Monday, December 30, 2013

NaNoWriMo Novel Attempt (Chapter 1)

Well, my Christmas was quite awesome, hopefully, yours was as well! I got a good deal of stuff that I didn't even know I wanted till I got it, so I have that going for me. Funny enough, I decided I might as well post something, anything I could, since I haven't posted anything new on this poor, mistreated blog in a LONG time. Hopefully, since my spring semester should be SUPER easy, I think I should be able to post at least once a week, if not every other week.

Well, for your reading pleasure, I give you a section of my novel that I was writing for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writers Month)! 2,000 of 12,000 words!





                The room had been as dark as any cloudy night where the clouds hid the moon from the Earth. The world seemed as black as the cold depths of a cave or the cold heights of space, but this hardly meant much to people who rarely saw the light. Not many existed, but those who were comfortable with the dark had made it their shroud, their cloak, their protective garment against the horrors of the dark prison they had come to know as life. The universe had all but forgotten them as they shipped them off in containers, cold, alone, without food, without contact, without a shred of clothes, dignity, or respect. The only thing they had was a name and time. Lots of time. Janus Ara Zilana was one of these blue eyed babes that had been tossed out into space only to be taken among the refuse of society and placed in confinement. Her hands shot straight up as the blinding light of some floating orb burst in through a slit in the cargo container's door. She had arrived.

                A dark shadowy figure moved in and grabbed her wrist, pulling her naked body into a standing position before he placed a small glowing stick against her forehead and read off a series of numbers to an unseen audience, her body shook, trembling with fear, excitement, anticipation, and confusion. The man then gripped her jaw with a leathery grip and tossed her head from side to side, examining her before tossing her towards the cold, hard steel wall of the container. Her head connected with the steel barrier with a loud thud, sending shockwaves of pain through her skull, addling her brain and sending confusion to the forefront of her emotional state. The feeling of cold steel shackles were placed about her wrists, pressing her chest out as the balls of her palm had no place to go except to touch one another in a comforting embrace. Her lips quivering as the man then lifted her by the neck from the wall and pushed her towards the open end of the container.

                The hot air of this new world had thrown her into a far more worried state, her mind sputtering out phrases as if the world could hear her every thought, where am I? Who are these men? Why am I naked? Why can't I speak? God, am I going to die? Where's David?

                David, that was a thought she had remembered, a memory, although distant, it still shown out like a beacon as she was lead from a small landing pad surrounded by high chain fences in every direction that connected to a high stone wall with a pair of double doors sitting uniformly in the center of the almost monolithic walls. The walls seemed awkward at first, flat, yet sloping slightly, and each brick had been painted a deep blue that seemed to calm Janus' screaming mind. Each step closer to the building though sent a shiver up and down Janus' spine, her long purple hair cascading down her hair doing nothing to ease the constant spasms, But one thing she knew was that this may very well be the last time she would feel the sun on her skin. The man pulled a small key from his belt and pressed it into a spot on the door that looked to be just big enough for Janus' thumb to fit, she hardly knew what she was thinking or concentrating on at this point as her hands interlaced fingers and kept herself from screaming out.

                As the doors slowly slide open, each disappearing into the walls at their sides, a soft hum came into Janus' head, her eyes shooting open as she looked about and saw a small video screen hovering in front of her with a face grinning down at her as an unseen voice erupted into her ears, "Welcome to Dark Watch, Miss Zilana, we've been expecting you."

                Janus paused for a moment, not sure of what to say before she slowly opened her lips and out came nothing but air, her eyes grew wider as she tried to scream, shout, say anything, but nothing came out as the man on the screen chuckled and shook his head.

"Miss Zilana, allow me to introduce myself, I am Warden Goddard, and you have been deemed such a hazard to the Government that you had your voice box removed. So, in an effort to help you with communication you will be granted a special service, which will be made apparent to you shortly. You see, we here at Black Watch take two things with the utmost pride, one, are you, the prisoner. The other is honesty."

                The man cleared his throat, something within Janus frightened her when she looked at this man, every fiber of her being told her to run, to never associate with this person, but with her hands bound and her armed escort she had little else to do except remain still.

"I being an honest man, enjoy putting every aspect of my intentions in the forefront. You see, Black Watch did very poorly as a normal colony, so poorly in fact, that the government along with my urging, decided to turn this entire planet into a prison colony. Prisoners bring money, more money makes me rich, and with being rich, I get to do whatever I want with you. This means, I use you to win me the most lucrative military contracts available."

                A short pause invaded the one-sided conversation as Warden Goddard seemed to pause for dramatic effect, reaching up his thin, care-worn, aging face and pulling his glasses from his nose and began to clean them with a silk cloth. His voice was slick, like a politician's, but something more devious lay within his very Earthly-British accent. "Now, here in Black Watch, we have only two rules. One: Whatever a guard tells you to do is law and if you do not comply, that will be a punishment defined by my own judgment of the situation. Two: Any attempt at escape will result in immediate termination. Mr. Monroe will now simplify those two rules for you."

                Just as Warden Goddard's image on the screen went silent, the rather large muscular man who had been silent all this while suddenly spoke in a thundering, deep voice that shook Janus' body in the narrow hallway that she was confined in.

                "You will do anything we tell you to do, if you don't, the warden decides your fate. Run and you get a hole in your fucking head."

                Janus saw the man on the screen shudder when he heard the obscenity spouted so freely, but quickly regained his composure before nodding to the men, "Now, these two fine gentlemen will escort you through the admissions process. Good day, and welcome to Black Watch, Miss Zilana."

                With that, the screen went blank for only a fraction of a second before it was replaced by a picture of a unicorn's head surrounded by the words, "God forgives, we do not."

                The screen fluidly retreated from just in front of Janus' face and revealed the hulking mass of robotics, hydraulics, and circuitry that made up this robotic sentinel. Janus could barely remember something about these machines as she noted the twin pairs of arms extending from what could only be described as the automatron's torso. The two arms on the bottom held heavy crushing pincers that looked as though they could snap bone easily, while the two arms above them were each fitted with a heavy plasma cannon. Quite the security implement Janus thought before wondering how she even knew what plasma cannons looked like. Her hands trembling in one another's grasp before she ushered towards the door at the far end of the hallway. The door sliding open without much prompt from either her or her guards, but beyond she was greeted by a red pointing laser being bored into her skull as she came into view of a hanging auto-turret. It was a simple defensive implement, but it had seen improvements, such as an extra set of barrels and apparently a very sophisticated friend-or-foe identification system.

                Janus blinked as her brain went blank once again, two instances where she knew far more than she should about a weapon, her eyes began to water as she was lead into the stark white room and pressed against a sterile white desk. Sitting in an office chair on the other side of this clean desk was a rather cleanly dressed man, not unlike the warden, but his white lab coat and immediate protest of the guard's rough treatment of her did not soldify any clues as to where he might have been raised or even who he was. Janus stood silently as the man stood up and introduced himself, his voice soft and rather melodic in tone, "Greetings, Miss Zilana, if you would please allow me, I'd like to introduce myself. My name is Doctor Michael Hannec, I'm going to be seeing that you are well taken care of while you are here. Now, if you will follow me, we'll start with a body scan and basic immunizations."

                Janus had no other choice as she slowly stepped around the desk and followed the Doctor to a large tube-shaped vessel, before the doctor could even motion her inside, Janus stepped into the scanner and stood still as the doctor began the process. The machine beeped loudly, signalling that she was ready to exit, her body still shaking from the cold of the room, she could feel her body reacting her skin growing goosebumps, her bare nipples hardening, her lips growing dry, and the only comfort she had was the smile that Doctor Hannec flashed her as he went about his examination. As his questions pressed her about what she remembered, and with her unable to give any solid answer, Doctor Hannec shook his head slowly before turning back and looking at the screen which displayed her scan. Janus nervously glanced up at the scan then to the Doctor then back to the guards before daring herself to shiver. The movement had gone unnoticed, which allowed Janus a bit of a comforting notion as she sighed gently, but quickly snapped to attention, sucking in her breath as the Doctor turned back around and placed a rather thick leather collar about her neck.

                She wanted to struggle as the collar tightened about her throat, her hands and hips squirming against their binds as the leather dug against her larynx, but she quickly calmed as her eyes caught Doctor Hannec's soft blue irises. She stared into them, as though she had seen the ocean, as though she had just been offered a beautiful jewel, and she simply stared as the Doctor continued to fasten the collar before moving around to unfasten the shackles at her wrist and placed two small rods in the palms of her hands. The rods felt impossibly heavy for their size as the heft felt much like two large stones, but each rod only about the width of her palm. She eyed them curiously before the doctor pressed the tips of the small rods together then pulled them apart, a cascade of light seperating from one tip to the other and spreading out in the air like an ancient scroll of parchment being unrolled for the first time.

                "This, is a Nano-screen, it allows you to project thought and communicate verbally with people. Simply think what you want to say and it will appear on the screen as long as both rods are in your hands."


                As Doctor Hannec explained the basics of the Nano-screen, words began to flash across the blue-light surface. Janus began to smile as she watched the words flow onto the screen as she thought of them, and at that point, she only had one thought in front of the Doctor that she wanted to communicate.


"Your eyes are beautiful," Doctor Hannec read aloud what he saw on the Nano-screen, grinning as he slowly shook his head and patted the top of Janus' head before nodding to the guards, "she is all yours, ready to enter basic population."

                The guards stood up from where they had firmly seated themselves and crossed the room to where Janus stood, grabbing her wrist roughly, giving her only enough time to scrawl one last quick message to Doctor Hannec before the screen shut off, the words simply read, "Why am I here?"


Hopefully you enjoyed it, because I'm going to be posting the rest of it later, just so you guys can read it! It's terrible, I hate every sentence of it, but it was a good experience!

Friday, December 6, 2013

The Knight's End



Boy, oh boy, with all these final exams and books that I have to read, I think I might have given bit too big of a bite to chew. Anyways! Here's a... Well... I suppose you could call it a sonnet, I gave up on rhyme scheme halfway through because it sounded awesome. ANYWAYS! Enjoy, share, be excellent! Oh! And keep watching for my unfinished novel! 12,000 words over the course of a week and a half for NaNoWriMo, not half bad if I do say so myself.




In earnest the queen's knight galloped far and away,

Lance on leash as his body pushed against the wind,

Not on horse of course for that would be rude to say,

Hugging turns at neck-breaking speeds around the bend,

Night falls and out did come the vilest of fiends and beasts,

Hell's heart fluttered at the sight of a sharp drawn sword,

Our brave hero plunges out into the blood feasts,

As our brave hero charged against the devil's horde

The world shook with thundering anticipation,

The great winds howled with adoring adulation,

The demons screamed in endless dilapidation,

The hero's victory through decapitation,

The devil lay dead with stolen face on his skull,

As a hero's story never ends till his soul it did take,

Laughing evilly as the hero made his hole,

A deep grave for his sword in his chest he did make,

Pilgrims came, praising the knight who'd slain the evil,

But never did a single soul know that knight's sin,

Passage of time breaking through minds of the people,

Satan raised his horde and the knight was born again.


Thursday, November 7, 2013

Ode to the Shitty Dryer on Floor 2

So, this is what you come up with at 2:00 am, while you are doing laundry, and you are mentally drained from writing serious NaNoWriMo stuff. Well, when I do finish my novel, I'll probably only post snippets of it here so as not to present a gigantic wall of text for people to read in one sitting... Maybe I'll split it up into chapters and post it over time... Meh, stuff to think about AFTER I finish it! Now, I give you my Ode to the Shitty Dryer on Floor 2! (Oh, I forgot to mention, I even printed this out and taped it to the dryer in question! Bwahahahaha!!)






Ode to the Shitty Dryer on Floor 2

Oh, this dryer is so chill,
It must be smoking pot,
It drives people to kill,
Because it NEVER gets hot,

Your clothes will smell sour,
And your undies will be wet,
Because even after an hour,
Dry, your laundry will not get,

"Come on! I've got to go to class!"
You say, but still you'll always know,
That this dryer belongs in the trash,
It really, really, REALLY needs to go,

So, if you want warm socks on this cold winter day,
Pick another dryer is honestly all I can say!




Monday, October 28, 2013

Alphabet Poem

So, obviously this is the first thing I've posted in... a very long time, well, I've been busy with school, so please forgive me. Here! Have a poem!

Angels are for praying, a confusing thing,
Beaches are for playing, single wooden wing,
Cars are for adventuring, into the night we go,
Dogs are for indenturing, joyful feelings in flow,
Ears are for listening, that thing we rarely do,
Feelings are for hurting, each one right on cue,
Gears are for turning, time ever coursing on,
Hearts are for moving, always here always gone,
Identities are for hiding, glasses to disguise,
Jetties are for jumping, from the Earth to the skies,
Kettles are for boiling, tea is sweet enough for me,
Lemons are for squeezing, holding that heart free,
Mimics are for copying, always mirrors and lakes,
Nobles are for curtsying, never to be called fakes,
Olives are for squishing, gnashing and smashing flat,
Pots are for gardening, seeds growing into fruits so fat,
Quarrels are for fighting, blood boiling into your nerves,
Roads are for travelling, taking he who always serves,
Satchels are for carrying, jewels in a pocket shine bright,
Truths are for saying, never doubt the moon while out at night,
Umbrellas are for shielding, one is good enough for two,
Villains are for hating, the best villain is a good man too,
Winds are for speaking, breezy messages tickling ears,
Xylographs are for reading, knife to wood messages or fears,
Yeuks are for pestering, those itching hands never find them,
Zeugmas are for describing, those tiny moments in life you do on a whim.

Friday, September 27, 2013

War Drums

So! I've been busy, but seeing as how I can't claim to be busy writing or doing much of anything else, I've decided that I needed to write down something that sparked from walking back to the dorm from lunch. Oddly enough, the Halo theme song sparked this short passage, so hopefully you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing! More to come!




                War drums, those damned things that thundered across the marching hills, taking each cresting rise just before the mighty army appeared at its peak. Each thundering crash of the war drums brought about the tumultuous clash of heartbeats as breath became heavy and almost too much to bear as the cold air stabbed at throat and mouth like daggers or the spear points that they saw grasped in the hands of their advancing enemy. Swords beat shields in time to the beats of the drum, all that heard it knew that one thing was true in this world: blood would soon be spilled. Theologies, ideologies, cosmology, chronology, and apology could be heard spouted from both sides of the battlefield. Each general inciting bravery in the hearts of their men, but only the ears took these words in as each man feared that their life would be cut short. In battle, one man may rely on another to be at his side, in war, an army may rely on another to be their comforting death. As the battalion of bashing boots came to a halt at the crest of the hills, the drums ceased their incessant beating as the world stood still, not even the wind dared to be the one to spark this bloodbath. This land that once held farmers, their sons, daughters, wives, grandchildren, great grandchildren, was now to become hell on earth. The paradise of demons and devils as they reached out to grip at souls that sought refuge. The only guardians over these brave men are the Valkyries. Those lady warriors who sought out the bravest, strongest, and most inspiring of heroes to uplift into the place of the Gods. The world trembled as the drums slowly began their cadence. No one was safe when the cries of a million dead men roared from both sides of the valley. They ran from their points, like cattle charging off a cliff in fear of a snake, they ran to one another, and then came the clash. Like Bahamut's impossible body crashing to the land, so came the smashing, gnashing, bashing of steel and hatred. Liken to the roar of a mythical beast unfathomable to hear the blood spilled and coated the land. As it did, so did the first demons burst from the ground and drag that soul to the depths of Tartarus, Hell, the Land of the Dead, that sickening place where worms make meals of flesh and bone, and from there came the screams. The Valkyries watched, they waited and they watched, knowing that the first to die in a battle will always go to the devils below, and they could do nothing for that poor soul. A million men die, half are for the demons, half are for the those winged maidens, and all are for the grave. The generals grow old, the survivors have children, and these children grow old enough to go to war. Ever is this cycle repeated, ever is this cycle eternal, ever is this cycle. It continues for decades, centuries, millenia, eons, til the day that peace rests upon an empty world. Still, even then, nature will bloom, flourish, and the war drums will sound again.

Saturday, September 14, 2013

The Writer's Art

So, obviously I've been busy with school starting up again, but hopefully this simple sonnet will sate your thirsts for new "Words of Graue". It's been so long since my last post, I feel ashamed!! Not much else to say, well, aside from random thoughts... Hopefully I'll have enough time over this semester to actually post more chapters of Blade of Highleaf, that's too much fun to let die!

Enjoy the sonnet!


Inspiration, striking like lightning from cloudy skies,
Sundering fast the mind of the writer where he sits,
Engraving the urge, the need, the desire to defy,
That white paper's stark, clean skin, tainted with ink-y slits,
Taking his weapon, a quill with a point like a spear,
His hand trembling, like leaves caressed by the wind mistress,
Fingers clenched about the plume, itching for ink to smear,
Like a maiden waiting to dance, clutching at her dress,
The writer slashes and strokes, coating the world in words,
Beautifying the void of logical human minds,
A dance, a samba, a duel, a game, a song of birds,
Subtle seductions of the elements and their binds,
Letters, words, phrases, lines, paragraphs, pages, chapter,
Tools of the word smith, always, forever, and after.

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

A Hare's Tale: The Blade of Highleaf (Chapter 3)

So, I've been trying to find inspiration for my writing, which of course turns out to be boredom to take a hold of my mind. Seemingly mundane chapter in the story actually introduces you to a majority of the characters that are to be an integral part of the story as it continues (Spoiler alert: Squirrels)! I hope you enjoy this new chapter in The Blade of Highleaf story as it begins to grow and morph, taking new shape and new life before finally taking a hold of the world it was created for! Read, enjoy, and don't forget to share with people you think might enjoy!



As the sun began to peek up over the hillock in the East, stretching it's warmth across the land as it caressed the eyes of the sleeping, rousing them ever so gently. In this manner so to was Agatha roused as she quietly washed her face in a small ceramic bowl that sat next to her bed, the frigid, cold water splashed against her face by cupped hands shocked her into a state of immediate alertness. The earth around her had barely begun to heat up before she put on a rather loose fitting dress and then grabbed a leather corset that she had hidden deep away in her wardrobe. She giggled as she looked at the hardened leather, noting that it had more than once saved her from being torn apart when moving through the thicker thorn-brush along the river. With a sharp intake of breath she quickly went about tying the constrictive, borderline torturous device about her midsection. Glancing over to her mirror she could only smile at how great she looked. The dress was a deep shade of blue, the likes of which were more likely to be found on the petals of Blue Anemones than on a dress, and the light-tan shade of the leather corset accented the blue making Agatha look as though she were a much softer creature to behold.

Her paw snatched up her wooden comb and brushed back her raven colored hair with a smirk, dressing her usually flowing locks into a long ponytail that ran down her shoulder blades and ended at the middle of her back. She almost couldn't help but giggle at the thought of going through all this trouble to look presentable for children. Agatha quickly checked her look one last time in the mirror before climbing up the short staircase and into the dining room. It was still early, Agnar would not be up for a few hours more, but still the slumbering snores of Agnar's sleeping form as he lay in his arm chair did not surprise Agatha in the slightest. She quietly moved about the kitchen and larder, preparing a breakfast for her father and herself, a simple meal of oats, dried fruit, and of course a glorious selection of apples that she had picked just the other day. With a quick, breath of thanks to Lady Nature, Agatha quickly feasted, washed her bowl, then set out to preparing the same courtesy for her father, including setting out a cup of his medicine before sneaking out of the house without a noticeable stir from Agnar.

The street running in front of the Oakeye's Oak tree was hardly awake as only a handful of shopkeepers and others moved about this early in the morning. The sights and smells of life seeped into Agatha's nostrils as she began her slow stroll to the mayor's house on the other side of town. Her hands folded in front of her as she walked through the small town of Highleaf. The main street of Highleaf was actually a portion of The King's Highway, though it had formerly been dubbed The Long Walk (and to many residents of the township it still retained it's old name), the street ran North to South between the town's center, crossing the river and then moving into the woods that surrounded the small village. On the East side of The King's Highway was the Baker's Shop run by Mr. and Mrs. Poplar and their son, Darwin, the Eldermanes ran the Carpenter shop right next to that, and then there was the Town Hall and Pub, Agatha had only been in there a few times when her father had to help give advice to the rest of the town, but only knew that it was the permanent home of the town drunk: Simon. On the West side of The King's Highway was the Cobbler, Mr. Tammers, the general store owned by Mr. Applewood and his daughter Heather, the dress shop next to that owned by Alyssa and Melody Rainer, and in the center of the town stood the Jailhouse, Sheriff Barkhide's pride and joy.

The early morning sun caressed Agatha's face and gave her a bright smile as she slowly strode by the buildings and over the bridge marking the edge of the town's central point and moving into the outskirts. She continued walking for only a short while before she finally saw the tall roof of Mayor Middleton's mansion. While it was a sight to behold within Highleaf, many people had thought it garish attempt at showing off what little wealth the town had by building a Mayoral manor, yet the two-story palace was still built, and it's only rival in town was the Town Hall, and that was only thanks to the fact that the Town Hall also served as Inn, Pub, Meeting Place, and Dance Hall. The Mayor's mansion however was unlike any other building in town, for one, it was entirely built out of cut wood, and it had no attachment with the land around it. In example, the Oakeyes' Oak tree is in fact, a still living, breathing, and very much growing tree. In fact, it continues to grow every season and every season Agnar must trim the ceiling up to a comfortable height with a plane and ax. Agatha gazed at the white painted walls of the mansion as the full structure came into view and gave a heavy sigh, she could already see the outline of Lady Middleton staring out of the dining room window at her arrival on the thin winding pathway leading to the front door. As Agatha reached the door it swung open and she was greeted by the slender, annoyed, and heavily made-up face of Lady Middleton.

“You are late, Miss Oakeyes, I specific-ally remember you telling MAYOR Middleton that you would arrive – and I quote 'right as the sun is in the sky'! Does that sun look 'RIGHT' in the sky?! No! It has almost been there for thir-ty minutes!” Lady Middleton's tone full of fury was ignored entirely by Agatha as she pretended to listen to Lady Middleton's northern accent attempting to stress words and add emphasis to words, but simply sounding as though she were stuttering.

“Yes, Lady Middleton, my apologies,” Agatha coolly spoke, attempting to calm the situation before her anger got the best of her on such a fine morning.

“Apologies?! And what, Miss Oakeyes would you honest-ily have to apologize for? For being late? Then most certain-ily you must apologize! I demand it!”

“My deepest apologies, Mrs. Middle--”

“Lady! I was the daughter of a Lord, I earned my title!”

“Lady Middleton, again, my apologies...” Agatha barely managed to hiss through gritting teeth before she continued with an instinctive scathingly sarcastic reply, “I'm sure your father is proud of your accomplishments as a Lady, Lady Middleton.”

There was a strong silence, tangibly awkward animosity between the two women as Mayor Middleton's plump form pushed his slender wife to the side and dispersed the anger, “AH! Agatha! Good morning, good morning to you! Have you had breakfast yet? I was just about to have a nice breakin' of the fast myself and seeing as the children are still all asleep-ing you and I can just have a nice chitty-chat!”

He smiled to Agatha and then turned to see his wife still standing in the doorway next to her husband, glaring angrily at Agatha before he cleared his through, “AHEM! Angelique, would you be a dear, and go make Agatha and I some buttered toast, maybe a bit of those sweet berries from the garden – What were the names of those again? So sweet – had this flavor...”

Lady Middleton turned her icy gaze to her husband now, the look of ultimate hatred flowing through her body and out her eyes directed straight towards Mayor Middleton as she answered him, “Scarlet Berries, you buffoon. I've told you a million times, they are scarlet berries, and every time you...”

Mayor Middleton took Agatha's hand in his and pulled her inside, ignoring what his wife had to say as he invitingly begged Agatha to come in, “Come in! Come in! We'll have scarlet berries and toast – how does that sound to you, Agatha?”

Agatha simply smiled to Mayor Middleton and nodded her head as she answered him, “I already ate, but as the kids are still asleep, I suppose there would be no harm in a cup of tea and a few 'scarlet berries'.”
The Middleton residence was actually quite well furnished for only having four people living in it, Agatha could barely count on her fingers alone how many paintings she saw in the main hall alone, moving from one room to another greeted her with a new experience of shock from the sheer value of the furniture that looked unused. Mayor Middleton did not seem interested in any of this as he continued to clutch her paw and lead her past the dining room and into the kitchen. The kitchen itself was a marvelous sight, easily twice the size of Agatha's main room at home, the sight of silver dishware and iron pots and pans adorning the walls and shelves almost sent Agatha into an overwhelmed stupor of awe. The only thing to break Agatha's anxious desire to examine the riches she had found was the clap of Mayor Middleton's hands in front of her eyes, “Agatha~! Wake up! Sit, eat, and enjoy.”

Mayor Middleton then gestured to a table sitting on the other side of the kitchen which seemed to serve as a table for the small family, each chair in this room looked well-worn and full of more spirit than the others she had seen. Agatha nodded and took her seat in one of the chairs, feeling the familiar contours of extensive use etched into the seat, and she instantly knew that this was the true dining room. Her fingers intertwined themselves as she laid them on the table and waited for Mayor Middleton to finish drinking his tea that was steadily pouring steam out into the air just above the soft brown liquid. Her soft brown eyes smiling as the Mayor looked up and flashed her a large toothy smile, “Now, Agatha, remember what I told you last night. Naturally, I know you will do well with the children, but I must ask that you be careful and patient with them.”

Lady Middleton seemed to be puttering about the kitchen in the background, apparently regreting or even muttering curses at her husbands decision to let Agatha in the house at all, but she stayed quiet for the most part, offering no words of protest as Mayor Middleton offered Agatha a cup of tea. The early morning cup of tea was soothing as Agatha placed her lips to the finely crafted ceramic cup. The taste of Jasmine swirled around her tongue as the soft hint of honey and cinnamon splashed against her taste buds. It was seldom that Agatha was able to enjoy anything quite as delicious as what she had just tasted, only ever to afford nothing more than honey or cinnamon for baking rather than to waste in a cup of tea. She simply returned the smile that Mayor Middleton seemed to be displaying quite eagerly. She wondered why he was smiling even with his wife so obviously angry with him, but cast the thought aside as her ears perked up to hear the thunder of something falling from upstairs.

After a long moment, Mayor Middleton cleared his voice, “A-Agatha, dear, I know we had promised that you would teach my children to protect themselves, but... Ummm... There is one slight problem, you see... Well, ummm yes, well...”

Agatha giggled as she shook her head at Mayor Middleton's stammering, “Come now, Mayor Middleton, please, anything you have to say will not affect our agreement.”

“Errrr... Well, Agatha, I will say this as plainly as I can. Some of the other parents about Highleaf heard of your... Our arrangement and asked if their children could be included. Logically, I could not say 'no' to them, so... The children will be arriving...”

Mayor Middleton's voice was cut off as a loud knock came at the front door and some tiny, squeaking shouts came from the other side of the wooden walls and portal. Agatha's eyes grew wide as she imagined having to train an army of small children, all whimpering, crying, teasing, fighting, and yelling at, over, and about one another. Her chest tightened against the already tight corset and her breathing grew quick, but nothing prepared her for what she saw as she heard Mayor Middleton's voice pick up from a low mumble to an enthusiastic tone of authority, “Well! That must surely be our little ones!”
Mayor Middleton stood and as he did, so did Agatha as they both proceeded towards the front door, the squeaking voices grew louder and louder as Mayor Middleton turned the door handle and pulled the door inwards, opening the house to the crowd of small children that piled into the door.

A herd of assorted creatures, from mice to toads, squirrels to beavers, and even a young otter came waltzing into the grand hall of the Mayoral mansion, all talking at the same time as their parents politely bowed to Mayor Middleton and asked to come in. Mayor Middleton of course accepted the request with a large smile and led in much larger versions of the children. Agatha smiled at everyone as they entered, noting the people she had come to know from around town: Firstly, the Danberry's son, Evan, a rather portly young rabbit that took after his father more than his slender mother, although he were only about five years old, Evan was already as big as Mayor Middleton. Then there were the Elmworth twins, Adam and Ada, identical twin hares who almost no one could tell apart except their mother, the difference between them being the color of their eyes, Adam's being a soft gray, Ada's however were a soft blue. Then there was the LaCroix family's son, Edward, a rather short toad who had one of the most rambunctious and adventurous personalities for a toad. The Eldermanes brothers, Magli and Mogli, a pair of beavers whose most peculiar difference was that Magli was twice as strong and half as intelligent as his brother, Mogli. The Nobel's daughter, Sarah, one of the cutest young bunnies one might ever see this deep in the country-side. The young daughter of Mr and Mrs Lightfoot, Elizabeth was one of the older children there at the age of fourteen, her raven black hair hung low tucked behind her large ears. And last but not least was the Quickpaw's son, Newton, if ever there were a sneaky, sly, and devious young weasel, Newton would be it, and more than likely is as he takes after his father, Davis Quickpaw, the town drunk.

As the children filed in, so did Jack and Jane Middleton as they descended the stairs, rubbing sleep from their eyes as they stepped into the grand hall, only barely noticing the crowd of people in their house and giving a wide-eyed look of surprise to see Agatha Oakeyes standing in front of them with a pleased look on her face. Agatha could only imagine what might have been going through their minds at that very moment as she flashed them a warm smile to further provoke their confused thoughts.

The children all introduced themselves one at a time with a bow or a curtsy and one unappreciative wave to Agatha as she nodded to each of them approvingly, but as each child finished introducing themselves, their parents quickly absconded from the house and went about their own business save for one last little boy and his father. Oddly enough, Mr. Arthur Blacktail was the only one of the parents who waited to see the children begin their training, even as his own son, Peter Blacktail, clutched onto his father's bushy black furred tail. One thing about squirrels that Agatha had come to notice as that they have a certain unfaltering loyalty, and this trait was displayedin full form within their own family as Mr. Blacktail turned to his son and smiled, “Come now, Peter, ya've gotta tell the lady what yer name is.

Peter's face hid itself in his own tail as he softly muttered something that only his father heard, the older squirrel simply laughed at his son's remark before patting him on the head, reassuring the boy one last time as he spoke softly to him, “Now, lad, ya've gotta tell Miss Agatha yer name, and don't ya worry about where yer pop will be, because he's gonna watch yer first lesson before he goes offta work.”

With this bit of knowledge Peter seemed a bit more comfortable talking to the strangers in the room, in a rather soft yet resonant voice, Peter Blacktail introduced himself, despite still clutching his tail with jittery paws, “Mah name's Peter Blacktail, Miss Agatha.”


Agatha could only smile to the children as she gave them all a low bow and then righted herself, “I am Agatha Oakeyes, and I will teach you how to defend yourselves.”