Brushing Off The Apocalypse

So I decided to brush off my Apocalypse idea that has been rumbling around in my brain since I am going back on the night shift hopefully soon. Looking at WikiHow and their 7 Steps to Write Apocalyptic Stories I know my Step one already. It will be as the world is ending, trying to plan for the survival of as many as possible. Step two Decide why the world ended and how. Alright that is a lot more difficult. Time to look up ways the world could end online? NOT a good idea. After an hour of random searching I have given up. Not that I didn’t get a few ideas:

Pandemic

Solar storm destroying electronics. Just one storm could plunge entire cities into darkness by knocking out power grids and bringing down communications networks.

Super Volcano in Yellowstone or Japan or Europe

Global War

Zombies? Let’s face it zombies are everywhere.

My apocalypse needs to be something that will still allow people to live. Something fast enough to devastate governmental programs. Something to get people to want to hunker down together with strangers. Something that possibly still allows for communication. Something long term enough to have to set up crops and schools within the compound building. I think I now remember part of the reason why this idea ended up in storage.

New Life - A persuasive letter to my husband

New Life

A persuasive letter to my husband.

I am disgusted with living in the trailer. With the mice that multiply faster than I could kill them from the neighbors infestation. The hoarders paradise our Florida room had become, not to mention the closet and the office. Back to rodents, a squirrel has made a home in the roof above our bedroom. We have reset the eves, tried traps, shot it with pellet guns, and even poison but nothing has worked.  That is just the tip of the iceberg.

There is also the park itself and its managing staff. Our rent went up fifty percent when the roads throughout the park were supposed to be repaved; they were just given a half-asked November patch job that did not survive the winter. The sewer lines were redone in the first two rows of the park, I live on the fifth, but all of our rents increased as well as our water and sewer bills. Then there is the new park handyman, a man of a thousand excuses to not come and help. Easier to pay more to have a professional come and do whatever is needed.

The worst by far is the park manager. Since he is too cheap to hire someone to plow the park in the winter he purchased a pickup truck with a plow, I should say we purchased it since he increased our rent for it, to do the plowing himself. I told him what time I work and that with my job, as an emergency dispatcher, I do not have the luxury of not going into work during bad weather. The first major snow storm, more than a foot of snow, and he has not come through with the plow. I call him to say that I have to get to work. He said he was at his other properties and he would be there when he would get there.

In addition, I am tired of traveling nearly an hour every day to a job I despise. So when the sign went up for “Kenwood Commons” on the old convent across from my place of employment I was intrigued. When I looked into it and found it was going to be an artist retreat I was disappointed, at first. Until I read that they included writers as artists. That they will have classes open to the community. It could be a new place for me to learn writing and improve my craft. Therefore, I emailed them to find out more about the classes.

In their response, I found out they are going to be selling condominiums. They will have anywhere from one to four bedrooms available. To quote their brochure “Each of our very special condominium residences, has been painstakingly designed to highlight their historic and architectural beauty and to seamlessly incorporate all of today’s new “Smart-Home” technology.”

Just think about the new life we could have. A brand new place to live.

I could walk to work instead of drive, no traffic hassles and it will help my health and weight loss. The walk back at night might be an issue but we can figure that out together, perhaps you can just pick me up on your way home from work?

We could get a two-bedroom condominium. One bedroom to use as a bedroom. The second to use as an office and guest bedroom with a day bed, desk, and my long dresser. Sort of like the way my office is set up now but without all the clutter.

We could get you a kitchen that would be all yours to do with whatever you want. You could rediscover your passion for cooking in their “performance kitchen for the culinary arts” or go back to writing as you did when you worked security.

I love that the amenities include a “Mail & Package Room with Refrigerated Space” that will be perfect for your insulin if we go away for a while. In addition, they will have a dog park for Jonouchi, Charity, and Simone if Mom and Pa come to visit. Mom and Pa will have to get their own space to stay but Pa might like it for his painting and Mom will like it because of the eight-week complimentary stay in exchange for a painting deal.

They plan on adding a wellness center which means we can truly expand our Young Living business throughout the Kenwood Commons and beyond to those just passing through and then bypass Glenn and the rest. In addition, the supplements if we do Usana with Connie.

I could teach writing courses without having to open up a writing shop. I could still do the Cratejoy business and possibly even get subscribers from people passing through Kenwood Commons and my writing classes. Between those three businesses plus my writing and whatever you want to do, we might be able to finally quit our day jobs.

The other option is to get a one bedroom and have the living room area divided into living room and office space with a fold out couch for guests but that would require a large living room. We can see what they offer. I know you will want a living room to watch television and movies. Personally, I would prefer not to have that in the office, thus my original thought of a two bedroom flat.

This could be great for Angel too. Even with the kids, they will have three-bedroom triplexes. There will be a bedroom for each of them, Angel, Harley, and Logan. Angel can go back to experimenting with art. The kids can get early exposure to great art. If he gets an actual condominium not just an eight-week artist in residence then they will have a secure home and it is not too far from his work too in Glenmont. It will be right on the Route 7 CSEA bus. Do not let me forget to tell my brother about this even if we cannot get it for ourselves!

The Leviathan in the Fog

The fog was thick around the open port. The captain had us each positioned five feet apart at the port and starboard bows so that we did not run into anything in the gloom. We were crawling, with only one sail at half-mast. We could hear the waves slapping the hull of only our boat. I listened hard for the creaks of docks or the sounds of anything really that would mean we were not alone in the white-out mist. I heard nothing but water on wood below me and cloth rustling in the wind around me.

I was on the starboard side and thus spared the sight of the initial assault. The tremendous crunching crash as something ripped through the port beam, ripping amidship outboard. The screams of those stationed along the port bow.

Then shouting from the other sailors demanding to know what happened. Panic.

“Silence” Bellowed our Captain. Not another word was spoken by the crew. “Deckhands to Arms. Riggers Hoist All Sails.”

The riggers climbed like monkeys. I had my rapier in my right hand and my short sword in the left in a reverse grip. Then I saw the huge crab claw. It was bigger than me. Bigger than any man. It clipped the main mast a few feet above the deck and carried it, and a half-dozen riggers, into the gloom.

A leviathan crab in a trading port. It was mindboggling. These vermin, because for all of their colossal size they were no smarter than the basic beach crabs, should be hunted down and destroyed as soon as they approach a port city. They destroyed ships for no other reason than to get at the sailors on board to feast upon.

The ship began to move, forward and starboard, away from where the crab most likely was. I strode to the port quarter to try and score a strike against the next attack from the crab. The ship heaved a little over halfway along my short journey. I fell and rolled, careful to not cut myself with my own blades. Then I looked up and saw the starboard bow of the ship in the clutches of both of the crustaceous claws. It pushed the starboard bow of the boat underwater, lifting the stern. The pitch caused myself and others on deck to slide towards the crabs waiting mouthparts. I didn’t think, just stabbed my short sword into the deck of the ship and held on for dear life as the rapier slid into the gullet of the leviathan crab along with more than half of the crew.  Then riggers began to fall from the masts, crossbeams, and ropes they had been clinging to as the beast shook the ship.

Finally the vermin let go. With a huge splash the stern of the ship landed back into the bay. I clung to my short sword. I thought I was the only one left alive. Then I felt the ship turn. I looked up to the wheelhouse. There stood the Captain. He had tied himself to the rails. I looked up into the rigging. There were other sailors up there too. I looked around the main deck. I was alone down here. I looked out over the bow, we were headed out to the open sea again. Hopefully the next port would be close by and relatively vermin free.

Mama’s Broken Hearted Bloodrager

This is just a college extracurricular activity to you. You are not serious about being a professional crawler. Even if you were, your heiress mother would never allow it. XCrawl is my career. I need a female life partner who can help me in and out of the dungeons. Our relationship has run its course.

 

With a scream I threw my phone against the wall. It fell to the floor in pieces. How dare he break up with me via text? Tears streaming down my face I screamed again.

 

Just last week, for his birthday, I gifted him with elven masterwork MiniLynx light armor. I spent three thousand seven hundred fifty dollars getting him the most expensive, best armor legal to our division. It had been fun taking his measurements naked, all those months ago for the custom ordered armor.  Now all that was over.

 

Thinking of better times I remembered I had an expensive bottle of champagne, his favorite, in the wine chiller with my merlots for graduation. I pulled it out. The cork gave a loud pop. When the initial overflow stopped I took my first swig.

 

Someone pounded at my front door. I stalked over to it and, without looking through the peephole, threw the door wide open with a defiant, “What?”

 

The two police officers on the other side were taken aback for a minute. “We received reports of screams from this residence.” The elder officer stated.

 

“Don’t worry. You can tell my neighbors I am done screaming. I think I have found a better outlet.” I said taking another swig from the champagne bottle.

 

“How much have you had to drink, miss?” The officer asked.

 

“Just two swigs so far.” I answered honestly. At his look of disbelief I explained. “Bad breakup. He broke up with me with a text message. This,” indicating the bottle of champagne “was supposed to celebrate our graduation in two weeks.”

 

“Do you mind if we come in and have a look around to make sure everything is secure?”

 

“Sure.” I said stepping aside so they could enter. They did and I took another swig of champagne.

 

“What happened to your phone?” The younger officer asked looking at the pieces by the wall.

 

“I threw it against the wall after reading the breakup text.” I admitted; then, took another swig.

 

The elder officer came back from my kitchen area and looked at me. It was a small apartment. Bedroom/living room that the younger officer and I were standing in and kitchen with bathroom off of it that the elder officer had searched. “It’s secure.” He told his partner.

 

“I promise no more screaming.” I said solemnly. Then I took another drink from the bottle of champagne.

 

“Try not to drink yourself to death too.” The elder officer said walking out the door.

 

“He is not worth it.” The younger officer said apologetically.

 

“Thank you.” I replied.  Then I shut the door on them. I laid down on my bed and continued drinking. Eventually I must have finished the champagne and gotten up for a bottle of merlot because there was an open bottle and a large red stain on the floor next to the bed the next afternoon when I woke up.

 

The Witch’s Plan

I will go to Detmer. First, I shall go overland from my home in Omesta to Erages with my peacock familiar. From Erages we will board a small ship and go to Detmer.

At Detmer,I will sell my poppets as mindless rowers for ships. My poppets need no food, no water, and no breaks. They cost me five hundred gold pieces to make but rich sea captains that frequent Detmer will see the savings. They will order them.

In addition, I can learn other things too there about woodworking. The elves below us do not like to share their knowledge of wood crafting.

I will pack simply. My Obsession Log, my tools, my spell component pouch, a light crossbow, and the battle ladder I had made myself. I put on my favorite outfit and took the rest of my items, except a soap that I really liked that I stuck in my belt pouch, to the provisioner to trade for coins and items I would need for the journey.