I shared a whisper with the trees


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I shared a whisper with the trees

and in my fear i kept it there

They hid my words within their leaves

far from your sharp and judging stare


and there they withered with the fall

Unheard, unseen, they stood no chance

to shine, nor soar, to grow so tall

that those who cared could see them dance

© EMMI LAWRENCE (5.10.2017)

Morgan Liu and her Obsession with Fairy Tales (4D)


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Ari’s Tour
(previous installments)
4A—Ari Nix and How It All Began
4C—Mrs. Jameson and Her African Violets
4B—Jasmine Leit and her Collection of High Heels
The Rooftop Garden and the Terror of Heights

4D—Morgan Liu and her Obsession with Fairy Tales


Ari sailed straight through the layers of concrete and insulation and piping and wood. Straight into an apartment lit with a purplish hue from a fish tank sitting against the wall. And he knew this because he found his head in said fish tank, fake seaweed flowing so close to his eye he flinched, just as a brilliantly blue tang darted through his open mouth.

He gagged, though there was nothing at all to actually gag on.

His flinching caused him to spin sideways, his downward plunge halting somewhat as he spilled free from the brightness of the fish tank and into a living room he’d never before set foot within. He caught glimpses of open books, pages upon pages cut, folded. Words, blended ink, while on the left-hand sides chapter headings curled with fantastical fonts. Shadows from the tank lights swam upon the carpet, giving it a rippled effect.

“Oh thank goodness. This must be Morgan’s place.” He took a breath that smelled nothing of fish or mugginess, though he knew quite well that it should have. That scent had escaped down the hall often enough whenever Morgan opened her door. Continue reading

The Rooftop Garden and the Terror of Heights


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Ari’s Tour
(previous installments)
4A—Ari Nix and How It All Began
4C—Mrs. Jameson and Her African Violets
4B—Jasmine Leit and her Collection of High Heels

The Rooftop Garden and the Terror of Heights

Not everyone could be as boring as Jasmine Leit though. Ari hoped at any rate. There was the artist in 2B who never showed Ari his work and then the glamourist in 3C. Maybe they held secrets in their apartments? Or maybe, he just needed to be looking in bedrooms rather than living rooms.

In fact, one bedroom in particular stood out in his mind. A bedroom with a delightfully attractive man in its bed. A delightfully attractive man who ignored and dismissed Ari on a constant basis.

“Never mind. We’ll go see the artist’s secret paintings,” he said to the swaying branches of the bushes as he finally flew free of the oppressive building.

The brightness of the night sky lit up the roof, the moonlight shining off leaves and causing the glass of the nearby wind chimes to glow. He couldn’t hear his music from up here, just the swishing of the occasional cars driving past and the tapping of the larger wooden chimes along the edges of the roof. That breeze likely held a chill, though Ari couldn’t feel it. Couldn’t feel the wind at all in fact.

“Can you imagine being blown away on the wind,” he mused to himself.

He fluttered his fingers just as a bat came dodging through the small trees. Ari followed the creature’s progress, only noticing after the fact that those trees were quickly shrinking in his sight. The outer edge of the rooftop became visible, concrete ledges that wrapped about the deep wooden planter boxes and the paths between them.

“Oh no. Wait, not good.” Continue reading

Lost Isle Teasers (WIPTruthOrDare Twitter Collection)


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For the month of May I participated in a twitter game called #WIPTruthOrDare for Lost Isle: The Ocean’s Aviary I, though many of the questions had less to do with the novel. On each day there were two options, a truth or a dare, so I made sure to show which I chose for each day. I did skip a few days where both the truth and dare didn’t correlate with my novel much.

Day 1 Truth: What is your current word count for Lost Isle?

Day 2 Dare: Write a pitch line for your WIP.

Continue reading

Jasmine Leit and her Collection of High Heels (4B)


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Ari’s Tour
(previous installments)
4A—Ari Nix and How It All Began
4C—Mrs. Jameson and Her African Violets

4B—Jasmine Leit and her Collection of High Heels

Ari’s sickeningly fast spin did not end in the hall. It continued onward, like a ride he couldn’t escape from no matter how many times he insisted the contraption to stop, stop, stop. It was as if he were on some carnival attraction meant to destroy his inner ears and send him puking in the grass afterward. Only, while the world, yes, was a blur of bright light and greyish carpet, his stomach, which technically was lying upon his kitchen floor back in his apartment, seemed to be able to handle the dreadful sensation with ease.

With that revelation, he slowly opened his eyes as he spun, noticing with amusement that both his feet had disappeared within the wall next to the door to 4D. He twisted in the opposite direction of his spin, attempting to roll back the way he’d come. Not to happen, it seemed. Nothing about this would be easy.

He sighed and settled his hands behind his head in acceptance of the inevitable as he glided down the hall at an upward angle that sent him straight into 4B. Jasmine Leit’s apartment. He mused over calling out to her, but decided against it. She didn’t normally complain about the noise from his place, but he’d caught glances from her randomly that spoke louder than any words. And since he could still hear his music playing on, rising and falling with unintelligible words, words he could have sung from heart by now, he didn’t want to push her into a possible confrontation.

She, unlike others in the building, might have the patience of a saint, but Ari didn’t want to see what might happen if that patience snapped. Continue reading

Mrs. Jameson and her African Violets (4C)


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Ari’s Tour
(previous installments)
4A—Ari Nix and How It All Began

4C—Mrs. Jameson and Her African Violets

Now this had happened once before when he’d been a child. He remembered the day, or at least those few moments, quite vividly. But at that time his sister had been in the room and she’d almost instantly jumped on him, sending him swooping back into his body. He hadn’t had enough time to truly panic then.

Not so now.

The dark kitchen he sailed through was one he’d seen before, though not for quite a long time. Mrs. Jameson kept her pots and pans in an organized line hanging from the wall and a triplicate of feeding bowls ran parallel upon the floor underneath. And at the furthest feeding bowl was a black and white cat, a skinny thing that jerked as Ari floated above its head.

“Hello, hello,” he said with a wave that sent the cat crouching, her eyes glowing in the frail light sneaking in from behind the blinds in the next room. “Don’t mind me. Is your cat lady up? That wonderful woman who feeds you?”

The cat, predictably, did not answer. Continue reading

The Illusion That Is Failure


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Dear Seth,

I’ve heard most people regret missed opportunities. Chances to confess their deepest emotion or grip some elusive offer, that which terrifies them into a stasis while the moment slips beyond reach. I’ve said much I’ve been sorry for, done many things that may or may not have led to the best outcomes, but one thing I’ve never had difficulty with, in my entire life, was seizing opportunities when they presented themselves. I’ve experienced more than most and I don’t regret any of it. Not the bad or the uncomfortable or awkward. Without them I wouldn’t have a comparison for the wonderful, the beautiful or the precious.

Yet, even I have a regret. Yes, me. The man who shrugs off mistakes, who laughs at adversity, who thrives under the illusion that is failure.

Please, Seth, do not take what I write next as indicative of a lack of depth of my feelings for you. You have been, quite literally regardless how clichéd it sounds, the best thing in my life, my heart and soul within another and even, at times, my reason for breathing. Despite that, if I could go back, if I could change one thing, it would be to walk past you that morning. Continue reading

Ari Nix and How It All Began (4A)


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4A—Ari Nix and How It All Began

Tequila had never been Ari’s spirit of choice. In fact, he didn’t have a spirit of choice at all given bad things happen when alcohol was involved and bad things on top of bad luck just didn’t mix. Not like a well-shaken drink.

But on this auspicious evening, at, oh, eight o’clock, after having nicked a bottle from Chase down in 1C, Ari opened up a brand new app and attempted not one, not two, but three separate recipes all involving a cheap, gold liquid that tasted surprising like melancholy and self-pity. Not a bad combination if he was any judge. And then the app crashed. And he broke his tumbler. Leading to a not-very-smart-decision to switch to a shot glass.

With breath tasting of orange juice and a sticky residue clinging to his pale blue shirt, Ari threw himself into the chair by his full-length keyboard and began to stumble through the beginnings of sad melodies he’d memorized in his youth during his angstiest stage. And then, for some dreadful reason, he switched to love songs. The sort of love songs that would leave a lonely man sobbing if he didn’t have a lick of sense not to delve too deeply into emotions best left alone.

And Ari was a little short on sense this evening. Even he could admit that. Continue reading

May, Briefly


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One of my personal problems is that I tend to forget anything and everything I’ve accomplished in a given time period, thus leading to the thought I haven’t actually accomplished anything at all. Which, I’ve been informed, is completely wrong.

I’m hoping that listing everything I’ve done each month will help remove this thought-process while giving everyone updates on where I am in differing projects.

May accomplishments:

1) Prepared Pre-order for Bridle the Unicorn

This includes Edits, Blurb, Formatting, ISBN info and Promotional Schedule.

2) Wrote 6 short stories.

I did a question challenge in May where I would ‘answer’ a question given to me in story format in a character’s POV. Wrote:

  •  The Illusion That is Failure (I really liked this one so it got bumped ahead of the story I’d originally finished for June)
  • The Baywater and the Hurricane (Set in the same city as The Cascade and the Firebrand)
  • Just a Typical Day in a Nurse’s Life (Sort of a conglomeration of first and second person that is supposed to be humorous)
  • The Choice in the Inevitable (Ideological World-building for a country that never falls to the Merandin Empire)
  • Tall, Dark & Handsome (Coffee shop romance and only non-fantasy I wrote)
  • First Date Taboo (A confession on a dinner date)

I also have a few more small stories started but not finished, but they have dropped to least priority now that May is over.

3) Prepped Bridle the Unicorn Promo

  • Roan’s Interview
  • Ari’s Interview
  • Ari’s Tour
  • Quotes

4) Prepped Blog Posts

I lost count of how many I prepped this month. All the short stories and poems I finished were edited and prepped as well as anything else I finished having to do with Bridle the Unicorn. This was in anticipation of having a bunch of things ready to go in the coming months so I can concentrate on completing longer projects.

5) Requested Cover Date

For a new houndmaster novella set mostly in Crafton. Tentative release next winter/early spring.

Ari’s Interview (Bridle the Unicorn)


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Ari’s Interview

Copyright © Emmi Lawrence

No one had ever sat in my office who could quite compare to Ari Nix. He had an insatiable, yet conflicting curiosity that did not breed questions. Rather, he just touched and poked at my things, chuckling under his breath at jokes to which only he knew the punch-lines. His nose crinkled constantly, in bemusement, disgust or delight, his emotions on parade across his face with little care over who might see them.

This man did not hide things. At least, he did not hide them well.

By the time I managed to cajole him into settling onto the bench, I had already discussed my last few books—which he lost interest in quickly—my taste in music—which he mocked incessantly—and my fashion sense—where he claimed my clothes needed a few more holes and much less grey. I disagreed silently and with a roll of internal eyes, but as I was enjoying his energy and discussion, I said nothing out loud of my thoughts.

“All right, Ari. Let’s get right to it. Since you’ve already pretty much introduced yourself, how are you feeling today?”

“Uh, good. I guess. At the moment at any rate. That might change.”

“Why might it change?”

He shrugged and rubbed at the frayed edges of the cushion. “Life throws things at me constantly. Luck takes its toll. You never know what might happen.”

“Of course. Luck is an interesting topic—”

“So are a great many things,” he interrupted. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Okay.” I glanced at my list of questions. “Are you involved with anyone right now?”

Ari did not have the same resistance as I, so when he rolled his eyes, it was a dramatic and very outward sign. “These questions are incredibly boring. Predictable. You need to ask more thought-provoking questions like… If you could know when and how you die, would you want to know?” Continue reading