Cheers to the End of Another School Year

“Cheers”

Here’s to
Everything we’ve won and everything we’ve lost,
Everything we’ve worked for no matter what the cost.

Here’s to
Everything we’ve grasped and things that we’ve let go,
Everything we’ve learned and things that we now know.

Here’s to
Everything that never changes and all the things that do,
Everything we love and everything that’s true.

May these lessons never leave us, may we remember what we’ve seen.
It’s been a happy year, this one from twenty-twelve until thirteen.
Here’s to our next big adventure.

The Price of Victory

Since it’s pretty out of character for most of my writing, I feel the need to add the disclaimer that there is some minor language in this bit.

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING OUT THERE?!?” he raged, throwing his axe at the ground. It stuck, the metal blade buried two inches in the dirt by his feet. “Did you honestly think that you were helping anyone out there? You could have gotten half the company killed with a stunt like that!” His arms flew wildly about him in his uncontrollable anger.

She simply stood across from him within the tent, hazel eyes leveled at her husband’s electric blue ones and bow hanging limply at her side. Her dagger belt was a lot lighter now, every blade thrown against the enemy. She knew the pale green tent material would do nothing to hide his words, or her own, from the rest of the militia waiting outside for him to finish with her.

“Yell all you like, Sylas. I have no regrets,” she said calmly. For a moment she thought he hadn’t heard her, had been too sunk into his own anger to even realize she had spoken. But he had heard.

“No regrets?” he whispered, stepping toward her, “no regrets about running up the cliffs to start a rock slide instead of rushing to the capitol city for reinforcements like you were ordered?” his voice grew louder with each word. “Cora, we need the help–”

“Those reinforcements would not have gotten here for three days’ time,” she interrupted, “we needed to win the battle today, before Korax’s troops had time to overwhelm us or circumvent the valley. Besides, the rock slide didn’t block the entire pass. Now, as the smaller force, we can slip through what’s left of the pass, then as they try to follow us we could pick them off one by one by hiding archers in the caverns on the mountainside and–”

“Cora!” Sylas bellowed, his face turning red with the effort to silence her. “You are not the commander of this force. It is your job to do as you are ordered, not make up your own rules and do whatever the hell you like!”

She threw her bow onto her cot beside her and flung her arms out in exasperation. “Sy, it’s a good idea, why are you so against it? This could help us win the war!”

Sylas took three large steps to close the gap between them. For an instant Cora thought he was going to strike her. Wouldn’t be the first time, shan’t be the last, she thought, bracing herself. But no, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders roughly and buried his face in her curling, chestnut-brown hair. Not knowing what else to do, she wrapped her arms around his torso and held on. It had been a long time since he held her like this, not since before the war.

“Coramine Annalise Nicrésta” He whispered her full married name in her ear, then took a step back, keeping his hands on her shoulders. She looked up the four inches difference between her five-foot, five-inch frame and his nearly six-foot height. “I have nothing against the plan,” Sylas told her quietly, “But I have something against you rushing headfirst to a place where you could get killed. My greatest fear is not loosing this war, but of losing you.”

DOTK

The People of Marin

For centuries, stories have been passed down saying that the blood of Angels runs through the veins of the royal families in our world. When the Great God created the world, he divided it into the Four Nations: Corish of the Mountains, Danoon of the Jungle, Bendek of the Dessert, and Marin of the Sea. He then ordained one of his four Angels as the leader of each nation and each Angel took a human woman as their consort. When their heirs had reached the proper age, they were left to rule the nation and the Angel returned to the legions of God. The blood of the Angels has traveled down through the ages and still flows strong in the blood of the leaders of the Four Nations, because Angel blood knows no weakness.
Those stories are true, the blood of the Angels does run in the blood of the royal families, in my blood. It is our sworn duty to protect the people of Marin from evils that lurk in our world. You see, this is my story.
Oh, I suppose it would be proper manners to introduce myself. I am Princess Skaya of Marin, born and raised in the beautiful sea-side CastleScape  in our capitol of Corun. This is the story of my family, my love, and most importantly of my people.
The people of Marin are a strong and proud people with a history that can be traced back for generations. And now, as the current ruler, I have decided that the world should know of our toils and strife, everything that we have gone through to reach this majestic peak of prosperity.
So listen close and listen well,
There’s a lesson in the story I tell.
This is the story of the People of Marin and the evil they defeated.

“That Man is my Friend!”

* Matt 26: 69-74 * Mark 14: 66-72 * Luke 22: 54-60 *
I think one of the saddest moments in the Bible is Peter’s denial of Jesus. In scripture, it says that after the rooster crowed & Peter realized what he had done and went outside and wept bitterly.
I don’t blame him, just imagine how that must have felt.

His best friend is being put on trial, and if found guilty he will receive the death sentence.
He could try to stand forward and testify in his favor, even the chances are slim.
However, instead of doing that, he denied even knowing this man who he has followed and learned from for the past three years.
His friend not only knows he did this, but told him it would happen, and he did nothing to change it.
He sits outside and cries not only because he has denied his friend, but because he knows that he does not have the guts to go back inside and make things right. He is too afraid to go back in and claim to know the man because that would be the same as going in and saying “This man is my friend. If you’re going to kill him, you’ll have to kill me too!” and he knows he doesn’t have the guts to do that.

This wretched man was the one Jesus chose to build his church on.
Because Peter wasn’t perfect, he could relate to everyone else who wasn’t perfect, either.
Because Peter would compensate for this mistake until the day he died, crucified like his Lord on an inverted cross.
Because that was when he had the power of the Holy Spirit, the power to say.
“That man was my friend. You killed him and if you don’t want the rest of the world to hear about him, you’re going to have to kill me, too.”

Friends

I could say a lot of bad things about my friends
I could say a lot of good things about my friends.
But that’s the point. They’re my friends.
This means loving them because of the good and in spite of the bad. It means focusing on the great memories we make together, not on the bad things they might say out of anger or frustration. It means focusing on the feeling of shared victory, after we have climbed and overcome the mountain. It means experiencing together the magnificent view we see after helping each other reach the top. Shared loves, shared experiences, shared Faith, that is what friendship is.

Shadowlight

“Shadowlight”
gazing into self-reflecting darkness
every point, dip, curve of my own face
reflected, refracted, nearly unrecognizable
in the night’s light

light on my side, dark outside
light throwing my face into shadow
curling hair, bright eyes, round nose
pale pink lips in a sideways smile as I think

knowing what this face has been
not knowing what will be
still I stand, gazing out the window
at the falling night

DOTK
Not sure how I feel about this one, feed back is appreciated =]

Good Intentions

Words that had every good intention of coming out of her mouth somehow got lost on their way out. the words were never spoken and could never be heard. they simply drifted, aimlessly, nearly forgotten in the back of her mind. until the chance could come again for them to be spoken. Next time. the words said to each other. Next time we will be spoken, next time we will be heard. Next time, we will make the difference we were destined for.

Princess Training

A proper Princess should have enough poise that she can walk with a book balanced perfectly on her head.

Yes, Ma’am, but every time you add an expectation, the book gets another chapter. Every time a new requirement is added, so is another book. Therefore, how can you expect me to keep on walking in a perfect line, with the book balanced perfectly on my head, if you are the one who keeps making my walk more difficult?

DOTK

Fading

To me, the saddest fact of life is that people – best friends, confidants, late night whisperers, phone callers, first texters, heart sharers, dream chasers, secret crushes, lesson teachers – far too often fall away, fade, and become little more than memories.

DOTK

Dreams

Why do people always say that we need to have big dreams? I’ve heard “Shoot for the moon, for even if you miss you will land among the stars” & “If your dreams don’t scare you, then they’re not big enough” too many times to count, but I don’t have any big dreams. All I want is a simple life. I don’t want to be a famous author or poet or playwright. I don’t want to invent the “next big thing.” I don’t want to be a superstar. I don’t want to be rich or famous. I want to be a children’s librarian in a little library where I can learn everyone’s name and focus on teaching the little things, like encouragement and perseverance, and determination, and love and respect.

Jesus didn’t do big things at first, he did the greatest thing in history by dying for the whole of humanity, but he could have never gotten there if not for the little things: A little barn outside the inn; a little river to be baptized in; a little town where he could spread the word about God’s love for His people; a little basket of food to feed five thousand; a little touch to heal the blind, the mute, the lame, the sick; a little donkey to ride into town.

Everyone else can do the big things, that’s fine, amazing even, but I want to be the one sitting at home with a cuppa tea who is always there to welcome them back to the homestead and listen to all their amazing stories before sending them back out into the great wide world. Is that too much to ask?

DOTK