New Fanfiction – Walker: Independence

Posted in Posts by Rachael C Marek

I enjoy Westerns. I like the genre. For some reason, I’m all about the drama that often unfolds when an uptight Easterner travels West and clashes with the wildness of the lawless land.

I also relish in the potential for a star-crossed lover moment – Last of the Mohicans is one of my favorites. So, this show, Walker: Independence kept popping up on my list of “recommendations” and out of curiosity, I decided to give the first episode a look-see. It’s not a great show, but it had potential, and some of the episodes and topics touched upon were good, but because of what I saw in those first few minutes…I was inspired to write a new fan fiction.

There is absolutely something going on between the two characters above, Abby and Calian, and despite the series only being one season of 13 episodes, there is plenty of subtly between them to examine and expand upon. Who knows what the show’s writers intended for these two, but if you watch their interactions, you’ll see what I saw.

So, yeah. Here we go again.

If you’re unfamiliar with the CW show now on HBOMax, Abigail Collins and her husband, Liam are on their way to the town of Independence, TX where Liam is to be the new sheriff. One night, when they stop to rest, an unseen shooter attacks them, killing Liam and leaving Abby for dead.

Abby is saved by Calian, and healed by his tribe, who give her the Apache name “Walks in Tall Grass”. Once she’s recovered, she travels to town to inform them about what’s happened, and runs into the new-new sheriff, Tom Davidson, who she is certain is the shooter. Abigail Collins, now Abby Walker (see what they did there?) along with Calian and an outlaw named Hoyt join forces to stop Tom and his family from enacting whatever plans they have for the town.

I’ve put myself on a strict self-imposed writing goal of one chapter per episode per week. I don’t want to linger and think too much. I just want to write. I’m currently writing chapter 5.

After watching the show and seeing Abby and Calian’s relationship not really go anywhere thanks to having only 13 episodes, I checked out Archive of Our Own to see if anyone else had written about them. They had not. Not only were there no fics about these two, there were only a handful of fics in total. Talk about a small fandom.

The fic is titled, Through Calian’s Eyes and it’s rated PG (for now). This was a CW show, so it’s pretty tame, but I’m having thoughts, so the rating may change in the last chapter which would be non-canonical. I’m sharing Chapter One, and eventually it will get its own section under the Scribbles heading here, but if you’re interested, you can follow along over on AO3.

I hope you enjoy!

Untitled Pilot aka And Then There Were Three

It was warm on the prairie. It was the kind of day where the heat rising from the plains could play tricks on the eyes, but Calian knew the difference between worlds, or so he thought. When his little sister appeared to him, leading him when needed, he knew it wasn’t her. It had been many years since she had gone missing, and the figure that showed itself to him was her young self, not the woman she would have become in the years since, and yet he followed her, every time.

This time, she ran amidst the swirls of light spiraling off the land, leading him further than she had before until she finally stood still and pointed to a blue-green blur a short distance away –

– a woman.

A white woman…teetering on the edge of death.

She had been shot. Left for dead. From the look of her, she had walked a good distance before collapsing under the desert sun. Her alabastor skin was made even more fair by the compliment of copper colored waves surrounding her. Her features were so unlike his own, and yet there was something about her Calian couldn’t name, a deep seeded desire to help her, and not only because his sister had brought him to find her. Calian contemplated the consequences of being discovered with her. The townspeople were quick with their vile thoughts, believing his people capable of every type of ill intent.

But he couldn’t leave her.

There was still life in her. Her golden green eyes fluttered just once, but that was all the encouragement Calian needed.

She was small in his hands, and a fierce emotion of protection flooded his entire being. It was a feeling unlike anything he had felt before. He didn’t know what it meant, and he could never guess at what it would mean for him in the future, but at that moment, he knew he needed to safeguard her.

He took her home.

To his people.

Days later, when her golden green eyes fluttered open again, Calian was sure to be the first face she saw. His friend, Augustus had told him once that he had a kind face, and he knew for a woman, such as her, the emotion he could evoke would most likely be of comfort to her when she discovered where she was.

He was still concerned for her overall well being, but he was also curious about her. How had she come to such state? Who wished to inflict such pain upon her? The placement of the shot in her shoulder had meant to wound her, not kill her, at least not right away, so was she still in danger? He held her gaze, and found her eyes entrancing, and noticed, she, too, found it difficult to look away.

Despite her circumstances, and her initial fear, being near him had brought her a sense of calm. He could feel it. “How are you feeling?” He tried to keep his voice steady.

“How…how long have I been here?” She looked around nervously. Realizing she was in her smallclothes, she made a little effort to bring the blanket closer upwards in a discreet move of modesty.

“Four days.” Her face registered her disbelief, but Calian continued. “We found you in the plains. The Elders healed you.”

Her first thought was of thanks, something he appreciated more than he should have, but he quickly realized it was, in part, because of the way she looked, and what treatment he had become accustomed to from those that looked like her. She was surrounded by strangers, those reviled by the settlers, but she didn’t have the same look in her eye that he was used to seeing. She didn’t shrink away from him. Maybe they thought differently in Boston.

She tried to rise, but she was still in pain.

“Where are you from?” He tried to distract her.

“Boston. It’s east, in…”

“Massachusetts.” He found it delightful that she was surprised by his knowledge. “I’ve read of Boston.”

“Where did you learn to speak..?”

“I used to scout for the US Cavalry.”

His people whispered behind them. They did not like how comfortable he and the woman seemed to be, but it amused Calian all the same.

Her ears perked up when she heard the same phrase uttered a few times.

Djon-deh-zee.

“What…what does that mean? Djon-deh-zee?” Tears continued to pool, but he could see the strength behind the sadness too.

“Walks in Tall Grass. What they call you.” He couldn’t keep the smile from his lips.

“My-my name is Abigail. Abigail Collins.”

“I’m Calian.”

And then her sorrow had reason. A husband. Past tense. “..supposed to be sheriff…” She asked if Calian knew where the town of Independence was, which, of course, he did.

She was hopeful, and he couldn’t deny her.

After she rested, now that she had finally awakened, Calian took Abigail to the hilltop that overlooked the valley where the new town was expanding. Calian stood a respectful distance from her.

“I need to tell them what happened.” Her voice held a certain resolve.

“Find Deputy Augustus. He’s a good man.” Calian turned back toward his horse, a strange knot in his chest. “He’ll help you.”

“You aren’t coming with me?” He saw the disappointment on her face, heard it in her voice.

“Some might not want to see an Apache with a white woman.” Saying what so many believed aloud was almost as painful as leaving her.

“Well, that should change.”

He knew she meant it, and that was a salve to his soul. “Maybe one day.” He smiled again as he mounted his horse.

“Thank you. I hope to see you again.”

He responded in Apache, hoping to leave an impression on her. And then they each turned, not willing to watch the other leave.

When evening fell, Calian felt compelled to return to the ridge that overlooked the town – to where he had said his farewell to the intriguing woman who had so quickly turned his head. He sat quietly alone, wrestling with the warring emotions within him. He wanted to go to town, he wanted to find Abigail, to see her again, but given who he was, he knew the town would be suspicous of him, even in spite of everything he had done for them.

And as if on cue, Gus rode up to greet him. “Little bank robbery earlier.”

“Been a while.”

“Yeah. Took a hostage. A woman. Folks at the bank said her name was Abby. Abby Walker.” Calian knew Gus was fishing, he just wasn’t sure why. He had told Abigail she could trust Augustus, and she would have mentioned Calian’s name, but Gus was looking for something more. He could still hear Gus talking, but the words stopped holding meaning as his mind wandered. Something struck him.

Walker. She had taken her Apache name.

Such knowledge brought him a great deal of joy.

Gus rounded his horse around Calian, and Calian took the moment to calm himself. “I’ll track her first daylight.” He knew, at least in some part, that was what Gus wanted from him, so he obliged.

It was also an opportunity to see her again.

“Yeah. Or…you can ride down with me.” They looked at one another, an unspoken conversation between old friends happened in a matter of moments until Calian acquiesced and obliged Gus again. Together they rode into town.

Calian was unaware of the celebration happening to honor the new sheriff when he arrived, so he kept to the shadows, to the outskirts of the townsfolk so he could observe the happenings without being noticed. There was singing and gun fire and dancing girls and then there was Abby…with a man.

They looked like they knew one another. They were speaking in hushed tones, their faces were twisted as if tight with anger or stress. She had made a fast friend, so it seemed, and a pang of jealousy struck Calian’s heart. Would he ever be as fortunate to find himself in her confidence? To stand close to her, in the view of any and everyone.

He turned away, frustrated.

What he had not seen, and what he would not know for some time was that Abby had tried to kill the new sheriff. She believed him responsible for her husband’s murder, and Hoyt had intervened and saved her. He would be grateful to the man later, but just then, he did not like how close the stranger was able to stand beside Abby.

The next morning, Calian tracked Abby to the site of her attack. He could hear her cry out as she found her husband’s body. He also heard the click of her “friend’s” gun.

He called out her Apache name first, so she would know it was him. He tried to keep the disdain out of his voice as he followed up with, “Tell your friend not to shoot.”

He heard her reassure her friend that she knew him, and while he approached her cautiously, he could see she was relieved to see him again. It caused yet another pang to his heart that he could not control.

“And then there were three.” Her friend, Hoyt said. Calian didn’t quite understand the reference yet, but he would.

Abby picked up a tossed aside rifle, as if it might bring her strength, and then she asked, “Will you help me bury him?”

They did.

He spoke reassuring words in Apache, “There is no death. Only a change in worlds.” He knew she couldn’t understand him, but he hoped his presence would bring her some comfort. “His soul goes to the air now.” It was what his people believed, and he tossed some of the dirt at the grave to the air symbolically. Abby, too, offered her own rite of passage, the placing of her ring upon the stones that marked the burial. Hoyt then spoke words of solace, something more appropriate for their people, and it all seemed to bring her closure.

As they left, Abby spoke of a conversation Calian had not been privy to, about revenge. But she had learned something about herself in a short time. She wanted justice for what had happened to her and her husband.

She had found a sense of belonging in Calian’s absence or maybe because of his presence. He found himself truly hoping it was, in part, the latter. In spite of everything he knew of this land, he had discovered a sliver of hope he never thought possible. He knew it was too soon to think such thoughts – they were from different worlds – they might never be accepted – she was in mourning – but he had been destined to find her, and he could not deny their connection. He had no idea what might be in store for them, but he was willing to risk a great deal to find out.

He couldn’t stay away from her. He didn’t want to. And he was willing to bear Hoyt’s presence to be by her side. “And then there were three.” Hoyt had said. Calian now understood.

~ * ~

Are you a fan fic writer? Are you working on something different from your usual? Wanna share so we can all support you? Drop a link in the comments.

Happy Writing!

10Dec2025

2025 Year End Review

Posted in Posts by Rachael C Marek

Here we are again.

The end of another year.

How?!

I simultaneously believe, every year, that I’ve done well with my goals and yet, still not done enough. Since I started my annual goal setting, I definitely feel more productive. There’s a way to measure progress and reflect on the year and see the incremental improvements, and yet as we reach December, every year, I am hard on myself. I always think I could have done more.

So let’s see what I did this year…

Writing Goals

Write a new script. I wrote a whopper, Man of Sin, which is currently sitting at 242 pages.
Write 16 new flash fictions. Completed in July.
Have at least one more script, in addition to Fate(s), be show ready. I rewrote Projection and I love it.
Write more fan fiction. If you know me, you would imagine it was going to be more Dragon Age. I planned on it, but shockingly, it was not. I started an entirely new project based on the show, Walker: Independence. That’s a story for another day.
Create a condensed, all in one place, idea journal. Check

Fails – I did not update my blog as often as I’d hoped, nor did I create a show bible for my tv series, The Demeter .

Reading Goals

Because I wanted to write more this year, I set my reading bar low – only 12 books this year. I’m still deciding on book twelve, so I’m sure I won’t finish it within the time frame.

Favorite book: Mila 18 by Leon Uris

Movie Watching Goal

For a couple of years there, I was trying to watch one new movie a week. Easy enough, you would think, but with so many good shows, gaming, and writing and reading to be done, it was a hard goal to maintain. I made a more tangible goal a few years ago, two movies a month. Much easier to hit.

Favorite Movies: Sinners and Superman (both available on HBO)

TV Watching Goal

Trying to keep up with all of the streaming services and their original programming is difficult when you have so many interests. My goal was to watch at least one season of 12 new shows = one new show a month. Officially, I watched 12 new series (some with multiple seasons), but didn’t finish one. It just didn’t grab me.

Favorite Shows: Interview with a Vampire (AMC & Netflix), Black Doves (Netflix), and Fleabag (Prime)

Duolingo

When we upgraded our phones last year, I downloaded the Duolingo app and set myself the goal of learning French, a language I had studied in high school and college, for at least a year and a half = roughly 547 days. As of today I’m at 617 days with a perfect streak of 11 weeks. Yay!

50th Birthday Celebration

We have little dogs with health issues, so we don’t travel often, or at all. Hawaii was 7 years ago now. ((weeps silently to herself)) I wanted to go on a trip for my 50th. London, to be specific. I started doing some research, looked at flights, and then one of The Sis’s favorite bands, System of a Down announced six North American show dates, two in Chicago with one of her other favorite bands, Avenged Sevenfold. It was a no-brainer. We were going to Chicago. Happy Birthday to me us!

I’ll share details of the trip soon, but it was so wonderful to get away and see new sights, meet new and old friends, and let The Sis enjoy, what she considers, the greatest concert she’s ever been to.

Well. There you have it.

Couldn’t ask for a better goal achieving moment for the year.

How’d your year shape up? Wanna celebrate any of the goals you made?

Here’s to a continuously more productive new year!

xx, Rach

16Jul2025

Writing Prompt Challenge Accepted #34

Posted in Posts, Writing Prompt by Rachael C Marek

Today marks the official completion of one of my goals for the year –

16 flash fiction pieces written based on writing prompts I’ve shared, bringing my total to 90.

A small victory, but satisfying nonetheless, and something to celebrate, as all completed goals deserve.

Here are July’s offerings:

Unlocked

All houses had their secrets. The older the house, the greater the number of secrets it held. Everyone had heard the whispers of what happened in my house, long before I was even born, but now, as I took on the mantle of mistress of this keep, it was time to learn what was behind every door, what secrets were being kept, what mysteries might be revealed.

I left the warmth of the upper floors to delve deep into the lower levels where I had been restricted from entering…until now. I took a final glance as I descended the rough hewn stairs to the fading golden, reassuring light, and made my way into what had always been described as a pit of hell.

Accommodation*

When Wyeth had suggested they spend a long “weekend” on an advanced planet, Sadie not only blushed at the thought of the two of them spending time alone together, but she also could never have imagined such a place as the towering neon cityscape that made up the entirety of the planet spread before her. She could see a great deal of it from above on the ship. As if it weren’t mind bending enough to know such a place existed, that is was also not the only one of its kind caused Sadie to rethink everything she had ever learned. Traveling with Wyeth, for even such a short time, had led her to see remarkable things. Earth was only a tiny planet in a tiny system and the humans that lived on that little blue dot were ignorant of what lay beyond their known universe.

As Sadie and Wyeth strode into what was considered mid-range accomodations, the clean shiny surfaces made Sadie fearful of touching anything. It was a hotel, rising hundreds of stories into the clouds, but to Sadie it was magic, a marvel, and another clue into the mystery that was Wyeth. The way he handled himself in any given situation, the things he knew, the things he said, the things he didn’t say – it all made her realize how little she truly knew of him and that she wanted to know everything.

*This was one of those times I sort of had an idea of what I was going to write, and then a story of its own making made itself known. I was tired, not fully paying attention, and the above is what happened…stream of consciousness at its best, I suppose.

Peephole

Hannah didn’t like to think of herself as a gossip, but she did admit that she enjoyed hearing about whatever scandalous topic had her circle’s full attention, so when the wealthy, handsome, single Lord Evan broke his journey at her family’s estate, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from eavesdropping to learn what she could of the man. There was very little to entertain a young lady outside of town.

Well, perhaps gossip wasn’t too disparaging a word.

It wasn’t just that he was rich and titled, he was attractive and alluring in a way that made Hannah want to draw nearer. He seemed to feel it too. He sought out her company, engaged her in conversation, and stirred her imagination with posssibility. She was certain he would speak to her father, and so later, when she spied on him through the keyhole in his door, hoping to ascertain how the conversation might have gone, given his demeanor, she found herself rooted to the floor with an eye full of his bare flesh. He didn’t look anything like the boys in her village who swam in the lake in the summer.

No, indeed.

She couldn’t move, her mind swirled, and then, as if sensing her presence, he turned to give her a complete view, and she noticed the smile upon his lips. “Well,” Hannah thought, “I do enjoy a challenge. I’ll have him begging for my hand before his sojourn ends.”

~ * ~

We’re over halfway through the year, how are your goals coming along?

If you’ve been inspired by any of the prompts I’ve shared, I’d love to see what you’ve created!

Happy Writing!

19Jun2025

What I’ve Been Up To – A New Screenplay & Potential Novel: Man of Sin

Posted in Posts by Rachael C Marek

Last December I hurt my back at work. I was out for about 2 1/2 months. The first couple of weeks were rough. I could barely move, so everything required patience and effort.

It also allowed me free time. Sweet, sweet free time.

I finally had time to research new ideas, including a side business. More on that later. I could finish Baldur’s Gate 3 without having to negotiate TV time with The Sis. More on that later too. But most importantly, I got time to write. And I made use of it by finishing the first draft of a new screenplay I’ve titled, Man of Sin.

One little hiccup, I have quite a few more ideas for its continuation, and I’m not sure I want to make it a sequel, but then again, it might be fun as a limited series, so I’m currently trying to figure that out.

I also had the idea that with so much content, it might work well as a novel, get in on that IP train, and I’ve always wanted to see my work on a bookshelf.

I came up with a very vague idea of the story years ago, like 12. Eek. All from a line of dialogue in an episode of American Horror Story. This is why an idea journal is a great “idea”. Any time I hear an interesting phrase, have a snippet of an idea, or even have a weird dream, I write it down. You never know when that random thing will percolate into a full fledged story.

And here we are.

When I started plotting the new story last year sometime, it was meant to be a dark, terrible story about a secret sect of the Church and their dealings. The idea is does anyone know the identity of the anti-christ and how was that information discovered? The protagonists are a pair from two sides of this sect – a knight of the order and a descendant of the seer line who prophesied who the AC is.

It became a love story.

They were meant to be drawn to one another, over the course of the story. Instead, these two idiots liked each other immediately. I let them tell me their story, and this was one of the easier times I’ve had writing since the fan fiction.

And I really like them together.

So I didn’t fight it.

And I truly enjoy the story.

Obviously, as I mentioned, it’s only a first draft, and it does need some tweaking, but I let it sit for a while, reread it, and I still like it.

This is a weird feeling.

Satisfaction in my work.

I don’t have the longline yet and it’s not ready to be read, but I wanted to share this new story idea with you, and the feeling of having completed a new script. That’s a special moment.

So, moral of the story – good things come to those who wait. Just kidding. Keep track of your random ideas and story thoughts. You never know when a whole new story will “appear” (you know, through hard work).

Have any of you found/created a story you love from a decade(s) old idea? Let’s chat!

And Happy Writing!

14Jun2025

Writing Prompt Challenge Accepted #33

Posted in Writing Prompt by Rachael C Marek

I am determined to make my writing prompt challenge goal, and as I have had little opportunity to sit and write anything since going back to work, I wanted to write as freely and without hinderance as I could with the time I had available. And so I just wrote. No idea of what it was going to become, no concern of word count, just a little story to break up the monotony of my day.

I present June’s flash fiction pieces.

Ghost Story

Every culture has their ghost stories. Often times they’re allegorical tales intended to frighten the children into behaving, or to give reason for the strange happenings in the land. But not every mystery has a reason, not every sighting has cause.

In our village, for as many years as anyone could remember, there was the tale of the Mist Woman or the Lady in Black. There was no memory of who she might have been, why she walked with her umbrella, or who or what she may have been looking for. She simply appeared, and no one could connect her sightings to events of good or ill, she just existed, randomly.

And that brought me a great sadness. She seemed to be stuck in limbo, and she didn’t have a history of threatening behavior or a desire for help, which made me wonder at what held her back from crossing over? Why did she remain?

One day I was “lucky” enough to cross her path. I was not afraid. Only curious. I hoped to be able to discern something in her nature that may be of use. There was no chill in the air, no disturbance, she simply manifested near me. We walked together for a while. There was no wind, but her dress moved about her as if she were caught in a breeze, or perhaps in water. I could not see her face, but I felt something, like gratitude. She suddenly stopped, turned toward me, made the slightest gesture of a head nod toward me, then disappeared.

I walked that path every day for the rest of my life waiting for her to join me again.

Dark Side

Morgan had a lot to be thankful for, but she was also a teenager who resented hiding her true nature. She was born a fairy and raised by humans, and while that sounded like the interesting premise to a story, her life was lived in fear that she would be discovered; that she would be taken by the Men in Black to be experimented on, never to be seen by her loved ones again.

She once had white hair and wings to match, but then she met someone who changed her perspective. Whose influence changed her in ways she could never have imagined. An unleashing of power long repressed by fear and responsibility.

She had felt the change happening, and feared it, as she had most things until her transformation was complete, and then she felt renewed, strong, unafraid. Her power had been dormant because, in part, she didn’t know who she truly was. It’s one thing to know you’re a mythical being, it’s another to discover what you’re capable of because you’re this mythical being.

She knew Lucien was not to be trusted, that he was not the ally she needed, there was another who already had her heart, but while he wanted to keep her safe, keeping her progress slow, Lucien was determined to set her free. But he had his own agenda, a grand scheme that gave her a different sense of fear.

~ * ~

I hope you’ll join me for a little free write, writing community! I look forward to reading your creations!

Happy Writing!

22May2025

Writing Prompt Challenge Accepted #32

Posted in Writing Prompt by Rachael C Marek

I will make my goals. I will make my goals. (Repeats mantra for the umpteenth time this month alone.)

Sticking to the planner has become a game changer for me. It’s kind of like gaming, keeping track of my “quests”, marking them off, or watching them carry over from month to month, has an effective, compulsory nature to it.

Writing at least two flash fictions a month will quickly get me to my goal of 90 completed fics for the year, and it’s something I’ve written in the planner so I actually make time to do it. This month’s offerings brings me to 85. Only five left to write and I’ll have them completed in probably the next two months. Yay! A completed goal well before the end of the year. (I’m also close on my book reading and movie watching.)

What is this strange sense of accomplishment I’m feeling..?

Unlikely

I hadn’t really expected to find it. It was both a fairy tale and a warning of what was possible.

Every mer creature was given the chance to discover the world above. There was much to learn, to see, to experience. It was a chance for each of us to decide how we could help our people. Could we bring back useful information? Would the humans above be a threat to our way of life? They were poisoning our water, killing our friends, destroying everything around them, but as we learned, they didn’t all do that. Some were trying to reverse years of damage, but even still, when my turn came to go to the surface, I was hesitant. I had heard a great deal, seen some of the results of their “curiosity”. I was properly prepared, calm, resigned to my task.

But I had found kindness. I had found passion. I had found someone so different and yet not.

I stayed too long.

With his help back to the sea, we said our farewells. He held me in his arms, so strong, doing his best to remain stoic. He and I looked toward the vast expanse before us, each seeing something different. He saw an unknown world, miles upon miles that would separate us. I saw home.

But my heart was conflicted.

Regret

So, yes, I was to blame for my current predicament. I had, because I had been put in the position as “leader”, made the decision to make Alistair king, and that made it my fault that he was now willing to put me aside, because while I was good enough to sacrifice my life for the “greater good”, I was not of a bloodline worthy to sit beside him on the throne.

Did he not love me anymore? Did he not think me worth fighting for?

And as he thought on it, a moment longer than I thought respectable, all I could think was, “In your hesitation, I found my answer.”

It wasn’t fair to have thrust so much upon him, to expect so much when most things were now out of his control, but his heart…that still belonged to him, and who he chose to give it to was still very much in his power. Maybe I still had it, but he had been swayed to think that he should have a “proper” wife, and he thought he was doing me a kindness…hmm…perhaps, I had a great many thoughts on the subject, but the foremost one was I knew he would come to regret his very first decision as king.

~ * ~

Hey, writing community! Feel like joining me in a little writing prompt challenge? I look forward to reading/seeing your creations!

Happy Writing!

17Apr2025

Writing Prompt Challenge Accepted #31

Posted in Writing Prompt by Rachael C Marek

Going back to work has really messed up my schedule. I want to say life, but that’s sounds rather dramatic, albeit somewhat true. In my planner, I’ve been setting a goal of writing two flash fictions a month, which you would think would be an easy task to complete, and yet, I couldn’t get them written in March.

So I set aside a day to write this week, a little bit of everything, and you can guess how that went. I was feeling…ambitious…also, a bit determined. I need to spend time doing the things I enjoy too. It can’t always be about the grind.

I present to you (March and) April’s flash fictions, in my pursuit to write at least 16 new pieces this year. I’m halfway there! ((thumbs up))

Enough

“We all have our reasons.” Those haunting words had come from an unlikely ally, one she knew she couldn’t trust, no matter his “reasons”.

The revolt had long been in the works, but it wasn’t until today that they took action.

It was necessary.

They were justified in rising up.

She just didn’t know how alone they’d find themselves once they finally did.

There had been a surprising division in the populace when offered the chance at freedom. So many were compliant, unwilling to take the risk. They turned their backs. They played dumb. They simply didn’t care what happened to those not so different from themselves. It could have been them, if they found themselves in a different box, but they considered themselves lucky for being “normal”.

How boring life would be if everyone fit that mold.

And so, as she stood before one who had long championed conformity, and everything else they stood against, she had to wonder what had brought them to this point? What did they consider the uncrossable line in the proverbial sand of their morality?

They couldn’t be trusted, but they could be exploited, and so it began.

Red Light District

The red light used to mean something different, or so I’m told. It was a way to communicate a service, rather discreetly, until it became more well-known. There were entire districts within cities named for the light that provided patrons with all manor of diversion, but now it meant something else.

Now, it was a means of refuge.

Hm. Now thinking about it, it was a refuge then too, just for a different means of escape.

Red lights were scarce, and you had to know someone who knew someone who knew someone that could lead you there because the vice grip of the police state wanted to keep everything, and everyone, within their grasp. They couldn’t allow any one to escape, because that kind of leak could cause their entire system to crumble, so the red light was like an urban legend.

Everyone “knew” someone who had been able to utilize the service, it was a more comforting thought as to why people went missing, but now here I was. The darkened hallway looked more like something out one of those pre-war horror movies people used to enjoy, not realizing one day we’d be living a daily nightmare. The slash of red that should have caused fear actually caused hope to swell. After nearly a year of searching, in a few moments, I could be out.

Last Ditch Effort

We weren’t exactly cornered, but we wouldn’t be able to outrun the horde either. We were all batttered and bleeding and didn’t have enough supplies to remedy ourselves for more fighting. I hated the Deep Roads. They were probably spectacular at the height of the Dwarven empire, but now they were a death trap. Not one building offered proper shelter, let alone a defensive position, and yes, while we had been able to travel deeper than anyone in an age and would come out the other side, if we were lucky enough, rather wealthy from the abandoned treasure, I wasn’t sure that was enough incentive.

There was a narrow pass over a long drop, which would slow up our pursuers for a moment, and maybe we could take out enough of them while they tried to cross, but it wasn’t the only route. We were at risk of being surrounded.

As we weighed our options, I looked up, as did my companions, and we all had the same idea. “If you’ll give me a minute…I think I can make this worse.”

Stray

She shouldn’t have come with him – hindsight was brilliant in times like these – but how could she not? It was another planet, another world, and she was going to be the first human to see it, to stand upon its ground and admire its beauty. He was going to gather resources for the journey, but she didn’t believe she would be a liability. Why would she? She was a tourist, basically. An extra pair of hands.

So, when the weather took a sharp, unexpected turn, and hail the size of VW Bugs started to fall from the sky, she was surprised to find him coming to her rescue, putting himself at risk, for her. He had barely acknowledged her presence since coming aboard, to some degree against her will, if she may say so, so why would she think he would care at all for her well-being, other than the implications of having a human aboard his ship?

And now he was injured, and she didn’t know what to do. It’s not as if he had a physiology she was familiar with, and being unconscious, didn’t lend to him telling her what she could do to help. What it did lend to was a quiet moment to reflect on the strange man who had become her rescuer. He was interesting to look at, dare she think, attractive, even among his own kind. He was helping her, even if she believed, begrudgingly, and she was indebted to him for saving her from a desperate situation, and now, no matter her ineptitude, she might have an opportunity to repay him.

~ * ~

Come join me in a challenge!

Happy Writing!

11Feb2025

Writing Prompt Challenge Accepted #30

Posted in Writing Prompt by Rachael C Marek

The planner is still working for me ((thumbs up)). I set some time aside to write three new flash fiction pieces, making 5 of 16. And it’s only February. I’m already so far ahead of last year.

Why did no one tell me of this before?! Sheesh. I feel like I should have figured this out sooner, and I’d be so much further along in all aspects of my life. This is one of those things that comes with age. Right?

Anyway, here are February’s offerings.

Humans

Humans were obsessed with space. They hadn’t even discovered the entirety of their own planet, and yet they were willing to traverse the vastness of dark space. They were silly creatures; prone to all manner of emotional outburts and frivolity. We had been among them for years, and they were none the wiser. We had done what we could to aid them in their advancement of basic “humanity” and science, but they were a stubborn bunch, only willing to coexist and rally around one another for the most inane of causes. They so rarely saw eye to eye.

We had finally had our fill, unwilling to continue to bear witness to their ever declining state and left them to their own devices one autumn evening in spectacular fashion. Or so we thought. We timed it with one of their own explorative device launches, but they never saw it. They never knew what we had tried to do for them, what we had done for them. It’s not even worth mentioning now. Perhaps we’ll see them again one day. Perhaps not. Only time will tell what they’ll make of themselves.

Fibonacci

Casi stood in the center of the church, a kalidescope of color raining down upon her from above. She looked up, overwhelmed by the beauty of the hundreds of stained glass panels spiraling in a Fibonacci pattern from the tallest dome of the structure. The colors told a story, one she wasn’t adept at interpreting, but she felt the impact nonetheless.

The colors were only truly present at high noon when the sun, at it’s zenith, reflected their purpose, so there was only a short time each day to spend in reflection. Casi was given an hour. Her special ability was being tested, albeit unfairly. She had only just come into her power, and discovering the intention of the ancient marvel was something she wasn’t prepared for. She wasn’t sure she ever would be. Whoever had designed the unique feature had been touched in their own way.

Dad

It’s hard to think of Death as anything other than what he is.

He’s the inescapable end.

The intangible.

The anti-thesis.

The great neutralizer.

The last measure for which almost all beings are desperate to avoid, and willing to barter and sacrifice any and all in an attempt at thwarting his purpose. It rarely works.

He’s also a father. My father. I call him Daddy when I’m feeling especially light-hearted, and although I’m mortal, he treats me like the rarest, most spectacular being to have ever existed. With so many afraid of him, unwilling to greet him, even those he considers his peers, I was an unexpected delight to his lonely existence.

You may wonder how it is a mortal child found herself in Death’s grasp without crossing over. It’s not that exciting a story, just luck, I suppose, that a sad deity took pity on an abandoned tot.

There was a time he was afraid to touch me, because each time he did, it stilled my heart, but eventually, it no longer had an effect, I became something else. And how could I not share my affection with him? Mortals crave contact, and he discovered it was something he needed as well. So while I may have been raised in a strange realm, with an unconvential parent, I thrive. I live. Something that might not have occurred should I have been left alone that winter’s night long ago.

~ * ~

I’d be delighted to read your creations, if you’d like to join me in the writing prompt challenge. Be sure to tag me or put a link in the comments, and I’ll share your work here, with your permission, of course.

Happy Writing!

26Jan2025

Writing Prompt Challenge Accepted #29

Posted in Writing Prompt by Rachael C Marek

One of my writing goals is to write 16 new flash fiction pieces. I think I may have made the same declaration last year as well, but I bought a planner this year to keep better track and make more manageable the goals I have for 2025. I usually make a big list, but breaking it down, month-to-month, seeing it in smaller, more digestible increments, has been vastly more beneficial…so far. Yay!

So I offer up the two flash fictions I wrote for January. I try to just free write, keep it short, around 200 words, and do little editing. This is just a way to get out of my stringent screenwriting mindset.

Spotlight

She stood in the wings, bathed in bright light from across the stage. She always felt a little nervous, right up until the moment her toes hit the floor. She hadn’t had time to finish prepping her shoes, they still felt a bit stiff, but they’d be broken in before the end of the first dance, and rendered practically useless by the end of the show. She continued to point her toes while bouncing lightly to keep warm and limber.

The music ebbed and flowed and she listened intently for her cue, while doing her best to ignore the jealous whispers of those who would never stand where she was. Not everyone could be a prima.

She was a rare breed. Years spent in lessons, ignoring nearly everything else, had earned her the opportunity of a lifetime, one that would end sooner than was reasonable, but while she was here, she would enjoy every moment.

Stained

The Emerald Graves was the kind of place where you could easily imagine magical things happened on a regular basis. The trees were a shade of green not seen anywhere else, the water was clearer than she’d ever seen, and as if to add to its mysterious nature, a light mist draped everything in a soft white blanket. When they arrived to the remote forest, the fabled land of the elves, a certain amount of reverence felt owed. It wasn’t called the Graves because someone was trying to be clever. If the histories were true, the land was one large graveyard.

Was that supposed to bring anyone any meaure of comfort? There was a strange silence present, and they felt like they were being watched. So, they limited their conversations, kept to the main road, and did their best to not disturb the flora and fauna. They made a small camp in a clearing of what remained of an ancient ruin and slept uneasily in the eerie quiet the forest offered in the waning hours of the night.

She was an elf. She found solace in being in a place her ancestors once called home. So little of their great empire remained, but every so often, there was a glimpse, a wisp, and the Emerald Graves was one such place. She gave her friends a sympathetic smile as they tried to ignore the shivers up their spines. They were unnerved, for a number of reasons, but this place, while romantic and beautiful, was also drenched in blood, and that was a stain that no matter how well hidden, left a mark.

~ * ~

I’d love if you’d join in the writing prompt challenge! I’ve posted 158 images and phrases for inspiration so far, so feel free to poke around and see if anything catches your eye.

Happy Writing!

28Dec2024

Bye Bye, 2024!

Posted in Posts by Rachael C Marek

Hi friends!

Yes, I’m still around.

For those of you who have been with me for a while now, you’ve probably noticed how I sometimes go radio silent from time to time – I lose track of time, or I don’t have anything to say, or I move out of state, or find myself overwhelmed by adulting – this recent bout of silence was not actually due to any of those things, surprisingly.

While celebrating my blog’s Tenth Anniversary, I became quite depressed by the state of my writing life. Reflecting on each year and discovering how little progress I was actually making towards my goal of becoming a professional writer, I decided to take a step back (way, way back).

During these last many months, I didn’t have anything to say that didn’t sound trite or like I was just trying to placate my own perceived failures. “Keep reaching for your goal!” or “It’s never too late to dream big!” blah blah blah…every time I sat down to say something to not just inspire all of you, but myself as well, I would just think, “It’s all bullish*t. Where have any of those positivity quotes and bits of inspiration actually gotten me?”

I felt like quite the fraud.

So I avoided this space, a place I had dedicated 10 years to, to get my head back on straight, and it didn’t take long to discover a few things about myself:

I want to be a writer. Like really. I’ve been saying it for a while (and I actually do it most of the time), but it still holds true. It’s not just something I want to say I also do because my day job is crap and it’s a way for me to feel better about myself, like, “Hey! I have other aspirations beyond this, random stranger.” It’s how I want to spend my time. I want to be surrounded by creatives with similar goals and passion. I want some camaraderie and vested interest. That’s the circle I want to be a part of, not what I currently have via the day job because I’ve realized…
I hate my day job. Like really. It’s easy, mind numbing work, fairly stress-free and I only bring it home to b*tch with The Sis because she works there too. But I loathe going in (so does she, might I add), and am currently off on worker’s comp due to an injury, so there’s that. It’s a mostly friendly environment, I like quite a few of the people I work with, but it’s not a career, nor is it creative or inspiring. Recently, a coworker asked why I worked there. “You’re too smart for this place.” Well thanks! And maybe that’s why I’m unhappy.
I dream big (some might say too big. Me. I’m the one saying that.), but need to scale back the annual goal setting because I set myself up for failure each year because I want to do too many things all the time. I have too many interests. Too many goals. As I was writing down my list for the new year, I wrote that I wanted to write a novel, in addition to rewriting almost all of my scripts, creating a show bible, my reading/movie watching goals, building a website, researching my ancestry, playing the library of video games each waiting for their turn, relearning the piano, and continuing to learn French, while eating better, getting well so I can get back to yoga, doing more with The Sis and the puppers…I mean, c’mon. I’m out of control. Oh, and I have a Big Birthday coming up in less than 2 months, so there’s some planning required for that milestone.

((deep sigh))

I need a time manager.

I know I will never watch all the movies I want. I know I will never play all the games. Or read all the books. Or see all the sights in person. I may never even rewrite some of my own work. I have to learn to live with this, and for the most part I have, I just sometimes wish that the days were longer, or I was faster at doing some things to maybe make a bigger dent, but whatever, this is who I am.

So, you may be wondering, “What did she do this year instead of coming here?”

Well, I made, and exceeded, my reading goal. Favorite books this year were All Systems Red by Martha Wells (I’m obsessed with the Murderbot series) and Eye of the Needle by Ken Follett. So so good.

I made, and exceeded, my movie watching goal. Some of my favorites this year were the French sci-fi Vesper which needs its own series to expand upon, TMNT: Mutant Mayhem was adorable, Godzilla Minus One surprised me, and of course, Deadpool and Wolverine. It’s just a good time.

There was some great tv this year. Fallout was tops for me. Just good from start to finish, even if you haven’t played any of the games, it’s accessible. Arcane S2 was great, but I think season one was better. I discovered a different kind of superhero story in the British series, Extraordinary, and a hilarious Australian comedy from 20 years ago called Kath & Kim.

I’ve nearly finished writing a new screenplay, tentatively titled, Man of Sin. (Yes, I’ve been playing with a poster creator.) I’ll talk more about this later. This is the story that I think needs to become a novel. It’s taken on a life of its own, the characters are so cute together, and it’s currently sitting at 137 pages with no end in the direct vicinity. I’m hoping to have the first draft finished by new year. I also started a new chapter of my Dragon Age fanfic.

I’m almost finished with my first playthrough of Baldur’s Gate 3 which may have turned my head to become the best game I’ve ever played. Yes, it is that good. I’ll write about it next year, when I’m officially done. It’s going into the new tattoo. So yeah, you know I like it.

The Sis and I attended San Diego Comic-Con again this year.

And we had to come to terms with the death of our estranged father. That was…a strange time.

So that’s a peek into what I’ve been up to this year, and now it’s coming to a close. I can’t believe 2024 is at its end. It gets a little faster every year.

Photo by Kristina Paukshtite on Pexels.com

So, if you’ve made it this far, I just wanted to say, Thank You! for sticking with me these past 10 years and for being a wonderful community of the kind of people I want to surround myself with. I’m still not 100% sure of how I want to proceed here, I have a few changes in mind, but I hope you’ll stay for the journey.

I wish you all well, my friends! Stay weird and creative and inspiring, and hopefully 2025 will prove a fruitful year.

Happy New Year!!

xx, Rach