Friday, October 28, 2011

Short-Term Memory (Friday Fiction)

This week's Friday Fiction is hosted by the talented Karlene Jacobsen over at her blog, Dancin' in the Rain. Click here to join and share more great fiction!

Author's Ramblings: Well, y'all probably know by now that I am addicted to prompt writing, so it won't surprise you much to see that I'm now moving up to the next level. Prompt writing with a timer. A really, really small timer. In which, we have x amount of minutes to write on the given prompt. It's been enlightening. *gulp* Yep. So this week, I'm treating you to my first attempts at flash fiction, because that is exactly what it is. (Yes,  yes, I know, it's impossible to think I could possibly write short pieces, but hey, I'm a learning writer, give me a break here!). I hope you enjoy the read and have a great weekend! I'll be hosting my second NaNoWriMo kick-off party and gearing up for the month-long adventure. Stay tuned for updates and if you're participating, I wish you all the best. Look me up, if you feel like it, I'm on there as Scarletfury. Cheers!

Prompt: Still
Title: Short-Term Memory
Time: One Minute
POV: 1st Person


Be quiet. Be still. Know that I am God.

I love that. That word. That line. That remembrance. It’s like, the perfect reminder in the middle of my most chaotic day. It’s a time where I know that what I’m doing needs a rain-check and that who I am needs to pause for a minute, before I forget who I need to be.

Still. Calm. Quiet.

Yes. That.

That is me. That is a part of me. That is who I am supposed to be. When I remember, I can’t forget and if I don’t forget, well then, I guess I’m one step close to being the me I’m supposed to be.

Thanks for stopping by, have a great weekend! 


Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Quick Tips for Novel Plotting (ebook)

 The Quickster's Guide to Novel Plotting : Sara Harricharan : Non-fiction : Self-help Guide

Tips and tricks from someone who's been there, if you're trying to figure out how to start plotting your novel, this guide provides a quick character bio, suggestions for plotlining and other Gridwork methods. It is designed to help you jumpstart the planing and outlining process for your literary masterpiece. Aimed to be a quick guide for first-time novelists and written in a conversational tone, the Quickster's guide features practical advice for working out the basic points of your novel. Perfect for first time participants in National Novel Writing Month.

Author's Note: This guide was specifically written to explain my personal creative process and how I survive the insanity of National Novel Writing Month. Inside, you will find some quick tips and tricks, as well as an explanation of my process known as "Gridwork". It is a short collection of things I have learned over the years that enhances my noveling process. I hope you enjoy the read and that it is helpful to you in some way-happy writing!

Now available on Smashwords! To read an excerpt, click here! $2.99

W is for What-!?

W can stand for a bajillion things.

I was going to jabber on about Nana Mouskouri and what a lovely, whispery quality her amazing voice has. I was going to talk about Words with Friends, that new Zynga game that's half of everywhere. I was going to cover Widgets (because it's just so fun to say, seriously, say it...Widget. See, didn't that make you smile?)

And then I realized that I just spent x amount of minutes wondering what on earth to post about a single letter, when I really have a bajillion other things to be DOING.

So, here we go!

W is for...WHAT?

Whispering Hopeful Anecdotes Tirelessly....yeah...that should've given you a completely puzzled look. Uh-huh. I was aiming for that. Really and truly.

No, just-kidding. ^_^

But it was fun.

W is for What and What is for:

WHAT? (c) Sara Harricharan October 25th 2011

What do I mean to you?
What am I?
Do I seem like a person?
Or am I just some one?
What are you?
What do you mean to me?
Do you seem like a person?
Or are you just one some?
I see you and I wonder
I wonder what and why
You see me and you wonder,
Your why and how and sigh
So tell me
What am I to you?
Because to me,
You are everything
Everything through and through

Special thanks to a friend for the prompt of poetry. Cheers!

Have a great week, folks.


To join in this meme, click here!

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Vacation (BBT)

btt button

I’m on vacation this week. I didn’t go anywhere exciting or exotic, I’m just not at work. Spending time puttering around the house, playing with the dog and … oh yeah. Reading. A lot.

Do your reading habits change when you’re on vacation? Do you read more? Do you indulge in lighter, fluffier books than you usually read? Do you save up special books so you’ll be able to spend real vacation time with them? Or do you just read the same old stuff, vacation or not? 

They change when I'm on vacation. I tend to read more and perhaps several books at one time if I don't find the light and fluffy read I'm looking for. When I'm on a nice vacation, I want a 'nice' read. Nothing too serious or confusing, no hardcore mysteries or "Real-Life I Have Issues" kind of a story. I want a simple mystery (Think, Laura Childs Tea Shop mysteries!) or something from my tween years like the Saddle Club.

A read where I don't have to think about it, I can just enjoy it and get lost in a good world where my vacation just feels a thousand times better.


V is for Verily

I love the sound of that word. Verily.  Veh-ruh-leeeeeeee. Oops, sorry, got carried away for a moment there. Won't happen again. I think. At least, not for this post. *crosses and then uncrosses fingers because it is difficult to type*.


I'm late with this week's letter.

That's mostly because I had a lot of things to think about and have I mentioned that midterms were going on? I didn't? I thought I did. Oh well. Now you know, even if it is after the fact. Yay for you.

This week's letter is V and I say that V is for verily. Did you know that the definition of verily stands for truly and certainly?

I didn't. I just knew that it sounded really cool and I loved the way it rolled off my tongue. Don't get me wrong, I had a general idea of the word, at least when used in context and I decided it was worth looking up to share the joy with the rest of the world.


Yeah. I was probably kind of frazzled when I was thinking today. Go figure.

Today is actually "Why I write" day sponsored by the National Day on Writing. Did you know that? I didn't either. LOL. That's great, I hate being alone in these sorts of things. So, would thou verily like to know why I write?

I'm sure I've mentioned it a thousand times on this blog, but I can't pass up the official day to do it, so here we go! ^_^

Why do I write? 

Simple. Because I want to.

And that's all there is to it.

If you want the more in-depth answer, then consider this. I only had to write one thing to realize that I really loved writing. One thing. But in writing that one thing, I learned that I couldn't stop there--ever. Writing is not my whole life--believe me, there are a million other things I do and certainly things that I am required to tend to, but in between of all of it, I write. I do it because I want to, because I love to and probably because it's downright fun.  (and there, I used 'because' three times in one sentence. Whew!) My writing is far from coherent and perfect, but I like to think it is somewhere in between and that I am working towards that coherency and perfection. So, tell me. Why do you write?

Oh and of course, my nano plug : Twelve days to NaNoWriMo 2011. What are you waiting for?


To join in this week's meme, click here and have fun! 

Friday, October 14, 2011

NaNo Stuffs! (2011!)

And I've been busy with badges and icons and whatever. Here's some of what my busy fingers managed to churn out. I'll have other stuff, I think. Keep an eye out. You never know. ^_^

If you'd like to use any of these, please do so with proper credits, (my name : Sara Harricharan.) and be sure to link to NaNoWriMo when possible. This is an amazing creative experience for so many people and I hope this will spread the word and folks will support this wonderful adventure.

Disclaimer: This is not an official NaNoWriMo site, and the content has not been reviewed by National Novel Writing Month. For more information on National Novel Writing Month, visit”

I am an ML for the TN Elsewhere group and these are made just for the fun of it. I am not making any profit from this--it is simply to enrich the Nano experience of my fellow wrimos.

Her Choice (Friday Fiction)

This week's Friday Fiction is hosted by the wonderful Julie Arduini over @ her blog, The Surrendered Scribe! Click here to read and share more great fiction. 

Author's Ramblings: This week's story is another snippet of prompt fiction and I feel that I ought to warn you it is a little rambly and a "lot" dark. The prompt words used for this are courtesy of Abby W. for "Deodorant, burnt, duct-tape" and my usual prompt machine for spitting out the phrase "nothing matters" with instructions to use it as much as possible. Hmmm. I started thinking about it and somehow it just all went in this direction. LOL. On that note, seventeen days until NaNoWriMo 2011~! WHoo hoo! Hope to see you there. ^_^ 

Her Choice : Contemporary Fantasy : Prompt Fiction : Dark  :

Nothing matters.

How strange.

After all that we've done, everything's that happened, somehow, I knew it would all come down to this. The world is ending. Life is ending. Living has become nothing but insane liberty.

How am I supposed to function? Am I even supposed to be alive at this point? It all seems so wrong and I don’t even know where to start.

Everything’s been coming back in flashes. I guess I hit my head harder than I thought. Then again, a little dizziness never hurt anyone, right? I guess it could hurt—if you’re standing on the guard rail of the world’s tallest bridge looking down into what has to be the worst-looking river.

Then again, molten lava always has a thing to go with the whole end-of-the-world theme. I guess I was kind of hoping I could somehow avoid it. But that’s impossible after all, isn’t it?

After everything we did.

The world was coming to an end, in fact, it is still or rather it will be until something serious happens. Things are getting worse actually, that’s why I’m on this bridge. Then again, it wasn’t really by choice.

If you run onto a bridge in the midst of madness and mayhem, you have no one but yourself to blame if both ends of the bridge crash and burn before your very eyes. It is no one else’s fault but your own. You should’ve known better.

I should have known better.
But, here I am, standing, stranded quite nicely on this last standing chunk of bridge that may very well fall at any second now.

I’m not going to be rescued.

I know that much. There’s too many things happening all at once and I know there is no one who can spare the time to come and fix my stupid little mistake. It is my fault. Just like this whole world-coming-to-an-end business. I kind of hate it, you know.

I really do.

It’s freezing up here, even though it’s scorching down there. I don’t understand how something can go so horribly wrong because the scales have tipped. Then again, I have never been the brightest one in our group.

Brilliance was reserved for Danah and Sten. They will have a happy life together, I’m sure, if this world doesn’t end on them first.

It’s so sweet to see how they care for each other. Refreshing to see that human life matters again. It’s been almost ten years since this chaos has begun. It grates on my nerves to be sane and watching the rest of humanity crumbling around me because it’s all gone down for good.

We tried.

Oh, how we tried!

There were so many plans, plots and ideas. So many more things I wanted to try, and yet, fate has dealt me the hand that my own parents could not refuse. Their death has saved me, but now I suppose it is time to repay a debt that ought never to be incurred.

I think it’ll hurt.

I think it’ll be fine.

I don’t know what I think anymore.

But I know that I can’t keep on running like this. Running on empty, like the last bit of goop in a stick of deodorant or running two-inches short on duct-tape. It bites and I can’t get away from it. The more I run, the harder it comes.

So, that’s it. I’m giving up. It’s over. Nothing matters now.

Not trying to save the world sixty-nine and a half times. Not making friends who really seem to care. Not asking my parents why they had to make such a sacrifice.

Not even asking if it was worth it.

Nothing matters.

My frozen fingers are warming on this metal rail. I can hear the supports creaking and groaning. I don’t have to be a rocket scientist to know that it’s going to fall. I don’t need to read some prophecy to know that I’m going to die.

We all die, sooner or later. Sometimes because we chose to and others because we don’t have a choice.

I think that I would rather chose.

I’d rather keep on living and never die, so that I could experience all the things in the world that God created. To know every little inner working of every creature on planet earth and to understand what it was meant to be—I’d live forever, if I could.

Even now, I don’t want to die. My eyes are playing tricks on me, seeing what isn’t there. My ears are hearing things on me, things that can’t be there. My hands—they are tired and cold. I can’t help thinking how nice it would be to warm them.

I can’t help thinking that this is all my fault. But I know it isn’t. Everything happens for a reason. Sometimes they aren’t the reasons I want them for. But they happen anyway, without my say-so.

I’m going to miss everyone, I guess, if they don’t hurry up and come rescue me already. They’ve been wonderful to me, even knowing what they  know of who I am and what I can do. I respect and admire them.

Courage must be something they eat by the barrelfulls. How else could they possibly call me their friend in good conscience?

The girl who has the power to stop the world from coming to an end? To keep the very earth and sky from turning in on each other? The girl who has everything, can only give up one thing.

I guess, nothing matters any more.

Found through Google Images.

“Did you find her?”

“Nothing, not even a trace.”

“Try again, Danah! She can’t be far, the bridge was right there, she must’ve-”

“I tried, Sten, I did! But there isn’t even an afterenergy signature. The support’s still standing, if she was there, I should’ve been able to-Sten? Hey, are you alright?”

“How could she?”


“How could she do that, Danah?”

“Because she cared.” The  young woman slowly rose from rolling office chair. She moved away from the dusty dashboard of ancient, flickering computer screens and gingerly approached the flaming man pacing the length of the control room. “Don’t hold it against her, Sten. We all knew it could happen.”

“Could happen!” He snapped. “Didn’t have to.”

Danah looked away. “Of course.” She murmured. “Of course, how could I think otherwise?”


“It was her choice, Sten!”

“So? What right did she have to-”

“Haven’t you noticed? Stop playing like you’re the victim here! You think it was easy for her to choose that? To make the very choice she’s been fighting since she read that stupid prophecy?” Danah’s quivering hands clenched into fists. “You know something, Sten? You’re a real piece of work. Can’t you at least let the girl rest in peace and appreciate what she’s done?”

“She hasn’t done a single-”

“The earthquakes stopped!” Danah hissed. “They stopped. The ground is steady under my feet and I don’t know what to make of it. I’m not as old as you, I don’t remember what a perfect world is like, a place where things aren’t constantly exploding and killing everything around them, but I know this. We couldn’t have gone on like this forever.”

“You couldn’t but I-”

“Listen to me! We couldn’t have gone on like this forever. Something would’ve had to give. Today, something did.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “That something just happened to be the one thing that we weren’t counting on. Please, Sten. Just leave it alone. I-I-” she burst into tears.

The flaming man paused in his pacing, the angry red flames fading to a soft blue. He crossed the room to hold her gently in his arms. When she quieted, he pulled away, calling his flames back to the burning red.

She flinched.

He pretended not to notice.

“Where are you going?” She called after him.

“The lava doesn’t always burn everything.” He paused in the doorway. “And the ground will seal itself together soon. If you’re right,  then we should at least respect the dead and bury something.”

She almost smiled.

© Sara Harricharan October 14, 2011

Author's Closing Disclaimer: This Friday Fiction sample is pure fiction. FICTION. Please read the aforementioned capital letters and know that there is no resemblance to any real persons, events or circumstances, living or otherwise. The sole purpose is for reading entertainment to provide mental stimulation along the lines of a "What if...?" scenario. Thank you for reading, please leave a comment if you like.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

U is for Underneath

I'm feeling a little poetic today. The weather is wonderfully dreary and dark, which generally leads to rather interesting writing, so this week, there is no long and rambly post.

Just a poem, that might make you think.

Photo is courtesy and copyright of Ian Beasley.

Underneath, I've fallen down
Fading faster
Tryin' to drown
Pull me under
Let me go
Let the river
Let it flow

Underneath, I'm left behind
Forgotten only,
One of a kind
Taking over,
Let me be,
Let the river,
Flowing free

Underneath, I'm going down
Not a word,
No, not a sound
I'm so lost
And so alone
Let the river
Take me home

Underneath, I"m letting go
Giving in to
All I know
Left for darkness
Left for good
Let the river
Like it should

Underneath, I"m just a child,
A little helpless
A little wild,
I'm crying out, please
Don't let me go
Don't let the river
Take control

On the surface,
I've got it all
Picture perfect, perfect walls
The river's coming
To take away
If I let it,
I'm gone today

Underneath, I"m falling down
Swamped and tangled
I'm gonna drown
Breathing's over
Living too
Lord, take me under
Make me new

Underneath I'm,
Just like you
Imperfect Issues,
Trust in His truth
Scared and cold
I am no more
Let the river
Lay me at His door

Thanks for stopping by, I hope you enjoyed the read. I generally don't post my poetry, but this one seems to fit for today and of course, the letter matches for this week. ^_^



(c) Sara Harricharan 2011

To join in this fun meme, click here!

P.S. If you're participating in NaNoWriMo this year, the new site just went live! ^_^

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Impersonator (Friday Fiction)

Hi everyone! I have the distinct pleasure of hosting Friday Fiction this week and I'm thrilled to have you. To join in the fun, simply add your name and the link (url) to your contribution in the linky widget below. Remember, keep entries PG-13ish, as these are expected to be family friendly. Don't forget to comment on at least one story, to find out more, check out Friday Fiction on Facebook. Happy reading, enjoy the weekend!

Author's Note: This is a character sketch for one of my current WIP's. I thought it would be fun to share Ithycia's story and I hope you all enjoy her. As you know, my favorite reading genre is mystery and this is one of my attempts to write a world in that line. There's only the faintest hint of 'fantasy' in this one, enjoy! Thanks for stopping by!

General Fiction : Mystery : Light Fantasy

Officer Reeves banged on the front door, the shuffle step-dance on the concrete stoop giving away his unease. “She’s home, why isn’t she answering the door?” He growled. 

“Calm down, Ree.” His partner, Officer Lana, offered a sympathetic smile. “She’s under no obligation to do anything and as of right now, we have no real reason to hold anything against her.”

“She’s an impersonator.”

“That isn’t a crime.”

“She quit!”

“That isn’t a crime either.”


The woman hid a smile. “Okay, fine, hold it against her. But we don’t have probable cause or even the slightest bit of leverage, so either play it light or let me do the talking.”
“You don't have the leverage. I do. This is as light as it gets and your diplomatic blabbering rarely ever gets the job done when we need results for-”

“Reeves, you’re letting this get to you.”

“So what? So what if I am? She’s a six-year-old girl, Lana. A six-year-old girl! She could be dying somewhere, alone and without any-”

“You think I don’t know that?”

The front door banged open and a scowling, sleepy young woman peered through the screen door at the duo. She blinked several times, then leaned against the door. “Whatever it is you’re selling, I can’t afford it.” She yawned. “My apologies and I’m sure it’s all for a good cause.” She turned away from the screen door.

Reeves yanked his badge from the clip on his belt. “Officers Reeves and Lana from the-”

“Don’t care. Have a nice day.” The front door clicked shut.

The officers exchanged a glance.


The young woman sat on the coffee table holding an icepack to her forehead, the scowl growing more pronounced. “I hate you.” She muttered, readjusting the baggie of ice cubes. “And I can’t help you.”

“Why not?”

Lana’s hand moved to rest on her partner’s knee. “Miss McMillian-” The girl snorted. “We’re trying to locate Allison Brenz and I’m sure you understand that-”

“She’ll be fine. You don’t need me. Besides, the family’s rich enough, what’s a few million for a life? It’s not like it’ll kill them.”

“Ah, well, we’re not so sure it’s a ransom kidnapping.”

“Don’t tell me!” She glared at the duo. “I don’t wanna know. Don’t tell me your little details and don’t treat me like I’m one of you. I’m a free citizen. I’m living a lousy life and I’m happy with it, I don’t need to throw more trouble into the mix.” She rose from the coffee table. “It’s been five minutes. I said five minutes. You know where the door is and how it works-” She adjusted the icepack meaningfully. “Show yourself out, officers.”

Reeves cleared his throat, reaching into his suit jacket for a colored sheet of paper. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to resort to this.” He began, “but, all impersonators are required to spend at least fifteen years or the equivalent of twenty-five thousand hours of federal assistance dedicated to the missing persons division.” He unfolded the sheet. “You’ve only filled twenty-”

“I know how many I filled.” She whirled around, hovering in the doorway of the cramped living room and kitchen. “I know. That number’s always somewhere in my head.” Her grip on the icepack tightened. “And  you can’t lord that over me.”

“Actually, we uh, can.” Lana forced a smile, rising to her feet. “Miss McMillian, we wouldn’t have come to you if there was another way to-”

“Yes you would have.” The glare darkened. “You would have. You investigators, cops, police, whatever you call yourselves, you’re all alike. You all treat me the same.” The smile grew bitter. “I’m not going back there. I can’t. I don’t have that gift anymore.”

The officers exchanged a glance. Reeves sighed. “Funny you should mention that.” He rubbed his nose. “See, the supervising head downtown just received an interesting report the other day. A report that would’ve made our lives a lot easier.”

She stared at him.

“It says that impersonators can’t lose their gift. They can just choose to ignore it.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“Some have it stronger than others, yours is a little weak. Probably grew rusty from disuse.” Reeves smiled, tightly. “But you’re our only option right now, so you’ll have to do.”

“Look, I’m not-”

“Miss McMillian,” Lana interrupted. “You can come with us now, or we can do this the hard way.”

“The hard way.” She kicked the doorjamb. “You already smashed my skull in with my own front door!”

The officers exchanged a glance. “We did warn you-” Lana tried. 

She turned away, retreating to the kitchen. “Like I said, you know the way out. Nice talkin’ to ya.”

“Ithyica McMillian, you’re und-”

“Marie Langston lives on fifty-three west Sine drive.” Her shoulders hunched upwards. “It’s a shelter for homeless kids—not an orphanage. She practically lives there. Was the best interpreter I ever had. If she’s busy, then so am I. Now get out of my house!”

“You found Ithyica?” Marie Langston let herself be ushered through the downtown police department, leaning forward to hear Officer Lana over the shouts and bustles around them. “She’s alive?”

“You didn’t know?” Lana’s eyebrows danced upwards. “She asked for you by name and even knew where you worked. Gave us your address.”

“Well, I’ll be.” Marie shook her head. “That little vixen.” A fond smile settled on her face. “I thought she was through with the impersonating though. Really through with it. How’d you get her to come back?”
Reeves swallowed uncomfortably. “We, ah, didn’t.”

They led her through to the private conference room and the Marie bolted forward at once to smother the young woman in a hug. “Ithyica!” She exclaimed, holding her tight. “Oh, honey! I thought you were dead.”

“Ow, ow, ow! Stop. Please stop.” Ithyica grimaced, an expression of distaste registering quite plainly on her face. “Ow. Marie, quit it with the touching already!”

“Still fussy as always, I see.” Marie gently released her, noticing for the first time that the young woman was handcuffed to the head chair of the conference table. She looked from the silver cuff to the green-eyed rebel.

Ithyica looked away. 

“I thought you said you would stay out of trouble.”

The head whipped around to glare at her, green eyes flashing. “I am staying out of trouble.” Her glare resurfaced. “They’re the ones dragging me into it.” 


“Then let’s get started.” Marie closed the case file, turning her chair to face the sulking young woman. “You ready?”

“Tch. Do I look like it?”



“…Ithy, please, work with me. It’ll be easier for both of us.”

“It’d be easier if they’d take this stupid thing off me.”

Marie sucked in a deep breath and summoned a pleasant smile to her face. “Officer Lana?”

“Of course.”
The handcuffs were removed.

Ithy rubbed her wrists, shying away from the hands that had just freed her. Lana stiffened at her recoil. “I don’t like people touching me.”

An awkward silence registered.

“Ithy, c’mon.” Marie tapped the table to get her attention. “Ready?”


“Good. Here we go, the item?”

Reeves produced a silver chain with a broken ballet-shoe pendant.

Ithy visibly sank back into her chair, the darkened expression from earlier returning.

“Shhh. Easy.” Marie soothed, taking the necklace and placing it on the table in front of her. “No one’s going to force you to do this.” Her dark eyes drilled into frightened green ones. “You only do this if you want to, okay?”

Trembling fingers reached up to snatch the necklace from the tabletop and then Ithy squeezed her eyes shut.

The silence shifted from awkward to tense.

Marie sat still, her head bowed.

Ithy jerked, twitching as her eyes glazed over. For a moment, pure terror showed on her face and then she shrank even further into the chair, drawing her knees up to her chest, hugging them tight. Her head began to shake and she was mumbling to herself over and over. “No, no, no, no, no. I didn’t do it. I don’t know. I don’t know. Please don’t hurt me!”

Marie came to life, grabbing the stylus off the table and beginning to tap on the tablet in front of her.

“Miss Langston?” Reeves hesitated.

“Shh.” Marie silenced him with a finger, her eyes never leaving Ithy. “She’s already made contact.”

“So soon?” Lana stared.

“Shh!” Marie snapped. “If you’re going to interrupt then get out.” She reached across the table and tentatively waved a hand in front of Ithy’s face. “Ithy? Ithy, love, it’s Marie. I’m going to hold your hand, okay?” With slow, deliberate movements, Marie took one clenched hand in her own, her eyes maintaining a steady gaze with the blank look of the young woman before her. “Can you give me anything?”

Ithy licked her lips, a shudder passing through them. “Scared.” She whimpered.

“I know, sweetie, I know. Shhh. Come on, come back to me. This is Marie, remember? Good girl. I need you to give me something. Details, conversation, sensations. Whatever you can manage, just give me something to work with.”

“Green.” The voice was flat and emotionless. “Green everywhere. Like plants. Stick plants.”

“Green stick plants? Okay.” Marie squeezed her hand. “I got that. Stick plants. Like little trees?”

“I don’t know, how would I know? I’m six-years-old. I don’t know everything.”

“Shhh. Allison, sweetie, I need you to let Ithy talk to me, okay? Ithy? Is it like a decoration? Bamboo, maybe?”

“Everything’s brown.”

“Brown? Okay? Light brown, dark brown, medium brown? Where is the brown?”

“Everywhere. Light brown.”

“Like Almond? Tan? Sand?”


“Beige. Got it. Anything else?”

“I hate ruffles.”


“Hate ‘em.”

“Lots of them?”

“Too many of them. Ugh.” Ithy shuddered again. “I can’t do this, I gotta-” Her head lolled to the side and her body went limp.

Marie dropped her hand at once, on her feet, grabbing Ithy’s shoulders. “Ithy? Ithy, talk to me!”

“What’s going on? What happened?”

“The link was broken.”

“The link? Then fix it, fix the-”

“I can’t fix it, Officer Reeves.” Marie whirled on him. “And Ithy did the best that she could. I won’t have you treating her like some kind of a tool. Get some medical help in here!”

“Paramedic!” Lana stuck her head out into the hallway. “Someone get a paramedic in here!” She bit her lip, turning back to the trio. “Reeves…”

“Some help.” He snarled. “This little girl could die and-”

“And she helped you plenty. Get over yourself.” Marie snapped. “I’m starting not to like you very much. You can start checking out some of the tourist areas at the edge of the city strip.” Her eyes narrowed. “Try searching ones with artificial beaches, look for a little girl dressed up like a princess.”


“I’m her interpreter.” Marie half-smiled. “Bamboo and beige. That means a beach and if she’s wearing ruffles, then it seems that Allison just got a new wardrobe. Her kidnappers must have had her change clothes, you’ll need to include that update in your bulletin.”

October 6, 2011 © Sara Harricharan

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the read. If you'd like to see more--comment and let me know what you think! ^_^ 

Oddest (BBT)

btt button
What’s the oddest book you’ve ever read? Did you like it? Hate it? Did it make you think?

Virtual War by Gloria Skurzynski.

I hated it. It was about a way to avoid the casualties of war by doing it virtually. The premise was pretty interesting, the back cover blurb made me want to read it, but when I was finished, it felt like I'd wasted all my time for such a lousy ending. I made a note to never read anything by her again. I had adored the characters initially, until the ending where it seemed like they all flip-flopped personalities and the storyline went south. A lousy ending and ridiculous characters left me wondering "what on earth?" and reminded me to be sure I'm always careful when crafting my own characters, no matter what I'm writing.


T is for Thank You, Steve Jobs

Steve Jobs, 1955-2011

 I was thinking all day on what to write for this week's letter and I'd almost decided until I came home this afternoon. Turned on the news and began checking my mail, the usual routine.

Then I actually read the headline that I'd been staring at for the past five minutes.

Steve Jobs, died at 56 years of age. 

Shock was my first reaction to this, followed immediately by a web search to confirm that this was true and someone wasn't pulling my leg. I kind of wanted it to be a joke. Some really horrible cyber prank, because to think that Steve Jobs was actually dead, wasn't the way I wanted to end my day.

I watched the news.

I cried.

There's a ton of news and posts and videos and everything all over the world, the web and goodness knows where else. I'm amazed to see how many things he did and went through in such a short time.

My condolences and prayers to his family.

I would like to add my own tribute to his legacy.

Steve Jobs was an amazing, creative individual. I admired the way he could continually surprise the world, it seemed, by simply using the brain God gave him and putting those talents to use in the best way that he knew how.

The strength and dignity that he carried with him, no matter what was happening in his life, is something to remember. I don't care about all the half hype and what next and all of that junk. I'm slightly annoyed (read=perplexed) at the amount of people adding qualifiers and taglines to their well-wishes. I'm sure they mean well. I'm probably just too sensitive. Maybe it'll matter tomorrow, maybe I'll have to deal with it, maybe it won't bother me when I wake up. I don't know. Right now, I don't think it matters.

See, in my opinion, Steve Jobs was a brilliant man who brought a strong creative thread to our daily lives in mind-blowing ways. He did some amazing things. He's left a wonderful legacy behind. Leave it at that, don't try to qualify and read into things. See. Hear. Feel. Think, then react.

Because of what he did with the talents he had, many lives have changed for the better. 

May he rest in peace.

Thanks for stopping by,


To join in the wonderful A2Z meme, click here!

Monday, October 3, 2011

2011 NaNo Banner

And I finally had the chance to whip this together. Thankfully, it didn't take too long--I guess that's what happens when you have the idea crammed in your head for such a long time that it can't wait to get out. LOL.

Anyway, cover will come soon...I guess. Banner first. ^_^



Saturday, October 1, 2011

Misadventures of Tiffany Knotwiler (Friday Fiction)

This week's Friday Fiction is hosted by the talented Karlene Jacobsen over at her blog, Dancin in the Rain, click here to read and share more great fiction!

Author's Ramblings: I'm terribly late to this meme, but I couldn't let it go. I wanted to write something spectacular, but apparently writing with a head cold doesn't produce the best of scribbles, so here's a super short snippet based off of a three word prompt, for Popcorn, Castles and Porridge, courtesy of Glen H. This is the result. Apologies for the roughness!


“Blech? Don’t you dare spit that out, Knotwiler!” The scowling guard glared at her. “I mean it.”

“And if I do, oh great and scowling guard of-” 

“Shut up, Tiff.” Libby rolled her eyes, scraping the last spoonful of porridge from the carved wooden bowl. "You're not helping at all.We're supposed to work together." She set the empty dish by her feet and smiled as Jed pounced on the empty dish. The dog happily licked away at the salty tracings left behind, ears and tail wagging in happy acknowledgement. “Jed likes it. C’mon, just eat a little and we can get going. Ambraile won’t save itself.” 

“Jed is a dog. A dog is an animal. I am a person!” Tiffany’s round face grew red. “I eat people food not this kind of-”
Found through Google Images

“Then turn yourself into a dog and eat it. What's the point of having a transformation amulet if you can't use it!”

“Kyle, that’s not nice.” Libby brushed her coppery bangs out of her face. “Harping on each other isn’t going to help anyone. She can use it...but turning herself into a dog really isn't going to solve anything.”

“Oh and like you’re Miss Perfection?” Tiffany snorted. “In your dreams.” 

“Unfortunately, we are in my dreams.” Libby frowned. “Show a little respect, okay?”

“Kind of hard to do that when I'm trying to take him seriously and I just can't-”

"Tiffany! He didn't have to help." 
"I'd prefer it if he hadn't." 


"Yeah. He's the geekiest guy in Science homeroom, how can I take him seriously just because he's got shiny armor plastered all over him?" 

"The same way I'm trying to take you seriously even though you're the second most stuck-up-girl at school?" Libby tossed her head. "Look, the sooner we get this together, the sooner we can leave." 

"Says the resident bookworm." Tiffany huffed. "Seriously, I like you better as a bookworm, you're a really creepy heroine in your own dreams."

"I'm not creepy!" 

"You're wearing black and you have shiny spiky things." 

"Those are not...well...they kind of are...that's beside the point. I need these!" 

"Then what exactly are you?" 

"I'm a metalworker!" 


"Oh nevermind, Tiffany! I design swords and other...spiky things. Now will you hurry up? Why on earth did they send you two?" 

"Beats me." Kyle muttered. "Let's just go before my band practice-"

“I don’t wanna hear it Kyle, I don’t even know why you’re here. I just know that this is one dream that wouldn’t go away, so I had to ask for help.” 

“How exactly is she, help?” Kyle gestured towards the pouting blonde. “She’s a mess of-”

“She holds the Ambrailean artifact of peace. That’s help. Might I also remind you it's a transformation tool as well?”

“And what am I, chopped liver?”

“With a line like that, yes.” Libby bent to snag the cleaned bowl from by her feet. She twirled it on her thumb, then dumped it into the half-filled pot of porridge. “Fine then, don’t eat. But we have to get going.” She wrinkled her nose. “Kyle, if we’re not eating, it’s your turn to dig and dump. Jed can’t eat all of that.” 

“It’s not good to waste food.” Tiffany whined.

“You’re the one wasting it, not me.” Libby dusted off her jeans and moved towards the trio of horses tethered in the corner of the clearing. “I’ll scout ahead. Y'all are getting on my nerves. This is supposed to be a dream. Not some daytime soap opera drama.”

“You can’t go on your own.” Kyle was on his feet in minutes, the earlier guard persona melting away. “That's dangerous. Look, I'm here because I've fought and won my own nightmare, that's one of the requirements for being able to assist in other peoples dreams. I'm sorry that I'm not what you expected, but I am good at what I can do. Don't just ride off and try to solve this on your own." 

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" Libby snapped. 


“I can and I have. That’s how the dream works. I go off by myself and stuff happens. We won't get anywhere just sitting around and waiting for the dream to happen on its own.”

“They ordered me to never leave your side!” Kyle streaked forward, catching her mount’s bridle in one gloved hand. “You are not leaving her without me.” 

“Without you?”

“Without us.” Tiffany scraped her cold porridge into the pot and dusted her hands over it. “If Mr. Guard is done playing all worried and helpful, we need to get going. I’m starving and I can’t fix things on an empty stomach.”

“And whose fault would that be?” Libby sniped.

“Oh be quiet, the whole lot of you.” Tiffany sighed.  “Darkmoore Castle doesn’t require peasant-strength from peasant food.” She sniffed. “Now if there was something edible here in your dream, you know like potato chips or popcorn, I’d be all over it. Let’s go now, okay?”

“Can you even ride?” Kyle retorted. “I’m not riding double with you.”


"Popcorn?" Libby perked a brow. "Really, Tiffany?" 
(c) Sara Harricharan 10-01-2011

A/N: And I have no clue where this was going, but I kind of like Tiffany...If you'd like to read more--leave a comment and let me know. ^_^ Have a great weekend!