Sunday, March 23, 2014

Avoided : Snippet Prompt


"You've been avoiding me." Master Ruge stretched his foot enough to push out the empty chair at the opposite end of the small table. "Sit, apprentice-mine."

Shatila eyed it and him, before pulling the chair away from the table and carefully easing her tall frame into it. "I have not." She said, carefully.

"Then you are avoiding someone else in my recent company?"


"I dislike riddles."

"I dislike being analyzed."

"Fair enough." Master Ruge acknowledged. He slid a sealed envelope across the table and watched as she made no move to take it. "That is one of your eight standards. You may open it and review it, if you have need of my assistance, I expect you to seek me out and request it."

"And if I can manage?" Shatila looked from the envelope to him.

"If you have need of me, I expect to see you." Master Ruge repeated. "I dislike being avoided because you believe I need to be protected. It is not your duty to see to that. I am to look after you, train you and guide you until such a time as the contract between us is satisfied. Please uphold your end of our oaths." He rose from the chair, his thick black robes falling neatly into place around his trim figure.

"I would never go back on my word."

"Good girl." He praised, gliding out of the small kitchen. "See that you don't."

Shatila watched him, he paused, just long enough for her to notice. She bowed her head and reached for the envelope. "...yes, Master."

(c) Sara Harricharan
A/N: I've been playing around with the characters in my "Trial by" universe and couldn't resist doing one of these little prompts for my favorite Twilight Titan, Shatila Briston and her training Master, the enigmatic Master Ruge. Thanks for reading!

Selective (Flash Fiction)

found on google images


“She’s –selective. She’s not like the rest of them.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Father.” Miriam straightened her skirts and clasped her tiny white purse in her gloved hands. For a young woman carrying the most dangerous poision in existence within her pearl-covered purse, she was the picture of calmness.

“It is–difficult.” Her father managed to choke out. “You do not know her as I do. She is not to be trusted. Never trust her!”

“She has given me no reason to doubt her,” Miriam said, mildly. “Is something the matter, Father?”

He looked at her strangely for a moment. “I am fine. Come along, we have much to do before the day is over.”

Miriam watched him stalk off into the masses and paused on the sidewalk. She rubbed her nose with one gloved hand, the same one that had placed the poison inside her purse. The effects should be untraceable–would be, she knew, as she quickened her step to catch up.

Selective, her father had said. Well. She’d just have to show them both, wouldn’t she? Miriam sneezed and grimaced, before gathering up her skirts and sprinting before she lost sight of her father’s ridiculous hat.

(c) Sara Harricharan
Thanks for reading! 

Saturday, March 22, 2014

Heightened (Flash Fiction)

found on Google images


Leda’s head snapped up, turning in the complete opposite direction of the Cheif’s scouts. She cocked her head to the side, heightened senses clearly picking up something that no one else could.

A feral smile played across her innocent features and red fire burned at her fingertips.

“Leda?” The Cheif ventured, cautiously.

“Found them.” She cracked her knuckles, the red flames growing larger and warmer, licking up her arms. “Orders, sir?”

The Cheif’s eyes narrowed. “Burn.” He said, coldly. “Burn them all.”

“Yes sir!” Leda said, sweetly. “In the name of the Crown, I’ll burn them to the ground.” She vaulted off her twitchy mount and her entire lower body transformed into a whirlwind of flame. She hovered before them for a second, then blurred off into the distance.

“You heard the Cheif!” The second-in-command officer barked. “About face and follow that girl!”

(c) Sara Harricharan 
Thanks for reading! 

Remember Me (Poem)

found on google images

Remember Me

I wanted to be your friend
I wanted so desperately to be your friend
I thought we were friends

You laughed
I smiled
We talked together
We wrote many words

Will you remember me?
They say you're leaving
They said it's fine
You didn't tell me
How is this okay?

Will you remember me?
I wanted to be your friend
Even before I understood you
I wanted to make you smile
Because I saw myself in you

Will you remember me?
Remember that I cared?
That I wanted to see you happy?
That I thought you were brilliant?

Please remember me
Remember the words we wrote
The memories we made
The time we shared
Remember me

You were always my friend
My shot of cheer
In the midst of the doldrums
Under the blanket of despair

You were always my friend
Please remember me
And if you need it,
If you want it,
Please, let me be your friend

Take care of yourself
Enjoy the adventures ahead
Breathe in life
And dream among the star
Remember me
The way I remember you
Because you made a difference
--To me.

(c) Sara Harricharan

A/N: This time of year brings back a lot of different memories and emotions for me, hence a stab at poetry after such a long break. Enjoy and thank you for reading. 

Monday, March 17, 2014

Forefront (Flash Fiction)


When I first laid eyes on it I thought I was seeing things. Surely they wouldn't have put a child at the forefront of such an important battle and surely that child could not a girl. But the evidence was before me and when I thought I had indeed witnessed an honest illusion, she turned and smiled at me.

Her small, petite figure was perched atop a massive, black warhorse, the golden reins and bridle accenting the contrast between the figures. She had a crown of honey-blonde hair and her eyes were the color of autumn before all life had left.

Pretty pink lips parted in a soundless murmur and I looked away, staring straight ahead through the perked ears of my own mount. I felt a shiver run through me and then I heard her warcry.

An unearthly scream shook the very skies above us and we charged forward.

So that was why.

(c) Sara Harricharan
Thanks for reading!

Sunday, March 16, 2014

Personality (Flash Fiction)

found on google images


"Good grades?" Blaze snarked. "Really? You think that he would fall for something that smart? How would you even gain his attention? Your charming personality? I can just see the gossip now. May the heavens rain fire upon my head."

"Shut up!" Skylar blushed a healthy shade of red, resisting the urge to chuck her apple core at her almost-best-friend at the academy. "It's not like you have any better ideas."

"Of course I do and none of them involve humiliating yourself for the sake of some pompous, hot-headed-"

"You barely know him!"

"So do you!"

"...we're not going to get very far on this, are we?"

"You're the one that interrupted my studying for your little love life crisis-"

"You know, Blaze, if you'd just have asked me out in the first place, I would've just said yes and this would be over with." Skylar yanked her study notes of his slack hands and turned away to brace on the lower drawers of the dresser with a huff. "Seriously. It's not like I'm ugly or anything."

Now Blaze blushed an odd shade of purple, his pale silver skin offsetting equally silver eyes. "That has got to be the most backhanded-"

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Skylar interrupted. Her steely gaze bore into him. "Go ahead. Ask me. Or are you waiting on my charming personality to encourage you?"

He asked. She accepted.

(c) Sara Harricharan

Prophet (Flash Fiction)

found on google images


His shoulders were stooped with age and his face bore the weathered traces of the paths that life had worn through him. What set him apart from the rest of the monks at Isha's temple was an entirely different thing.

It was his staff. Long and thin, as if it were no more than the single trunk of a young sapling, inlaid with gold and precious jewels, capped at the bottom with a dull silver. The top was pronged, almost as if it were a trident and his eyes--oh his eyes.

His eyes were the deepest, darkest shade of purple on this side of Honeywell Duvash.

The Prophet, they called him and yes, he answered.

(c) Sara Harricharan
Thanks for reading!

Friday, March 14, 2014

Swim (Flash Fiction)

found on google


Dive. Breathe. Surface. Swim.

I threw my body forward, calling on every single ounce of strength I had to draw the current down with me. All I had to do was take a single breath where the water changed from cerulean to navy blue, then rocket to the surface and skim the top with my glistening fins.

Dive. Breathe. Surface. Swim.

The water was terribly polluted and there was roughly about five hours before chaos would come pouring out of the sky. I paused at one point to check on our only hope, a human teenager, a boy by the name of Oscar, gripping an ancient sword of prophecy in both hands.

Dive. Breathe. Surface. Swim.

I wished him well and kept on with my duties. If I didn't purify the river before the deadline, the merfolk would not be able to assist. In the fire and brimstone about to crush us all, if I did not hurry, we would all die.

(c) Sara Harricharan

Camp NaNo : 1st Session (2014)

Are you camping this year? 

Guess what time of year it is?

Camp NaNo!

I've been changing my web badges all over the place, to show off the nice, cozy looking new icons for this year's April session of Camp NaNoWriMo. If you've never participated in a Nanowrimo noveling adventure, now is an excellent time to give it a shot. Camp NaNo is ten times more relaxed than the hardcore hyperness of NaNo in November and it's also very flexible.

How does it work?

Camp NaNo follows some of the basic rules of NaNoWriMo--mainly, to have fun, to write as much as you want or want to--in 30 days and cheer your fellow writers on.

Camp NaNo actually allows you to choose your own word count goals and it locks it in near the final week of the month, so you'll find the right balance between pushing yourself and an impossible challenge. Instead of the giant forums and nano hype from November, Camp NaNo places you into a virtual cabin of your own, (you can opt out if you like, or request up to five friends) where you can get to know your fellow writers and stay focused on your project.

There are Pep Talks, just like NaNo and there's even cool merch (check out this year's camper mug, it's awesome!), but the flexibility is what really calls to me. You can write as much or as little as you want and you can even define your project and genre.

It's pretty much a relaxed nanowrimo experience and if you'd like to give it a shot, now is a great time to try it! The first session is in this coming April and the second is in July. I am gathering my plot points and character bios together for the April session, I've already managed a title and a sort of working synopsis. If you'd like to request me in your cabin, you can message me as "scarletfury" and I'll be happy to add you.

Happy writing!

Compete (Flash Fiction)

found on google images


"I don't want to compete, Gramps." Lisa said. "I-it doesn't seem fair. I mean, I'm old than all the other kids and I'm younger than the ones competing, so if I do accept, I'll stick out like a sore thumb."

She scowled down at her riding boots, noting that the silver spurs on her left boot were a bit tarnished. She'd have to scour and polish them sometime tonight. "I mean, I could, okay?" She hesitated, appreciating that she could finally tell her story and share her worries. "But as the daughter of Glen Bouroughs, champion of Aldswait, you know what they'll say."

Her lower lip quivered. "They'll say I have an unfair advantage. They'll say I cheated, even if I win. They said if I don't compete, then I'm a coward."

Lisa's fingers brushed against the granite headstone. "Not a coward, Gramps, just human."

(c) Sara Harricharan

Friday, March 7, 2014

Stubborn (Flash Fiction)


“She’s so bloody stubborn, it isn’t even funny, Matthew.” Leona shot her brother a sideways glance from beneath her golden bangs. “Do you understand what this means?”

Matthew snorted. “I’m not half as dense as you wish I was,” He drawled, moving to stand next to her as they stared down from the tower into the dirt courtyard. “It means we’re on our own for this job, doesn’t it. Too late to cancel now.”

Leona squared her shoulders, lifting her head. “We don't cancel. We've never canceled. Besides, it can’t be that hard, can it? I mean, we did stuff before she ever came along.”

“We’re stealing a ledger that should not exist, from the desk of a headmaster, who also should not exist in the heart of a school that most certainly does not-”

"Exist. Yes. I know!" Leona pinched her nose, huffing a warm breath on the cold pane of glass before her. "I'll have to think of something by dinnertime."

"Preferably before dinner, otherwise we won't have more than an hour." Matthew perked a brow. “I should also point out that you weigh a good two stone more than you did before and I, for one, still have yet to develop any magical talents.”

“Bloody stubborn girl!” Leona banged her head against their dorm window. "We're dead. So very dead."

(c) Sara H.
Thanks for reading!