“We celebrate Women’s History Month to remind ourselves of the accomplishments of women throughout the years to our culture and society. From science to politics, it’s is a chance to reflect on the trailblazing women who lead the way for change.”
“On September 14th, National Live Creative Day encourages us to let the world see our creativity all day long!
To Live Creative allows for the exploration of imagination. Celebrate the day by taking the time to invent, discover, and dream. Try infusing creativity in our lives through a variety of media. Whether it’s by painting or graphic art to music and gardening, art has an impact on our lives. By expressing our passions and living creative lives, we experience the world.
Stepping into the Live Creative world includes a tremendous sense of freedom. Rules tend to fall away when we unleash our imagination. Of course, authors and artists have long suspended reality in support of their work, to the satisfaction of their vision. They live creative.”
Some favorites of my own photos. Here’s to hoping you live creatively today!
This was my first book by Katie May or Ann Denton. This was a supernatural, urban fantasy, set with Demons and high schoolers. There are plenty of great YA’s that I enjoyed immensely, though as the name implies they are usually suited towards younger age groups. That being said, this one seemed more juvenile than most, I couldn’t finish this after Chapter 14, as the main character was impossible to emotionally connect with. I gave this a 1/5 and I can’t recommend it unless this is the genre you prefer to read.
**Spoiler Alert**
The main character was a female attending high school and the book seemed to be a non stop run of her internal thoughts. And given her age range, it made my head just trying to keep up with so much of it altogether. It made the plot a bit hard to follow but there also wasn’t much of a plot and the main character, Katrina, was irritating and impossible to root for, even with her constant internal soliloquy. This one just didn’t so it for me, sorry guys.
This was my first Gena Showalter book. I know I am in the minority of this opinion, but I couldn’t handle this book. Her characters were alight with the exception of Ashlyn, who was one of the most irritating female characters for me. The plot without the interference of the romance, was actually interesting and the only reason I actually made it the end. The plot with the romance was several romance tropes in one book, that really drug this down. I gave this book a 1/5.
I struggled to finish it, but since I paid for it, I felt required to just to see if magic happened, but alas, no magic! I really wanted to love the book, given the premise it is based on and the Pandora’s box aspect. The plot and characters made that impossible. Our hero, Maddox, was part of a regime of ancient god warriors that were jealous that Pandora was selected to guard a special box. This box held some of the worst monsters to walk the earth, and could not be kept, even in Hell. To punish them for not choosing them, they deceived Pandora and opened the box, freeing a wash of destruction on the earth. As punishment for their sins, they were forced to each house a demon from the box they opened in spurned pride. Then we meet Ashlyn, who (unbeknownst to her) works for a Hunter’s company and finds their fortress tucked into the hills. She plans to ask for help them for help with her ability to hear voices, and conversations from all points in time.
I struggled with both Maddox and Ashlyn instant need to bone as well as their declaration of ‘love’ after a few days of knowing each other. It seemed way to fast, even for the romance genre. With Ashlyn being a virgin as well, how would she even know what love is? Ashlynn made this very difficult to enjoy with her inability to be anything but a damsel in distress. I also had issues with the fact that Maddox fed Ashlynn Immortals version of alcohol, which obviously made her sick, and managed to fix it by giving her Tylenol? There were some other plot holes along this vein throughout.
I’m sorry I just couldn’t get into this and will not be continuing the series.
This was my first book from Joe Abercrombie and has been on my TBR pile for quite some time. Definitely a shame since this was a beautifully told story and I can’t wait to continue through the other books of this world. I gave this book an easy 4/5. You should definitely take the plunge if you are considering it.
Our main characters are Logen Ninefingers, infamous barbarian, Nobleman Captain Jezal dan Luthar, Inquisitor Glokta, cripple turned torturer, and the wizard, Bayaz. Set forward into an epic fantasy land outfitted with swords, war and great palaces, we get to ride along with each of them as the threads of fate untwine.
Logan has decided he wants to try to be a better man after a lifetime of brutal killing but his past just wont die. In the first few pages we discover he was with a crew of other nortthmen, who had all gone rogue against the self declared King of the North, Bethod. While camped in the countryside, they are attacked by undead creatures named Flatheads. Logan is forced to jump off a cliff face to surviv, falling into an icy river and seperated form his group.
When he wakes in the river and climbs back to the hilltop, it appears his friends were all killed. Alone with his pot, he decides to keep moving on, hunting as he needs to for food. At one junction in the forest, he calls fire spirits for company and they notify him that a magi looking for him is just ahead of him. Here he meets Quia, the First of the Magi’s apprentice and summons him to Bayaz.
Bethod comes to visit them and demand the Magi kneels for him, but he refuses and means to declarer war on the Union. Bayaz leaves his fortress and takes his apprentice and Logen to Aldua, the capitol of the Union. In Aldu, their reception is one of disbelief since he hasnt made an appearance in literal ages of men. The closed council holds a ceremonial extra chair just for him, but no one believes the Magi is who he claims to be.
Gllokta works for the Inquisition office under, under Arch Lector Sult, and is tasked with finding a way to disprove that Bayaz is who he says he is. Unique to Glokta’s POV are italics that outline what he would rather say after he says the proper thing. I did enjoy his part very well as he makes the most of his life with his ruined body and missing teeth.
He delves into the library hoping for some information on the Magi and uncovers the Master Maker tower that has stood empty and sealed up for centuries has a key, and Bayaz, if he is real, should have it.
Meanwhile, Lothar, spends all of his time training to win a famous fencing competition that Aldua puts on every year. He also falls into lust with his friend and army mate, Colleum West. West suspects them and begs Lothar not to see her.
The day of the contest finds Bayaz, Quia, and Logan in the crowd watching. Lothar makes it to the end match but it badly outmatched by a outlands opponent, Georst. He is within his last mark when Bayaz bewitches him and forces out a victory instead. The evening of his celebration, Glokta arrives and notifies Bayaz that he can verify his identity by providing the key to the Maker’s Tower, which he does. He takes Glokta, Lothar, and Logen on a tour of the tower after he opens the base.
More intrigues abound within it’s pages but do keep in mind while this is an amazing read, it is not a happy book. I would call his style a cross between Tolkien and Stephan King. I still recommend it for reading!
Well, here we are again at the beginning of January with the winter wonderland around us. It’s that time of year again, to review our goals or resolutions and see how well we did last year. I am one of those people who prefers to call them goals instead of resolutions. I feel like I do better with them if I keep them in that mindset.
My goals were to read and write more than I did in 2019. I apologize if yours were based more in reality and the pandemic special of 2020, wreaked havoc on many of those types of goals, I am sure.
Reading is an easy one to measure since I have been religiously tracking my reading habits on Goodreads since I finally made an account there. (Profile is:https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/117151645-gail-marie, if you want to add me). My books read in 2019 was a sad, 16 with many from the same author. I managed a respectable 55 this year from a much wider genre base. This year, I am planning to up this to 60 and hope I can squeeze in a few more. There are so many great books out there I am looking forward to.
Writing is harder to measure and requires me to be honest with myself about my goals. With the COVID pandemic forcing us into quarantine early this year, I did manage to create a quiet second space I can lock myself into with only Wattpad and my google docs to keep me focused on my writing. I won’t deny I have issues procrastinating and they usually involve wasting unnecessary time on Twitter and Pinterest. So for 2021, I want to write more but also more predictably. The goal is always everyday, so I will work towards that.
How did your goals for this year go? Were they writing or reading related?
What a year this 2020 has been, but I am always grateful for the Christmas Holiday. As a child, I never understood some parents asking children for socks as a Christmas gift until I became an adult. Well, maybe I can’t claim adulthood, but at least the age one usually reaches adulthood. Overnight my socks became a much bigger deal to me since my feet are so often cold, all. the. time. Even in the dead of summer, don’t ask me how, they don’t play by the rules. So this year I am thankful for receiving multiple rounds of those plush, mid-calf socks.
Santa was listening. To everyone else out there, I hope today was a great one.
“He who has not Christmas in his heart will never find it under a tree.”
This work by K.F. Breene, surprised me. This was my first of hers, and quickly became an appreciation of the story. I was invested in Reagan as a bounty hunter and swiftly spent the next two books within this series, skipping sleep and my daily writing grind. Reagan is one of the strongest female characters we get to meet. Reagan called to me as a great example of fearless female heroine. She is proficient in weapons, fighting, shooting and her own breed of magic. In this book, we discover that beneath her bounty hunter appearance is an heir to Lucifer himself.
Her world building was beautiful. It was set in present day life but with areas of magical law enforcement that kept the magical community secret from the human population. I enjoyed that her version of werewolves shifters that turn into wolves are other prey animals at will. They are not ruled by the full moon. We also discover the existence of another realm attached to the brink (present day human world).
Reagan meets Darius after he intercepts her attempt to seize a mark rumored to be selling blood, though what kind we don’t discover for some time. A scuffle ensues and elder vampire, Darius, makes off with Reagan’s mark. Reagan eventually must work with the vampires to bring justice to a league of unicorns within their protection. The vampire creation elixir is made from it’s blood and a betrayer to the vampire life, is selling unicorn blood to mages to boost their magic, though temporarily.
The initial unicorn investigation and her unwillingness to reveal her true self to Darius, forces her near death and destroys her sword. While Darrius attempts to replace the sword using a Callie and Dizzy, Reagan discovers they knew her mother before she fled the public eye to keep Reagan safe from magical prying yes.
Reagan and Darius undercover a high powered mage, playing host to a powerful demon, had orchestrated the entire thing. The demon suspected Reagans true heritage and kidnaps Darius in an attempt to force her hand and work together with them. They underestimate the power within her, and she soon destroys his many followers and frees Darius with plenty of help from Callie and Dizzy.
I gave this book a 5/5 rating and highly recommend it for your next urban fantasy read
The temperature dropped as Harper approached it. The front was marred with black and red smudges over its antique wood frame. A black plaque with the words, “The End”, in gold typeset leered at her. Surely, that can’t be what is behind this, could it? It was nearly nightfall and the rest of the demolition crew had gone home, leaving her to decide what to do with this thing. This door creeped her out beyond belief, she wanted to run and hide behind anyone bigger than her, which would be hard given her basketball center frame. Trying to tamp down the fear, she paused five steps from it and fished a cigarette and lighter from her jeans pants pocket. It was the start to a beautiful Halloween night.
Everything is shifting.
The temperature dropped as Harper approached it. The front was marred with black and red smudges over its antique wood frame. A black plaque with the words, “The End”, in gold typeset leered at her. Surely, that can’t be what is behind this, could it? It was nearly nightfall and the rest of the demolition crew had gone home, leaving her to decide what to do with this thing. This door creeped her out beyond belief, she wanted to run and hide behind anyone bigger than her, which would be hard given her basketball center frame. Trying to tamp down the fear, she paused five steps from it and fished a cigarette and lighter from her jeans pants pocket. It was the start to a beautiful Halloween night.
“What am I supposed to do with you?” she asked it., needing noise within the silence that was suddenly too heavy. A whisper of wind caressed her red locks and she puffed hard on the light, willing the tobacco into her system. Both her parents had died in a car accident ten years earlier, leaving the house to her, but she had moved in with her aunt and left her childhood behind. It was hard to be this close to it even now. Hence, the demolition crew. One final room remained intact, hidden into the basement. She had never seen it as a child so her parents had never disclosed the purpose of it. Surely the sign was a joke? She didn’t know what The End was, but she didn’t want to meet it.
On the other hand, she really wanted to see it before the demo crew came back in the morning. She wanted to work through the emotional toll that was likely in order and she hated crying in front of other people. The old hurt twisted around her fear, pushing it higher, she would have to act soon or she would walk away, she knew herself well enough to know. Forcing her body forward without trying to think about what she was doing, cold seeped deeper into her pores as though she might never feel heat again. Three steps, two steps, one step, she raised her hand to grab the handle. It was ice, but nothing happened, no explosions, just a cold door. The shaking in her fingers receded somewhat.
Pulling a final whiff on her cigarette, she dropped it and snuffed it with her toe. One huge deep breath, to settle her nerves and she turned the handle, forcing the door open. It glided forward without resistance, as though someone had oiled it everyday since she’d left. She stared dumbly past it to find gray stone walls, lined a walkway away from her, also outfitted in gray stone but slightly darker and textured. What the hell was this doing here? Her parents had never discussed hidden caves beneath the house and there certainly hadn’t been anything in the house documentation of their Wills. In the fading light, she removed her lighter again, and lit it, and held it above her, trying to unseat all the lingering shadows. It exposed more of the cave path, which arced away to her right. Her heart was still beating quickly but blind panic slackened at the pure absurdity of this spectacle.
“Hello?” she called. Her voice echoed back at her but nothing but silence reigned. She tried to establish who might be waiting in the dark for her. She had been here the past four days with a demolition crew of five more and she had allowed them everywhere since they had to do their jobs. If any of them had been trying to gain admission to this door, they would have caught red handed. Unless one of them had managed it while she was focused on other things, but that seemed far fetched with how friendly everyone had seemed. It seemed more likely it was empty given the house had stood abandoned for so long.
Convinced she was in resolute safety, she stepped forward in slow, deliberate steps. When her right thumb got too hot she swapped her lighter to her left hand. Her tenth foot step inside, the open doorway slammed shut behind her, and her lighter extinguished bathing her in a sea of blackness. Fear hitched in her throat, freezing her breath as she desperately tried to restart the lighter. Her shaking fingers made her clumsy but on try four it finally flicked back to life.
Penny sized, blue spheres of light bloomed to life at the base of both corridor walls. Harper’s mouth dropped open at their appearance, spinning in place, expecting to be attacked, but there was only empty air. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she shoved the lighter in her jean pocket. How could she be so stupid? She should have gone back to the hotel after she opened the door, like someone with common sense might, or could have come with some back up. This was exactly how horror novels started and the dumbest died first, because they did dumb things. She didn’t even have her phone, since she’d left it in the car. She walked back to the door, and tried the door handle but it was locked tight. She tried to pull, then push, then slapped her palm down in the door frame center, in frustration. Nothing but solid thuds met her ears.
Panic settled back into her gut but with no choice but to traverse the path before her, she began again. She kept her steps even and her weight on her toes. She was no fighter but she’d grown up with a cousin obsessed with wrestling with her because she’d been the only girl. That had also fueled her need to run away and hide when she hadn’t wanted to fight. She had felt fast because she could outrun him and the other four boys that were often at the house. Tonight she might found out how fast that really was, since it was evident something had registered her presence in this place. Something waited for her to come to it like a lamb to slaughter. Well, she had no intention of rolling over for its entertainment. If it wanted her dead, she’d make them damn well earn it. At least she had on suitable running shoes.
Thirty steps inward, she felt the dead air pick up speed, and rush around her with a smell of rot, as though spoiled food had been left behind. Fifty steps inward, the air turned colder again, shivers working through her light clothing and then scattered, awkward footsteps pulsed before her. She slowed her pace, as a shorter, robe clad figure appeared and stopped in the middle of the path. She guessed he was roughly thirty feet from her, though it was hard to be sure with the size difference of this creature she’d never seen before. If she guessed, it had once been human, though most of it’s skin and many muscles were set with rigor mortis and crumbling from it with each movement. Well, that would explain the smell of death. Fangs spilt from its mouth, and it shoved it’s hands clumsily towards her neck. Harper was terrified of the thing and all the grossness that embodied it, but she was grateful that thing couldn’t clear a football field in ten seconds. They seemed to be on relatively equal footing, she thought that was a hopeful sign, maybe fate was looking out for her, after all. It had been a long time since she’d wrestled.
Jiangshi – Chinese hopping vampire (from Wikipedia)
It seemed to hop toward her, as its stiff limbs and body wouldn’t let it move naturally, forcing it to lift up and surge forward in bursts. It was hard to see it’s hands as they were covered in the robe’s long arms, but she waited for it to bring them to her. As it reached her, she planted her left foot, slightly outside of center and swung her arms through his, trying to bat them to her right. Bones cracked from their residual stiffness as they adjusted, taking its mouth with it. Its bottom half remained in place, so she edged left again, and pivoted to her right, sliding behind it. Hoping a broken neck might slow it down, she sidled forward, pushing down the queasiness of touching the dead tissue, and jumped then swung her arms around its neck. She latched on and squeezed her arms with all her might, trying to remember to breathe so she didn’t pass out. It didn’t have working lungs but the scream that razed her skin was crunching cockroaches over graveyard bones. It screamed again in fury at her hold. It tossed its head, shaking left and right, trying to dislodge her. It tilted its head around and leaned into her grip, unseating her left arm. Before she could adjust, its fangs grazed her flesh, and sharp pain flared around it.
Harper’s adrenaline surged, as she bucked her legs and ripped her arms backward aiming to reach the ground. As graceful as a loose cannon, right hand snagged in the bones but once it worked free, she crumpled to the floor in a mess of limbs. Crawling forward, hoping beyond hope that it wouldn’t step on her, she hazarded a glance backward, to check its position when the scene behind her froze her with confusion. The zombie was where she had left it, arms outstretched toward her but it was as though it had been turned to stone. She rose, working up her courage to step back toward it, the only seeming difference was Harper’s blood all over its face from the slice on her arm.
She didn’t stick around to ask why, she performed a quick survey around her to confirm no other enemies had crept up behind her and took off running down the corridor. The new stillness felt wrong in her ears but she couldn’t pinpoint the cause and she was praying the zombie would be her only adversary and now she could focus on escaping this place. She wanted to curl up into a ball in her hotel room and lock the world away, but first she had to get there.
Tiredness tugged at her limbs, but the cut still oozing blood, and knew she couldn’t keep this up forever. She settled on slowing to a fast walk that was hopefully faster than the zombie could hop, in case he broke free of its hold and wanted to finish the job. After a time, she met a right turn then a left one and back again. There were no intersections with another path but this one seemed to run on forever as the same scene played before her after each turn. She felt like she was stuck in the twilight zone of this place, would she never reach the end? The panic and fear she’d kept at bay with the haze of pain and bone-tired body pushed forward, demanding to be addressed.
She dropped to her hands and knees, caving to her shaking muscles. She might never get up again, even with that thing behind her. Hopelessness ate at her being after being so lost, this wasn’t at all how she had hoped the night might go. She was certain the cold was so ingrained in her atoms that she would never be cold again. Not an issue when she was walking, but the cold stone way against her skin. was like the first big winter storm of the season, that steals your breath and hope. That’s when she heard it, the tiniest flutter of air and thuds of connecting limbs, like there was a fight somewhere in front of her. She tried to temper her sudden surge of excitement with reality, whatever it was, was surely here to kill her.
She hand walked toward the wall so she could use it to stand and forced herself upright. Her muscles seared in pain that stole her breath and sense of gravity. She willed her feet forward while leaning against the wall so she didn’t fall back down. Thirty more clumsy paces and the sound was unmistakable now. Finally, she reached the edge of a circular room, roughly half the size of a football field and the wall height rose from her edge to a massive overhead dome, outfit with gold and indigo inlay. At the center, a double a horse sized centaur and another undead body but this one was much more terrifying since he wasn’t slowed by his body as the other had. He had merely a skull and a mix of muscles and bones throughout his body and he was clad in a weathered spell casters robe. Above them, a sand colored orb lay suspended. It had bright white streaks coursing through it, as though a storm was trapped inside.
They grappled with each other in a dance of death. Harper tried to peer around the room, but from what she could make out, this was the end of the path. It ran to their location on the floor and disappeared and there were no openings in the opposing walls offering her escape. She was stuck. Anger and frustration welled up within her at this situation. Did she have to fight them both? Did she just have to make it past them to the orb? Directions sure would have been useful about now. With no choice but to push forward, since she couldn’t turn around either, she lurched in their general direction and likely toward her own death.
The centaur’s muscles rippled as he dodged a line of blue flame from his opponent, which he turned into an aggressive thrust at his head with his unbelievably long halberd. The undead spun counterclockwise, out of the halberd’s arc, and released a black mist from his hands, at the centaurs feet. The centaur grunted as he brought his weapons upright then planted both of his feet and the end between his feet. A clear bubble erupted around him and the long blade. The black mist hit the bubble and puddled to the floor before disappearing altogether. She had just reached the last steps to them, when the centaur turned back her way. His green, intelligent eyes roved over her as though he could ferret out every thought she’d ever had.
“I wait for you,” he said, in a smooth but weathered voice that made her think of forests and meadows of wildflowers.
“Me?” she asked dumbly, pointing at herself. She was so tired she felt as though she was trapped underwater and her brain was sludge, not much was registering. Where had he come from and why would he be waiting for her here of all places? He nodded and stepped toward her, dropping his bubble but spun back to his right, he pointed to the space behind him before he swung back to engage their obvious opponent.
“Stay behind me,” he called out in a voice that implored her to obey. She was so confused by this turn of events she was grateful there would be help, even if she still died, at least they would make it worthwhile. Though a large part of her hoped she hadn’t unwittingly sacrificed this beautiful creature beside her. With only minor hesitation, she trudged forward, bracing her uninjured hand on his back leg, His brown sugar coat gleamed like diamonds in the sun.
The undead stomped the stone with a foot, while a cluster of stone tiles split and fell into a pit of some kind below them, it also released an opaque, white substance that crawled toward them, still wriggling along the steps. She caught the remainder of its icy blast around his body but it still compelled her teeth to chatter again. She was over being cold in this place. Her centaur aimed the halberd point toward the white substance and undead as a dark purple jet stream sped toward them. It hit the white first, shredding it while more stone squares disappeared, and then towards the undead, who wheeled to find shelter along the perimeter.
“Now!” he shouted, reaching back to grab her left hand with his right, he drug her around the voids in the ground, and towards the orb in the center. Her legs gave out with a few steps left but he adjusted and kept her upright but before they could connect, the undead reappeared before them as though it had teleported since Harper was sure she hadn’t seen him cross the room. She managed a wispy grunt before he slammed into the centaurs head and upper chest, punching them airborne and tumbling backwards.
Harper landed in an ungraceful heap between them, the centaur was still and she hoped just knocked out for the moment. The undead never stopped advancing, as it tried to step around her, and reach his neck. She tried to rise in his way but a quick batter from his right forearm and she fell again. Despair and frustration like she had never experienced for their situation ate at her, she had to do something. She tried to climb to a crouch but the undead was at the centaur’s neck, choking him. The gurgles for life sliced to her soul, She had no idea why any of this was happening or why things were trying to kill her but this was the last straw, the last thread of holding herself together as she was forced to hear his death. She felt her core crack in half as though she might actually tumble to pieces. Rage pushed at those cracks, warring with it.
“No!'” she screamed, before she could rise again, her body and limbs seemed to have a mind of their own. One minute she was a ragged Harper and the next she was a centaur, the same color and make as the one being choked by the undead. She stared down at her new arms in disbelief. She had to be dead and this was some last minute, death illusion. Illusion or no, she might as well expel this rage on this most annoying being. She stepped forward on clumsy legs but quickly realized, walking with four feet was way better than walking with two. She picked up speed, hoping she could just run into it. The undead noticed her presence a few seconds too late. It tried to release the centaur and drop back but she delivered a chest bump before it could scurry away. A sharp bone snapping crash filled her ears as a flash of red discharged from her, somehow, and as it’s limp form ricocheted into the outer wall.
“”Wow,” she uttered, “this is awesome.” She tried to turn around like she normally would but soon realized the four legs required a wider radius to maneuver at least with her skill level. When she finally turned around to find the other centaur, he was attempting to stand up. He angled his dazed face to meet the mirror of his eyes since she appeared to be an exact copy of him.
“This is unexpected,” he announced softly, but stepped forward to touch her new coat. A look of appreciation lit his face.
“Did you know I could do this?” The words were raspy and thick around her tongue, but she retained most of her own voice. Fatigue and lightheadedness pounded against her temples, and she wondered how long she had before the laws of energy finally caught up to her and she crashed.
“Look, we don’t have much time before our guest wakes up, but yes. Given who your mother was, we had hoped but here is the proof. Now, to the gateway” he noticed her wobbly legs and took her arm while they toiled toward the orb in small steps for her.
“I don’t know what you are talking about, since there is a large chance I’m either dreaming or dead. My mother couldn’t do this. I never saw her do anything remotely close. I think you might have the wrong person,” she tried to tell him.
“Don’t trust everything you see, there are deep lies afoot,” he stopped her just before they could touch what he called the gateway, and gave her a rock hard stare.
“Daragh, nice to meet you,” he said, as he shook her hand. “Now, go!” He pushed her into the swirling abyss that swept her startled mass into the air. A shrinking of the space and she was Harper again. The gateway shot her straight into the air, at the ceiling like a vacuum would a startled spider. The ceiling disappeared into a black shroud that felt more like a conveyor belt than a vacuum. The process made her force herself to keep breathing as the suffocating pinch of the world closing in around her threatened to unleash her claustrophobic hysteria.
After less than a minute by her guess, the black dissolved around her and spat her out unceremoniously toward solid ground. Her unsuspecting body fell like a row of bricks and her knees caught her first. Pain seared her exhausted extremities as she attempted to stand. Her recovery time might need to be a month after tonight and it still wasn’t over yet. Working upright, she finally realized where she was and her blood ran cold as though winter had invaded her veins. There was still no sunlight, in fact the evening appeared exactly as she had left it, except the door into the basement. Rather than it’s proud wood proclamation of “The End”, a new cyan blue panel with black, “It’s Over” lettering perched in its place.
All images for this post courtesy of https://pixabay.com/wikipedia.
