And what about your brother, Agus? Will he be entertaining us with his pipes?”
“Agg,” Shanks rasped, wrinkling his nose. “I didn’t tell you? He ain’t with us no more.” A heavy fist slammed on the arm of the Viidun’s chair as he growled, “The idiot went off and got himself killed!”
“What?” Derian and Eena replied in unison, both horrified by the news.
“You heard me!” Shanks bellowed. “The crazy fool should’ve known when to duck. He died in a bloody challenge with some brainless Deramptium! A downright disgraceful way to die! I’m ashamed to say he was my brother!”
“That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?” Eena muttered, mostly speaking to Derian.
“What was that?” the Viidun demanded.
Derian whispered a hush to Eena. Addressing Shanks, he expressed their condolences. “We are truly sorry for your loss. Your brother will be sorely missed. On the other hand, we look forward to welcoming you and your crew aboard the Kemeniroc.” Derian held up his right hand, extending his thumb and two adjoining fingers. “Strength, truth, and honor, friend,” he said, ending their conversation.
“Strength, truth, and honor,” Shanks repeated.
The screen went black. The captain turned to Eena who was still in shock.
“You have to understand,” he explained, “the Viiduns are a fiercely competitive people with proud, warring ways. Their culture doesn’t call for much sympathy, especially when it appears one of their own has failed to live up to expectations.”
Eena was still disturbed by the lack of compassion. “But that was his brother.”
“I know. I can hardly believe it myself. Shanks and Agus were very close. They traveled everywhere together. All I can figure is it’s easier for Shanks to express his anger than his anguish.”
“After all that, I’m not sure I want to meet him in person. He scares me,” she admitted.
Derian laughed. “He scares everyone. That’s why you want to keep him as an ally and not make him an enemy.
Mots clés warrior richelle shanks richelle-goodrich eena derian agus viidun
Have you ever felt as if your dreams were more memorable, more alive, than what you knew to be reality? Have your dreams ever seemed so tangible as to make you question upon waking if you’d truly only dreamt them? Have they at times been addictive enough to consume your waking hours; blurring actuality and pretend together until your wishes and passions stare back at you with open eyes?
If only dreams could be reality, that beautiful garden of sweet-smelling roses we all long for. But reality for me is no such bed of roses. It is nothing but a field of unwanted dandelions."
- From the thoughts of Annabelle Fancher
Mots clés dreams fantasy child-abuse abuse dandelions richelle annabelle richelle-goodrich annabelle-fancher
My fingers combed through my dark hair, short and straight, landing in choppy, uneven ends nearly level with my chin. The color reminded me of every evil character in any fairy tale. It seemed all were characteristically black; black hair, black eyes, black clothing, black demeanor, and black intent. I never thought I was truly a villainous character, not like I knew my father to be, but I was his offspring and devoid of any princess-like characteristics, so that left only the wicked side of the story to play.
In my dreams, though, I imagined myself more like Snow White―wavy, raven hair, a perfectly fair complexion, bathed in rose scents, and exhibiting a natural feminine grace that would dance musical circles around both Ginger and Elizabeth. No, I never hoped for such a thing to be real, but I dared to pretend it with perfect clarity in my dreams.
Mots clés black wishful-thinking dandelions richelle annabelle richelle-goodrich
He panted over me, winded by his own absurd lecture. The stench of his alcoholic breath stung my nose. Again I didn’t answer. I hoped he’d tire out and end his speech and hobble back to the living room without touching me. Such hopes were unlikely, as was the case this time.
“Answer me, you good-for-nuthin’ wench!”
The pain bit instantly as his hand connected with my cheek. I shook my head in answer to his crazy questions, feeling a rise of warm tears.
Mots clés fear alcoholism child-abuse abuse dandelions richelle annabelle richelle-goodrich
Dare to imagine. Dare to be.
Books are the seeds. Dreams are the soil.
The fruit of the harvest, a world reborn.
Mots clés reading books dreams dandelions richelle annabelle richelle-goodrich
Monsters excite us in this way or that.
They make our pulse thrum and steal lives from the cat!
They're frightening creatures, one peek and you'll see.
Yet life without monsters, how dull it would be.
Your tense, nervous laugh tells me you disagree?
Mots clés monsters richelle richelle-goodrich fun-quote
Gavin stood within the trees, observing her from the shadows. He watched the basket rise to her nose as she closed her eyes to sniff at its contents. A smile told him it smelled delicious, but she didn’t open the container to pinch off a sample. Instead, the basket lowered to swing at her side as it had previously done.
All at once the air was filled with soft singing--a sweet, merry tune comprised of ludicrous lyrics. It was impossible not to grin at the words.
“Rainbows paint the sky ‘til the sun melts their colors.
Swinging in the wind, whiskered cattails purr.
The pigs gallop by and snort at the moon,
While frogs kiss the lizards and princesses too.”
Mots clés dreams singing dreamland richelle annabelle gavin richelle-goodrich secrets-of-a-noble-key-keeper
When the girl didn’t move, Gavin summoned her near with his fingers. His heart thrummed as she obeyed, stepping up close to him. Her young stature was much shorter than his tall, wiry form. Gavin regarded her prettiness - pale cheeks, pink lips, inquisitive eyes. Fascinated by her, he longed to know her name.
“Who are you?” he asked. He heard the girl utter the same question at the same time.
Cocking his head, he claimed, “I asked you first.”
“No you didn’t,” she protested, shaking her red-hooded head, “I asked you at the same time you asked me.”
Gavin grinned at her insistence. It was hard for him not to chuckle. “Well, then, I suppose we’ll have to go with ‘girls first’.” His grin widened into a white smile.
The girl gestured to herself. “I’m Little Red Riding Hood.”
He recognized the name of a fairy tale character, and groaned under his breath at not having discovered this dreamer’s real name.
“Actually,” she confessed almost immediately, “I’m not really Red Riding Hood. My name is Annabelle, but I’m pretending to be her because……well……because this is my dream and that’s what I wish to dream about.”
Oh glorious day! He’d learned her name! Annabelle! Annabelle! What a perfectly sweet sound was this utterance of…..Annabelle.
Mots clés dreams dreamland richelle annabelle gavin richelle-goodrich secrets-of-a-noble-key-keeper
The fact is, the man who’d begotten me didn’t want me. In his eyes I should never have been born. And perhaps that would’ve been best. As it was, my existence had proven to be nothing more than a nuisance for everyone. I angered my father, brought strife upon my mother, irritated my teachers, and annoyed the other children who were forced to interact with me in school. All by simply being.
When you aren’t loved, you aren’t real. Life is cold, like the stone against my palm.
Mots clés child-abuse abuse richelle annabelle unwanted unloved richelle-goodrich
The interruption did nothing but earn her a similar slap, as I’m sure she knew it would. Sometimes I wondered if my mother spoke up at the wrong time on purpose. As often as we endured my father’s abuse, she had to be aware that it wouldn’t save me from a beating but simply earn her one as well. Or was it that sharing my fate made her feel less guilt-ridden about those things that happened to me?
Richelle E. GoodrichMots clés fear guilt child-abuse abuse dandelions richelle annabelle richelle-goodrich
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