The University Library

But where was I to begin? The section on the Third City? the Fourth? Oriental Traditions? Classical Myths? Lost Gods? Confounded Devils? The sketch of the flint idol I held in my hand wasn’t the best work of art I had produced, but the very thought of staring much longer at that scowl-less scowling face was abhorrent. I couldn’t very well bring the actual item with me. I did what I could, made the notes I could stand, and raced to the University in attempt to uncover the truth behind this…thing.

Several hours of fruitless hunting left me exasperated. But finally, on a topmost shelf, I stumbled across a collection of traveler’s journals. Some spoke of the unterzee, others of the exile’s rose. All very interesting, but what struck me was a leather-bound collection of anecdotes by a certain Dr. Balthus.

Dr. Balthus had in his notes a sketch of an idol quite like mine, though it was described as being much, much larger and carved from a crag of basalt. Natives of the Elder Continent called it the “Giver-of-Skins.” He continued with several gruesome details that I will not repeat on paper (lord please lift them from my mind) but was particularly adamant in reporting that any individual foolish enough to make sacrifice to the totem would be ritualistically executed by the natives.

What does this mean for me? And how did an idol such as The Giver make it all the way to Fallen London? The natives feared candles for they believed the flames attracted The Giver. Perhaps I should take to sleeping in darkness- though, admittedly, I may fear worse what those shadows will bring.

A Grim Idol

When I lie awake at night, my thoughts wander to the man found washed up on the Stolen River. I remember the glint in his eyes: a desperate plea. The exact nature of his plea eludes me still, the only clue to his intentions being this silent, scowling statue he’d pressed upon my palm. He passed on without a word.

Perhaps, instead of waiting on the cold, dank banks for the stranger to recover from that nasty stab-wound, I should have pulled him to somewhere safer. Then, maybe I could have gotten a scrap of information on this strange idol. All events considered, the constables did arrive on the scene at a suspiciously convenient hour, just as the man began to take his first breaths.

The idol now sits silently on my dresser. It’s a fiendish looking statue, and I hope that it may suffice to ward off the dangers of the night. Thieves, assassins, devilesses whom I shall not name. If only it could scare away the nightmares (oh lord, the nightmares) that occur to me every fitful hour.
Three long nights now I have drempt of a lime-stone cave. It is dimly lit, the ground lined with flickering foxfire candles. For a time, I watch a drip of wax roll sluggishly down one candle, pool on the cool stones, and solidify. It grows darker. I look up, and the little flames, one by one, are turning to wisps of smoke. I’m consumed by darkness and then-

a metallic sheering sound.

I startle awake every time, drenched in my own sweat. Never before has this dream occurred to me, and yet the moment this grim idol came into my possession, the same horrors repeat every night. I fear to throw it back into the Stolen River. What if the wretched statue were bestowed upon some other unfortunate soul? What if it returned to me?

I’ve determined to research the blasted thing. An idol this old, this striking, and this affecting must have a history of some kind. I have access to the upstairs University Library. I will begin my search there.

A movie that you would love to see re-released

Ginger Snaps (2000)



This is such a teen movie…

This is one of my favorite werewolf movies in existence ever. I can’t exactly tell you why, there’s just something about the tone of this horrible movie that I adore. It’s so corny and yet, it’s got something in it that I want to embrace.

There’s an exercise I did for creative writing class in college where we took an established story and re-wrote it with our own characters. That way we went into the story knowing beginning, middle, and end (even if that’s not how it ended up by the time we were done.) Just to flex our writing muscles. I think if I were to use this concept on a movie, it would be this one.

It would just be so much fun. Actually, I think I’ll do it.

A movie you’ve seen in theaters more than once, or desired to

Inception (2010)

I saw this movie I think three times in theaters. The first time I was just trying to keep up. The second time I actually got it. The third time I got to enjoy it.

This is a movie I would say would have been better as a television series. It would have given more time for character development and more exploration of the worlds. But as a movie it worked really well. It was so…layers on layers on layers that it was difficult to really wrap my brain around it, but I did have fun while I was there so that’s why I went back with friends and family.
So, did the totem fall?

How many characters do you have? Do you prefer males or females?

I have…. so many characters.

Actually, once upon a time I tried to count them. This was about two years ago, I believe, and the total came to somewhere around two-hundred, but I’ve written so many more stories since then that I just flat out couldn’t say. I suppose I could safely answer that I now have over two-hundred.

My cast of characters is overwhelmingly male. I’m not sure why that is, I just feel more comfortable writing male characters than female characters. The first character I ever created for a story was male, then followed by a cast of six more characters, three male three female.

I think I like male characters more because when I first started writing, I was consuming a lot of stories from sci-fi movies, which usually feature alpha-male leads. I likely subconsciously modeled my first stories off of that, and the trend must have just stuck with me.

Most of my females (and we’re talking 95%) are in the “kick-ass” category of female. My leads usually feature a lot of inner strength, stubbornness (wow that’s an odd-looking word,) and leadership qualities. These traits are stereotypically associated with male characters.

Also, when I was little, I played with the boys. My main troupe that I owned the neighborhood with was all males about my age, so I was that girl in grass-stained jeans who crawled through the ditches, built tree-forts, and fought with her fists when she was teased. For the longest time I was more comfortable with hanging out with the guys than the chicks, so perhaps my characters are predominantly male because that’s who I like to spend time with.

Do you usually have more dreams in one night? How often do you remember them?

I usually have two or three dreams a night that I remember when I wake up. I guess you could say I’m a prolific dreamer. Sometimes I have multiple dreams because I decide that I don’t like the one I’m in, so I go someplace else. Other times I kinda wake up in the middle of the night and then fall back asleep, in which case I have an entire new dream.

Remembering my dreams is the norm for me. Actually, I get disoriented in the morning if I wake up and can’t recall a dream. It’s like dreaming is what I do while I sleep, so if I don’t dream then I feel like I’ve done some sort of weird time-warp or something (not RHPS time-warp, you goofs.)

Last night was one such night. Actually, let me rephrase. Last night’s dream was so unusually bland that when I woke up I couldn’t tell if I was remembering something that actually happened or if I’d dreamed it all up. I had a dream that I found my roommate’s lost wallet and gave it back to her. I had to confirm with her that this was not the case.

Describe a dream that you had in the previous week.

I had a dream that I was in a witches school, but it wasn’t like Harry Potter. Our witch school was out in the middle of a craggly woods, and we only had one large building in which we learned about magic.

I remember flying around on a broom stick. And there was a dark ball of energy that would form in different places and I tried to zip around and catch it in a jar. It was like a kid’s game, and there were some other witches there too who were trying to catch it as well.

Part way through the game I was at the top of the trees, and I decided to get off my broomstick and hang out on the highest branches. I looked over an ocean of waving green, and wondered what was on the other side of the mountains.