Day 7.6 – Wild Girl Whisper


This is just so that I don’t break my writing streak and one of my friends actually put me on a countdown for making a post. So here it is! This is actually the first chapter from the book that I’m working on. It’s called “Wild Girl Whisper” and is about a Vancouver escort. This chapter is about a girl named Rebecca who goes by the name Piper when she’s hooking and in a way, this is her twisted beginning.It’s currently unedited, but I’m actually digging on it as it is. 

Sorry about it being so long…

The Beginning…In a Weird and Twisted Way –

I was standing outside a gorgeous three story townhouse in White Rock, British Columbia. It was dark and the path and the stairs leading up to the front door were barely lit. The door way was dark and all that I could do was stand on a dark street, on a damp sidewalk as my cab drove off into the 1am morning. Still I stood there staring up at the now gigantic and almost palatial three story townhouse that held either my anonymous demise or the solution to my week’s financial issues.

Breathing deeply, I inhaled the smell of wet pavement which is weirdly one of my favorite scents and tried counting myself down to charging up the dark walk-way and knocking on the every growing front door. Or ringing the doorbell. Or pushing the buzzer. What was I going to do? I wasn’t ready for this step. I was too young to die and if I did then no one would know I was dead. No one would even notice that I was missing for several days. I stood terrified in my black Under Armor flip flops, hip hugging faded jeans and baggy Adidas sweater. I danced on the spot and anyone watching me would have thought that I needed to pee, but I didn’t. I was just anxious, scared and my heart was racing three point six million beats a minute and I was calling myself three kinds of stupid for putting myself in this situation.

It was April 2008, I’d just turned twenty-one and I was turning my very second trick of my entire life. Ironically, his name was Jon and he was a forty-something business man who had called my escort agency offering $750 to any girl able to commute to White Rock from Vancouver and that was just for an hour of her time. He also offered to cover her cab fares and his only demands were that she be in street clothes and is the girl next door with no fake body parts.

And out of all of the girls at Wild Lily, I fit the bill the best. Meaning I still had all natural body parts and didn’t have dyed and fried hair to match my anorexic figure.

I was also the only one available to go out on any outcalls and who was I to turn down $750 for an hour’s work?

So there I was, willing myself to walk up to the front door and knock or something.

One, two, better not sue!

Then slowly I dragged my feet up the walk-way through a very well taken care of front yard to oversized oak doors that Shaq could walk through on his tippy-toes. Quietly I stood outside the imposing front doors and the only thing I could hear was the pounding of my heart inside my head as tiny puffs of air made miniature clouds in front of my face.

Huh. I’m hyperventilating.

“Get your shit together, Rebecca. You’ve done this once before. You can do it again. Just knock.”

I paused and rolled my shoulders backwards then forwards, then backwards again and forwards again. I breathed some more and realized some more that I was hyperventilating. I cracked my knuckles and wiggled my toes. I brushed my hair back over my shoulders then pulled it into a pony tail and then pulled it out so my hair fell down my back again. I snapped my fingers, cracked my toes and rolled my head around in circles. I’m pretty sure that a full minuet had passed while I stood there running through every nervous twitch that I had.

What can I say?

This was a stupid idea.

The ultimate in stranger danger.

I was totally going to get shot in the next ten minuets.

Did I go home? Did I turn around and leave? Did I call my cab back and pay out the hundred dollar cab fare home?

Of course not. I couldn’t afford to pay that kind of money for a cab anywhere for any reason. Officially I had fifty dollars to my name with a five hundred dollar rent that I needed to pay at the end of the month. Not to mention my Visa because I’d used that to pay this month’s rent, my cell phone bill and the fact that I was totally out of things to eat in my house besides one or two cans of soup if I were lucky. Between this call and what Cherry would pay me at the end of the week, I’d have enough to set aside for rent, pay my phone and buy a few groceries. Like fruit and bacon.

The idea of eating a package of bacon for dinner sealed the deal for me.

I hiked up my jeans. Then I tugged them back into place, tucked my hair behind my ears, cracked my knuckles and I counted.






“Three,” I whispered that final universal word for “you have to do it” and I knocked on the front door and I waited. Immediately a slight calm fell over me as the tension eased out of my shoulders and my armpits stopped sweating. I felt like I could breathe again, like a new person. I was invincible and amazing and that girl all the bad boys want.

I was Stacy’s mom and I had it going on. And I was waiting for the door to open. I don’t know how long I stood there waiting for someone to answer the door, but it was long enough for me to stop feeling like Stacy’s mom and start cracking my knuckles again. It was long enough for me to adjust my sweater, brush my hair back over my shoulders and burp quietly. It was probably all of twenty seconds in the real world, but in my world it was an eternity. Of course I didn’t realize that and I was beyond thankful that the door didn’t open while I was filling my mouth full of air that tasted like the Kraft Dinner with sliced hot dogs that I’d eaten earlier.

What can I say? KD and wieners are the breakfast, lunch and dinner of champions. Especially when I find KD on sale.

Nope, the door didn’t open while I was being perfectly disgusting and making my breath taste like a processed cheese and meat. Nope, the door opened a few seconds after that rather impolite moment  and it was like a cliché scary movie playing out in front of me, starring me. Well, starring me and the mysterious and tall figure who was nothing more than a shadow in the now open door way. Possibly a shadow with a gun, but the shadows around him hid that. All I could see was a tall, lean shadow that was wearing a pair of pants. I knew he was shirtless because his pale chest almost glowed in the dark compared to the rest of his hidden in the dark body. I wondered if all white people glowed like this in the dark.

“Sorry, I almost fell asleep.” His was a deep, rumble of a voice that sounded like a giant cat purring in an acoustically perfect cave.

Immediately I vomited. Not real vomit, but word vomit. “That’s ok. It took me a while to get out here. My name is Piper, the girl you spoke to from Wild Lily? I was the only one available who didn’t look like Porn Star Barbie so Cherry sent me. Normally I’m just the secretary and receptionist, but tonight Cherry needed me to fill in so here I am. Hi.”

A deep chuckle rumbled from deep inside of his chest. “Hi”

Slowly and gently a strong hand reached out from the shadows and pulled me to join him in the dark. Hesitantly I let myself be pulled into the shadows and nearly jumped out of my pants when I heard the door click shut behind me followed by a dead bolt slipping into place. I also started to hyperventilate again.

“You’re new to this.” The giant cat voice spoke to me over a shoulder as I was led from an entryway up a set of stairs. I barely remembered to kick my flip flops off as I was forced to follow or be dragged along behind this shadow with a very nice voice. I was too busy trying to remember how to breathe to really remember anything like not wearing my shoes around in a stranger’s house. The politely bred sixteen year old in me was absolutely appalled that I’d almost work my shoes on someone’s possibly clean floors when flip flops were so easy to take off. I actually barely remembered how to walk. I stumbled up the first couple of stairs, tripped on the third and slamming into a surprisingly well muscled back. At that point I would have been happy to have any one of my normally natural faculties returned to me like speaking. Walking. Breathing. Not being a total spazz.

Unfortunately, some higher being chose to let me speak.

“Is that a statement or a question?” I asked.

“A statement. You’re nervous. Is this your first time?” His hand squeezed mine tighter as he spoke to me and I found myself walking more easily to my slaughter. I pictured myself as some dazed animal being led to some horrifically clichéd death that seems to await stupid girls like me. Shootings. Stabbings. Stranglings. Scarlet letters and stonings.

Right now the audience to the B-grade movie is yelling at me to run. They’re calling me a stupid girl and telling me to get out of their fast because he has a knife or he has a gun. Or they have all seen what he does to his victims and they cannot believe that he’s gotten another victim so quickly and so easily. They’re pissed off because I just walked into this guys house and they all know what’s going to happen to me next. Some people are already cringing and waiting for the blood to spray on the walls.

And while this is all going on in my audience, I’m vomiting more words. “This is my second time actually. Though I barely count the first time as my first time. It was horrifying and I’m not really sure what happened. He hump on his back and bad breath and he told me over and over again how much he loved me. I wasn’t prepared for something like that though. I’m not really sure how anyone could be prepared or ok with being kissed by someone when a kitten who had just hacked up a rancid hairball would have had better breath. I’m sorry, I’m babbling. You can feel free to demand my silence anytime that you want.”

When I stopped and took a deep breath, he chuckled again and tugged me into what I can only assume was his bedroom. Or an emperor’s bedroom. Floor to ceiling windows covered the far wall while a giant king sized bed, a fire place that had a real fire with a giant flat screen tv hanging above it dominated the room. It was a Spartan and barely furnished room, but what was there was lush and screamed of money. Lots and lots of money. The carpet was plush and soft under my toes and the room was deliciously warm. At that moment it was only lit by the fire crackling in the fireplace and I couldn’t help but fall in love with the cliché as the heat of the room chased away the chill of the rainy night I’d been standing in. He had bedside tables on either side of his bed and there was a tall chest of drawers beside closet doors. For whatever reason, I decided to focus on the chest of drawers.

“Do you make a habit of telling other clients about your former clients?” He turned and pulled my sweater over my head, folded it and placed it on top of the drawers.

Instantly I was horrified by what I had said moments before. “Oh gosh, no! I mean, maybe? I don’t know. This is only my second time after all so I don’t know what my habits are yet. But I can promise you that from here on out that my clients are assured utter discretion on my part. I mean, I didn’t use his name right? But I don’t know. I’m really, really nervous. I’ve never done this before.”

“I thought you said this was your second time?” He asked as he pulled me over by the fireplace. I could see more of him now as the fire light made the shadows dance away from his body. His hair was that classic salt and pepper look that I’m sure all dark haired old guys want. He was lean, but I could see that he was well muscled. His jeans sat loosely on his hops and as he turned around to pull me into his arms I saw that his chest was bare and I wondered that if that was natural or if he shaved his chest. All in all, he wasn’t awful looking for an older man.

So I let myself be pulled into his arms as I let myself vomit even more words. “Well, this is my second call, but I have never taken a hundred dollar cab ride to anywhere as a part of my job and I’ve definitely never gone to a total strangers house in the middle of the night because he wants to pay me for my…” I trailed off as I surprisingly stopped to consider my next words. “What exactly are you paying me for?”

His hands slid down my lower back and slipped under my purple tank top. “Exactly what you think you’re here for,” he replied.

That’s when my bosses voice started screaming in my head to get the money first. “You always get the money first.” Her sultry voice commanded in my ear as I pictured her as she was the other night as she sat with me on a bed and went over all the rules of being an escort for her.

“Oh yeah!” I replied to that stranger inner voice that belonged to my boss. Quickly I looked up into the dark eyes of my client whose name I had yet to learn and who had full intentions of boning me so that he could pay my rent and then some. “About that. Umm…” My voice trailed off as I considered how to remind him about the fact that he owed me nine hundred and fifty dollars. “About the umm…” There was no easy way of asking someone to toss that kind of cash out. I had no idea what to say, what to do or how to do it.

Though I did have the weird urge to simply go cross eyed and hope that he would jump to the conclusion I needed him to reach based on that action alone.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to go cross eyed or do anything weird. He seemed to get where I was going with my lack of social graces. He let go of me and walked over to his bedside table and pulled out a wallet and a thickly stuffed envelope. Casually he walked over to where my sweater sat on his chest of drawers and placed the envelope on top of my sweater. Just as casually he opened his walled and asked “You cabbed from Downtown right?”

I nodded and swallowed. I was getting nervous again. Which meant I started worrying when I was going to get shot again. “Yeah,” I replied slowly, “Wild Lily’s in-call place is near the Stadium Skytrain Station.”

“I know, I’ve called Cherry a few times. Normally I get Juliette or Heaven. They say it’s about a $175 cab. That sound about right?”

“It was actually only a hundred,” I blurted out before I realized that I’d just outted two of my…Coworkers? Yes, coworkers. I’d just realized that I’d outted two of my coworkers in less than ten seconds about their semi-expensive lie. I froze in place for a second before adding, “So you’re almost right.”

Laughing he counted out four bills and laid them on top of the envelope. “I enjoy your honesty and I almost enjoy how nervous you are. Though I’ll have to start asking for receipts from you girls in the future.” I heard the laugher in his voice so I didn’t worry overly much about me or any other girl having to provide receipts because I’d told on them. He returned his wallet back to his bedside table before walking back to me.

As he made his way back over to me, I looked him up and down quickly, checking for a gun or oversized knife. I gave him a once and a twice over, searching for a weapon of any time or a place he could hide a weapon of any type. When I saw neither I figured that I was either safe or that I was getting strangled tonight. I wondered where he was going to dump my body. I debated the fact that I needed to watch less TV. His arms wrapped around me again and I forced myself to breathe normally and to will him not kill me. Just like Mel Gibson in Lethal Weapon says that you just have to will these sorts of things to happen.

So I willed it. I was definitely not too old for this shit and I wasn’t going to die tonight. I wasn’t going to get killed tonight. I wasn’t going to get killed tonight and I wasn’t going to be another missing persons report and winds up found in as a pile of bones.

“Sweetheart, you have to calm down for this to work. The young and scared routine is getting old. You have to be at least in your late twenties and it’s just sex. I’m not going to hurt you.” His hands rested on my hips as he spoke to me. They were slowly guiding my hips forward so that I could feel either the hard handle of the gun he had hidden in his pants or he was one well endowed gentleman who though I looked older than I really was.”

“Actually, I’m twenty one.” I glanced up at him as I let him guide and fit my curves against his body. Then I glared at him. “Really? Late twenties?”

Smiling he replied mockingly, “Really? Twenty one?” Then he playfully glared down at me and bend me backwards over an arm so he could kiss my nose. “If you’re twenty one then I’m old enough to be your father. I’m forty eight.”

Laughing I leaned away from him and told him that my dad was forty five. Then dramatically I put the back of my right hand to my forehead and shouted, “I’m so young! Whatever shall we do?”

His reply was to unzip my jeans to reveal a neon green frog shouting “HELLO STRANGER!”

But still there were still twinges of fear in the back of my head. I tried not to ask. I tried to lose myself in the moment of this very rich man undressing me and the fact that he was paying me to let him see my silly panties and more. I tried holding my breath. I tried, oh I tried, not asking the question burning its way up my throat like a rancid burp. I tried and I failed. “So am I safe? I’m not going to wind up dead in a ditch or dead anywhere else am I?”

Chuckling warmly he kissed my nose and pulled me over to his bed, sat down and pulled me into his lap. “No I wouldn’t be so clichéd as to toss you dead in a ditch and no you’re not going to turn up dead anywhere else. Yes, you’re safe, I try not to make a habit of killing at this hour. It upsets the digestion, you know.”

I couldn’t help but snort and laugh. Then gasp in horror because I had just snorted. Me, a slightly upscale escort had just snorted when I should have been seducing and blowing my partners mind and other parts to Heaven and beyond.

Blushing, I wiggled around in his lap until I was straddling. “Well then. Now that we’ve taken care of that piece of business, I move that the conversation be stricken from the record and our memory for all eternity.” Playfully I leaned down and nipped at his lower lip while his arms wrapped around me so that his hands could fiddle with the belt loops of my jeans.

“As you wish,” he replied.

“I love that movie! Andre the Giant is awesome!” I exclaimed excitedly, totally forgetting that I was supposed to be seducing this man. At this point I was pretty sure that I wasn’t getting paid and would have no way of getting home tonight.

“You talk a lot.” His deadpan reply had me wondering where he was keeping the knife and other life stealing tools. I also started thinking about how I was going to get home with fifty dollars in my pocket.

I decided to try and play my silliness off and pouted. “Oh. Is that bad? I’m sorry, I’m new and I really have no idea what the hell I’m doing.”

“No,” his voice had picked up its warmth and rumble again, “it’s cute. I prefer that you’re real instead of some over practiced and over used prostitute.”

“But I’m an escort.”

“Sweetheart, that’s semantics,” he replied as he slid his warm and rough hands up and down my back and leaned into nip and nuzzle my neck.

And cue the naughty Harlequin sex scene where I definitely did not end up dead in a ditch.


Day 2.4 – Another excerpt


I’ve started editing and finding little bits of genius that I’ve collected throughout the very first novel that I ever wrote. It’s called “Endless Nights” and is full of little nuggets of win mixed with chunks of me trying to hit the 50,000 word count that National Novel Writing Month requires. This particular gem is based off of real-life experience with my younger sister. Parts of it actually happened while the other parts are completely fictional to fit the purpose of this novel. See if you can guess which are fictional and which aren’t.

One night on a random team trip to a 7/11 I discovered an awesome package of pills advertising mental alertness and 5 hours of nonstop energy. It was love at first sight.

That night was an adventure like I’d never had before. My blood was pumping through my veins and my heart was racing a mile a minuet and I swore that I could run, jump and fly just like Super Mario could. I just needed the right cape.

Ever since then I’ve kept a good stock of trucker pills in my purse and in my cupboards at home. You never know when you’ll need a boost, after all. It just sucks the effects have worn off a bit since that awesome 16 year old night.

That was the same year we had discovered energy drinks.

I also think that was the same year we had discovered our love for hotel Bible’s and started a collection of them. One night Tinka drank three Red Bulls, and ate 40 pixie sticks which are basically straws full of flavoured sugar. I returned to our hotel room to find her sitting cross legged on her bed, rocking back and forth while reading the Bible.

“This is some good shit!” She yelled as I walked in the room. “They got something for everyone in here!”

“Yeah, and they make great weapons too.” Stupid thing to say to my sister who was slightly paranoid about the end of the world and was forever stock piling stuff just incase the end of the world came.

“Yes, weapons! We should collect them and save them and then use them as cannon fuel should someone try to attack the house!” At this point the Bible in her hands disappeared into her sports bag and she took off out of our room yelling we needed more Bibles.

Today, 5 years later, we have about 300 Bibles stored up in my room. We hide them from our parents in shoeboxes and old sports bags we don’t use. I think our mom knows about approximately 50 of our stolen Bibles.

Day 1.4 – An excerpt


An excerpt from a novel I wrote a few years ago. This writing something every day is hard stuff. Here I go again…another 7-Day writing challenge.

So my sister and I were born. That was the start of a forever long adventure for my parents. Tinka and Randi. That’s us. We grew up slowly and for us life was one thing after another.

There was the time that my sister attacked a girl in our ballet class for saying that she looked like a boy. We were 8 at the time and all I remember was seeing my stick figurine sister flying across the stage in leopard leotard (it was leopard print or nothing with Tinka) and neon green tights and tackling another stick like creature to the ground. I remember my sister grabbing handfuls of this girls hair and slamming the poor childs head off the ground over and over until the ballet teacher pulled my sister off the girl who was just on the bad end of my sisters ass kicking.

I also remember the teacher saying “You little hellion, your parents must be savages to raise such a child!”

And I was absolutely irate at this.

“First of all you fat cow, no one calls my sister names but me! My momma says so! Second of all we are manners-challenged! Not Hell neons! Are you stupid or somethin’?”

“Excuse me?” It came out as a shiek of outrage more than anything. “What did you just say?”

“Did I stutter? Clean your ears out!” I shrieked back.

“What did you call me?” The fat cow was advancing on me and in that moment I figured out what that mad cow disease thing was everyone was talking about.

“Holy shit it’s what happens when ballet teachers go wrong! Everyone run for your lives!”

That was Tinka after having watched too much TV. Naturally mayhem ensued as my sister expertly whipped all the other girls in our class into a frenzy thinking that this was just another game like the others we often played. We were just imitating TV was all.

And as all the other girls ran for their lives out into the hallway where our waiting mothers were, I stood my ground and replied to the ballet teacher, “I called you a fat cow, you fat cow!”

“It’s the running of the bulls in here! Run for your lives!” My sister was screeching around in the studio now, feeding off the girls who were running and screaming everywhere.

“Children calm down!” The teacher looked up and bellowed at her screaming and screeching class that was now mostly in the hallway and probably telling on me and my sister. She looked at me again and I swore that I saw the devil incarnate there in her eyes. “Call me that again. One more time, say it.”

Me being the obliging child that I was, I unsurprisingly replied, “You fat cow! You are! You are! You’re a ugly fat cow everyone thinks so! Ask Mrs. Thompson! She’s always wondering why a manatee like you teaches this class! You. Are. A. Fat. Cow.”

“Randi! Run for you life! Mad cows salivate poison and if she gets you, you’ll have it too!” Then a little stick of leopard pring leotard flew headfirst into our teacher as my sister tried to save me. In my mind I saw the woman’s fat suck my sister head up and I thought she had beheaded my sister.

What can I say? I was eight!

At seeing my sister attack the teacher I ran at the plus sized woman and did the only think I knew how to do in a fight. I headbutted her and then bit her. Then proceeded to dig my nails into every inch of skin and fat that I could grab.

Eventually our mom showed up to find Tinka attacking her imaginary mad cow that she had conjured up for the purpose of her game. She also found me fighting to protect my sister from harm. My mother having dealt with situations like this before calmly scooped my sister up in her arms and grabbed me by my pony tail and gently dragged us out of the dance studio while muttering “at least they didn’t have anyone’s balls to kick this week.”

Day 1.2 – The Snart


Note: I forgot to post yesterday. After a boring Geography lecture, a hard work out and relaxing bath, writing more or less slipped my mind. So here I go again! Let’s see if I can hit the 7 day goal and then work up from there.

In my second year of university I took summer courses so that I could finish my degree a year early. Sadly the four courses I was taking meant that I was in lecture 8 times a week and had tutorials (like labs, but for arts students) 4 times a week. Tuesdays and Thursdays I had three 1 hour and 50 minuet lectures back to back to back starting at 10am. Tuesdays were bad because I had a 1 hour tutorial right after my last lecture of the day. That meant for 7 hours straight, I was in class with 10 minuet breaks every hour.

This meant that I usually packed a lunch, packed snacks, my note books, my text books and two water bottles (one for water, one with juice). It also meant that if I had no time to really do anything else. My class breaks were long enough to go pee and the breaks between my classes were enough to either pee or get food and head to my next class. I didn’t have a lot of time for anything and being a girl that hates and refuses to poop in public washrooms (unless it’s my dorm washroom), that meant if I had to poop that I was holding it in until I got home just after 5pm.

Well one day I was in one of the bigger lecture halls at SFU and sitting in the very back row like I usually do. If you haven’t seen the lecture halls at SFU, they are actually fairly well designed to project sound really well from the front to the back and from the back to the front. Especially in the larger halls meant to seat hundreds of students. On this particular day I didn’t get to have my morning bowel relocation and my tummy was kind of demanding something be evicted and evicted soon. Not having time to run back to my dorm and do my business, I was uncomfortably fidgeting through most of my lecture while one of the girls that I’d met and made friends with that semester was demanding that I just go and poop my brains out to end my discomfort so I could focus on the lecture.

Sadly, I was the better note taker between the two of us so in her mind she wanted me focusing on note taking rather than on the fact that I needed to go twosies and I needed to go soon. Plus all my shifting around was somewhat frightening for her since she was, for the moment, living with the fear that I was going to shit myself.

Here I was sitting in the middle of my Political Science lecture, needing to poop and waiting 10 minuets for the class to end when my nose started to tingle and feel ticklish. I couldn’t help but think “Oh no!” as I rubbed my nose and hoped that my nose was just itchy and that I didn’t need to sneeze. I held my breath to try and get the sneeze to go away. I scrunched my eyes closed real tight.

I honestly did my best not to sneeze because I needed to drop a deuce that badly. I could hold it until the end of the lecture rolled around and I could run home to poop, but I didn’t know what would happen if I sneezed. Sadly after years of my mother yelling “LET IT ALL OUT” whenever I sneezed, my sneezes were never gentle or easy. They were explosive, powerful and always made me see stars for a few seconds afterwards. Can you see why I was doing my best not to sneeze?

Of course I sneezed, but it wasn’t any ordinary sneeze. Not only did my loud “AH-CHOO” echo to the front of the lecture hall causing everyone to turn around and glare at me, but one of the loudest farts I’d ever heard blasted out of me at the same time. Now, not only did it hurt to sneeze and fart at the same time, but to do it in the middle of a lecture where everyone around me heard, it was fricking embarrassing too. Sadly, being embarrassed about the fact that everyone heard me fart was the least of my worries.

My biggest worry was the fact that now I really needed to evacuate my bowels and the cloud of stink that was now drifting around me. And this wasn’t an ordinary stink. This was a stink that happens after you hold in a poop for over two hours. To me, it smelt like someone had taken a rancid baby diaper filled with green baby poop, stirred in rotten coleslaw and then left it out in a desert sun for a few hours while cursing at it the entire time. Now, we all know that we can tolerate our own stink that we create to some degree, which I did, but no one else is going to be able to handle it unless they have super strong tummies.

The girl that I was with was both gagging and laughing at the same time. In between gags and giggles she asked me, “Did you just snart?!” I had no idea what she was asking until she explained that a sneeze and a fart at the same time was a “snart.” Then I got it and had to laugh at that.

The girl in front of us gagged and ran out of the lecture hall while the guy on the other side of me looked like he had just puked in his mouth a little bit. And the rest of the class who couldn’t smell my stink was laughing uncontrollably at my “snart” while I just sat there stunned at this new phenom that I had met…the “snart”.

Then because I couldn’t do anything else, I laughed and wondered if class was ending early so that I could go and check my undies to see if any poop particles had escaped with my “snart”.

Day 12 – Gah!


Thanks to my internet going down, I wasn’t able to make a post.

Every now and again, I feel like telling a story. So I start writing and I write and type and write and type until I either get bored or I’m ready to move onto something else. The following is something the was stuck in my head yesterday and demanded a quick telling until my sister and her girlfriend came home for a visit.

I will be honest. I was tired, dog tired, bone weary and just plain burnt out when I limped back into my guilds house this eve. King Jhotan had summoned me early in the morning and asked me to accompany a hunting party out into the Golden Peak Forest to remove a group of minotaur’s who had moved into the forest and were “being a pain”, as the good King put it.

Sometimes being stuck in His Majesty’s service while you were in training was a pain.

Our orders were to capture their leader alive and bring him in for questioning about the weapons and the people who had been disappearing into a forest that has always been a safe place for the kings people to hunt and gather in. The leaders name was Chieftain Zaarakos and he always had his shaman by his side who was one of Clan Threbek’s Soul Stealers.

I’ll admit that I groaned upon hearing this and promptly flopped onto the floor, grabbed ten candles from my pack and began whispering prayers of soul binding for each of the men standing in the hall with me. I missed the rest of our orders as a result, but I would rather properly perform my prayers than screw up in the field because I didn’t have enough to complete them or have my concentration else where while I asked the Goddess Thaleni to protect these men’s souls and borrowed her power to bind them to their bodies. I also took the time to make an offering of bulls blood to Haidan and sent his aura of strength washing over the group.

Our mission was easier said than done. Sure, it all started out nice and easy when we found the minotaur’s and quickly incapacitated or killed everyone in the camp and captured Zaarakos. It was the one hour ride home that turned into seven hours of us battling our way out of a normally calm and peaceful forest that was hard. What made it worse was the fact that in order for us to force the minotaur Chieftain to move with us, I had to bind body to my will so that he would be under my control and forced to follow me wherever I went or I would be able to do whatever I wanted with him.

Then things only got worse when we realized that it was the Shaman Soul Eater who was chasing us and directing ambush attacks that would hit our flanks and often divide our party into two. Eventually I wound up off my horse along with the two wizards in our party running behind the party and painting runes of protection and shield onto trees every fifty paces while the wizards held up invisible walls on either side of our party. That didn’t mean that we didn’t get hit and hit hard though. As much time as I spent painting ruins, I also spent fighting Zaarakos who was fighting his bonds while I tried to keep the men in my group semi-healthy and battle ready. I felt every bruise, concussion and pain the men felt in battle and I tried to take that all away from them as soon as I could find the injury. I felt their panic as I tried to keep them all flooded with a sense of calm. And it all was horrible while attached to a fighting and mean minotaur.

The final bit of fun came as we neared the edge of the forest and a clearing where a group from the Tempest hoard would be camped. As we neared the clearing I climbed back onto my horse and dug out a candle and began to pray that Tohr was in an accommodating mood and would decide to help us rather than free our minotaur prisoner. Gripping my horse between my knees, I silently chanted down the luck of my Goddess, Thaleni and slowly called and directed her protectors spirit and tried to channel it into Tohr’s spirit as I felt his being getting closer as we rode on.

“Silly child,” the minotaur Chieftain laughed behind me as he tugged at the invisible bonds that held him and forced him to march along surrounded by the five of the Kings Eagle Eye’s. “Your magic is showing,” he growled out at me on a laugh and pushed his spirit hard against the bonds I’d tied to his physical being.