Author Journey: March 31, 2023 - Change is Good, Right?

 Hello, dear readers! Whether you ended up here because you took the road less traveled, or made a wrong turn, or have been here before and loved what you found, I welcome you to the scenic route. I've got a new creation to share with you today. There's also a three-word prompt later on in the post. Please do stay for a while. 

Author Journey: Change is Good, Right?

Change is definitely good. I may not be able to change a whole lot of things in my surroundings, but even shifting the furniture around to achieve a new look brightens my mood. How about you?

But that's not the kind of change I'm talking about. I'm talking about giving my blog a facelift and rebranding my online presence. This past week or so, I've been working on creating a new header for the blog and all the social media sites I am on. I'm also working on a fresh new business card which will match, and new elements for my website. It's an intensive, time consuming job, but I'm loving it.

The new header is live on my YouTube channel. I apparently need to keep working on the one for my blog. For some reason, I couldn't upload it to the site. I'll keep working on that as I'm able. Here's a preview, though.

Blogger Header

And this one:

Business Card

I'd like to thank my friends and family who helped me choose a border decoration for the business card. I created four different options and this one was the winner. Then, I used the business card as inspiration for the header graphic. I do love the rich colors. What do you think?

Writer's Life: Busy, Busy, Busy

This past week or two have been pretty busy. I haven't had much time to write, but I'm doing what I can, whenever I get the chance. 

My family and I have started going back to the gym a few times a week. It's going to be an adjustment because it's been so long. I know it'll be good for all of us, though. I sit far too much these days.

Spartacus has been a trooper. He doesn't like it when we leave the house for long periods, but he's such a good cat. While we're gone, he sleeps a lot, apparently. When we were gone longer than expected one day, and happened to be out past his supper time, we got home to find everything in its place. Even the trash can he could've tipped over to dig in for traces of food hadn't been touched. I've seriously never seen another cat like him. Right now, he's sleeping in the desk chair I can't use anymore. 

Just Keep Writing: Friday Fascicles

If this is your first time participating in this kind of writing exercise, you're in for a treat. If you've done this with me before, just keep scrolling for the prompt.

Rules:

1. You can use any/all of the words and/or the photo in the prompt below to create a unique written work. Fiction or nonfiction, poetry or prose, even lyrics are acceptable.  
2. Please keep the material you write clean (ie. nothing R-rated or worse) if you wish to share the link to your work here, as well as if you link back to my site. I strive to keep my site free of such things. My readers know and expect this. I respect your right to write whatever you feel you need to write. And you're free to use my prompts. But if your material is graphic, I'd rather not view it, and most of my readers will not wish to. 
3. Have fun! This type of exercise is perfect for growing in the writing craft, or for helping through a rough patch in your current WIP. If you're looking to push your author limits and you normally write in nonfiction prose, try a whimsical collection of lyrics. If you normally write poems about real life events, try your hand at a fanfic. Give yourself some room to explore.

Don't forget to leave a link to your creation (unless you're writing graphic material) so my readers and I can check out your work. I'd appreciate a link back to this post to help me reach more readers, but it's not required. 

Today's words are:

Session  

 Wander 

 Morale

I'm already seeing a couple of possibilities with these words. I don't have any time left to write today, though. Maybe I can go back to them later. What about you?

 

Just Keep Writing: Death and Life

A few things you may want to know before starting to read follow. Please keep in mind this is a snapshot of the lives of a few people in my book world, Y'Dahnndyra. There's some closure, but it's definitely open-ended. 

• Varla Mintak - (VAHR lah meen TAHK)
• Vali - (VAH lee)
• Ubabei - (oo BAH bay) - uncle in Shinnoah
• Babei (BAH bay) - father
• Moyri (MOI yi ree) - mother
• Sadau - (sah dow) - sister
• Dau - (dow) - daughter
• Torm Azmundsun - (TORM AHZ moond soon)
• Nidau - niece 
• Khafket - (KHAHF keht) - a cooked, then steeped, creamy drink, think  coffee/tea/cocoa
• Tugansol - (too GAHN sole) - name for the creator deity in Shinnoah
• Zoleta - (zoh LEH tah) - place where those faithful to Tugansol in life go when they die
• Tiav’yag - wanderer, exile
• Ren’l Dirmahn - (REHN uhl DEER mahn)
• Slitchit - (slee cheet) - a snake-like animal which congregates, lives, and moves together with many others, their poison isn’t always deadly, but it can be if not treated quickly. They range from middle M’Neshunnaya, north to middle Shinnoah, and parts of western D’Koruyi.
• Oxyl - (OHKS yeel) - The capital of Shinnoah and the home of the best guilds. 
• Karlin - (car LEEN)
• Arb’la - (AHRB lah) - a type of cattle used as mounts for their fleetness. They are similar to deer and gazelles, but not exactly like them. You can find a little more about these in my upcoming release, “The Tale of Outh’n Durr”. 
• Skybolt - Shinnoahn word for lightning
• Moyri - (MOI yi ree) - mother

“I just need some time to pause and reflect, Ubabei,” Varla pleaded. “Please?” She didn’t really need his permission anymore. He’d raised her when her parents and three younger sadau passed away during an extreme epidemic many tsimikin past. She loved him for it and respected him too much to run off without saying anything at all. To rush out with an “I’ll be back later” would be unthinkably rude and disrepectful toward this man who’d given up so much for her. 

Her ubabei was much younger than his sister, Varla’s moyri, but still old enough to raise her. Even though he was young, when she’d needed him, he’d dropped everything to take on the new role. Unfortunately, the woman he was pursuing refused to be a part of her care. After that, he never tried hard to find a life-mate. Varla couldn’t help feeling sorry for destroying his opportunity to find someone who would complete his happiness. He always assured her he was perfectly happy with the way things were. But she noticed the lost, lonely look in his eye sometimes, when he didn’t know she was looking at him. 

On this particular dawning, she really did need to get away from the house. Her chores were complete. Her bix’n were cared for, the milk she got from them and the butter she made from it, had been prepared for storage and stored away. There were only a few hesps left to finish off the quilted blanked she was making for a friend’s life-mating ceremony. She’d even put a pot of wild game and tubers roasting in the brazier. Though rare, she had a couple of hesps free this dawning. Varla didn’t want to waste it. 

Much to her relief, her uncle nodded his head. “Be sure to return before Tsifi’ra touches the mountaintops.” 

Varla grinned. It was his customary farewell. “I will, Ubabei.” She turned back at the threshold to smile and wave and caught that troubling look in his eye again. She wavered. Maybe going out was a bad idea. “What’s wrong, Ubabei?”

He waved her off. “It’s nothing, Vali,” he insisted, using the nickname he’d given her soon after she’d come to live with him. “Some things must be puzzled out by one’s parent, even if their youngling is fully grown and capable of helping.” 

She waited patiently, but he said nothing more about it. 

“Go on now,” he urged when she refused to budge. “The suns are already on their downward journey.”

Worried, but resigned that he wasn’t going to share anything else with her right now, Varla passed through the wooden portal, closed it behind her and then leaned back against it, contemplating. What did he mean? Maybe he was afraid she would leave him alone, that there was someone who’d taken her interest. 

She shook her head. There was no use pondering on the topic since she’d never been a good guesser. She’d have to work it out of him later with a yummy dessert — maybe bonjiis. She hadn’t made them in a long while. Well, truth be told, there hadn’t been much to celebrate lately, except that butter and milk were in high demand. Their other sources of income seemed to dry up. Maybe that’s what he was worried about. Less coin made life more difficult. But they’d been through this before. What would make this time different?

*****

Torm Azmudsun watched his nidau exit their humble home. Did she suspect? Had he been able to keep his secret from her? Pray Tugansol helped him do so. She wouldn’t appreciate him meddling in her relationships. But there was no other way. He was dying. And once he passed on to Zoleta, who would watch over her then? It wasn’t safe for a woman alone in this isolated place. The village wasn’t too far by cart, but if there was trouble, if a tiav’yag or even a person who had broken the laws but hadn’t been caught yet, discovered her, help would be too far away. 

It was good she was going to be out for a while. When Ren’l arrived, she’d not be around to question it. She wouldn’t know him, would ask many questions to occupy and satisfy her curious mind, and he couldn’t answer any of them yet. Not until he and Ren’l talked long on the matter. 

Ren’l Dirmahn had grown up in one of Shinnoah’s coastal towns. He’d come to the hill country seeking knowledge of farms and cattle, quarries and glashiin work. Torm had met him by the hand of Tugansol one dusking while he’d been walking to his lodgings in Oxyl, the capital city of Shinnoah. Ren’l had been a youngling at the time, just able to strike out on his own. He ended up passing by the alley where Torm was fending off would be thieves. He’d joined the fray and together, they had sent the slitchits running. Torm offered to buy him a meal and drink in the nearest inn for his help. Ren’l took him up on it and they’d kept in touch from that time on since Torm’s family lived on a farm. They’d talked about cattle and farming long into the dusking. 

When the call came to mourn his sadau and support and care for her dau, he hadn’t shirked his duty. Had it not been a duty, he still would’ve come to Vali’s aid. Family came first, after all. Pity Karlin hadn’t understood the meaning of family. Still it was better for him to learn of that flaw before they’d joined. 

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he went to the kitchen to pour himself a beaker of khafket. Then back to the door he went, keeping vigil for his young friend. He would be seven tsimikin older than Vali, but perhaps he would consider the request if he had no other prospects. 

With a yip, the farm wuve bounded down the lane which led to their front door. He was here. Torm breathed a sigh of relief. Even if he himself couldn’t take on the request, perhaps he’d have ideas. 

In no time, Ren’l had dismounted from his arb’la and bounded up the three steps of the porch to grab Torm in a vigorous hug. He’d forgotten how big the lad had grown since he’d met him. 

“Are you sure there’s no Genzetti blood in your line, youngling?” he asked. Both men laughed at his usual greeting. “It’s glad I am to have you here, my friend. I need your help.” 

As if sensing the serious nature of his visit, the smile melted away to be replaced with a look of determination in Ren’l’s eyes. The young man nodded. “I’ll do all I can. You know.”

Torm nodded and waved Ren’l to follow him into the cabin. They had little time. And while Torm wished he could break the news to his friend gently, he was a man. He was capable of handling such news. Torm had opened his mouth to speak, but thought he’d better pause a moment and pray. “I’ll get you some khafket. Vali makes the best. Have a seat wherever you’d like.”

“Where is your nidau this dawning?” Ren’l asked. Curiosity rang in his tone. He’d never met her so he would be curious. “I thought I’d get to finally meet the person who drew you away from the bright sights of Oxyl.” 

Torm chuckled. “She’s gone wandering. Said she needed some time to quiet her mind.” Torm wondered about that. “Things have been somewhat hectic in our little village. People are wanting milk and butter, but our other products aren’t in demand at all. I would worry, but Tugansol has always provided what we need.” Setting the beaker of khafket in front of his friend who’d decided to seat himself at their table, he broached the reason he’d asked Ren’l to come. “It’s why I’ve asked you for your help.”

Ren’l nodded. “What can I do? I’ve nothing specific planned. I thought I’d finally get to learn how one of these farms works.” He grinned and winked at Torm, but the latter found it hard to reciprocate. 

“I’m dying, Ren’l.” Silence fell as the grin his friend wore faded. 

“What?” The word was clipped, harsh. 

“I’m dying,” Torm repeated. “The healers in our village don’t know what’s causing it. A M’Neshunnayan healer was sent for a minsikin past, but hasn’t arrived yet. We’ll see what this one has to say, but I’m almost certain there won’t be anything they can do. I grow weaker every dawning. If I exert myself, I can’t catch my breath. I’ve almost fainted dead away twice. Thankfully, I didn’t because Vali was nearby.”

He paused to take a sip of his khafket, feeling Ren’l’s eyes burning into him, though he wasn’t ready to meet his gaze yet. 

“Does she know?” Ren’l broke the silence. 

Torm shook his head. 

“Why not, Torm? This,” he paused searching for a word, “whatever it is you’re fighting could take you at any moment. Didn’t you say her whole family passed on unexpectedly?” At Torm’s nod, he continued. “You have to tell her. This dawning.”

“Tell me what?”

*****

The most soothing voice he’d ever heard had Ren’l on his feet in a flash. Old habits died hard. When he realized the vision standing before him must be Torm’s ni’dau, he stretched out a hand toward her in friendship. “You must be Vali. Torm’s told me much about you. I’m Ren’l Dirmahn.” 

She narrowed her eyes and scanned him from head to toe and back. He couldn’t help grinning at her boldness. “Stop trying to distract me.” Then she turned that searing glare to Torm who frowned at her.

“Varla Mintak you will apologize to my great friend and stop dishonoring me.” The words were growled but Ren’l could see the turmoil in Torm’s eyes which must be driving it. 

She turned back to him, shook his still outstretched hand as briefly as possible, said, “I’m please to meet one of Ubabei’s friends. Welcome to our home, Ren’l Dirmahn.” She spun back around to glare at Torm again, fists on her hips. 

Seeing his friend’s distress, Ren’l thought to help lighten the mood. “She’s a skybolt, just like you described, Torm. I think I like her.” Then he released the chuckled he’d been choking back. Normally, people saw his size and cowered. This woman was head and shoulders shorter than him. She wasn’t willowy and pale, though, like many of the women he’d seen in Oxyl. This one bore the signs of strength honed after working many dawnings under the twin suns. 

When her glare returned to him with a moue of obvious disappointment, he held up both palms out to her. “Let me get you some khafket while you talk to Torm.” Before either of them could protest, he turn around to the wall of cabinetry and located a beaker. Filling it with the rich, creamy brew which was still steaming, he headed back to the table slowly, giving them a bit more time. 

“What?!” Vali’s shriek nearly sent the beaker to the floor. As it was, he hissed when his stumble resulted in a little splash. He picked up the pace. 

Vali’s face was in her hands and her shoulders shook with sobs. Her voice when it came was muffled and had lost much of the bright life it had when she’d burst in on them before. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Ubabei? Why? What will I do now?”

“Here’s some khafket, Vali,” Ren’l set the beaker in front of her and noticed a folded bit of cloth nearby. Reaching for it, he wiped his hand, then the beaker. 

Suddenly, Vali rose to her feet and stumbled back out the door. Torm gazed after her, saying nothing, but tears streamed down his face. 

“Should I go after her? The suns are setting.” Ren’l gently asked the question, not wishing to startle his friend.

Torm nodded and he sprinted out the door to follow. He couldn’t see her just outside the door, so he sprinted to first one side of the house. Not finding her there, he sprinted to the other side and spotted a bit of bright red disappearing into a large building which sat at the back of a fenced in area. 

Building up speed, he climbed and jumped over the fence and sprinted the rest of the way to the opening. The door wasn’t completely shut and he could hear the forlorn sobs echoing from within. Rather than call out and risk her sprinting in another direction, he resigned himself to finding out where she was, then waiting until she was done. It had been a long time since he’d been with his family but he had two sidau of his own. They’d given him much practice in this sort of thing. 

Following the sounds, he finally located her in the loft. Rather than climb, he made certain there were no other ways to leave the loft and waited for her to descend. There was a barrel nearby, but out of sight of the loft opening. He sat atop it and lifted up a prayer to Tugansol to bring healing to his friend and comfort for both him and Vali. 

He couldn’t have said how long he waited, but she finally emerged. He said nothing, simply waited for her to notice him. She turned away from him, though, and went to the far wall. Splashing told him she was trying to minimize the damage the tears had done. Then she headed for one of the stalls. 

“Did you know, Bron?” she asked of the occupant. A shaggy head with a flat snout and a small set of outward pointing horns put its head over the stall door and snuffled. She reached out one hand and scratched the beast’s snout and behind its ears. It closed its eyes and sighed. Ren’l would’ve chuckled again, but then the spell would be broken. 

“Why does Tugansol take everyone away from me? What have I done that was so awful?” She wrapped her arms around the giant neck and snuffled into the beast’s shaggy hair. 

Ren’l decided it was best to reveal himself or they could be here all dusking. He cleared his throat and a strangled scream left her throat as she spun around, ready to defend herself. He wanted to smile at her, but there really wasn’t a reason to smile. Not yet, at least. 

“It’s just me. Ren’l. Torm asked me to find you and stand ready to assist you.” He was stretching it a bit. Torm hadn’t asked him to do anything. He’d suggested following her. But he was certain if Torm wasn’t lost in his own despondency, he would have asked. 

“Do you know why he didn’t tell me?” Her hands hung limp at her sides and tears streamed freely down her face, the dim lantern light making them shimmer dully. 

Ren’l shook his head. “If you makes you feel better, I think he considers me his best friend and he didn’t tell me until just now either.”

She shook her head. “Family comes first. He always said that to me. My own moyri taught me that long ago. Why would he tell you before he told me?”

“Maybe because of the way you’re reacting now?” Ren’l risked a lot asking her that, he knew, but he had to shake her out of this self-pity she was spiraling into. 

Vali blinked. “You,” she sputtered, then slumped. “You’re probably right. I should go back.” 

Ren’l nodded. “I’ll walk with you.”

She didn’t fight him, just led the way out into the fenced in area, back across the yard, and through the front door. She threaded her way through to the table, and stepped around until she was standing before Torm. Falling to her knees, she wrapped her arms around him and sobbed some more. 

Ren’l made his decision. He was staying. If he could help his friend, he would. And Vali would need someone to lean on, too, probably. He hadn’t thought he’d be learning about farming quite this way, but Tugansol’s wisdom and provision were not to be questioned. He lifted up a prayer of thanks and closed the front door. Then he settled back into his chair at the table, sipped his khafket and waited for the muffled sobs to ebb. 

I hope you enjoyed the story. I might put some work into this one in the future. It could be fun to see where these characters end up. 

What did you think about the story? What about the graphics? Or maybe you were here for the prompt. Was it helpful? 

No matter how or why you visited today, I'm glad you did. I hope you found something useful or entertaining in the post. If you return Monday, you'll find a fresh word prompt waiting to inspire your creative spirit. 

Until next time,
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