Time – Part 1


The golden, analogue clock, perched subtly in the corner of the time master’s workshop, with the intention of no one seeing it, spun for the first time in one hundred years. The time master wiped the oil off his hands, propped up his wired glasses, and stared in amazement at the grandfather clock, now proudly singing along to midnight.

The girl’s Victorian gown swept up the dust on the wooden floor as she rushed into the workshop. She moved swiftly; her thoughts  so consumed that she forgot to unlock the door. The time master rolled his eyes at the thump that soiled the clock’s chime. “You’re late,” he told his apprentice.

She flicked the sweat off her brow. “This was never supposed to happen.” Her defenses were up and ready for the forthcoming attack on her character.

“I still work because this could happen. I never took you for one who didn’t believe.” The grandfather pulled open the raggedy door. He flipped the iron switches, spun open the curtains around the electrifying platform, and waited.

“It’s a fluke,” the apprentice insisted. Her fingernails dug into her palms.

“Mora.” The time master lifted his aging hands into the air. “They’re coming.”

Amazement and fear meshed together, creating an unknown emotion of something one never experienced before.

They were coming.

An illusion of lightening surfaced. The champagne glasses spilled, the clocks bumbled, and the copper pipes surged with energy that hadn’t been witnessed in one hundred years. The platform, vacant silver that once collected blood and excitement and love, was full once more, contaminated for the first time in one hundred years.

The five men and women were not the same as they were the last time they breathed in the dusty workshop. They didn’t hold themselves the same way they did all those years ago when they last graced the aging platform. Physically, they were frozen in time with the gifts of the universe. Mentally, it’d been nearly one hundred years.

Blood lingered over the redhead’s darkened fingers. He clapped his hands and broke into an enthusiastic beam of relief. “We saved the world, welcome.”

Mora rocked on her heels. He looked exactly how her mother described: tall, handsome with a darkened air and mischievous genes, standing with misguided confidence. But most of all, he looked just like her father. She was fascinated by the way genetics popped up every once in awhile, how doppelgangers flourished. She’d admired that face for years. She’d worshiped a pair of arms similar to his that used to tuck her in every night. Her throat clogged and she willed herself to not lose herself in the memories.

The redhead hopped off the platform with a grace learned long ago, acquired from interacting with  fascinating, historical figures. He lifted the Victorian styled hat off his head and gave Mora a slight bow. “Have we met?”

The time master knew better than to interrupt this upcoming conversation. He scrambled the rest of the time travelers off the platform before something wrong occurred. He willed them to follow him to the tea room, where he would hear the stories he dreamt of imagining since he was a little boy, not much younger than Mora, who first learned of his family’s peculiar legacy.

The time travelers brushed off the time master’s pleading. They were not leaving a valued member of their intimate team behind to battle whatever the universe decided he would soon encounter, alone.

Mora admired the ticking alarm clock from afar. She wished her father was here to see this, to experience what she once believed was nothing more than a tall tale grown from a stormy day in the attic. “We haven’t met before,” she cautiously explained, pulling in her arms. “But I know you.”

“What a fascinating mystery,” one of the women on the team replied.

Mora ignored the sarcasm. “My father.” She sucked in as much air as her tiny lungs allowed. “My father was your son.”

The woman spitted out words. “He doesn’t have a son.”






Creative Essay

pismis_24(photo: Wikipedia)

It had to begin with an A. It was a calling, a wordless necessity begging to be upheld, a feeling that had always existed, even if I never knew until that moment.

My character’s name must start with the letter A. My science reading sat awaiting completion, but my mind filtered away into space. She needed a name. I had to provide the character of my life with a name worthy of all the obstacles I planned on having her conquer.

The try-hard across from me flexed her brow as she finished her work. She flicked her papers into a binder and pulled out a novel – a novel that I knew. A novel that exquisitely reached the depths of my soul. The cover  character’s eyes stared at me. The yellow cover folded and flexed as try-hard manhandled her book. The eyes still stared.

It was like the stars and the moon had come to life and they were all beneath me. Life filled my purpose. It handed me my golden ticket by planting that book across the desk. I chopped the end of the cover girl’s name off and replaced it with an ell. I finally had a name worthy of my creation.


Bridges are eye opening
They are more than just structures waiting to be repaired
They are things that allow you to unlock your dreams

They connect you to a world you thought you’d never see

Bridges are the key to opening your eyes

Whether they’re real or imaginary, they allow you to go, to move, to be wherever you’re supposed to

Bridges are more than just structures

They are the foundation of the dreamers

A bridge will take you to a new world

That action alone will swell your heart with joy

Bridges open your eyes to wonder, and wonder is such an amazing surprise



love is breathless; love is kind

My love for you is as old as time

Your smile is my saving grace

I know I’ll never say goodbye

Even when I’m far gone,

My love for for you will always hold on

I’ve seen you soar; I know you’ll fly

You are strong,

And you are loved

The world is waiting for you

I know you’ll fly, straight to the sky

Your words are all the strength you’ll need,

Use them wise and be kind

Remember to sing and remember to rhyme

Always forget your greed

And never hold back your tounge,

For you are as bright as the sun

I may not have a long time with you,

But all those moments shaped my life

No one will ever hurt you out of spite

I’ll make your demons run

You are strong, and you are loved

The world is waiting for you

So pick that chin up and run

You’re ready for a life of wonderful fun


A tiny snippet from my novel. This is describing a painting.

The tips of the warrior’s hair were on fire. Her hands had been left open and out, welcoming in her prey. The artist had angled her left foot in, so the knife locked in the girl’s combat boot could be easily spotted. She wore a long white dress, in mockery of a bride. The warrior’s eyes were closed. She had a smile of pleasure to compliment the blood stained on her hands.

  The woman floated, rising above the  rose thorns painted on the ground below. She lifted her chin away from safety, and gazed on into the darkest patches of the powerful storm clouds. Her silk dress floated up with her, as did her untamable hair. She was too strong for even gravity to contain.