The Struggles of a Project Bouncer

I, my dear friends, am a project bouncer. All too often I’m struck with a lightning bolt of creativity that fuels me roughly for a week only to dissipate as quickly as It came. 

And so I’m left with a story concept that is pushed to the back shelf that is already crowded with other dead ideas and concepts that I l tell myself I’ll get to later. And of course, later never comes. 

I think the most frustrating bit about this aspect of personality is that fact that I always feel like I’m overflowing with ideas and yet I don’t actually get anything done. After the end of a creative jolt I’m left with nothing but a vague character description and plot outline and a blank word document. It’s like I’m encountering writers block before I’ve even started. I can’t focus on one idea long enough and everything feels like it’ll result in a dead end. 

But, as I’ve come to figure out, my problem isn’t necessarily the time that I have with an idea that’s giving me issues. It’s the way I use it.  

You see, if you’re anything like me, your creative eureka! Moments happen often frequently but they are fleeting. Generally what I do with this time is… well nothing.  And that, my dear friends, is my problem. I squander my creative bursts on… daydreaming? Nothing productive anyway. 

So here’s how I combatted this issue. The solution was really simple actually. 

Every inspiring idea and concept that comes to my head revolving around this topic, I write down. Everything. All the random bits of dialogue, all the random character details, the scenes… all of it. 

And needed to put to use my creative energy right away. I needed to stop “letting it simmer” because that leads to me burning out. I learned that I needed to take advantage of this flash of inspiration and actually WRITE. There’s no room for perfection. I just need to DO it cause pretty soon I’m going to loose steam and that’ll be the end of it. 

And, so, by the end of a weeks time (and my creative high), I should have the hardest part of the story out of the way; the beginning. And if I can get that down, I can run with it and see where the story takes me. 

“The beginning is perhaps more difficult than anything else, but keep heart, it will turn out all right.”

~Vincent Van Gogh 

Van Gogh Quotes that feed my Soul

“Normality is a paved road: It’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow on it.”

“The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore.”

“I am always doing what I cannot do yet, in order to learn how to do it.”

“Art is to console those who are broken by life.”

“I always think that the best way to know God is to love many things.”

“For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.”

“I feel that there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people.”

“I wish they would take me as I am.”

“Great things are done by a series of small things brought together.”

“Love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is done well.”

“I often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day.”

“What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?”

“I put my heart and my soul into my work, and have lost my mind in the process.”

“Be clearly aware of the stars and infinity on high. Then life seems almost enchanted after all.”

“A great fire burns within me, but no one stops to warm themselves at it, and passers-by only see a wisp of smoke.”

“The beginning is perhaps more difficult than anything else, but keep heart, it will turn out all right.”

Excerpt From A Book I’ll Never Write: Obliviated

Obliviated

I wake on a hill, the sun’s rays piercing the black. The grass is soft on my bare arms as I turn my head slightly to observe my surroundings. It seems I’m in a meadow of sorts, with little yellow flowers dotting the landscape. The golden light of the dawn falls upon the serene grassland.
I swivel my head to my left and find another face of a young man, sleeping as I was. I then came to the realization that I was clutching something.
I sit up quickly and find I am gripping this strange boy’s hand. He is about as old as I was though I am not exactly sure what age that is. In fact, I have no memory of how I got here.
I let go of the boy’s hand and pull my knees to my chest and press my face against them, a sad feeling settling in the pit of my stomach.
It had happened again.
I throw my head back and groan, complaining to the heavens, though I doubt they hear as they’ve never listened before.
“Why?” I utter.
I would tell you my name but I don’t know that either. But whoever I am, I live in the world of Anamnesis, that much I know. In this land, we are under a cruel curse. Every year, on the last day of Summer, we forget everything.
Every person we knew, every experience we had, and every moment worth remembering. However, knowledge of this curse plagues us no matter how many times we forget.
We try to make the best of things, however, as much as one can. We meet people that we have probably met before and explored the landscape and the kingdoms around us once again.
I don’t know how long this world has operated this way. I don’t know how old I am or how many times I’ve forgotten but somehow, myself and others alike since its been this way for a long time, further frustrating us.
Long ago we would hunt and search this planet for answers. We dreamt of a day when we could remember. But when we turned up empty-handed and the sunset on the last day of summer once more, we grew tired and gave up on our questions being answered.
Now we rise on the first winter morning and try and seize as much as we can with the time we have. My people build one year long kingdoms and empires but they all eventually fall away. So the kingdoms Anamnesis fight wars and siege each others castle for what else can they do? Can we not enjoy the next year since it is all of no worth since we are incapable of remembering? What other purpose is there?
I smooth the edges of my sundress and look a the position of the sun as it rises higher into the sky. I glance down once more at the figure beside me before moving to stand. I probably knew him at one point. In fact, if I spent the last day of summer with him, he must have been special to me. Too bad I didn’t remember.
I quietly began moving away from him. It was easier this way. Now to find a town or a kingdom to-
“So you’re just going to abandon me?”
A whirl around as I’m greeted by the sight of the boy sitting up and smiling at me.
“Why not?” I say, shrugging dismissively. “I don’t know you.”
“Not anymore I guess,” he said turning his face towards the sun and holding a hand to shield his eyes. “Such a shame.”
“A shame indeed though it hardly matters, does it?” I say as I begin to fiddle with my loose, amber hair.
A breeze lilted through the meadow, rustling the boy’s hair.
“It can matter if we want it to,” he said, getting to his feet. “I’d introduce myself but-”
“I know, you don’t have to bother explaining,” I turn my head and search the horizon for a sign of a building or a person. I didn’t usually find myself this secluded. I was pretty certain that the other times I’ve woken there was a town or kingdom nearby.
“Well, there’s no use in us not being able to address each other,” The boy was still talking.
“I guess not,” I say, staring at him blankly. Why was he still here? Just leave, it doesn’t matter!
“Good! Glad you agree! I guess it’s up to me then!” he says, his smile growing wider.
“What’s up to you?” I query.
“To give you a name!”
“What?!” I exclaim. “I didn’t give you permission to-”
“How about Rebekah?” He offers.
“What? No-”
“You’re right, to outdated,” he puts a hand to his chin and squints at me. “Hmmm… you don’t look like a Natalie,” he speculates.
I cross my arms, giving him a skeptical look, but remain silent for the moment. I’m actually curious as to what he’ll come up with.
“Ah! I’ve got it!” He announces. He then bends down and plucks a small yellow flower from the earth. “Chrysanthemum!”
I consider it.
“I don’t haaate it,” I tilt my head slightly in thought. “Though it is a mouth-full.”
“Fine, then we’ll just call you Chrys for short!” He says, placing his hands on his hips proudly. “Now your turn!”
“My turn?”
“Yeah! Give me a name!” he beams.
“Do I have to?”
“Pretty Please?” He begs.
“Fine,” I concede. Then I look him up and down thoughtfully. The gears in my head begin to turn, thinking of the possibilities.
He is rather tall, with slightly curly and unkempt brown hair. He is pale and his skin is speckled with light freckles. His eyes, as far as I can tell, are a greenish hazel color. He is in simple commoner clothes with a white tunic and brown breeches. As my gaze reaches his feet, I realize, to some surprise, he’s barefoot.
“Judging by your attire, you weren’t anyone of great importance,” I think aloud.
“Oh, that hurts me,” he says in mocking offense. “It really does.”
“I’m just saying to don’t exactly look like a King Rupert,” I explain.
“Well, I’m not getting any younger,” he says as he begins to tap his bare feet against the earth. “At this rate by the time you decide, we’ll forget again.”
“Haha,” I say in a monotone voice. “Now hush so I can think.”
I pause a moment more before saying, “Emeric.”
He mulls the name over for a second longer before saying, “Could be worse.”
“Okay, now that you’re satisfied, can I go?” I don’t even wait for an answer as I turn and start off to… wherever I’m going.
“But where are you going?”
The voice comes directly from behind me and I turn to see Emeric right behind me.
“Why do you insist on continuing to bother me?”
“I just wanna tag along,” he says, feigning innocence. “Besides, you don’t know where you’re going and neither do I. Why not walk together?”
“Want me to provide you a list?”
“Must be short considering you don’t know me,” he mumbles.
“That’s at the top,” I tell him.
“Yeah, yeah, your loss,” he continues to trot behind me, seemingly unaffected by my protests. “You must have been a whole lot nicer when you knew me.”
“And you must have been a lot less insufferable,” I retort.
“Being insufferable is part of my natural charm,” He informs me with a sniff. “You should consider your past self lucky!”
“You know, we could have been just good friends,” I suggest, avoiding eye contact.
“Somehow I doubt it,” he huffs. “But, as you said, it hardly matters.”
We continued walking and came to the edge of the meadow. Here it met the treeline of a thick forest with tall clustered trees.
We halt for a moment, eyeing the thick foliage.
“Onward I suppose,” Emeric says.
I glance down at his bare feet.
“You sure?” I ask.
“It’s sweet and all that you’re concerned for me but I’ll be okay,” Emeric remarks snarkily before striding into the forest.
“Idiot,” I murmur before beginning to trek behind him.
“You know,” He says, pushing a branch from out of his face. “You don’t have to walk behind me.”
“I prefer to so you can knock down all the spider webs,” I say with a grin.
“Hey-ack! Phbbbtt,” He begins to spit and gag and a let out a loud laugh, the sound echoing throughout the once silent wood.
“So what do you think you’ll be this time around?” I call up to Emeric, trying to strike up a conversation.
“Who knows,” I can see him shrug with a quick movement of his shoulders. “Pastry chef, stable boy, fisherman,” then he looks back at me grinning. “Maybe even a king.”
“Good luck with that,” I smile.
“How about you?”
I think for a moment, the only sound to be heard is the crunching of leaves and branches beneath our feet as we continue walking.
Then I speak, breaking the silence.
“I don’t know,” I say truthfully. “I haven’t the foggiest notion of what I was so I’m pretty much am working with a blank slate.”
“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Emeric points out. “Just be thankful you didn’t wake up in a jail cell or something like that.”
“I jail cell might be preferable compared to waking alongside you,” I tease.
“Harsh words, little girl,” He laughs. “Better be nice to me, or I won’t give you a job in my bakery or my castle?”
“So you’ve narrowed it down? King or pastry chef? Choose wisely.”
“Oh, I will,” Emeric gives a low chuckle. Then he suddenly stops in his tracks, causing me nearly to collide into his back.
“It seems we’ve reached the edge of the wood,” Emeric says to me. “And our destination is just in sight.”
I walk over to his side and look. Before us lies a valley, green a lush filled with a kind of purple wildflower. I can hear bees buzzing as they go from flower to flower. A stream runs no more than a few yards away, trickling deeper into the valley. And, just barely visible against the blue horizon, houses.
“A village,” I say. “At long last.”
“It’s not too far off,” Emeric says. “And its all downhill from here.”
“Praise the Gods,” I huff.
“But, looks like we’re going to have to get a bit wet,” Emeric eyes the stream. “But nothing we can’t handle.”
“Well, come on then,” I say, striding forward. “Our future awaits!”

Snapshot: The Fourth Week of April

Quarantine has kept everyone home for the past five weeks. At first it was boring, but I am very glad that I have a home in which I like to reside. We have been taking on a bit more chores and yard work as we now have the time to tend to such matters. Today, my dad came home with a tractor and a plow which he had borrowed.

Usually, my mom would be tilling up the garden with a tiller this time of year only to have it break half way through and my dad would have to find time to fix it. It would not be a happy evening.

But with this plow, the blades slice and turn up the dirt quickly and effortlessly. It does turn out rocks however, so me and my siblings have to run along behind it and pick them up and throw them to the sides of the Garden to be collected later. But it’s not miserably work- the wind is blowing and rustling through the grass and trees, making for a cool work environment. And the dirt feels so nice on my bare feet, coming up to my ankles, chopped fine by the plow.

Then my sister begins singing off key, picking up rocks as she practically yells the words:

I’m on my way
Driving at ninety down those country lanes
Singing to “Tiny Dancer”
And I miss the way you make me feel, and it’s real
We watched the sunset over the castle on the hill

I don’t think I mind this farm work quite as much.

Synthesia

Synthesia is defined as a coalescing of one’s senses. It is a phenomenon where the five senses are securely linked. Today, it is described as a “disorder” though I would describe it as a sixth sense. It does not obstruct me. In fact, it avails me in experiencing and feeling life in a thoroughly different but beautiful way.

Where one hears music, I visually perceive a breathtaking exhibit of flashing and swirling color. My vision becomes a kaleidoscope of vibrant hues.

This particular aspect of my synthesia I have been most thankful for. After all, music has played a key role in marking momentous and memorable occasions.

I can recall lying in bed as a puerile child and my mother would sing me a lullaby to draw me to slumber. Lilac and blue hues flashed and then faded to ebony as I drifted off to slumber.

My first concert was a sight to behold. I could feel the beat of the music coursing through my veins as I raised my hands with the crowd and sang the words out loud and clear. The scarlet hue that tinted my view commixed with the flashing strobe lights as I became one with the crowd. I had never felt so alive.

Then the time came for my first prom. My view of the scene afore me blushed pink as I danced with someone for the first time.

And then came the time for me to marry. My vision virtually glowed yellow as the organ played but, throughout the golden mist, I could still see the love of my life at the end of the aisle.

Then there was the day my mother died. The music played soft and slow and greys and blues mixed with tears as I stared down at the floor. When I came home that night, a hollow feeling had rooted itself firmly in my gut. I did not listen to music for a very long time.

And then one day I turned on the radio and my vision of was bright once more.

At last, There came a time when I had my own child. Beautiful and bright-eyed, she lit up my life. I recollect taking her home and laying her in the crib for the first time and then singing the lullaby my mother had sung to lull me to sleep. Familiar hues danced before me and life was wonderful.

She grew up too quickly, as most children do, and her graduation was soon upon us. Orange was the shade that I saw as the music sounded throughout the large room and the graduates throw their hats and my daughter was grown.

Time passed swiftly and I have grown old and my body creaky. That leads me to where I am today, lying in a bed with startlingly white sheets and covers. My family circumvents me and they all look sad.

And then they begin to sing.

I can scarcely tell through the fog of my mind but I think it’s a hymn. And then, for the last time, the colors appear.

Scarlet
Green
Amber
My pulse is slowing.
Lilac
Turquoise
Blue
Grey
It’s time to rest.
Pink
Yellow
White
And then
Black.

Excerpt from A Book I’ll Never Write: Dragonfly

My mechanical joints began to lock up and tenebrosity tinted the edge of my vision. My circuits were shutting down and a haze began to creep over my conscience. My artificial heart that rested in and warmed my core began to grow cold. The chilly sensation crept from my stomach to my chest and was starting to spread to my metal appendages. I could barely feel anything.

But throughout the mental fog, a voice broke through and a wave of fondness rushed over me as I listened to the gentle voice.

“Don’t worry,” It said soothingly. “You’re just going to sleep. You’ve got a long journey ahead. Now rest, and I promise I will wake you up when the time comes.”

Here, I could have sworn I heard a tinge of sadness in the voice, but I didn’t have long to consider it because in the next moment, my heart stopped completely and the world went dark entirely.

Excerpt From A Book I’ll Never Write: Submerged

The water lapped lazily at the sides of my small, sleek, wooden boat as it drifted through the clear blue water. The water departed before the hull, creating silky smooth waves on either side of the ship. The water glinted and sparkled in the midday sun, making easy to see into the depths below.

The New York City Skyline completely submerged loomed beneath the surface of the crystal water, its dark shapes giving it a ghostly and haunting look. Gazing down, it seemed so close I could touch it and feel the metal of the spires that jutted up from the one towering skyscrapers.


I gently allowed my hand to drag in the water, creating ripples as I did so. The water was cool and refreshing against my tanned hands. I withdrew my hand, knowing full well that the watery city lay hundreds of feet under. It would take an impressive scuba expedition to even touch the highest peaks of the tallest buildings, and even then, one never knew of the creates that lurked in the eerie hallways of old office buildings.
The bell hanging from my ship’s mast interrupted my thoughts with a clear and resounding clang! I jerked my head up momentarily startled. A gull sat upon the metal bell, tilting its head, giving me an almost questioning look.


“Hey, there,” I said to the feathered creature. “Looking for a handout?”
It let out a caw. Gulls were ALWAYS looking for handouts. But I knew better. Gulls were as bold as they were hungry and once one finds you have anything remotely edible in your grasp, they would not hesitate to throw themselves at you, nibbling at you with their curved beaks.


I shooed the creature away and it reluctantly flew off into the strikingly blue sky. I stared after, watching its white body disappear into the blinding light of the sun.
It’s been approximately one hundred and twenty years since the sea claimed the majority of the North American content, banishing most of its major city to the deep blue. I, of course, don’t remember this monumental event, being only 16, but my grandmother did.


“It was disastrous!” My Grandmother would tell me when I began questioning her about the event. “Or so the politicians wanted us to believe. Truth was, this flood saved us from an even greater disaster; greed.”

She then would go on and talk of the white house plunging beneath the ocean’s all too welcoming waves and how many people died and how that was but a great tragedy. But people rose from the waves, rebuilding their lives and cities above the water, creating “floating villages” and even cities that bobbed on the surface of the water. Our once organized government was in shambles as were many other countries. Old Japan was now nothing more than a memory. But New Japan was a sight to behold, at least according to the rumors. Humanity is remarkably resilient, and the Japanese people were no different. Truth being, they had more time to prepare, expecting the flood a little more early on than any of the other nations.


Some were not so lucky. Great Britain got the worst of it. Big Ben was now nothing more than an ornate home of fish and sea life.
But one thing remained without question; Many suffered at the hand of unforgiving the tide.

100 Fears

From the list below count how many things you’re afraid of, then see the chart at the bottom.

[] the dark (Confession, I super was when I was little, and even then I knew it was ridiculous but I’d think myself into being scared. Not so much anymore though)
[] staying single forever (I think it would be fine. I could have pasta for breakfast and no one would judge me)
[x] being a parent (maybe a little, but more so the responsibility that comes with it.)
[x] giving birth (the paaaaain. Movies definitely don’t help this fear. And every time you talk to a mother they’re like; “Yah it was horrible I felt like I was dying” so definitely scared of pain. It hurts me.)
[] being myself in front of others (They know I’m weird)
[] open spaces
[x] closed spaces (sort of. Mcdonald’s play places anyone?)
[] heights
[] dogs
[] birds (?)

[] fish (also ?)
[x] spiders (YOU BET. Nothing should have eight legs. Nothing should have eight anything. (sorry families of eight). It also has eight eyes! A double whammy.)
[] flowers or other plants (OH NO IS THAT A BUTTER CUP???)
[] being touched (haha mood some days. But not exactly scared of it)
[] fire
[] deep water
[] snakes
[] silk
[] the ocean
[xxxxxxx] failure (Maaaaaaybeeee a litttlleee)

[] success (How??? Why???)
[] thunder / lightning (No way, thunder and lightning are nature’s fire works.)
[] frogs / toads (ugly but not scared)
[] my boyfriends / girlfriends dad
[] boyfriends / girlfriends mom
[] rats (They’re nasty but I don’t know if I’m scared of them)
[x] jumping from high places (bingo)
[] snow
[] rain (I’m sorry, what? Rain is so relaxing??)
[] wind

[] crossing hanging bridges
[] death (“You cannot kill me in a way that matters”)
[] heaven (wut?)
[] being robbed
[] falling (I think so. You know those drop towers at parks? I went on one once and got sick so never again)
[] clowns (They creepy but I don’t think I’m scared of them. I don’t exactly see how they’re supposed to be funny either?)
[] dolls
[x] large crowds of people (sometimes)
[] men
[] women

[x] having great responsibilities (Oops)
[] doctors, including dentists
[] tornadoes
[] hurricanes
[] incurable diseases
[] sharks
[] Friday the 13th
[] ghosts (Okay, I don’t even believe in ghosts but like every time in the shower and I have soap all over my face & I can’t open my eyes, I can’t help think there could be a demon right in front of my face I wouldn’t know. Like not seriously but occurs to me. Is that weird??)
[] poverty
[] Halloween

[] school
[] trains
[] odd numbers (How does that even work?)
[] even numbers (That’s odd)
[] being alone
[] becoming blind
[] becoming deaf
[] growing up
[] creepy noises in the night
[] bee stings

[x] dying completely alone (but then again, when it comes to death, aren’t we all alone? Can’t take nothing with us)
[x] needles (AHHHHH)
[] blood
[] dinosaurs (But they’re extinct, right? RIGHT???)
[] the welcome mat (uhhhh)
[] high speed
[x] throwing up (I HATE THROWING UP SO MUCH. I mean, nobody loves it, but I mean I super hate it.)
[] falling in love
[] secrets
[] flying in planes

If you get more than 30, you are basically terrified of everything. Chill out, its gonna be okay.

If you get more than 20-30, you are paranoid.

If you get 10-20, you are normal. (HEY! I’m normal!!)

If you get 10 or less, you are fearless.

If you get 0, you are a liar. 😛

Wished Away

Once upon a time, in a flourishing Arabian kingdom there lived a poor family in the slums of the beautiful city. The family was that of a young man with his mother and younger sister. His mother was very old and frail and his sister was very young so neither of them could work. This led to the young man, whose name was Nasir, being the sole support of his mother and sister. So, every morning, he would rise early and walk the city streets to the market place where he worked for a rich man by selling fish at a stand to those who passed by.
But one particular morning he rose late and had to walk very quickly through the streets.
I shall still be late, he thought disparagingly to himself. Then at that moment, a narrow alleyway caught his eye that he had never noticed before on his walk to the marketplace.
Perhaps it is a shortcut, he thought to himself. He cut through into the narrow street and began to run. Suddenly, he tripped and tumbled to the ground, a cry escaping his lips. He had tripped on something.
He rose, expectorating dust and sand out of his mouth and looked to see the cause of his fall. His gaze fell upon a small golden lamp, lying in its side in the dirt.
What luck, Thought he. I can sell this in the marketplace.
I bent down and snatched the lamp and commenced to dust it off. Upon doing so, glittering purple smoke erupted from the lamp, filling the alleyway.
Nasir dropped the lamp in fear as a lilac figure of a Nasir dropped the lamp in fear as a lilac figure of a man emerged in affluent golden robes from the smoke.
“I am an all-powerful genie!” He proclaimed. “You have awoken me from a great slumber and now I shall grant you three wishes!”
Nasir blinked in shock. This was too good to be true! He paused for a moment and then said, “Can I wish for anything?”
“Big or small,” the genie replied.
Nasir licked his lips greedily.
“I wish to very rich, so I shan’t be poor any longer!”
The genie bowed low.
“Your wish is my command.”
Nasir’s vision blurred momentarily and the purple smoke swirled around him, incapacitating him completely. As it cleared, he found himself standing before a colossal house with a fountain in its courtyard, decorated in luscious greenery.
“Where am I?” Asked Nasir.
“You are at your new home,” said the genie. “Inside you will find your riches along with your mother and sister.”
And with that, the genie disappeared in a poof of smoke and Nasir was left alone, standing before the large house, the golden lamp at his feet.
He picked it up and examined it for a moment as it glinted in the harsh sunlight of the morning. Then he shoved it in his satchel and entered his new house.
For a time, Nasir and his family were happy. He bought his mother and sister fine silks to wear and beautiful golden jewelry to adorn their wrists and necks. But as time went on, he gained many friends due to his riches but not all of them were wise or trustworthy. Many urged him to spend his money foolishly and to participate in foolish bets and gambling. So, inevitably, the time came when all his riches were spent, and he called upon the genie once more.
“Your wish is my command,” said the genie as he appeared before Nasir. “Big or small I shall grant it.”
“Riches were of no good to me,” said Nasir. “So now I wish for power and to rule over this many lands!”
“It shall be so,” the genie said and waved his hands.
More purple smoke filled the room and Nasir found himself in the kingdom’s palace with a crown upon his head.
Nasir ruled rather foolishly, giving in to the whims of his sly friends and did what he wished with no thought of his people.
One day his sister and mother came to him and said, “Nasir! Stopping living as foolishly as you are. While you are eating the finest food, many are starving!”
But Nasir, young and foolish as he was, ignored his mother and sister. As time went on, the kingdom fell further victim to ruin, and the people were angry.
So one dark night they rioted and stormed Nasir’s palace armed with torches. That night, half if the palace burned.
As the morning sun rose, Nasir stood among the ashes of his kingdom with his lamp in hand and rubbed it, summoning the genie for the last time.
“What is it, my master?” Asked the genie.
“Oh, woe is me!” Cried Nasir. “For my kingdom is nothing but a pile of ash and my family perished In the flames! Riches and power have failed to satisfy me! I was better off poor and selling fish!”
He knelt for the genie, spirit broken.
“Please,” he begged. “Make it as it was before. Let me start over. I wish to do it over again. And pray this time I am not so foolish!”
The genie smiled sadly.
“Your wish is my command.”
And Nasir found himself spiraling in a tornado of glittering smoke.

~*~

Nasir woke with a start and rubbed his eyes. He felt tired but knew not why. He then directed his eyes to the window of his room, and to the risen sun. He was late! Nasir rose and had to walk very quickly through the streets.
I shall still be late, he thought disparagingly to himself. Then at that moment, a narrow alleyway caught his eye that he had never noticed before on his walk to the marketplace.
Perhaps it is a shortcut, he thought to himself. He cut through into the narrow street and began to run. Suddenly, he stumbled and fell to the ground, a cry escaping his lips. He had tripped on something.
He rose, expectorating dust and sand out of his mouth and looked to see the cause of his fall. His gaze fell upon a small golden lamp, lying in its side in the dirt.
What luck, Thought he.

The End

Excerpt From A Book I’ll Never Write: The Sanction City Saga

No one remembers how this city came to be. No one remembers if it was once part of the real world, or if it was, where exactly in the world it was. People would tell you different stories, many completely different from one another. There have been reports of the city being sighted on maps in the United States, in various locations in Europe, or even as far as Australia. There are many conflicting reports of where people found the city, but one thing is for certain.

No one can leave.

Many strange phenomenons happened within the city on a regular basis. Some things felt out of place. Every day, people would wake up to find new buildings, seemingly out of a different era or different time, a different place entirely. Buildings that looked out of place or relics from a past long forgotten would show up, some items that didn’t even exist yet just suddenly did. It was as if the city was pulling time itself into its limits, devouring it and making it its own. Medieval castles and knights appeared out of the blue. People from thousands of years in the future arrived. People from empires long forgotten or lands thought only to be legend were seen in the flesh. Creatures thought extinct, and artifacts thought lost all appeared within the city.

People found their way to this city somehow, whether they felt a strange calling, or happened to survive what they thought was a near death experience. Others just woke up here one day. The population of the city grew, and despite their desire to go home, people soon had to accept that there was nowhere else for them to go. No matter how far they went, the city seemed to expand and mold itself to keep people within. To this day, no one has been able to escape.

The city was dubbed Sanction City seemingly hundreds of years ago, as people soon began to accept that this must have been some kind of divine punishment to trap them all here. The city felt like purgatory, and this trap was their penalty.

The general populace of Sanction City’s native-born seem to accept all of the irregularities as normal occurrences and don’t know any better. They’ve grown complacent in their way of life, and make the most of their situation and stopped trying to fight the city. Business and life began to thrive within the city like any other, but one couldn’t help but feel sorry for the unfortunate souls who happened upon Sanction City, being forced to live in a city that eats time.

Whether you’re new to the city, native-born, fighting for supremacy amongst the gangs, a student trying to get by, a squire from the medieval ages far removed from their time, or a futuristic time traveler has gone awry, there is a purpose for you in Sanction City. It’s up to you whether you want to go with the flow, or if you want to fight against time and fate itself.

Your story begins now.