Micro Fiction Monday: A Light in the Dark

The last thing you expect to hear at five am on the beach is singing. Maybe three hours earlier, when clubbers were still stumbling down the boardwalk, high on the intoxication of alcohol and a summer getaway. Maybe three hours later, when the families with young, early-riser children start to make their descent onto the beach, flooding the air with the scent of sunscreen and the sound of childish laughter. But not at five. Five is the transition point--the point where it stops being late, and starts being early. At five, some people are waking up, but no one is on the move—or even singing at all, for that matter.

And yet, I’m standing here in the moonlight, surrounded by the voice trickling down from God knows where.

I look across the boardwalk, but all the expensive villas, tourist shops…even the convenience store is dark. There isn’t a soul awake, a single window brightened. Except…

There is one single, giant lightbulb illuminated. It sweeps across the ocean, disappearing into the distance before rounding back again. In all the years I’ve been here, out of all the nights spent partying around bonfires on the beach, never have I seen the lighthouse functional.

Then again, never have I ever been out here at five am.

As I approach the towering monument, I start to see a figure standing in the window. A portion of the glass is propped open, allowing her song to drift down to the sand below. The song is unfamiliar, and the voice is the most stunning I’ve ever heard, but that’s not what sends me gaping at the building.

No, what catches me off guard is the long, billowing stream of human hair, flowing out the window and waving at me in the wind.

Micro Fiction Monday: Runaway

I ran away from home.

Was it really my home anymore? For sixteen years, I was lied to. The people I thought loved me, the women who I thought were my family, they were nothing but imposters. They lied to me about who I was, where I came from….even my damn name.

Some birthday present.

But Phillip…he’d help me. We met in town, one of the few times my aunts allowed me on the trip—I know why now. They were scared someone would recognize me, or them. That someone would realize what happened, that word would get back to…to that witch.

I didn’t care about the witch. I wasn’t scared. She wouldn’t come for me if I never went back to the palace.

The palace…for so long, it had been the image of dreams and hope. I could always see the tips of it above the trees, so close but so far. It used to be my favourite sight, and now I couldn’t even stand to think about it.

But Phillip could help me. We would run away, never turn back. It was our only chance. He said he had a birthday present for me, but I would sell whatever it was. Our life together would be my present. It’s all I wanted.

But getting lost in the woods is easy, even if you’ve spent your whole life navigating them. The trees begin to look the same, green blending with green until nothing looks familiar anymore.

The only thing leading me on was a black crow, always two feet ahead of me--my only hint that I wasn’t running totally blind.

Review: Off the Page by Jodi Picoult and Samantha Van Leer

WARNING!

The following is a review of the SEQUEL to Between the Lines, and as such, you probably shouldn't read it if you haven't read the first book!

Firstly: I am irrationally irritated that his novel has been continuously described and marketed as a companion to Between the Lines, because I REALLY REALLY REALLY don't think it is. This is really the second half of Delilah and Oliver's story, and you're really just missing out on a huge chunk of it if you pick up from here. This book is a continuation of its predecessor, and as such, it is a SEQUEL.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Off the Page picks up around three months after the end of Between the Lines, and Oliver and Delilah are living Happily Ever After (except not really because like high school and Mild Teen Drama and whatnot). The beginning was probably my least favourite part of the whole thing, simply because of the whole "fantasy-character-in-the-Real-Modern-World trope that the story had goin' on. And I mean, yes, it was definitely integral to the story, and if Oliver hadn't been stumbling over himself with all this new modern technology and societal standards that didn't exist in his book, then it would've been incredibly unrealistic, and I'd be complaining about it. I'm not even sure why I hate this trope so much, exactly...I just do. I tried to write a whole book revolving around it, and now I've all but rewritten the entire thing because I hated myself for doing it in the first place!

Anyhow. After they get over their Mild Teen Drama, and Oliver becomes a semi-competent teenager, things start to get interesting--the book starts to reject Oliver and Edgar's switch from the end of the first book, and starts to revert all of the changes Edgar made to the story to make it more fun for him--and now, it's trying to get Oliver back into the book.

Like I said before, I had a hard time getting into this story at first, but once the ball got rollin', I REALLY started to enjoy myself. This book played around with the magical components of the storybook a bit more, this time with a few more consequences than we saw in the first one. (Or at least, that I remember seeing..I should probably reread that book.) 

This book was the kind of book that you really can't take too seriously or think too hard about. I feel like they almost put too many magical rules in--I mean, I can get behind the whole all-magic-comes-with-a-price bit, but it was built up to be more complicated than it really needed to be, which only left me lost and confused. (Granted, I live most of my life in a constant state of lost and confused, so it's really not much different.)

THE ENDING THOUGH, OH MY GOD. Y'all KNOW how much I love a good ending, and this book gave me everything I hoped and dreamed for going into this book. 

The reason I loved Between the Lines in the first place was because it felt like I was reading a real modern day fairy tale--a fairy tale about fairy tales! What could be more perfect? And we all know that the best part about any fairy tale is the Happily Ever After, and God, do these books nail that. If I had to rate either book on its ending alone, it would get a perfect score.

And just like Between the Lines, Off the Page had some BEAUTIFUL illustrations that just tied the whole theme of the book together!

I think I initially rated this book 5 stars? Sure, let's go with that.

Until later,

- Justyne

Micro Fiction Monday: Envy

Jealousy can ruin a lot of things. It can destroy a friendship, or tear up a romance from the inside out. If the jealousy is strong enough, it can even rip a hole in a marriage, like a shard of glass slicing through your finger when you try to clean it up.

But if jealousy is a shard, envy is a sharpened knife, poised and ready for attack.

It was the poor man who was envious of the prince—the man who was both rich and handsome, loved and admired by al. The prince knew no hardships, not like the poor man.

So the poor man, who dabbled in magic, cast a spell on him. His beautiful features turned green and slimy, his life destined to be spent in a swamp. He would be unknown. He would be ugly. He would be miserable.

Mere days later, the prince returned, a beautiful princess bride on his arm. The curse was broken, his life now better than ever before.

The poor man, meanwhile, remained poor and alone. Envy may be sharp, but a knife slips easily. More often than not, it only injures the user.

~~

Until later,

- Justyne

Head Over Heels (Snippet Sunday)

Every Sunday I share a little snippet of writing from my vast collection with you, the people of the internet. This week's excerpt is taken from "That Damn Umbrella", the first in a collection of modern day fairy tales. Enjoy!

~~

It all started because I forgot my umbrella.

My car broke down on the side of the road, about a half a mile from my house, situated quite literally in the middle of nowhere. No neighbours, no convenience stores, not even a gas station. Just my old house, sitting amidst the trees and fields one would normally find while driving down an old dirt road in the country. My phone was dead, my car reduced to nothing but a hunk of junk, and my house was still a good fifteen or twenty minute walk down the old dirt road.

Oh, and it was raining. Just to put the icing on the cake that was my day.

It was just drizzling at first. I don`t need my umbrella, I thought. My jacket will do just fine, I thought.

You’d think I’d know better.

Lightning flashed across the night sky, and the thunder followed shortly after, rumbling through the dark emptiness around me. I shuddered as I tugged the hood of my jacket down farther over my head. Despite the fact that it was supposed to be a rain jacket, it sure as hell wasn’t doing much to protect me from the sharp droplets pelting against my body. The rain soaked through much too easily, chilling me to the bone. I ducked my head against the raging wind and trudged through the endless, muddy puddles, my feet squishing in my drenched shoes.

Why, oh why didn’t I bring my umbrella?

Another flash of lightning illuminated the sky, and I flinched at the thunder that followed. Storms have never really been my thing. Had it been this bad when I left my car, I would’ve locked myself in and stuck it out until I could walk home under sunshine the next day.

I guess Mother Nature had other plans for me.

Without the help of streetlights to guide me down the road, I was forced to use a flashlight to guide myself. My flashlight did the job well; it was the batteries, however, I was more worried about. The light emitting from my pocket-sized flashlight was beginning to flicker and waver, sending waves of uneasiness through my heart. I quickened my pace, which proved difficult along the muddy path in front of me. I prayed silently that someone would come driving by, but I held little hope.

Another flash of lightning brightened the road in front of me, and almost instantly, the beam of my flashlight went out entirely, leaving me in the darkness of the night. I cursed aloud, my voice lost in another rumble of thunder. Against my better judgement, I inched my way forward, taking a shaky breath to calm my nerves. 

I have made this trek countless times by car, but walking at night, alone, during a thunderstorm is an entirely different experience.

It happened in the blink of an eye. I stepped in a particularly muddy—and slippery—patch of road. My balance slipped slightly, and just when I thought I would steady myself and escape unscathed, a pair of hands pushed against my back. Next thing I knew, I was tumbling down the ditch at the side of the road and rolling into a patch of trees.

~~

Until later,

- Justyne