Lena Corazon

Flights of Fancy

Month: June 2012

ROW80: Barely Squeaking By

Oh man, I cannot believe I have missed two ROW80 check-ins in a row. It’s definitely not my usual speed, but there’s a lot going on right now. Classes just ended this week, final exams are due next week, and I’m moving 300 miles back to my parents’ house at the very end of the month. So I am a bit distracted, shall we say, but I am here cheering on all my ROWing friends in spirit, if not “in the flesh.”

However, there has been *some* progress along the way. Here’s how things have gone over the last couple of weeks:

Day Job: So. Much. Work. I have been buried under books and journal articles for what feels like weeks, trying to finish a 25 page term paper on 19th century Catholic nuns for the course I’m taking on religion and gender.  However, the absolute best thing to happen to me is that I met with my dissertation advisor on Tuesday, and we decided that the topic  can be merged with my nascent dissertation topic.

This is a really, really, really good thing for a million reasons, not the least of which is that I have a direction at last. Better yet, it’s a direction that I enjoy, one that makes me happy, and kicks my little sociologist brain in gear.

I am going to have my work cut out for me this summer, honing and refining my central research questions, but I feel passionate about this project for the first time in a while. And where there’s passion, I’d like to think that we can do anything.

Writing: Yup, this is where I’m “barely squeaking by.” Work on my main novels has been stalled by the day job, though I have been trying to tweak little things here and there when I have a spare moment. So I don’t let myself get too rusty, I decided to sign up for my first flash fiction challenge in a few months: ‘Timony Souler’s June round of the “Dice Games.” I’ve been a little slow at posting my fills, but I’ve finished 2 out of 3:  “Liberty,” about a lady assassin, her trusty blade, and a final mission; and “Worthless?“, which involves a pair of supernatural hunters, zombies, and a lovers’ quarrel.

Exercise: I’ve been working out on an average of 4 times each week, so I’m not doing *too* terribly here. Listening to audiobooks while walking has definitely made exercising much more enjoyable.

Social Media: Er… what is social media again? *hangs head in shame*

And finally, here are the awesome things that have been on my reading and watching lists:

I had a blast with a little time travel romance by way of Susanna Kearsley’s THE ROSE GARDEN and fellow ROW-er Jennette Marie Powell‘s TIME’S FUGITIVE (the 2nd book in her Saturn Society series). Kearsley’s protagonist, Eva, is grappling with the death of her older sister and finds herself in Cornwall, reconnecting with old family friends. There, she learns that she can “slip through time,” and ends up falling in love with an eighteenth-century smuggler. It reminds me a bit of Diana Gabaldon‘s OUTLANDER — rich description, evocative prose, lots of romance (although nothing as explicit as Gabaldon’s work), and haunting. I wasn’t sure how things would be resolved

While TIME’S FUGITIVE is also involves romance and time-travel, it’s much heavier in the science-fiction elements than THE ROSE GARDEN. Powell does an amazing job exploring the “butterfly effect” conundrums that can accompany time travel. There’s lots of tension, lots of excitement, and lots of twists and turns that I loved. I was so enthralled with the plot that I devoured the book in a single sitting, which says a lot. 😀

Finally, I read Lindsay Buroker‘s ENCRYPTED. Like all of her other books, this one was funny, fast-paced, and hugely enjoyable. There was one question that ran through my mind as I read, and that was, “Why the hell did I wait so long to read it?”

The watching list is a long one, since my friends and I have been hitting the theaters like crazy over the past couple of weeks. Here’s what we’ve seen, in bullet form:

  • What to Expect When You’re Expecting: Blech. I was dragged to this against my will, and I thought it might maybe be terrible-funny, but no, it was just terrible. Pathetic writing, lame jokes, regressive notions of gender, fat-shaming, stupid “let’s-adopt-an-African-baby” subplot… the list goes on. Not even a bare-chested Joe Manganiello doing one-armed pull-ups could save this one for me.
  • The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel: Also known as “that movie with all my favorite old British actors.” Despite the middling reviews, and the fact that my friends and I were the only people in the theater under 60, I loved this. The movie was a good blend of funny and heartfelt, with three-dimensional characters that I cared about (it’s always nice when characters, you know, grow and evolve). The entire cast is wonderful, but Judi Dench, Maggie Smith, and Bill Nighy really stood out to me.
  • Snow White and the Huntsman: I could devote an entire blog post (maybe two or three) to why I was so disappointed with this movie. Instead, I will link to Tor.com’s review, as it pretty much sums up everything that bugged me (Terrible writing! Poor worldbuilding! A protagonist that hardly freaking speaks!).
  • Dark Shadows: Yet another movie that I got dragged to, as my desire to see Battleship for all its terrible glory (and Alexander Skarsgard, and Taylor Kitsch, despite the horrid haircut) was overruled at the last minute. Even though the movie departs from television show, I mostly enjoyed it. Johnny Depp is, once again, absolutely fantastic, Eva Green is an amazing antagonist, and Michelle Pfieffer pretty much kicks ass. The last third of the movie, however, sorta goes off the rails. Not really sure what the writers were thinking, to be honest (Seth Grahame-Smith, I’m side-eyeing you).
  • Prometheus: Okay, so I’ll admit that my expectations for this movie might have been a tad too high, but I was disappointed. It is visually stunning — I would actually pay $10 just to look at the darn thing — but I’m not too sure what happened with the script. I found myself hating most of the characters, with the exception of Michael Fassbender’s delightfully creepy android, David, and the ship’s captain, played by Idris Elba (aka my new mancrush).

Next on my list: finishing Seth Grahame-Smith’s ABRAHAM LINCOLN, VAMPIRE HUNTER before the film comes out, seeing Hysteria in theaters on Tuesday, and wrapping up season 1 of Jason Isaac’s miniseries, Case Histories.

…and that’s me for this week! I will be retreating back into the reading/writing/working cave, but hopefully I’ll be able to manage a check-in for the last week of Round 2. Hope everyone’s doing okay!

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Dice Games, Day 2: “Worthless?”

Okay, I got a little distracted from the #DiceGames fest this week, so my last 2 fills are a little late. But better late than never, no?

For Day 2, I rolled a 2. The prompt: Write a love story. Blood and gore mandatory.

I thought I’d have a bit of fun with this one, so here, have a couple of supernatural hunters, a horde of zombies, and a lovers’ tiff. This piece of flash fiction tried to run away with me, but I managed to shave it down to 750 words exactly.

And don’t forget to check out the fills from the other intrepid #DiceGames writers while you’re at it!

-oOo-

“Worthless?”

Fighting zombies was no time for a lovers’ quarrel, but Gareth had learned long ago that his beloved wasn’t like most women. A young lady of refinement would never be caught armed to the teeth with knives and pistols, nor would she spend her days tracking supernatural creatures to kill them in the most brutal way possible.

That was exactly why he loved Serenity. Her jealous streak, however, was another story altogether.

“I know you were looking at her.” Her voice, sharp with accusation, was loud enough to be heard above the noise of battle.

“Spirits be damned, Serenity, I love you.” The gravitas of his declaration was lost in his rather unmasculine screech as blood fountained from the monster before him, its head suddenly missing.

“Keep up,” she snapped, whirling away from the spurting corpse. Her katana flashed in the sunlight.

Grunting, he adjusted his grip on the crossbow, picking off two more of the shambling creatures before they could close in on her. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Sorry, I’m too busy trying to keep your worthless hide alive.”

He winced. “Worthless” wasn’t exactly the word he’d use to describe himself. He might’ve been more comfortable with a stack of books than he was with a weapon, but in the 2 years since Serenity had hauled him out of his library and proved that monsters existed, he’d become a fairly proficient hunter.

Pushing his silver-rimmed spectacles up the bridge of his nose, Gareth pulled a pistol out of his holster and emptied the rounds into the last creature. It tottered, stumbled backwards, and fell with a satisfying thud to the ground.

That’s when things went to hell.

A dozen more zombies were on them in the flash of an eye. Serenity leapt into the fray, a blade in each hand as she sought to keep them back. Gareth loosed his arrows upon the horde with breathtaking speed, until the crossbow was ripped out of his hand.

The zombie had him in its undead grasp before he could sneeze, lifting him a half-foot into the air. He struggled wildly, legs kicking out, but his attempts were completely ineffectual.

When was he going to learn to stop showing off?

The zombie’s hand tightened around Gareth’s throat, cutting off his screams. Spots danced before his eyes, and he wondered, absurdly enough, whether the creature would rip his head off or merely choke him to death.

He never got the chance to find out. He found himself crashing to the ground instead, the zombie toppling over a moment later. Putrid goo oozed from the body and puddled around Gareth, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.

Still alive. Still breathing. Shocking, really.

A shadow dropped over him, and Serenity’s face swam into view. Blood and gore stained her clothing; the squishy gray bits flecked on her cheek must’ve belonged to some poor zombie’s brain. Still, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He grinned up at her with all the enthusiasm of a psychotic.

“Maybe ‘worthless’ wasn’t the right word.”

His heart expanded in a swell of satisfaction. Maybe it only took half-dying for her to notice? “That’s right, ma’am.”

Her dark brows furrowed, her lips twisting in disapproval. “‘Reckless’ might be more accurate.”

Oh. Not quite the compliment he’d been hoping for. The silence stretched out between them, but she broke it at last, an unexpected grin brightened her face.

“Looks like I’ve managed to corrupt you at last. Never thought I’d live to see the day,  Mr. Mountbatten.”

“Done more than that. You stole my damned heart while you were at it.” He inhaled gingerly, wincing at the pain that lanced his body. Bruised ribs, perhaps?

It didn’t matter. Gareth had things to say, and he wasn’t going to let petty injuries stop him. “I’m not lookin’ at anyone else. You’re the only one I want, Serenity Vega.”

She was silent as she knelt beside him, but her fingers lingered over his cheek with unexpected tenderness. “I know.” Her voice scarcely more than a whisper. “You have my heart, Gareth.”

Gently, she pulled him against her, cradling his head in her lap and pressing her lips to his forehead. His delight was slightly dimmed by her next words.

“If I catch you staring at another buxom barmaid’s assets ever again, I will personally castrate you.”

He could only chuckle in response and nuzzle in closer. No, Serenity wasn’t like other women, but she suited Gareth just fine.

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Dice Games, Day 1: “Liberty”

I’m busy trying to survive the end of the school year, but I wanted to tiptoe in and post this bit of flash fiction for ‘Timony Souler’s June edition of the Dice Games. The rules are simple:


You will roll a die – THREE TIMES

Each number you roll will give you a PROMPT (Which can be found HERE)

You will post a piece (between 250 and 750 words) on Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

For Day 1, I rolled a 6, which gave me the following: You fly off to a foreign country to meet a stranger – how does that work out?

The fill is 739 words long, with a bit of dialogue swiped from one of my favorite films. Many internet brownies to those who can identify the movie. 😛

There are nine other writers taking part in the challenge, so be sure to check out their work as well.

-oOo-

“Liberty”

The air is oppressively heavy, weighed down by the stench of sweat, smoke, petrol fumes, and a thousand other scents too foreign for Ara to identify. Five minutes beyond the air-conditioned confines of the ship, and her shirt is already plastered to her skin with perspiration.

The docks are a microcosm of the madness that has overtaken the sprawling, overcrowded nation of Hynnash. Here, a multitude of bodies collide and coalesce, swirling together in a melee that is dizzying and disorienting.

Ara’s only comfort is the thin silver blade concealed within her left hand. Solid and cool to the touch, it steadies her frayed nerves like an old friend, a confidant that holds all of her secrets. In a way, it is true. Her blade knows with deep intimacy all of the blood she has spilled over the years, the identities of every man and woman to fall beneath her fatal blow.  There is no other companion that she trusts more completely.

If she is lucky, there is but one more life to claim: the fugitive warlord known only as The Stranger. Intelligence states that he is aboard his personal yacht, where he will remain for the next three days before slipping deeper into Hynnash’s impenetrable jungles. The task that she faces is a simple one, save for the challenge of finding the yacht amidst the thousands of dinghies, boats, and watercraft of all shapes and sizes lining the three-mile stretch of shore.

But Ara has never known failure. With fluid grace, she melts into the press of bodies, slipping through the crowds with otherwordly ease. Fifteen years of the hunt has honed her into the perfect predator, calm, cool, and patient. However, it is not the thrill of the chase that propels her forward, but the tantalizing promise of freedom.

How long has it been since she lived for herself? How long has she killed, hoping with every strike of the blade to destroy yet another shard of her shattered heart? She can hardly remember what it was like before she was a servant to the Hierarchy, one of the many cloaked assassins sent in to do their dirty work.

If she can complete this last task, her final dance with death, she will be free. Likely she will spend the rest of her life dodging old enemies, avoiding new ones, confined to the shadowy, dark places in the world. It is a bleak future, but it is hers. She can’t help but cherish it.

The sun is making its downward arc into the sea when she sees the yacht. It is a splash of pure white against the blinding blue sky, with a single word painted on its side in crimson: Liberty. Her lips quirk in the barest hint of a smile. Ironic, but fitting.

There is a bustle about the boat, with workers bustling to and fro, loading crates into the hold. Her curiosity is piqued, but she quickly suppresses it. Her business is with The Stranger.

In spite of the bodyguards stationed on either side of the entrance, Ara slips through the doors unseen. Her pulse is rapid, adrenaline coursing through her body as she seeks out her prey. She bypasses empty rooms, her intuition leading her up narrow stairs and out to the upper deck.

The Stranger is there, alone. He stands with his back to her, facing the water. His silhouette is long and lean; the gentle breeze stirs his long, dark hair. At the sight, memory wakes within her, the pain sharp and piercing in that place where her heart once beat: the thrum of passion, the ecstasy of love, the wrenching emptiness of death.

She knows him.

He turns towards her then, though she knows she hasn’t made a sound. Those blue eyes cut straight to her soul, sharper and more deadly than the blade clutched in her hand. When he smiles, those lips curving into a benediction that is all at once gentle, loving, and welcoming, she feels her knees threaten to buckle beneath her.

She manages to remain upright, but her voice is guttural when she speaks, rough and raw with unshed tears. “Where the hell have you been?”

His answer is simple. “Waiting for you.”

Somehow, no other explanation is needed. She hardly feels the blade slip from her fingers, doesn’t even hear its splash when it sinks beneath the waves.

Liberty. It is a fitting name.

 

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