Think Of Me

Cassie took a deep breath and slipped into the shadowed doorway. No one called her out and no one appeared to ask her what she was up to. She turned the knob and only opened the door enough to pass through.

The darkness was punctured by red emergency lights above the doors. Spooky but at least it wasn’t completely dark. She wouldn’t have to risk a light.

The metal stairs and walkways might be sturdy, but they appeared too ethereal in the dim light that reminded her a little too much of blood. It took three deep breaths before she built up the nerve to step onto the first catwalk to cross the cavernous space.

Following the instructions she’d memorized, Cassie moved silently on her sneakers to the third stairway leading down. A couple of levels below, the shadows shifted but no one yelled at her. With a shiver, she checked behind her and above, but nothing else stirred.

Down she went. Through a door. Down again. Two catwalks. Up a level. Cross two rooms. And down one more time.

The door was unlocked as promised and she slid through it shuddering with relief. It took her seven long breaths before she could peel herself off the door.

The circular room soared into an arch above her. The red lights seemed to pulse with energy.

Cassie pushed off the door and crept to the middle of the room. She needed to be in the exact center.  Once there, she spread her arms wide and turned in a slow circle, embracing the air.

With a deep breath she brought her arms in, lowered her shoulders, closed her eyes and felt her diaphragm pull in the air it needed. Then she sang.

Think of me.

Think of me fondly

when we’ve said goodbye.

The first notes soared into the air and she almost smiled before she pulled herself back into the song that was filled with longing and regrets. Andrew Lloyd Webber knew what he was doing with those notes.

As she sang, the acoustics proved they were indeed perfect. The song filled the space with all the yearning the lyrics provided. She could almost hear the haunting notes of the piano around her as she sang.

Chills covered her as she sang through the heartache and the hope and the memories. She’d never been in a space so beautifully designed for music.

As the final notes ended on a sigh, she wrapped her arms around herself. If the auditions were held here, she stood a chance.

The sound of clapping had her whirling around. Two men stood in an open doorway. They wore orange safety vests and hardhats. One man pointed to the side door. “Nice job, kid. Now get going before we have to charge you with trespassing.”

The other man grinned. “That’s the best version we’ve heard so far. You’re going to nail the audition. Now move it.”

She moved it, grinning all the way. 

***

Tagline: Deep in tunnels, surprises await

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The above is part of the October WEP Challenge: Phantom Of The Opera. I saw the Toronto production of Phantom one year with my husband for our anniversary. It was incredible!

Webber has written an incredible score. The music is haunting and memorable. I've even learned to play a few of the songs on the piano, including this one. Beautiful music.

To sign up with your own entry or to check out the other entries in the Challenge, check out the links below. There are always amazing entries in the challenge.

Enjoy the challenge!

IWSG & the Borg

The Insecure Writer's Support Group is the brainchild of Alex J. Cavanaugh. He, his clones, minions, friends, and fellow authors make it an amazing event every month.

Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds!  

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October 4 question: The topic of AI writing has been heavily debated across the world. According to various sources, generative AI will assist writers, not replace them. What are your thoughts?

I haven't even tried an AI program, so I really don't know much about it. I'd rather play with my stories than the tech.

I don't think AI can replace that human touch. When I was working as a teacher, it was always easy to spot kids copying from an Internet source (or when parents wrote the assignments for them) and I suspect AI will have that same generic tone.

We're all unique and our words and products are unique as well. Personally, I have exactly zero desire to see what AI can do for me. I'd rather use my own words and my own voice, but that's just me.

At this early stage of AI development, we're not talking about Borg-level technology, although we may be talking about that kind of tone. I can't imagine a future where technology can replace human creativity. It's one of the things that makes us a pretty fun species.

How about you? Have you played with AI? What are your thoughts?

IWSG 12 Year Celebration!

 The Insecure Writer's Support Group is the brainchild of Alex J. Cavanaugh. He, his clones, minions, friends, and fellow authors make it an amazing event every month.

Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds!  

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September Question: The IWSG celebrates 12 years today! When did you discover the IWSG, how do you connect, and how has it helped you?

Happy Anniversary IWSG!!!

12 years - almost a teenager!

I remember when IWSG first started. I didn't join right away because life was overwhelming at that point. I also didn't feel like a "real" author yet and Imposter Syndrome was all-consuming. I still deal with Imposter Syndrome daily, but I manage to shove it to the side and get words written and published anyway.

For years, I read and responded to tons of IWSG blog posts, but I didn't post my first post until July 2016. That seems like such a long time ago now!

I wrote my first short story in response to the IWSG Anthology prompt of a ticking clock. I'd never written a short story before but an idea I loved popped into my head and it was selected for the anthology.

Having Until Release accepted and published was the boost I needed to start finding my way through Imposter Syndrome. If that hadn't happened, I'm not sure I would have ever had the confidence to publish.

Now, here we are in 2023 and I've published a nonfiction book on Dementia, 10 Bloo Moose Romances, 4 Small Town Heroes Romances (#5 Built Of Illusions releases on Sept 19!!) and I'm halfway through drafting the stories for my next series.

I'm so grateful to Alex for creating the IWSG and to the many (MANY!) friends I've discovered through the blogs. Not only is Alex a terrific author, he's a genuinely kind and generous human being!

So Happy Bloggiversary to Alex and the IWSG! Thanks for everything you do!!

How about you? Has the IWSG given you a much needed boost?

Brownies!

This was not the day to improvise. This was the day to follow the recipe to the letter. She wasn’t generally much of a recipe follower—or rule follower for that matter—but today, she’d do it exactly as prescribed.

The recipe called for the flour to be scooped into the measuring cup and then levelled off with a knife. Ridiculous, but she did it anyway. Same with the cocoa powder and the sugars.

Next, she cracked the eggs and whipped them gently in a small bowl. She measured out the other ingredients and set them in a row so she would be sure to add them in the correct order.

Melting good chocolate apparently required placing one bowl over a pot with boiling water inside. And not quite a rolling boil, something she’d never heard before but could now identify.

She used the whisk and whipped the chocolate with some butter. It did smell good. Really good. But taking a taste would maybe screw up the final results and that wasn’t acceptable. This had to be perfect. Just like mom used to make.

Once the mixture was in the preheated oven, she set the timer and cleaned up the mess. So many dishes just to make some brownies!

The timer finally beeped and she set the pan to cool. Another timer and when the brownies were cool enough, she cut them and put them on the flowered plate her grandmother loved so much.

Knowing how much the older woman hated a mess, she checked to make sure she didn’t have any stains on her clothes. Between that and the clean kitchen, there was no evidence she’d even been in the kitchen.

Perfect.

She knocked on her grandmother’s door and waited for her reply before entering.

“Those smell like Diane's brownies. No one makes brownies like you do, Diane.”

Her mother hadn’t been home for over a year. Who knew where she was this time. Her grandmother's face fell when she realized she wasn't the beloved Diane. “These are delicious. Tell your mother thank you. Why don’t you leave the plate?”

She smiled and nodded, then stepped out of the room.

When the next timer beeped, she wiped off the doorknob and entered her grandmother's room again. With her gloves on, she wiped off where she'd touched the plate and then checked to ensure the old woman was dead.

Slipping out the back door with her hood up, she headed for the subway. She’d be back in her dorm when someone called with the sad news.

And then she’d be rich.

Tagline: Not quite how mom used to make

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The above is part of the WEP Challenge for August. I hope you'll join in the challenge - we're always eager for more entries!

Obviously you don't have to know the movie (this is another one I haven't seen), but chocolate is a great prompt for all kinds of stories.

Check out the links above for some fabulous stories!

IWSG & Delete!

 The Insecure Writer's Support Group is the brainchild of Alex J. Cavanaugh. He, his clones, minions, friends, and fellow authors make it an amazing event every month.

Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds! 

August 2 question: Have you ever written something that afterwards you felt conflicted about? If so, did you let it stay how it was, take it out, or rewrite it?

All the time.

I'm an intuitive writer. The characters walk around in my head for a long time before they make it onto the page. They tell me their backstories and their hopes and dreams. They grudgingly admit their flaws and fears as well.

What they don't tell me is how the story is going to work.

So, yes, I sometimes feel conflicted by what I've written. But, overnight, my subconscious works it out and I delete whatever I've written and start again. Thankfully, I've learned to listen to my subconscious and I usually know within a day or two that things need to go, so I'm no longer deleting chunks of 25 thousand words (or entire stories...) like I've done in the past.

How about you? Are you another fan of the delete key? Are you an intuitive writer or a planner or both?

IWSG & Emotional Sparks

The Insecure Writer's Support Group is the brainchild of Alex J. Cavanaugh. He, his clones, minions, friends, and fellow authors make it an amazing event every month.

Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds! 

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July 5 question - 99% of my story ideas come from dreams. Where do yours predominantly come from?

Yikes! If I wrote from my dreams, I'd be writing horror or psychological thrillers and I'd probably never sleep again! #wimp

I don't really know...

My head is always popping with ideas, one of the advantages of having a bouncy brain. I think most of my story ideas start with an emotion. Usually, it's an emotion from the crisis scene (betrayal, fear, despair, panic...) although sometimes it's the opening scene where everything changes for the character.

The emotion comes attached to a character and then I know WHY they're feeling that emotion. Then I suddenly have backstory attached to the character.

My subconscious does a whole lot of the heavy lifting when it comes to story ideas - especially when the new character has been a secondary character in one or more stories.

For Built Of Second Chances (which just released last week!), the spark of the story was the feeling of total panic when a person who's been in witness protection for years meets up with someone who can put her at risk. But that person is someone she's always loved.

That was followed immediately by the emotion of the man who meets up with the woman he thought was dead. His emotion spark was betrayal and anger...with a bit of reluctant love tossed in.

My current WIP started with the emotion of a person grieving the death of her father and the terror of realizing his killer is after her too.

Those emotional sparks give me backstories to think about for a while and then my characters are ready to meet each other and I get to find out how they figure it all out.

How about you? Do your story ideas start with emotions, characters, settings, or plots? or something else? If you're a reader, what do you think was the spark for the author of the last great book you read?

Linca

Linca sighed when Jims entered the lab. He was such a pompous schmuck and she knew today was going to be a bad one because of her report from the day before.

Jims grinned at her. “How are your alien buddies today? Get any pings on the screens last night?”

She ignored him and kept her focus on her data. No one in the community wanted to hear her theories. They were all convinced she was ridiculous and gullible. Too imaginative for science.

She knew better. The data showed too many anomalies to be created by space debris. There were patterns she couldn’t ignore and those patterns weren’t random. Intelligent life had made them. Linca was convinced they were attempts at communication and that they were close.

Jims laughed loudly. “Nothing to say Linca? No incursions from little fuzzy blobs last night? Or maybe they’re slimy talking spheres?”

Linca’s skin flushed but she refused to be baited into a conversation that would only get worse if she responded. Instead she pulled up another screen and input the data she'd gathered from the bursts of light she’d spotted the day before.

Jims kept up his taunting, playing to the audience of other scientists in the room. Most of them refused to get involved, but a few snickered along.

Deciding to try something different, Linca copied the light burst data and sent it out through their own equipment on the top of the facility. Maybe she could record a reaction. When nothing happened immediately, she tried at a different angle. And again. Space was vast and even a 0.001% angle change covered a huge territory.

When her station beeped, it took her a moment to register that she had a response. Coincidence?

She input the data again, but this time she repeated it twice. It came back twice. When she changed it up again, the response changed as well. Was it some kind of echo? Had Jims played with her equipment?

A klaxon sounded and everyone in the room stilled. She sent out another light test. When it came back, Linca whispered into the room. “They’re answering.”

Complete silence greeted her until the klaxon sounded again. An automated voice announced. “Breach in the atmosphere above Quanta Station. Incoming object of unidentified origin and design.”

Linca leapt from her seat and out the door. She heard footsteps behind her as she raced to the lift. Jims squeezed in before the doors shut, his face flushed. “You’ve gone too far this time, Linca. If this is some kind of trick you've set up to make us believe your little theories, you're finished here.”

The doors opened and she didn’t bother answering as she raced for the final staircase. It was fifty steps up but she didn’t slow. At the top, she slipped on the protective breathing apparatus. A few steps behind her, Jims did the same. This time without sneering.

They stepped into the pressurized vestibule and waited while their cleaned air was exchanged for what covered their planet. No longer breathable by any of their species.

As soon as the doors opened, Linca raced forward onto the planet's surface. A huge shadow was the first sign, but it was quickly followed by an enormous shape dropping through the clouds. A huge cylinder surrounded by smaller cylinders on all sides.

She heard Jims muttering behind her but didn’t take her eyes off the enormous cylinder as it rotated and landing gear descended. It settled without a sound.

Linca approached slowly, watching for an indication of the beings that must be inside. Finally a section near the bottom slid away and a staircase lowered.

Three beings appeared. Taller than her species. Bipedal with two upper limbs as well. Similar to her own, but with longer limbs. Their faces in shades of brown sat atop their bodies and they had hair or fur on the tops of their heads.

They wore no protective equipment and didn’t seem bothered by the air as they descended. These beings could breathe oxygen.

Linca approached and stopped when she was close enough to converse. She’d imagined this moment so many times, she knew exactly what she wanted to say. She pointed to herself first. “Linca.” Then she added her species. “Trefalian.” Finally she gestured at the planet. “Trefalia.”

The being who had the most hair nodded and pointed at itself. “Hassan.” Then it pointed at its companions. “Chi. Karla.” Then it circled its hand to indicate them all. “Humans.”

Linca repeated the names as she pointed at each one. Then she used her hands to indicate them all. “Humans.”

The words were odd but easy to say, unlike some of the languages she’d imagined she might hear.

Each humans repeated Linca’s name as well as Trefalian and Trefalia.

Linca turned to bring Jims in on the conversation but he lay on the ground, arms flung to the side where he’d fainted.

With a grin, Linca turned to the humans and pointed backward. “Jims.” She refrained from adding schmuck, but it was a close call.

***

Tagline: Sometimes it's best to trust your gut, not your colleagues

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This post is part of the June WEP Challenge: Close Encounters. I loved this movie when I was a kid but haven't seen it in years. I mostly remember the music they used to communicate.

I hope you check out the challenge and I really hope you join in. We're always excited to have new people join! It's so much fun to see where the prompts take people. The first draft I wrote for this prompt involved an unexpected encounter with a bear, but that story disappeared somewhere so you get this one instead