Where have the words gone?

I’m beginning to think my Morning Pages routine has usurped my Blog in terms of where I go to process my life. Used to be I’d post my inner ramblings (edited of course) here whenever the words demanded release, or I needed to “think”. Since entering the 8th month of daily Morning Pages, I’ve noticed a decidedly dramatic dip in how often I want to blog. There’s also quite the difference in what I post. I’ve been re-blogging mostly, or droping the barest of words into the blank post “page”.

That’s soon to change though as I’m in the final few weeks before the official business launch. Sure, I’ve been writing, publishing, and in some ways coaching new writers since 2008 but this year is the year I make my business known to the state and feds (damn taxes) AND I actively solicit clients for not just one or two business ventures, but three!

The websites are up, one of which is sorely in need of creative content. I’ll wrap that up in the next two – three weeks. I’ll send off for my business license on my birthday (just feels right to do it that way), and then announce the grand openings and such on July 18th, the official birthday of my first ever SELF published book.  There will be a book release announcement that day as well (FINALLY!!!).

Now, about my recent physical health worries. Talked with the nurse practioner. As we discussed my “symptoms”, she and I concluded that what I’m having are anxiety attacks. Mind you, I’ve had one or two before but they didn’t feel as whack-a-doodle, nor did they repeat themselves on the daily. But okay, anxiety attacks. She of course, prescribed a pill. Now mind you, I am sensitive to drugs. My OTC headache med gets me high, I’m that level of sensitive. I have a high threshold for pain as well so eschew using any type of pain meds harder than say Tylenol or Advil. I was once given morphine after a surgery and as soon as I could catch someone between automatic IV drips, I made them take it away. The nurses were dumbfounded but I was adamant. They took to giving me children’s Tylenol with my meal and even that went unused.  Anyway, given what I know about my reaction to drugs, I am RELUCTANT to take this pill. Even though she swore it was the mildest dose she could give me, I am RELUCTANT. Ha, the idea of taking the med makes me even more anxious; oh the irony.

So, with all that’s going on in my life right now, and believe me, there is more than I’m posting here. My Morning Pages can attest to that. With all that I have going on, I’ve decided that this is nothing more than my Divinity sending me a loud message that I need to work more on my mental and emotional health / wellbeing.  I’ve spent the majority of my life since my last ear infection in the 9th grade, extremely healthy. Physically. But as I’m aging, my body can’t keep all its systems in top condition without the aid of a sound MIND. I’m not thinking / feeling healthy which is prompting me to make some not so sound decisions. Consequently, my body is sending a loud signal that something’s out of whack. Hence, the anxiety.

I’m sorry, is this post dragging on?  I can’t see the current post word count, my auto-hide function on my tool bar seems to not be working. Sigh.  Either way, this has been quite the ramble. I’ll stop here for now and come back tomorrow with the rest of the story.

Hope you have a wonderful day,

Sending Love and Light



Yesterday, between the hours of six and nine pm I did the following:

  • upgraded this blog to a “personal” plan in order to transform it to a more proper Author’s Blog (whatever the hell that is…)
  • kicked my “satinsheetdiva” (oh, the follies of youth) name / persona to the curb, opting for the more author appropriate Dana Ellington, MAPW (new website domain is dana-ellington.com.  LOVE)
  • moved said domain to the realm of my business website (www.nowatapress.com – thank you Alexis Chateau, PR!) so I may manage all of my business venture websites under one log in
  • finally landed on the ‘official’ working title, tag line, and processes / posting and event schedules for the other coaching work I do which will be launching officially the same day as I re-launch the official-ness of the OTHER coaching work I do.  Stay tuned.
  • bought a spot for book sales at the Decatur Book Festival (they’re expecting over 80,000 people!!!  One or two might buy one of my books, eh?) coming in September.
  • bought my plane tickets to go see Danielle LaPorte in person (have you even taken a small peek at The White Hot Truth or any of the other Danielle LaPorte stuff I’ve linked?). That’s my bday present to myself this year. And I feel downright guilty for having spent the money. Go figure. sigh…
  • and had my head shaved.

I am in the middle of a freak out of epic proportions. Although you can’t tell to look at me, I am a MESS of mixed emotions: self-doubt, excitement, wonder, relief, joy, fear, overwhelming gratitude for the love, acceptance, and support of some key people in my life; there’s some guilt, anger, resentment, floating around in here; I’ve got a touch of faith that the Universe is working in my favor, and abject certainty that I’m going to be punished for daring to do what I wanted to do. There’s some jealousy and a little pity buried in here too.  Oh, there’s a touch of grief / mourning for opportunities not taken, for situations not handled well, people who passed on before I got the chance to resolve some issues, etc.

My old numbing techniques and general other self-sabotaging behaviors are swirling around; sharks to blood in the water, for a visual. I’m afraid to leave my home for fear of one or the other of them taking me down into the depths where they can feast on my drowning carcass at their leisure.

I’m writing this all out as a prayer. I’ve already done my Morning Pages, but I avoided going deep. Apparently this one needed a more public display so as to be projected more strongly to the Heavens (or wherever my Divinity resides. Sometimes I think She’s always lived inside me, other times I think I have to pull Her down from above.)

So okay, here goes.

My Goddess, God, Creator, Source, et al, who art in everything. Hallowed be Thy names. Thy empire come, Thy will be done, on Earth as You would have it be done. Give us (me) this day, our (my) daily blessing, and forgive us (me) our (my) trespasses, as we (I) forgive those who trespass against us (me). Lead us (me) to our (my) Purpose and deliver us (me) from Resistance (as described by Steven Pressfield in the War of Art). For Thine is the Universal love, acceptance, and abundance we all (I) seek. Forever and ever. Amen.

As always, sending much love and LIGHT,


2:33 AM – Deja Vu

Hey. This post is sponsored by our friends at Insomnia International, the Migraine Fairy Brigade, and Excedrine.

Guess who’s been awake since 2:30 AM? And if we take a stroll through the archives, I’d be willing to bet there are at least four other posts with similar times in their titles.


Since I’m up, might as well churn out a few words. I’m not anticipating being sleepy again until it’s time to roll out to work, and then again at 2:30 pm when I’ll be doing my best bobble-head impression at my desk.


So, yeah…I was in Vermont this past weekend. I’d never been north of New Jersey (Newark to be exact), unless you count Romulus, MI.  Is that north of New Jersey? I’ll have to look that up.  Hold on.

Why yes, yes it is. So, okay, I’d never been north of Romulus, MI before in my life! It was an 18 hour drive to and from.  One I did by myself, straight through, Friday (5/12) and then again this past Monday (5/15).  I had taken Tuesday off just in case – good thing too because the exhaustion caught up with me round about 2:30 in the afternoon on Tuesday (there has got to be some spiritual connection in my life to those numbers / times of the day).

Vermont, the parts of it I saw, are amazingly beautiful. Idyllic. Picturesque. Oh, and I just Google Mapped it – I have to take back my earlier statement about having not been further north than Romulus, MI.  Apparently, England (Burwell and then Lakenheath to be exact) where I lived for 4 wonderfully remembered years, and have visited now twice, is further north than both Romulus and Vermont. Geography is so not my thing, obviously.


Where was I? Oh yes.  Vermont.  My friend’s house is on a gentle slope in Huntington. It’s surrounded by woods on three sides, has a rushing ‘brook’ (bigger than a creek, way smaller than most rivers) in a ravine along the back.  The sound of which was enough to instantly relieve whatever stress I felt. There are moose and the occasional bear seen in and around the property.  It was HEAVEN.  Too bad I couldn’t live there, lol.

What I mean by that is, as wonderful as it was to visit, the depth of the snow, the many months out of the year there IS snow, the lack of racial diversity, and the smallness of the towns, hamlets, and villages, would soon drive me insane.   There are a ton of great writing spots though – my goodness, the areas we visited while I was there would make for the perfect writer’s retreats. I’m already planning my next visit.  The Von Trap family (of Disney make over fame) still have a lodge in Vermont that is owned by some of the grand kids. We drove by the sign on our way to a most wonderful breakfast.

Be on the look out for blog changes. Going legit on the business front requires branding myself in my various roles. Publisher me has a spot at www.nowatapress.com.  Author me, who has been hanging out on this blog will get her own spot, hopefully to be, danaellington.com (fingers crossed it’s available).  I’m working on post ideas and a schedule now – since they’re business oriented, the content must be geared toward supporting my customers / clients / readers and promoting sales. None of this random, o’dark silly, head ache inspired rambling – according to the “experts”, this is NOT how one should blog if one is to be taken seriously in the eyes of one’s potential customers.  Sigh. You do realize how difficult it is for me to do things the way I’m “supposed” to, right? This ought to be funny.

Oh, would you look at the time (4:46 am).  Thanks for sitting with me for a while. I feel a little better now, so I’m going to lie back down for a bit.

Sending love and light,


21 of 40 – I want to scream…

…to rage against the heavens, my language and attitude born of hell. I want to curse the day, to use my ire to rend the sky, letting lighting strike, the thunder shaking the very core of this Earth’s foundations.

I want to abdicate responsibility, to treat others as they have treated me with not a thought given to karmic retribution.  To do evil unto others and still sleep soundly at night wrapped in the false righteousness of my actions.

I want to wish death’s visit to those who have trespassed against the world. To hear their tortured screams as they die slowly, painfully. To watch as no one cries tears at their passing, but instead burn effigies in celebration.

I want my dark side let loose.

But then I remember my beliefs. My hopes. My dreams. My teachings and lessons so very vigorously, and sometimes painfully, learned. I remember what it’s like to be the outcast, the victim, the one who was bullied. I remember the pain. The longing for salvation, compassion, acceptance, love.

And instead, I turn to my Light and I call it forth. In great waves I send it forth. I work to heal the atmosphere, to bring more fresh air and clean water into the world. I work to close the Earth’s fissures, to fight against those technologies that would tear our world apart. I wrap my darkness in LIGHT so I know what it feels like to be forgiven.

Then I turn off the news, stop listening to the radio, and avoid anything that has to do with the hate. At least I’m getting more writing done this way ;-).

Sending love and light,


20 of 40 – Half way there

Ohhhh, we’re half-way there

ohhhh oh, livin’ on a prayer

Take my hand, we’ll make it I swear,

Ohhhh oh, living on a prayer….

Sorry, love that song. *ahem* So yeah, I’ve managed to consistently (with a few lost days here and there) make 20 posts in just a little over 20 days. I wish I could say I was half way to finishing my Camp NaNo project but alas…I find that bouncing between the three books (completely not the plan) has my word count all over the map but not necessarily on the fast track to getting any one of the books to total 50K words added.

Honestly, doesn’t bother me much because I’m writing again and that’s what feels good. I have one Camp NaNo badge and two or three November NaNo badges. I’ve got four published books, and at least two, maybe three that will be release ready this year. Mind you, those same three were originally slated for a couple of years ago, but my mojo went missing.  Funny how that works, or in this case doesn’t work.

But it seems to be back. I may have found my way home for sure.

Speaking of which, so I just wrote the final scene in book two. I want so badly to share it but it contains so many spoilers, lol.  I’m wondering, if I tell you now, will you even remember it once the books come out? I believe I’ have just one blog reader who has any of my books, no wait, maybe two, so really, if I share the excerpt here, I don’t run the risk of spoiling it for anyone.

Hmmmm, man. This is a bit of tough call. The scene is by no means polished which in and of itself should prevent me from sharing it. But it’s such a good one to me.

Nope, no…I’ll wait. Let me get it cleaned up a bit and then I’ll casually post it here. I’m telling you, this writing thing is like the best natural high, ever!

Have a great weekend, sending love and light,


19 of 40 – Another scene

This is more of an excerpt of a scene, but it lit me up as I was writing it…

“So how does all this work?”
“Well, okay. There’s The Source. It is the energy or whatever that created everything. In human science, Its called The Big Bang, in human religions, Its usually called God. Alright, so from that point where The Source came into being, evolution starts up not too long after. Again, modern human science calls them quarks. Those little bits of Source got together with other little bits, and so on and so on. Some form into matter, others form into what we consider to be living beings.  Time, while not being measured then, is passing and things grow, develop, change, and so on. You end up with parts of The Source developing all kinds of housings, then when those housings deteriorate, that bit of The Source is freed to find another housing. Are you with me so far?”
Victoria had a general grasp on what Warner was explaining, so she nodded her head and gestured for him to continue.
“Alright. Now, here’s where it gets a bit tricky. Used to be that when these tiny bits of Source wanted to return, they ascended whole, as they were. And that was all well and good until the larger configurations of The Source formed a version of conscious awareness. You may think of these as souls. As each soul evolved it believed itself to be a separate thing and didn’t want to be absorbed back into the whole. The Source, being self aware all along, understood this development and allowed these new souls to maintain their housings and ascend in tact. Hence the ancient, indescribable beings that dwell beyond our comprehension throughout the realm.”
“Oh. Have you ever seen one?”
“No. And from what I understand, I wouldn’t be able to process what I was looking at anyway. Maybe once I’ve ascended but who knows.”
“Uh huh. Okay, keep going. Man, this would make a great movie.”
“The special effects budget would have to be gargantuan. But anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. So evolution brings about bodies, the Soul’s now having evolved consciousness to the point of curiosity and craving, want to experience bodies. They developed a way to inhabit these configurations for the sake of having experiences. Next thing you know, you get the humans of today.”
“So, what you’re telling me is that none of us is really human, we’re just pieces of the Source out for a joy ride.”
“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.”

(giggle…now, on to tonight’s writing)

Sending love and light!


18 of 40 – Another scene

Migraine Fairy is swooping in for a visit. I haven’t had any water today (the first in two, maybe three weeks I didn’t have any water, the third in two weeks that I didn’t get 64 full ounces). There’s also a tropical storm a’brewing in the Atlantic. Doesn’t take much, just the flap of those butterfly wings in Costa Rica and next thing you know, my head’s trying to blow up.

But that’s not what I’m here to share. Nope, I’m here because the voices came back today. Sitting in traffic on two separate occasions today, my characters rose up and spoke three scenes in my head.  Those scenes were on repeat and that’s how I knew it was real. Through the pain building in my head, they acted out the scenes with only minimal variations – their subtle insistence that I get the imagery and dialog committed to the draft. I felt whole – a sensation I haven’t had in a long time it seems.

I was able to capture the majority of the one scene tonight. It’s difficult to write through the pain, but write I must.  It is good, or at least I think so. I’d like to share it if I may…

     “I’ve been expecting you.”
“Oh, I bet you have.”
“Let me guess. You’ve come to exact your revenge for the death of your master.”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Were you expecting this to be easy? That your righteous anger would give you the tools you need to defeat me?”
“No, I was thinking this sword and my excellent fighting skills would be all I needed to kick your sorry demon ass all the way back to hell.”
“Oh, language. You are speaking to an elder who happens to be your father. There should be a certain amount of respect in your tone and word choice.”
“Sorry, so not going to happen. I don’t respect you and as far as I’m concerned, Warner was more my father than you’ll ever be.”
“Little girl, your education is sorely lacking. Has no one told you how powerful I am?”
Victoria thought just briefly about the conversation she’d so hastily ended with Zanthia. Was she really serious about Victoria not being ready? So be it. She’d do the best she could or die trying. “Fuck you and your power.”

Victoria raised her sword, the movement so swift the blade left light trails in her vision. And then, the world went black. It was as if all the light was suddenly gone. She had the sensation of her eyes being open, but that was all. She thought for no apparent reason, “I’ve slipped between.” She was somehow no longer in her body, but she wasn’t outside of it either. She was for all intents and purposes, nowhere. It was an unsettling feeling, she wished she could feel something, anything, but there was just infinite black. Her thoughts, without the confines of her flesh and bone to hold them began to drift further and further away. Bits of her psyche, just casually floating into the the nothing. She couldn’t call them back but only sense them as they went on their way.
Then just as suddenly, she felt slammed back into her body as all sensation flooded back at once. She experienced vertigo and staggered, the weight of her body causing her surprised legs to react with muscle spasms and shudders.
“Uh oh. Look at what you’ve done.”
Victoria opened her eyes. Tiny’s body lay bloodied at her feet. Her hands were soaked in fur and flesh.
“I had meant for you to kill the child, but your damn brute of a hound got in the way. Oh well, murder is as a murderer does. That makes no sense, but it sure sounded poetic, didn’t it?”
Victoria consciously left her body, her vision taking in the scene from a foot or so above her head. She took in the room around her, a baby’s nursery in some upscale townhouse, who knew where in the city. The baby thankfully lay sleeping in its crib, chubby fist tucked into its mouth, clearly, beautifully breathing. This time, a bird’s eye view of Tiny’s huge Rottweiler frame, now with chunks missing, blood soaking into the decorative throw rug in front of the crib. Victoria’s father, Darian sat in a rocking chair by the window. Left leg casually slung over the arm of the chair, foot slowly swinging back and forth as if he’d had not a care in the world.
“You see little girl, you are flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood so if I want to ride you like a Harley on a warm spring day, I am powerful enough to do so without your consent or even knowledge. I hadn’t done so up to this point because I didn’t think you were foolish enough to ever come for me. I thought surely Zanthia and what’s left of her precious do-gooders would have taught you more about me. But since they were remiss in that portion of your studies, let this be your first, and hopefully only lesson.” He stood up and walked the few short paces between them. Victoria was still observing things from above, so when Darian bent down, slid his fingers through one of the raw openings in Tiny’s body, Victoria could do nothing to stop him from wiping the blood across her lips.

“You are my only child, but don’t think for a moment I won’t drive you mad, torture you for years, before finally killing you in order to prove my point. You are no match for me. You will never defeat me and you will never have the throne. Oh, look at the time. I must be going before the babysitter comes to check on the little hellion. Good bye Victoria. I hope we never meet again.” And with that, he was gone.

Okay, so there you go. Not a boat load of wordage, but considering I’ve felt so not in the mood to work on my Camp NaNo project, this felt like manna from Heaven.

Sending Love and Light,


10 of 40 – One Step Closer to 50

Sigh. I am on the edge of 50.  I remember as a kid imagining what I’d be like at 21, but beyond that, I don’t think I built any kind of fantasies, goals, or images of life beyond that golden age.

Yet, here I sit (much to my health’s dismay), twenty-eight years / sixty pounds / 20+% body fat, beyond 21 wondering what I’m “supposed” to be, how I’m “supposed” to look and feel.

My body has done some weird thing where it hurts now at the slightest provocation. If I sit “too long” I swell, my back and hips hurt; if I move anything heavier than a dinner plate, my neck, shoulders, arms, back, and hips will hurt within minutes. I have bruises that won’t fade – my skin looks mottled and feels dry most of the time. I wonder sometimes if I’m part lizard. I’ve already mentioned the hair loss. That seems to have reached its peak this year and I am, for all intents and purposes bald, save for that lingering, lustrous one inch line of hair along the back of my head from ear to ear (WTF?!).

this guy
Like this guy. For real. I kid you not. This is very similar to what my hair line is like as I type this.

And about those feelings? My likes and dislikes, my sense of adventure…all of that seems to have changed without my conscious consent or any effort on my part. Dancing till dawn, riding roller coasters, road trips, cruises, going for walks just because, mall crawling / shopping for clothes – all of what I used to do for fun and relaxation? Meh. I’m not moved by any of it any more.

I don’t know who I am.

The one constant is the writing though. I am so thankful that hasn’t changed. Putting words to page is still how I process, how I think. How I breathe. But, given all that I’ve mentioned above, I’m afraid my passion for the written word is changing and like those things mentioned above, I won’t notice it until it’s so different it will be rendered unrecognizable to me.

I can see why women back in the day were sometimes thought to have gone insane in their later years. This is enough to drive anyone to the brink of insanity. Oh well, at least for me it’ll be a short trip. I’ve lost myself several times through out the years. Guess I won’t complain – even though I’ve taken this trip before, I’m traveling an unfamiliar route. Might as well enjoy the scenery. Here’s hoping the return brings me back to someplace I’ll enjoy.

Love you!


7 of 40 – another quick scene.

She scaled the wall in her usual spot, noting that none of her trip wires or other safety features had been crossed.  Slipping in the window was academic.  She made quick work of taking off her weapons and then her clothes on the way to the shower.  The clothes went into a trash bag from there they would end up in the incinerator in the basement.  She climbed slowly into the tiny shower, water blasting over her, so hot it was just shy of scalding.  She hung her head and let the water wash over her body.  An eternity later, she was sitting in the comfortable chair in the corner, her back to the solidity of the two outer brick walls.  She had reinforced them when she set up this safe house – nothing short of a missile could penetrate them.  This is where she slept.

She was just beginning to doze, the [gun] on the table to her right.  The sniffling at the door brought her fully awake, gun in hand.  She sat that way for a full count of ten before approaching the door.  Noting that none of the safety features in the hallway had been tripped, she relaxed and listened, the sound of the puppy’s sniffing became obvious.  “You have got to be kidding,” she muttered, opening the many locks and releasing the two spells.  The door swung open and the pitch black muzzle of the puppy pushed its way in, followed by its oversized body.  “Really?  You really followed me all the way up here?”

The puppy’s slow tail wagging and it’s presence at her door the only answer she would receive.  “How in the world did something so big get past the trip wire?  Are you a good trap sniffing dog?”  Yet another wag of the tail.  “Well, I bet you’re hungry.”  This time the tail wagging was more than enthusiastic and shook the entire body.  She let in the wobbly dog and followed it into the kitchen.

A quick rummage through the fridge produced some left overs from her favorite eateries in the neighborhood.  She pulled out all the meat and placed it on a plate for the puppy who snuffled her appreciation before taking everything in no sooner than the plate was in reach of her mouth.  The puppy gave a quick lick of the chops followed by what Victoria took to be a burp before shuffling off on a sniffing expedition of the entire apartment.  She didn’t have far to go, the apartment consisted of the tiny kitchen, small dinning area, a reasonably sized living room and the medium sized bedroom which Victoria had yet to sleep in.  There was a bed in there, but Victoria used it mostly as an office and weapons room.  Her clothes were kept neatly in a dresser she had found in the alley.

Part of book two, Demon Master. Sigh.

What’s good with you?

Love ya,


6 of 40

Another favorite part of a scene:

“Start talking.”

“Yeah, okay. What do you want to know?”

“Don’t be foolish. I want to know why you’ve been following me, who you are and is there any reason for me not to kill you?”

“Uh, well, don’t want you to kill me at all mostly because I want to live. I used to be a cop. A while back, there was this case. Some guy shows up dead but not just dead, carved up in these pretty patterns. Me and my partner get the case. We investigate and do all we can but of course, it ends up being a cold case. No one claims the body and we go on about our business. Then there’s these rash of shootings and cuttings. No one ends up dead, but it’s strange. So again, my partner and I start investigating. We can’t figure out what’s going on. We get told to move on, there’s more crime to deal with and that’s all well and good, but letting something go is not in my nature. I start reviewing old cases, spending a little over time at my desk making notes and such, doing research. I finally start to see a pattern though and I take what I find to my sergeant who tells me I’ve been working too hard and need a break. He puts me on administrative leave. Okay, I’ve got some time on my hands so I start investigating on my own. And what’d’ya know? I get lucky – I’m staking out the last crime scene when this guy shows up. He sneaks into the place. I follow him and low and behold, he fiddle farts around, sprinkles some shit on the floor and like magic, the blood stains disappear. I watch him get into a car, and catch another lucky break, the license plate is legit so I end up with an address. A few nights of following this dude around, and what’d’ya know again? I actually see dude kill this woman. Well, not kill exactly, he did something to her to make her pass out, this yellowish smoke puffs out of her and the next thing you know, she’s up and walking around as if nothing happened.

After that, dude gets harder for me tail. I can’t ever get close to him. I’d see him just out of the corner of my eye or walking around a corner then a day later, there’d be somebody showing up in the hospital with a weird cuts or gun shot wound. Your mother’s murder was my biggest break because it happened right up stairs from my mystery guy’s place. It appeared to be a closed case, we got your mom’s boyfriend for the murder, but he claimed he had no memory of it what-so-ever. No surprise there, he was so high when the cops arrested him we were surprised he was functioning at all. And we know your mom had you because all the neighbors we question kept asking where you were. I finally have a legitimate reason to question the guy, but he never comes home. He disappears, you had disappeared. Fortunately, he leaves behind an apartment full of clues. I start spending time casing the place you know. Waiting for either of you to show up. A whole year and my sergeant decides I could use more than some time off, he relieves me of duty permanently. Well now I have all the time I need to sit in front of your apartment complex waiting for one or the other of you to show up. And when you do, you’re damn near grown and my mystery man looks the same as he always did. So I start following you both. And just like before, I can’t ever keep up. You guys come and go like the wind, and all of a sudden, those strange shootings and stabbings start happening again, only this time, I know there’s two of you doing the damage.

It takes me a minute, but I found out where my mystery guy lived. I started just hanging out there and what do ya know? One night you guys both show up with some new dude. I manage to get in around the back, hide myself in the hallway, fully intending to bust in and demand some answers when I overhear you three chatting it up. Imagine my surprise when I discover you and mystery boy are some kind of supernatural ghost hunters; the other dude, who disappeared through the fuckin’ wall I might add, is your father and he just happens to be a friggin’ demon. You know, like a real devil, evil kind of demon. Next thing you know, you freak out and poof, both of you guys disappear. Another year goes by, there’s a crime scene but no body – guess where? That’s right, at mystery dude’s place. I just picked up your tracks about a week ago. Started tailing you and then you flippin’ shoot me!!”

Victoria had let him get it all out of his system. She was thinking the combination of Mei’s salve, John’s special ale, and the weirdness of the whole situation, had loosened a touch more than Stephen’s tongue. About now, Victoria could tell he was quite freaked out.

“Alright there big guy. Just chill out.”

“Chill out? Chill out?! I’d love to just chill out but instead, I’m sitting in a bar that has Superman’s cousin as a doorman, eating a cheeseburger with some supernatural assassin, and a freakin’ bullet hole in my shoulder!”

Yeah, he was definitely freaked out.

This one’s from book two – Demon Master.  That’s June’s NaNo project.  Can’t wait.

What’s good in your world today? Name your gratitude…

Love you,