Let Me Tell You A Story.

A story is a lot like a room.

You start with nothing. An empty space.

Maybe it’s nice when you start. A clean slate. Or maybe it’s messy. Ideas can be messy. Most of mine are.

Then your idea begins to form into something more solid. A foundation, a framework.

But your story is only just beginning.

You begin to flesh it out. Give it walls, boundaries. Fashion a world with defined endings…but infinite possibilities.

It starts out a little rough. The future seems uncertain.

And sometimes it might seem like the story is heading in the wrong direction.

You make hard choices. Do you trust your first instinct? Do you change directions? Let a character fade out of existence or power through to see how they develop?

Fitting together different aspects, completely disjointed, might seem like a daunting task.

But it all works out in the end.

And as you add in the tiny details that make the story come alive, it will become something awesome. Something worth sharing.

This little space might not seem like much, but it’s mine. A cozy nook to go and write stories, create worlds, and talk to imaginary characters. I so look forward to adding the details to it as time goes on. But for now, it’s time to write!

Who is Ripley Prior?

In the not so distant future, mankind has been brought to the brink of extinction…and to the brink of the world.  Ripley Prior, our protagonist, is a mid-level, pencil-pushing worker in Sigil, the authoritarian power that rules over Santuary, a domed city located in Antarctica.

Ripley has always dreamed of being an Engineer, but it wasn’t meant to be.  Those jobs are always reserved for the Elves, who have the longevity and know-how to run the city without the need for the help of Human wannabes.  Day after day, he records numbers from vital system gauges, wishing he had the ability to do more with his life.

Ripley’s best friend, Felix, is an unmotivated Halfsie (half-Human, half-Elf).  He’s the one who is always stirring up trouble, which inevitably involves Ripley.  But when our story begins, his benign shenanigans give way to something much more ambitious…

 

A Pravacordian Nursery Rhyme

The children ran along the shore,
The sea rose up to greet them.
“Take care, beware, don’t linger there!”
Their elders did entreat them.

The sun shone down, the sand was warm,
Their words rang out, beguiling.
It seemed a dream, so right and clean,
What could the sea be hiding?

A step they took, into the surf
No fear found in their hearts.
So free, to be, upon the sea,
To never be apart.

Into the gentle froth they dove,
The sea rose up to greet them.
Too late, that’s that, no turning back,
The sea rose up to eat them.