recite the alphabet for me?” Mr. Connolly asked of a little girl of six by the name of Penny James.

The little girl smiled and primly folded her hands and began to recite, “ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXY.”

At the end of this recitation, Penny curtsied and Mr. Connolly nodded thoughtfully as Penny seemed to stiffen.

“Just as I thought,” he announced. “There is indeed something missing.”

“Whatever is the matter, Mr. Connolly?” Mrs. James asked.

“Did not you find something strange in Miss Penny’s recitation?” Mr. Connolly asked curiously.

Mrs. James and several of the other mothers looked at each other in puzzlement.

“There was certainly nothing wrong in Penny’s recitation, Mr. Connolly,” Mrs. James said somewhat indignantly. “I taught her myself.”

“Then, I am afraid, you, too, Mrs. James, have made a grave error,” Mr. Connolly said solemnly. “There is indeed something wrong with the alphabet.”

“Don’t be silly,” Mrs. Williams said. “Of course there cannot be a thing wrong with Penny’s recitation. Indeed, my Timothy could recite it just as well.”

Mr. Connolly nodded. “Then, Timothy, please step forward and recite to me the alphabet.”

A timid little boy with dark hair and large dark eyes stepped forward and stared up at Mr. Connolly. His voice quivered uncertainly as he recited, though he knew the alphabet just as well as Penny James.


Timothy stared up at Mr. Connolly, a look of horror spreading over his face. He suddenly turned and ran screaming up and down the street. Mrs. Williams turned to Mr. Connolly with wild eyes.

“What have you done with Timothy?” Mrs. Williams demanded.

Mr. Connolly spread his hand. “That I cannot tell you. Timothy has done it to himself. Mrs. Williams, would you do me the honor of reciting the alphabet?”

“This is ridiculous,” Mrs. Stevens said from the front. “Do you mean to test us all on the alphabet, Mr. Connolly?”

Mr. Connolly lifted a hand. “Please, Mrs. Stevens, bear with me. We must get to the bottom of this.”

“The bottom of what?” Mrs. Stevens demanded.

“Mrs. Williams, would you please recite?” Mr. Connolly said in reply.

Mrs. Stevens stared angrily at Mr. Connolly, but said not another word.

Mrs. Williams stepped forward and recited, “ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXY.”

At the last of it, Mrs. Williams suddenly widened her eyes and screamed. She then collapsed on the ground and curled into a ball. She began to cry excessively and no amount of soothing could calm her.

“What is the meaning of this?” Mrs. James cried out.

Mr. Connolly turned to Mrs. James quite calmly and exceedingly gravely. “Mrs. James, would you be so kind as to recite the alphabet to me?”

“Mr. Connolly, this is absolutely ridiculous,” Mrs. James protested. “Why, you know as well as the rest of us that every one of us can recite the alphabet perfectly.”

“Then why is Timothy running up and down the street and his mother curled in a ball on the ground and weeping? Mrs. James and Mrs. Stevens, would you ladies please be kind enough to recite for me the alphabet?”

The two women stared angrily at each other before stepping forward and doing as Mr. Connolly requested.


At the end, Mrs. James let out a piercing cry and fainted dead away. Mrs. Stevens gasped and became as still as a statue with both hands clasped across her mouth and her eyes as wide as they would go. She looked so stiff that she could have toppled over and fallen like a tree.

Timothy Williams suddenly came running up to Mr. Connolly. He tugged at the elderly man’s coat until Mr. Connolly looked down at him.

“Mr. Connolly, something is dreadfully wrong!” Timothy cried out.

“Indeed there is,” Mr. Connolly replied. “And I know just what it is. You see this square piece of paper? It holds what is missing, what has been stolen from us.”

Mr. Connolly held the paper up and turned it around. His neighbors gasped. The children cried. Many of the women became almost inconsolable.

On the white sheet of paper was written in thick black pen a single letter. It read:




Timothy pointed up at it. “That’s it! It’s what’s missing! It’s the end of the alphabet!”

“And what do you think it means?” Mr. Connolly inquired of the child.

“We need more Zzzzs!” Timothy cried out.

And, after that, everything was quite normal once again.

The End

Thank you for joining us today for this fun story! And thank you Kat for sharing! You can see more of Kat’s posts by stopping by her blog, The Lily Cafe. Plus, later this month she’ll be hosting an interview of me regarding The Adventure. I’ll be sure to let you know when she posts it =)

Next week will start a new adventure, so I hope to see you all then.



Shape Changer Option Aa2: Human

Welcome to the last post in the Shape Changer Adventure.

If you’re just stopping in and have missed this adventure, here’s a quick summary to catch you up. You’ve been hired to rescue the Westbrook boy, who’s been kidnapped by the Eastbrooks. To get to their castle, you shifted into a hawk and then you shifted into a mouse to fit through the window. A cat heard you sneeze and is about to enter the tower where you’re at. Just before the cat finds you, you shifted into a cat as well. However, Longtail, the Eastbrook cat, knows you’re not from his castle and gives chase. You race through the tower (the Westbrook boy isn’t there) and now you’ve decided to shift into a human in front of the cats, then back into a cat to enlist their aid. Let’s see if they attack you or help you.

Shape Changer Option Aa2: Human

You can’t shake the cats and they could be of help to you. You’ll chance them attacking but be prepared to fight if they decide silver catyou’re an assassin to eliminate.

Just as the cats come dashing into the room, you focus inward and fire washes through you. When your vision focuses again, all three felines are staring at you like you grew a new head. You kind of did.

Now that you’re sure you have their attention, you shift back into the silver furred cat they were just chasing.

Longtail gives a, “well I’ll be,” and flops to the ground with his mouth hanging open, out of breath from the chase. “Don’t see that every day.”

“What do we do now?” one of the smaller cats, a tortoise shell female, asks.

“Assassin or Spy?” Longtail asks.

“Neither,” you answer as you relax into a sitting position, “I’m looking for the Westbrook boy. From what I know, he’s here somewhere, kidnapped by the Eastbrooks.”

“They always keep the boys in the tower,” the tortoise shell says.

“I checked there first,” you chuckle ruefully and give Longtail a look.

He yawns with a satisfied sound. “They haven’t kidnapped one of the others in awhile. He’s not here.”

There’s a pause before one of the other cats says in a murmur, “Maybe he is.” This cat is a gray puff of fur so fluffy you wonder where his eyes are. He gets three curious looks from you and the others.

“Explain, Furball,” Longtail demands. You get the feeling Furball isn’t the cat’s actual name but more of a teasing nickname.

Furball scrunches in on himself in a nervous fashion. “They opened the North Wing last week. Sylvia’s been taking food up there.”

“Will you show me?” you ask.

Longtail eyes you, perhaps trying to decide if he trusts your story.

“If it’s just the boy you want, we’ll help,” he finally says. “We don’t like the human’s game of stealing each other’s kits. It’s barbaric.”

balconyYou thank them and they lead you out of the window. The room you shifted in boasts a large balcony. From there the three felines climb a drainpipe to gain access to the roof, which gives you fair entrance to most of the castle without being seen. You’ll have to remember this tactic.

On the far wing of the castle, Furball leads everyone down to another balcony. “That next balcony is the one leading to the room Sylvia’s been going into, but the doors there will probably be locked,” he mumbles.

“Inside hallway then.” Longtail leads the way.

Your timing is perfect as a young girl is walking down the hall with a tray held on her shoulder. Furball rubs her leg and she smiles.

“Not now, kitten, I don’t have a free hand.”

Furball shadows her down the hall to the next door. She unlocks it by turning the bolt above the handle and slips inside, Furball keeping to her heels.

As the door starts to swing shut, he bats it with a playful paw before scampering after his mistress.

Longtail leads the way into the room before the door fully swings closed again. You follow him under one of the beds, but it’s immediately clear that there’s more than just one occupant to the room.

Three boys, probably about thirteen or fourteen in age, sit at a rough wooden table. Although they’re dressed in plain cotton clothing, you recognize the Westbrook boy from his tousle of dark hair.

Sylvia sets the tray on the table where the boys are sitting.

“That’s it?” one of the boys protests.

Sylvia raises her hands in the air. “I only carry the food. Cook decides what gets brought up.”

“Sheesh,” Arion Westbrook scoffs.

Sylvia backs away from them a step before turning for the door. As she does so, her hand absently goes to the pocket of her dress.

Just before she opens the door, you dart out and launch yourself onto her skirts, being careful to hang on with just your claws in the fabric and not digging them into her skin beneath.

She cries out in surprise. “Bad kitty!” Her hand connects with your head and you’re flung back into the room. The door closes with a thud and the lock gives a clear click as she closes you inside with the boys.

One of the boys laughs. “Feisty cat.”

Furball comes out with his hackles up. You still can’t see his eyes but his next words make his sentiments clear. “You attacked my human!”

KeyInstead of responding, you cough and spit out the key you pilfered from Sylvia’s pocket.

He gives an “ugh” like you hocked up a hairball on his toes.

Longtail sighs. It’s a long-suffering and disapproving sound. “Not the best way to get the key but I guess it worked.”

Arion Westbrook stands up from the table. “Did that cat just spit up a key?”

You wink at Longtail, stand up on your hindquarters and hug your front paws tight to your sides.

Fire washes through you.

Once your vision clears, you find the three boys backed up against the wall, staring at you in fright and the cats sitting on your feet.

“Don’t kill us,” one boy, probably the Southbrook boy judging from his almost white hair, whispers from dry lips.

“Sheesh.” It’s your turn to scoff. “If I was going to kill you, you wouldn’t have seen me coming.” You retrieve the key from the floor. “Time to make an escape. I was hired for Arion here but all three will do. Let’s go.”

They glance at each other but you don’t give them time to debate their choice. Unlocking the door, you step out into the hallway and motion for them to follow.

“You think they’d kidnap all three boys and leave them unguarded?” hollers a voice from behind you.

You spin to see a tall man coming down the hall. It’s not his size that makes you freeze, however, it’s his face. You know this man.

“Run,” you tell the boys, “follow the cats until they get you off the grounds and then head home. I’ll find you later.”

Longtail gives you a single nod. Just enough to let you know he’ll see them safely out.

The boys glance at you and the man and then take off running after the cats.

You meet the man’s dark look for a moment as you turn to race toward him and then you’re hugging your sides at the same moment he folds his arms across his chest. So far you’ve chosen domestic animals but you’re no longer worried about drawing attention.

You shift into a lion just as he changes into a large dog. You’re moving too fast for him to fix his mistake in time. As you clash, you swipe your massive claws across his shoulders. He rolls and tosses you away from him. When you try to spin to bite at his neck, he manages to sink his teeth into the delicate tendons of your hind leg. Pain flashes through you but you pull your paws inward and turn the pain into the fire of another shift.

ElephantYour legs expand into the thick limbs of an elephant and the other shape changer whimpers as his canine jaws can’t keep their hold.

The hallway is too narrow for an elephant to move much, but you can sit. You sit down on top of the dog. He wriggles around for a moment and attempts to shift a few times but his inability to pull a full breath of air keeps him from focusing enough to change.

Finally, he passes out.


Because of your injured rear leg, it takes you a while to catch up with the boys. When you do find them, you find they’ve negotiated safe passage home with a caravan transporting potatoes.

You don’t show yourself, but you keep watch as a hawk just to make sure they make it home. When you return to the tavern to retrieve payment from Vincent, he hands you several notes along with the money. They’re messages of thanks from each of the Brook boys. Although the Eastbrooks will never hire you, you’re quite trusted now by the North, South and West.

The End

Well done and thanks for joining in the adventure! I hope to see you next time.



Shape Changer Option Aa: Cat

MouseWelcome back.

If you missed the first part of this adventure, here’s the quick recap. You’ve been hired to rescue the Westbrook boy, who’s been kidnapped by the Eastbrooks. To get to their castle, you shifted into a hawk and then you shifted into a mouse to fit into the window. A cat heard you sneeze and is about to enter the tower where you’re at. You’re about to shift into a cat before the Eastbrook’s cat finds you. Let’s see what happens.

Shape Changer Option Aa: Cat

With seconds remaining before the cat enters the tower’s top room, you hug your tiny paws against your sides and fire washes
from your head down to your tail.

There’s a flash and your paws now have sharp claws and the fur on your back stands on end. Your silver tail poofs out and you arch your back in an aggressive stance.

A massive black tom darts up the stairs and freezes at the sight of you.

After a moment, his head tilts to the side in a questioning gesture. It’s not often you run into a cat larger than your own silver shape but this feline’s got a good ten pounds on you. The scars on his ears and shoulders attest to his experience. He’s not intimidated by your stance and to emphasize his confidence, he thumps his hindquarters down into a relaxed sitting posture.

“You’re not from around here,” he says. To the old man who follows him up the stairs, these words sound like a low growl.

You relax and sit down as well. No reason to antagonize him.

“I usually hang out around the dungeons,” you respond. “Today I wanted a quieter place to rest.”

His ears twitch back and forth in a negative gesture. “I know all the cats of this castle. You’re not one of them.”

“Who’s this, Longtail?” the old man steps toward you like he’s going to pick you up. Being a cat has its advantages, but getting picked up by a strange human isn’t one of them. Your hackles rise.

Longtail responds this time. Apparently hissing at his human isn’t a good idea. His hind legs bunch in preparation to launch at you. Judging by his size and scars, an actual fight might be a toss up on who would win.

Just as he’s about to pounce, you dart directly between the old man’s legs. This prevents Longtail from simply spinning to catch you as he’d end up scratching his human in the process. It gives you a few precious seconds and you use them to vault down the stairs.

The room below is obviously the old man’s living quarters with a single bed, a nightstand and a writing table. In your hurried pass through it, you can tell that only the old man lives there. It smells heavily of him and Longtail and no one else.

You continue on to the next set of stairs. There’s a cracked door at the bottom but you’re moving too fast to navigate the small opening between the door and the frame. Instead, you tuck your head to the side and slam you shoulder against the heavy wood. Pain stabs through your shoulder.

It’s a good thing you’re a decent sized cat or the door wouldn’t have budged. As it is, it creaks open far enough to let you tumble through but the resistance allows Longtail to make ground on you. His claws catch the wood right where your body hit it moments before.

This floor is the main level of the castle. You race down the hall leading out of the tower but cringe as you fly past two cats curled in the sunshine streaming through a window.

They howl at your disturbance.

“Give chase!” Longtail hollers as he too flies past.

You glance back to see the three of them racing after you but the old man is nowhere in sight. Your shoulder’s screaming from where you hit the door. You’re not sure you can shake your pursuers and a fight with the three of them would be a for sure loss on your part.

The Westbrook boy was not in the tower, which means he’s most likely in the dungeons but there’s a lot to the underground cells. You could spend days searching them.

You race around another corner and find yourself in an empty room. If you’re going to change, now would be a good time.

You consider shifting into a large dog to scare the cats away. After they’re gone, you could pick something less conspicuous to search the dungeons.

Or maybe the cats could be of help. If you shift into a human in front of them and then shift back into a cat, you might be able to enlist their help. Might being the key word. They may just decide you’re a danger to all their humans and attack you outright.

In the second you have to decide, do you pick?

Aa1: Dog?


Aa2: Human?

Vote for whichever option you’d like to explore. Next Thursday, we’ll see how this adventure ends =)



Shape Changer Option A: Tower

Welcome back!

To recap, last week you were hired to track down the Westbrook boy, who was probably kidnapped by the Eastbrooks. The man who hired you wants the boy back before the Princes’ birthday, which gives you three days. Since you’re familiar with the Eastbrook castle, you debated whether they would hold the boy in the dungeons or the tower. Now you’ve decided to search the tower first.

Let’s see what happens next:

Shape Changer Option A: Tower

TowerAlthough the Eastbrooks are haughty, they rarely disrespect a person’s station. It would be beneath them to throw the Westbrook boy in a dungeon and forget about him.

Settled on checking the tower first, you shoulder your pack and hug your cloak tight against your sides. This pulls your pack, with all its weapons and tools, snug against the hollow of your spine.

Wind howls, swirling around you, and the night closes in until even the bellow of the wind is only a muffled murmur in your ears.

The change happens in an instant. To an outside person you blur and emit soft light and then, with no clear outline until the change is complete, the shift gives you feathers and talons in place of your human flesh from a moment before.

To you, it’s fire that melts from your head slowly down your body until it reaches your toes. When it’s finished, you give a screech and launch into the air.

The wind catches under your hawk-like wings and lifts you high.

HawkMost shape changers such as yourself work as assassins or spies. You decided long ago you weren’t thrilled with those two options and so you created a third. You retrieve things for people. Usually stolen items but that isn’t always the case. Sometimes people just drop an item in a lake or over a cliff and, although you’ve never killed someone in your work, the stigma of what you are still frightens people. They only come to you when the situation is dire.

Which works in your favor because by then, they’re usually willing to pay well for whatever item they’ve misplaced.

The usual day trek to the Eastbrook castle is quickly done within a few hours. You circle over the tower as the light of dawn starts to turn the shadows into gray sketches. There are no lights burning in the tower but at this time of day, that doesn’t mean anything.

Finally satisfied that everything is quiet, you land on the windowsill of the highest window in the tower. Bars cover the window, spaced too close together for your hawk’s body to slide between. You peek inside. The room is a small circle with a wedge cut out of the floor for the stairs down. Other than dust, there’s nothing else inside.

You fold your wings tight against your sides and fire melts from your head to your tail feathers.

MouseNow a mouse, you slip between the window’s bars and scamper across the empty room to the stairs. Little puffs of dust, kicked up by your tiny feet, tickle your nose and you pause to give a petite sneeze.

From beyond the door at the bottom of the stairs comes a yowl of interest. There’s a scratching as a cat paws at the door.

You squeak and scamper back up the stairs just as the door down below creaks open.

“What do you hear, Longtail?” asks a deep voice.

You’ve only moments before the cat shoots up the stairs. Changing into a dog would not be a good option. Most dogs don’t sneak into strange rooms to be found later. A cat might, however, have wandered up here for a good nap. Or a smaller bird might have flown through the bars into the room by accident.

Aa: Cat?


Ab: Bird?

Vote in the comments for whichever option you’d like to explore. Next Thursday we’ll see where the popular choice leads you. =)



Shape Changer

Trees and snowChill wind howls through the mountain peaks and tall pines, calling in the cold like a shrill old woman. Darkness fell barely an hour ago but the warmth of the day is now long gone.

You huddle against the rock wall at your back and extend your fingers toward the warm fire before you. Its heat radiates off the stone, helping to stave off the chill.

Your contact is late. You’re expecting a grizzled old man who boasts bright red hair sprinkled with a healthy serving of white. Although you’ve never met the man, Vincent’s descriptions are usually exact, his attention to detail rarely failing.

It’s unusual for a contact to be late. You shift slightly sideways to let the fire warm your leg. If someone hires your services, it means they’re desperate and desperate people don’t tend to want to insult you by making you wait.

You shift to the other side and reach for the clay mug that sits on a stone next to the fire. A groan of appreciation escapes you as you sip the strong coffee. Half an hour longer, you decide, and then you’ll leave, just long enough to finish your coffee.

Trees and Night SkyYou’re swallowing the last of the coffee dregs when the snap of someone stepping on a dead branch echoes off the rock wall. Not long after, there’s a sniffle, probably from the person’s nose being cold.

A few seconds more and the expected, grizzled man steps from the dark line of trees.

He pauses, taking in your fire, your pack that sits beside you, and the weapons along with it, and finally yourself. He fidgets with the edge of his coat.

“Join me,” you say with a gesture at the other side of your small fire.

He bobs a nervous bow and sits. Like the warmth overrides all caution, he slides his hands free of his gloves and stretches them toward the flames. An ‘ah’ of relief sighs from between his lips.

“Quite the meeting place you picked,” you comment.

“Had to keep it remote.” He glances over his shoulder as though, even this far out, he’s nervous about being watched.

Not one to waste time, you ask, “What is the item you need retrieved?”

“Not what,” he says and leans closer, “but who.”

You give a questioning look.

“Arion Westfall was kidnapped a week ago by the Eastbrooks.”

You lean back against the stone wall and eye the man. You saw Westfall at the Winter Festival two nights ago. Is he playing you for some reason?

As though he notices your reaction, he continues speaking, “So far we’ve been able to keep the kidnapping quiet. We’ve used his double, the boy we have stand in at large speeches and such, to make general appearances. But Westfall’s supposed to attend the Princess’ birthday in three days and she’ll know it’s not him. If the princess finds out, she’ll name him an incompetent and choose another champion. The Westfall’s will be ruined.”

“The families kidnap each other all the time and, through ransoms, regain their children on a regular basis. What’s different this time?” you ask.

“No ransom’s been asked. In fact, no one’s claimed responsibility.”

“Then how do you know it was the Eastbrooks?”

He looks away and fiddles with the edge of his coat again. You simply wait for an answer. You’re good at waiting.

Finally he admits, “The Eastbrook boy boasted at the Winter Festival that he’d be the new Champion soon.”

“That’s your proof?”

He nods.

“Three days? That’s my time frame?” you ask.

He nods again.

“Deal,” you say.

Relief washes from his face, into his shoulders as they droop, and then down the rest of his body.

“Payment’s been delivered already?”


Photo courtesy of Sebring’s Snapshots

“At the Morrowtown Inn,” he confirms, “Vincent was specific on the details.” During the conversation he’d relaxed, leaning closer to the small fire. Now, he backs up a step as though this last comment reminds him of exactly who he’s dealing with.

You grin and shove your mug into your pack. He takes this as the dismissal that it is and starts to back away. At the tree line he pauses.

“You can do it, right?” he asks.

Your grin grows wider, almost feral, “we shall see.”

He gulps and turns away.

You finish snuffing out the fire while you consider the options. The Eastbrook castle is familiar to you as it’s not the first time you’ve retrieved something from it, but the grizzled man didn’t have a lot for you to go on. The Eastbrook’s could be keeping Westfall in their tower because of his status or in their dungeons because they want him to disappear.

Depending on those locations, your infiltration method will be different. Do you decide to check the Tower or the Dungeon first?

A. Tower?


B. Dungeon?

Post in the comments which option you’d like to try. Next Thursday I’ll post the next part to the adventure and we’ll see where it takes us!



Working Out the Brain

The human brain is a marvelous thing.


Photo courtesy of Sebring’s Snapshots.

Just like a muscle, it can be worked out until doing certain activities becomes easier. Memory can be improved by memorizing (imagine that). Reading can be improved by reading and writing. Sight reading sheet music can be improved by practicing piano. I could go on.

But similarly, if the brain’s not used in a certain activity often, it atrophies in that activity. It will struggle to perform at an efficient level.

All that said means, I haven’t written stories in a while and it’s showing. Last year I focused on editing, formatting, and promoting The Adventure, and I’m not complaining, but my ability to sit down and write a cohesive adventure story has atrophied.

I fully intended to post an adventure in January. Don’t look at the calendar, it’s embarrassing. There was a time I could fully write an adventure in three days. All eight endings written out, done, complete. That time is not now.

I can’t do the eighteen pull-ups I used to crank out either.

But, just like I’m getting back into my workout schedule, I’m sluggishly getting back into my writing schedule. My lesson has been learned, a little bit of story writing on a regular basis goes a long way in keeping my brain fit, as it were.

So, a little late, welcome to 2018. Thank you for your patience with me.

Thursday will see the start to this year’s first adventure story.

Hope to see you then.