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evenshadow · 7 months

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Vultures \\ a tropical gothic horror

Content Warnings: Death, Bugs, Blood

Excerpt below the cut.

Desperate to be anywhere but home, recently disgraced doctor Emily Fayne arrives at the wifi-free tropical wellness resort of Monte Descanso, a renovated Spanish fortress on its own private island. Amenities include sandy beaches, guided spelunking tours, special health juices, and swarms of vulture bees prowling the jungle in search of rotting flesh.

From the first night Emily can tell that something isn’t right. She’s seeing things that can’t be there, some of the other guests are acting strange, and their signature wellness drink, the elixir, that makes her feel too good to believe. Still, it’s easy to put it all down to jet lag and stress when staying means getting to go late-night skinny dipping with the resort’s hot yoga instructor, Jessa.

When Jessa goes missing a few days later, Emily must team up with eccentric treasure-hunting divorcee Phillipa to discover what happened. They begin to suspect that Jessa’s disappearance is connected to the disappearance of sailors on the island in the 1700’s, and that the cheerful resort owner, Harmony, knows more than she’s letting on.

Excerpt

Someone was knocking at the door and she should answer it.

She got up at the third knock, hoping it would be Philippa with some of her smuggled contraband. She'd have to ask her to get her source to bring in bread and chocolate next time- the booze just wasn't cutting it. Emily threw a fuzzy robe overtop of her old oversized t-shirt, and looked through the peephole.

Jessa was standing there, wearing the purple sportsbra and leggings she had been this morning at yoga and a wide, unflinching smile.

Emily's hand went to the deadbolt immediately to let her in, but something stopped her. Before they'd gone into the cave, maybe she could have written it off, but she was tired of telling herself that her eyes and her ears and her whole body was lying to her. Something was wrong.

She hesitated at the chain.

The knock came again.

"Hey, it's me! Jessa! Come on out, there's something I want to show you."

Her voice sounded hollow, like it was coming from far away. She pulled back from the door and looked through the peephole again, only to jerk backwards. Jessa’s eye was pressed right up against the peephole, making it look wide and distorted like a whale's.

Whatever Jessa wanted to show her, Emily didn't want to see it.

She took a couple of steps back from the door, trying to process while her mind was in a screaming panic, hide-under-the-covers mode.

Jessa knocked again. "Come on, I know you're in there. You can't be tired yet. You have to come see this!"

There was no way she could actually see inside the peephole, right? Jessa couldn't see her inching backwards, going towards the phone. For all Jessa knew, she was downstairs having a midnight snack or holed up in some corner with Phillipa trading tall tales.

Emily didn't know what she would say if she picked up the phone and got through to reception. ‘Help, my friend isn't my friend and she wants me to come outside?’ That seemed useless. Unless...

The Jessa at the door knocked louder. "Emily! Emily? Emily!"

Emily picked up the phone, and dialed 0 for reception.

Sylvie's cheery voice was on the other end of the line. "Good evening, Emily. What can I do for you?"

She knocked again. Once, twice. It grew into a constant sound, her knuckles on the door without pause.

Taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap.

"You guys have land lines, in your rooms, right?" Emily whispered into the receiver. They must have phones somehow. This wasn't a prison or a reality show where people had to be expected to stand in line and wait to talk to their mothers. "Can you connect me to Jessa? It's important. I know you're probably not supposed to do that but..."

The tapping was still going. She- it- whatever - was still there, just outside.

"I mean, we’re not supposed to…”

“Please. You can take away my phone privileges if I abuse it. It’s urgent.”

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. “Fine, but just for you. It’s against policy. Is there something wrong?"

Yes. Yes yes yes.

"No." Emily knew she should have elaborated, but she couldn’t think up a good enough excuse while her mind was seizing in panic.

"Okay. Hold for a moment."

Some calming flute music with ocean sound effects started playing and Emily had never hated the flute so much in her life.It felt like an age, but was only thirty seconds or so, before she heard another voice on the end of the line.

"Hello?"

It was Jessa's voice, as far as she could remember. Some part of her brain was fracturing trying to reconcile the idea that she was hearing Jessa's voice from two places at once.

Taptaptaptaptaptaptaptap.

"Are you somehow outside my door right now?"

"No."

#writblr garden #pumpkin pitch

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akiwitch · 7 months

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The Writblr Garden Pumpkin Pitch

Ghost Punch

She can touch ghosts…so she can punch them.

Best friends Shay and Max are amateur (very amateur) ghost hunters out on a typical Friday night, when everything goes sideways. Shay goes from being a non-believer to finding out not only are ghosts real, but she had the ability to make them solid with a touch. When he brother is kidnapped and the town is plunged into a supernatural plot to rip open the veil, she’ll have to rely on Max, a witch named Jo, and an amnesiac morally gray ghost in order to survive.

But she’s going to find out that ghosts aren’t the worst things haunting the small town of Teton Falls.

Ghost Punch is a comedy action supernatural horror series featuring a queer found family friend group.

You can buy the first book here!

And book 2 here!

#pumpkinpitch #writblr garden #aki writes #ghost punch #sorry for all the promo lately #except I’m not #I really want my books to do well #I really want to publish book 3

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ecoamerica · 25 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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koala2all · 7 months

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The Writblr Garden’s Pumpkin Pitch Event: The Pirate Knight

Being a pirate is all Nonie has ever wanted. Freedom, camaraderie, and a beautiful girl in port to welcome her home. But returning from a lucrative voyage, she finds her home in shambles and her bonny lass missing. Desperate, she makes a deal with the god of the sea. In return for helping return her lost love Nonie vows to become his holy knight, saving the weak and defending the helpless. Together with a cynical sorcerer, a naive orc and an ex-girlfriend willing to help, Nonie sets out to prove that she can be a hero in time to save the love of her life… but when a world changing secret is revealed, Nonie will need the help of her friends to navigate the tempest.

LGBTQ YA Fantasy with themes of zero to hero, found family, epic quest, and pirates.

#writeblr #writing community #Writblr garden #pumpkin pitch #writers of tumblr #pirates #lgbtq #ya fantasy

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unclevladscorner · 7 months

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The Writblr Garden's Pumpkin Pitch Event: Sword of the Voivode

Cyril Valentin believed he'd left his old life fully behind when he ran away to live freely as a New Man. When a former suitor attempts to murder the entire ruling family of Vodomeria- including Cyril- he must choose whether to return to the safety of self imposed exile or journey home to face both his would-be murderer along with his estranged family. Cyril undertakes the journey into the heart of his homeland with his lover Daumantas- an ogre with secrets of his own. Dodging agents of the rival house Zhupensken, the two men have their fledgling romance tested as they navigate a realm in disarray as well as the secrets they've been keeping from one another. Cyril must find peace with his past as the Dueling Princess of Vodomeria and face the men who saw him as a prize to be won in order to restore peace to the realm.

Trigger warnings- Poisoning, transphobia, sexual content, sex assault mention (brief, non graphic), violence

Once his trading stall was erected, the oxen put out to pasture, and his campsite set, Daumantas and Cyril wearily made their way back into town just after the sunset. They made straight for The Drunken Whale. The place bustled with activity, thanks to a Felis bard sitting and singing songs at the bar. Dark gray fur covered his body and sleek feline features. His clothes were very fine for a traveling minstrel and his singing talent certainly paid for the fine cloth. Cyril couldn’t make out the words the bard warbled over the noise of the crowd at first. He could feel his hair standing on end when he recognized the melody-The Ballad of the Dueling Princess. Just as quickly as he’d walked in, Cyril spun on his heel and marched out. He nearly collided with Daumantas who’d been following closely behind him. He marched down the dusty lane towards another-any other- establishment in town. Cyril could hear Daumantas struggling to keep up as he rushed away. He caught Cyril’s arm and tugged gently to slow him. “What’s got you so upset?” “Let go of me, Daumantas.” Cyril’s whole body stiffened when Daumantas seized him in spite of the other man’s gentleness. Daumantas loosened his grip and Cyril’s arm slid free from his hand. They both stopped in the middle of the dirt lane. “It was that stupid song!” Cyril growled between clenched teeth. His stomach churned. He rubbed his hot face with his hands. “I hate that fucking song.” “…Why?” Daumantas asked gently, confused at his companion’s sudden outburst.

Cyril’s face screwed up in a scowl. “Because it’s about me.”

They ate in relative silence that evening at the Golden Oak. Cyril liked to come here when the Drunken Whale was much too busy for him to enjoy. Daumantas stuck to polite conversation through dinner. Cyril tried to perk up, but his mood fell hard with the sound of that song and he had a hard time recovering. The last thing Cyril wanted was to think about the past and that damn song pushed a lot of uncomfortable memories to the front of his mind. “Would you like to stay with me tonight?” Daumantas asked quietly as they strolled leisurely through the streets back towards the edge of town. Cyril took Daumantas’s hand and squeezed in response.

#Writblr Garden #Pumpkin Pitch

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thepenultimateword · 6 months

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Spooktober Prompt #16

“Go on,” the vendor said. “Feed the lantern.”

The buyer held the warm metal box gingerly in both hands and stared wide-eyed at the flickering flame. Something told them that the vendor didn’t mean oil. “What do I feed it?”

“That depends on what you want.”

#I’m falling behind y’all!#aaaah #prompt #creative writing #writing prompt #short prompt #writblr #writeblr #Spooktober #spooktober prompt #spooktober prompts #31 days of spooktober #31 days of halloween #lantern #over the garden wall inspo

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an-theduckin · 2 months

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Alloromantics who have been in love b4 I need your help . When u fall in love with someone how does it happen? Is love at first sight actually like,, a real thing? Or is it more like attraction at first sight? Suppose you fall in love with your friend, how do you notice it? Like what moment make u realise u have a crush on them? Geniune questions btw I really really need answers 2 these . Sincerely, an aroace :3

#this is 4 garden of love purposes #istg i suck at writing non established relationships 😭#writing help #writing tips #writblr #alloromantic #an_theduckin #my text posts

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thaliawashere · 10 days

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#birds #gardening #my photography #plants #nature #photography #spring #original photography #bluebird #carolina wren #lilacs #magnolia #writblr #april #spring in new england

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juteanworld · 7 months

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October 3, 2023

Good afternoon, Tumblrini!

Blessed be your internet connections, for mine certainly was not last night, leading to me thinking the app had swallowed my post three times whole. Procrastination and distractions made me only get things done after midnight, when I no longer held the favor of the invisible internet iguanas.

Today!

Worked in a greenhouse!

And planted small seedlings into pots!

Every pot had its own Plant Pass on the side, to make identifying the plant and tracing it's origin easier.

Goals!

Due to procrastination and distractions I didn't get around to writing or reading last night again, this time I will try to at least procrastinate with them. 😄 Better would probably to block time for it, e.g. at 6 PM.

• Continuing with previous goals

• Reading 10 pages in a fiction and 10 in a non-fiction book

This should be the easiest goal and yet I keep putting it off as if I'm not ready yet, treating it like a solemn ceremonial ritual that I have to be in the perfect mindset for 😅

Planning to continue with Bid Time Return, set at the beginning of the 20th century, with the protagonist a British girl relocating from India, where she had been on many adventurous trips with her father, to Great Britain, where she inherited a large house, shares in a mine and meets the rest of her family who isn't very enamored with her free spirit and Buddhist tendencies, including an inclination to believe in reincarnation.

Found it in a thrift store in this small town I now live in and was amazed, so surprised, that it has descriptions of Tibetan culture and trips through Tibet 120 about years ago. It's been an inspiration for my worldbuilding and stories. But first I have to finish the idea that won the poll (and chronologically comes first anyway)

• Finish other homework (tulip research)

Don't know how I forgot about this, or why I put it off?

• Revise blog post entries of @taimemaailm and add at least one new entry

Using at least one of the new photos I took would be great!

• 15-minute writing sprint

I was amazed at how many votes I got on the last post – 15, not counting mine! On my first such post here no less.

A clear, absolute majority voted for option 1, another LGBT+ crime story based on my personal experiences and feelings, this time also set in one of my homelands, northern Germany.

While I had voted for another option, I will take the hint and work on option 1. It's something I actually started at the beginning of last year, it being the sequel of my first LGBT+-centric crime story, but then stopped working on last summer because I felt stuck. Time to get back to it. It had a lot of potential and early feedback was promising.

Perhaps I should post the first chapter on here, or a new writing-only sideblog?

• Add more worldbuilding documentation from my @ystel and @tropical-saa blogs to the wiki

• More worldbuilding in my desktop wiki

Until later, everyone!

#good afternoon #studying #studyblr #biology #plants #photos #my photos #gardening #school #writing #writblr #worldbuilding #text #booklr

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fixyourwritinghabits · 1 year

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Interview with Amber A. Logan

Today's interview is with Amber A. Logan, author of The Secret Garden of Yanagi Inn, an adult retelling of the classic children’s book The Secret Garden about an American woman who, while grieving her mother’s death, travels to Japan to photograph a dilapidated inn only to find herself mysteriously tied to the inn’s haunted past.

Dr. Logan is a traditionally published author, university instructor, and a lover of retellings. You can purchase her book on Bookshop, follow her on Instagram, and check out her editing services on her website.

Your novel is described as an adult retelling of The Secret Garden. How did you decide to retell this story from an adult's perspective?

I’ve always thought the original The Secret Garden hinted at some deep themes which weren’t fully explored (Mary’s grief, for example) and I attributed this, at least partially, to the fact the novel was intended for children. Once I decided I wanted to retell it, I knew I wanted to delve into some of the darker themes and see if I could make a retelling that would satisfy the expectations of adults who grew up loving the original.

What do you think the appeal of retellings are to you?

Maybe it’s my academic side, but I love when a piece of fiction is in conversation with previous works. When a reader is familiar with The Secret Garden and picks up my novel, the original will always be in the background of their mind as they read. They’ll notice the hints of character, setting, or plot which I kept from the original and think “ah, I see what the author did there.” I think it is the challenge of both mirroring the original and making a unique piece of art which appeals to me.

What advice would you give other authors who want to write retellings?

Pick a story that resonates with you in some core way, and have strong reasons for each of the changes you make. You will want to deviate from the original, of course, but these deviations shouldn’t be arbitrary; each variation should be a conscious decision.

A key theme of your novel is healing from grief. How did you decide to tell that story through a retelling?

It all comes back to my realization that Mary Lennox, in the original, was probably an unlikable little girl at the beginning of the story because she was deeply troubled. She had lost both of her parents and was being transported to the other side of the world to live with people she didn’t know. That grief and trauma was something I wanted to explore more deeply in my retelling. When I started to think of Mary as an adult (Mari, in my book) I thought about how losing a parent as an adult can affect a person and what happens when grief manifests in unusual ways

Your next project is also a retelling! Can you tell us a little about it?

I’m actually currently working on two retellings: one is a middle-grade retelling of The Picture of Dorian Gray set in a Renaissance Festival, and the other is a retelling of a somewhat obscure old novel by David Lindsay called The Haunted Woman, about a woman who goes house-hunting with her boyfriend and discovers a house with an uncanny staircase which induces amnesia after one climbs it and then returns downstairs.

#writblr interviews #author interview #writblr #The Secret Garden of Yanagi Inn #I'm very impressed by this moving gif I'll tell you that

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lowervalleycensusbureau · 9 months

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Report for the 29th of High Summer, Census Bureau: Lower Valley Office

Good evening. It seems rather silly to address a notebook with pleasantries, but given that it will be my most constant companion for my tenure here, I find it pertinent to treat it with due courtesy.

Aside from my duties of data collection, I have been instructed by the Lord Comptroller of the Census Bureau to record daily happenings in this book, and to leave out no details. When I asked what leaving out no detail entailed, he was very adamant that every notable event and thought be recorded without censoring, both of personal and professional nature. I had laughed, he had not, so I have since disabused myself of the idea that he was joking. As such, I have arrived in Lower Valley prepared to put pen to paper.

In the spirit of uncensored thought, I confess that I find all of this highly peculiar.

As a recent graduate of The Institute for Higher Education, I am under no impression that I am worldly, despite what my classmates might have falsely believed about their own insular lifestyles. However, I like to think I am worldly enough to point out the sheer oddness of my current assignment.

I would hate to bite the hand which feeds me and all that. A recent graduate must never be too presumptuous in seeking an occupation by which climb up the government bureaucracy in hopes of better pay. The monthly stipend granted for this assignment is very generous, for which I am thankful (if not a bit suspicious. After all, money rarely comes from nowhere for nothing).

I was met at the train station last night by a Madam Geraldina Popkin, a rather pudgy woman with a sour, wrinkled face, who is a resident of the Lower Valley Regional District of Municipalities. I have come to understand that she is contracted to clean the office and apartment in which I now reside. I was not aware of this arrangement, but she assured me that the contract was signed before my tenure began and the payments made monthly through the post, not through my stipend. Contracted and posted by whom, I do not know, as I was under the impression that I was the first to staff this office in forty-nine years. But given my utter incompetence at maintaining a neat home, I’m sure it will be a great help.

Madam Popkin, despite her dour appearance, is a genteel woman who generously provided me with transportation to my new office in the back of her donkey-cart. I am still finding hay in my hair and clothes, but when I saw the state of the road, I was very glad to avoid walking with my things.

During the ride, we made polite conversation in which she inquired about my presence. I was quite embarrassed that, given that the next census is due in three years time, I had to reveal that the last twenty censuses had not been recorded due to the abandonment of the office by my predecessors, and I was instructed to see the counting through as soon as possible. To my surprise, however, she did not seem to be upset that government resources were being wasted on my time in Lower Valley. She seemed rather pleased, in fact. When I asked her why, she said to me, “I look forward to seeing if you succeed in counting us all. Although I am afraid you may not have enough time. But I am sure you’re clever and quite up to the task.”

I think she has overestimated the size of the district. To be sure, there are many widespread farms amidst the five towns that comprise this area, but I have been told I will be provided transportation and estimate it will take no more than four to six months, rather than the three years I have been allocated.

Madam Popkin let me off at the Census Office, which I found to be strangely isolated. It is located at the center of a glade where the road splits into a series of paths, much like a clock’s face, and the front yard is comprised entirely of a massive signpost with arrows pointing to the various landmarks of the region. The building is two stories with an added spire, the ground floor as an office which may be freely entered during working hours, and my apartment above it. The whole thing looked precariously close to collapsing, but Madam Popkin assured me it was structurally sound. She told me, “If it can hold my substantial weight, I daresay it’ll hold a skinny young thing like you.”

I meant to ask her what she meant by that, given that she is stout but by no means heavy beyond standard deviation. Unfortunately, she rode off without allowing me to pay her for her kindness or ask her where my own transportation might be, merrily whistling and thus unable hear my calls. She is a peculiar woman, but we will see more of each other, so there is still time to inquire after her cryptic comments.

Fortunately, the latter question was answered by a pitiful whinny from behind the structure. When I traversed a series of blackberry bushes to find the backyard, I was astounded to see a single horse stall housing simply the most geriatric stallion I have ever seen. To hell with the building: I simply cannot ride Kindling (he had no name upon his stall, and I took it upon myself to give him an apt moniker), I fear my weight will certainly cause him to collapse. I suppose until I have gathered enough stipend to purchase a donkey of my own, I’ll be cursed to walking. At least my mother packed me a good pair of shoes.

As I was making sure Kindling was well-fed for this portion of his last days, I felt the sense of being watched from behind. My more scientific colleagues would assure me that it is an evolutionary instinct to fear the dark and what might remain in its depths. But as I am a simple statistician with a superstitious father, I feared both this reasonable instinct and the minuscule chance that it was a beast intent on turning my metacarpals into toothpicks, and hightailed it inside. I may have left Kindling to perish alone, but who could fault me? It is more likely a slightly cold breeze would do the trick than a monstrous creature.

The office is surprisingly well-kept, although it is naturally shabby with discarded papers and files. I sifted through them and found nothing of interest except for a spare set of keys and quite a few coins simply rattling around in the desk drawer. There are a few files which seem of enough import that I will have to send them to the city when I have a chance, but most of them seem to contain scribbling and scrawling of illegible unimportance.

There might also be a mouse. I am not quite sure, but there are holes chewed into the walls. If there is, in fact, a mouse, his name will be George. I do not often name pests, but I am feeling rather lonely and when Kindling inevitably perishes, I will need some sort of companionship.

Other than George, the only real difference between any other census office I’ve been in (all two of them) is a piece of paper which is framed and hangs very prominently on the wall. It reads as follows:

The Eight Laws of Lower Valley Regional District of Municipalities

All criminal activities are illegal. Anyone caught committing a crime will be punished accordingly.

For taxation and census purposes, farms must not cross municipality boundaries despite the tendency for border markers to wander. Civil engineering and land boundary consultations are available if one is unsure.

If one encounters a well or fountain on the road, the deposition of a coin and a wish are REQUIRED BY LAW. Coins can be obtained under couch cushions, at the bottom of your mother’s purse, or at the town hall of your municipality should you lack both a couch and a mother (our sincere condolences).

Dumping waste into the river is illegal. It will cause the river to develop an insatiable appetite and the perpetrator will be liable for damages.

The woods are off-limits between the hours of 3 and 4:27 in the morning, during full moons, or if anything is looking directly at oneself from the bushes

If one encounters a black cat with white diamonds on its fur, return this cat to the Hawthorne Farm as soon as possible. Make no delays.

Harvesting plants from the woods is permitted only with a signed permit. Those who do not have a permit may be mauled, smushed, or otherwise dealt with by the forces of nature. In this case, your municipal government will be unable to assist you.

If one spots a dragon, it is one’s civic responsibility to locate and alert the proper authorities. Failing to do so may result in a substantial fine and/or immolation.

This list seemed nonsensical, but bore the seal of the Lower Valley District Council, whom I have yet to meet. It must be quite old if it mentions dragons[1]. However, it must also be of utmost importance to maintain such a place on the wall, so I shall be attempting to follow it as best as I can. At the very least, it explains the prevalence of coinage in this place.

The apartment itself is equally small but quite cozy. There is no bedroom, just a small alcove where a bed lays below a window with a wooden chest for my belongings. There is a small but serviceable kitchenette with a wood-stove for warmth, a dining table with room for four, and a living area with a small reading nook in the attached spire. I am delighted to note that the floorboards do not seem in danger of collapsing, nor do the walls, and am even further delighted that the pantry is stocked well with edible goods, soaps, cloths, and candles. Madam Popkin must have stocked it, for which I am indebted her a great deal more than just the money I previously owed.

What’s more, the books on the shelf seem quite intriguing. While I may be lonely, at least I will not be bored or uncomfortable.

As I had prepared an evening meal for myself (of tea and a single biscuit. The descriptor of ‘meal’ is entirely too generous), I felt quite like I was not alone. Luckily, the drapes over the windows are heavy, and once they were closed, I began to feel quite cozy. I have always considered myself a bit of a city-slicker, but with the fire crackling in the stove and a cup of tea with a blanket over my shoulders, I can see the appeal of a provincial lifestyle. Perhaps when my work here is done, I might be relocated to a more convenient but equally peaceful office.

Tomorrow, I will begin my work. However, I must note on one more strange thing about this place, other than the feeling of being watched through the windows. I own a pocket-watch with a compass attached to the back face, given to me by my father as a graduation gift (he always despaired of my inability to conduct myself in the wilderness. It’s as if he forgot we have cities now and no longer need to listen to the burble of streams to find our way or whatever it is fathers claim to have been taught). However, the compass seems to be broken, with the needle spinning frenetically around. It sets itself in a seemingly meaningless direction from time to time, but always resorts to spinning again.

I think I shall have to go get it serviced. I could never really get my head around how the blasted thing worked.

[scratched out writing]

Good morning. I believe it is morning by technicality, at least, though it is still firmly night. I awoke to the sound of something shaking the doorknob downstairs and nearly died of fright when I thought it was some ne’er-do-well attempting to break in. I even went so far as to grab a heavy pan from the cupboard, as if I could actually chase someone away. I am afraid I am too weak and lack what my father would call survival instinct to really do damage, but I am quite tall and hoped my height and the presence of a bludgeon would cause at least some fear.

Alas, it was simply the wind shaking the door, with no one in sight anywhere on the property. Only Kindling was there, still finishing his dinner from hours ago, persisting in his old age.

Despite the absence of others, I still felt as if I was being watched, even as I checked every nook and cranny of the building and hid the spare keys in a lockbox. I think the large windows at the front of the office are the problem. I shall have to get heavy curtains for them when I go into town.

So many things to purchase. Perhaps that is why the stipend is so high (please do not see this as a complaint. I am still quite pleased with the generosity of my compensation). Even with my fatigue and healthy caution, I find myself excited to begin exploring the towns despite my earlier trepidation. Perhaps my loneliness will be quickly assuaged.

This report was recorded on the 29th of High Summer in the Eighth Year of King Algernon IV (8A4)[2] by Census Enumerator (CE) 71795[3].

The Professor’s Notes

[1] As of the present, dragons are still extinct and their existence is now a matter of fierce academic debate in the department of Paleontology here at the Institute. Please see work by my colleague Dr. Dino van Sauer for more information.

[2] The establishment of a constitutional monarchy in 1 DC fundamentally ended the monarchical time system in favour of a standardized system of time measurement. This year corresponds with the year 103 BDC (Before Democracy).

[3] Census Enumerator 71795 is never named, and we have had little luck tracking down their information through the government’s archives (the Royal Archives continues to give me the runaround)[4]. All that is known about them is that they were a graduate of the Institute for Higher Education with a specialty in statistical mathematics and public policy, they were between twenty-two and twenty-four at the time of these reports, and that they quit the Census Bureau after completing this census, which has never been completed in this area since.

[4] It is important to note that while it has been previously assumed the enumerator is male, as was common among the per-democratization bureaucracy, they are never referred to as man or woman. At this time in history, women were beginning to enter the educated masses of the workforce in large numbers. While it is more likely than not that the enumerator is a male, given the well-documented and high profile nature of working women at this time and the enumerator’s relative obscurity, to discount the possibility of them being a woman would be greatly irresponsible, and so they shall be referred to in neuter.

This report has been transcribed by Dr. Hamish James of the Institute for Higher Education.

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newtishwritings · 5 months

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When the hero's journey goes wrong.

#my angst trio in a nutshell #you've heard of soldier poet king well here's knight gardener prince #doomed by the narrative #writing memes #character meme #writeblr #writblr #spongebob meme

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theguildedtypewriter · 1 year

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"This short read was enthralling! I was a little confused at first as I am used to humans or maybe even shifters but these characters were so much more than that! By the end of the story I didn't want it to end!" Appletini, Amazon

Get the eBook or Read on KU! 🔗 in bio

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘕𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘎𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.

Welcome to the Night Garden🐍🌿

When I stumbled in, I was at the end of my rope, and so the Garden had no trouble claiming me- body and soul. I could feel Her call, warping and twisting my form into something... monstrous.

As the last of my humanity drained away, all I was left with was the unyielding hunger to claim the sorceress who'd created me, The Monstrosity. ✮ When others came crawling into my forest, collapsing on top of the moss in exhaustion, I would let the Earth claim them- a sacrifice to the ancient magic that lived within it and myself.

But this one was different. They'd changed and grown and became something dreadful, something horrid in their power, and something, as much as I might deny it, that belonged to me. Or rather, I to it. ✮ The hunt is on in The Night Garden, and the darkness that awaits will pull everything into shadows that prey inside the wood.

This dark monster romance short will be available on 11/30 on Amazon & free to read on KU. It contains dark, mature themes that may not be suited for all readers. You'll find:

👥Dual POV 👾Pararnormal Monster Romance 💀Morally Grey MCs ⚔️V!olence/G0re 🥵Dom/Sub 😈DubCon 🔥Praise/Deg 🪢BD$M 🍆Unique appendages 🏃‍♂️Primal K!nk 👄B!iting 😭Tragic Pasts

#writblr #writing #my writing #the night garden #horror short #horror romance #super short #myth meets poem #creepy #dubcon #rejohnsonauthor #writers #spicybook

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revenantpoet · 2 years

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- @RevenantPoet

Text Version:

Carmen Cygni

Love conquers all Love wins All you need is love

There are so many phrases Culminating in a single message That love is power Love is righteous Love always overcomes

I disagree

Not because I don’t want to agree Or that I don’t want to be able to open my heart And know it will be safe And happy And cared for and caring For forever and then some

Love sure feels like that, doesn’t it? In that moment of bliss Like a life raft in a storm A calm amidst the chaos Unsinkable Unknowable Unending

And in those quiet moments, maybe that’s true Maybe in those precious seconds Love is unshakable

But the waves around us are giants They are angry They are careless And they crush us Or at least Those like us

We who step outside the lines of the norm Who dare to love outside the boundaries To break that word That framed definition Of what “love” is And build it anew with our own hands Into something more beautiful than imaginable To love ourselves and others Fiercely Wholeheartedly With no shame

It’s the most powerful kind of love Those threads that connect the different The other The ones who shouldn’t love That should be hated That should fight and die Who deserve nothing When compared To those who are “normal”

And who desires that? Who wants this conditional love? This love tied in thorns Designed to bleed you dry If you try to escape

Our love isn’t pretty It isn’t kind Not to us The ones who invest everything in it Who are this love Embodiment of it and bathed in it Diverse and beautiful and ethereal Bathed in the color of life itself As varied as life itself As beautiful as life itself

It terrifies the others Our careless beauty A threat A whisper of change A fire to the thorns that control them Define them In pain and suffering

And they take those sharp edges Their own restraints And tear us apart In all of our splendor Destroying all that makes us Us

After all They want normalcy And we may love differently We love what they said is forbidden Rotten Wrong Lovely Colorful Different

But we All Bleed Red

Love is beautiful Love is patient and kind Love will show you things New things You never thought possible In yourself In the world In everything

But it is not a shield that will protect us

This beautiful love Cupped in my hands Is more fragile than any glass Even though it shines so brightly Refracting the world into a rainbow

It’s cracked And it’s been shattered Countless times Carefully pieced together again and again Not with glue Not with gold But my own blood and tears My own life not even enough to hold it together

I’ve almost given up— No I have given up Many times Hopeless and lifeless Not having the energy To care To destroy my own Fragile Foolish Heart

But I can’t do that And I don’t want to I never want to forget Even if it would hurt less Because love is weak But it is beautiful It is precious beyond compare It is worth saving

So, no Love does not fight for me Nor does it fight for you Love does not naturally overcome all Not when you’re different When you love wrong When you live wrong When you look wrong

But until my heart slows to a stop While there is still strength In these ancient, tired bones Until my last breath Escapes my lungs And my body collapses My life exhausted While my blood still flows I will fight For a love so beautiful So precious And priceless

It’s worth everything

My brain has been haunted by Vampire in the Garden since I saw it. The overarching themes spoke so deeply to the broken parts of me, so like... all of me lmao. A lot of people have gripes with it, and it's not perfect, but the messages and the earnestness of it spoke deeply to me. And I figured, before Pride's over, might as well try putting some of it to words?   I tried to make this split between both Momo and Fine, but man I relate to and love Fine on such a deep level and it definitely slipped through. Anyhow, if someone actually reads this far, I hope you enjoyed, and that all's well on your side of the screen!

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