World building sample from upcoming campaign book

Sibling Moons Auzi & Sata

History tells of the once brother moons Auzi and Sata. Auzi, the bigger of the two, stood proud and often outshone his smaller brother Sata, who often stayed in the shadow of his brother, only coming out once a year to view the world.

Then at the end of the second age, the great Rift changed the landscape of the world. This happened to coincide with Sata’s outing in the heavens. The Rift sent an unseen ripple across the world and out into the universe, Sata stood strong in the face of the oncoming force and protected Auzi. Taking the brunt of the damage from the impact of this force. It caused a crater to form, sending bits of rock and dust to fly into orbit. This damage though great uncovered the beauty within Sata. For he was made of purely of brilliant diamonds. His true beauty now shining brightly in the nights sky. A ring began to form around Sata made of these diamonds, making it appear as if the moon now wore a crown.

It is said that Sata’s sacrifice helped him to realize their true self within, to see the diamond or beauty within. From then forward, Sata came out of her shell and stood proud as a new person, and new sister to her brother Auzi. The whole year Sata proudly displayed her new self and her new crown of diamonds to the world. Knowing that she was finally who she was meant to be. As the year neared the end, Sata saw that her brother was proud of her, but that he too also missed his place as the proud and strong brother for all to see. So, she made a pact with her brother. Every year on the anniversary of her new life, they would trade the crown and take the mantle of the First moon for the year. This pleased Auzi and made thier bond even stronger and they have lived in harmony and happiness since.

Auzi

The bigger of the two moons, known as the big brother and protector is associated with strength, war, and justice. Auzi is made of a bright white rock, that illuminates the sky well. He is wider and bigger of the two moons and is often worshiped by first brothers, fishermen, soldiers, and even some paladins.

Sata 

The smaller of the two moons, was once known only as the younger and shy brother, is now the bright and beautiful sister. Originally having a darker black rock covering, is now covered in the remnants of the crater that was formed from the force impact of the Rift. The inside of the moon is actually made of diamonds, those blow from the impact, now stand littered across the surface. The rest of the debris that did not land as formed a ring of diamond that now circles the moon like a crown. Sata is now known for femininity, change, freedom, power, good, art, and more. Every year, she hands her crown to her big brother Auzi, so that he may also shine bright.

The Crown

A ring formation of diamonds that circle the First moon. Every year, during the Satuzi Moon Festival, the crown can be seen slowly transitioning from one moon to the next, when the second moon, takes its place as the first moon. During the third night, this transition is in perfect harmony and is known as the infinity moon, due to the appearance of the ring forming a perfect figure 8 between the two moons. This is considered by many the night of luck, rebirth, harmony.





© Johnny Crow 2019

Familiar, yet different

If you are new here (which I suspect 99.9% of any who read this will be) then this is nothing different to you.

For me, it is like coming back to your hometown after growing up and living your life. Everything seems familiar in a nostalgic sort of way, and yet everything feels different or looks different enough to put at unease. I have missed this place, but I also know that I do not regret leaving for the time that I did.

A bit of history for you dear reader. Back in the early years of blogger, in the first week of a brand new 2004, I began a five-year journey as a blogger. I wrote more than 300 direct posts on my main blog as well as a few hundred each on three other blogs. I had regular readers and commenters. I bared my personal soul on here and I quit right when those closest to me in the real world found out about my "public/private" journal of sorts. It was cathartic for me, and let me write and explore my own mind, and more.

Now, some ten years since then I have felt the urge to begin blogging only now with years of experience and a clearer focus of who I am. This new adventure will not be so much about me per se (though it may come through in my writing), it will, however, be my writing corner. A place I can post snippets from current projects, short stories, poetry, or just informational post about writing, editing, and more.

So, welcome to my blotter. Let me know what is on your mind. Have any questions? Requests for writing? Leave a message in the comments or email me.

J.D. Crow

Kala's Dream

Kala immediately suspected she was in a dream. Dreams are often a rare gift in her race and are only spoken of as distant memories, histories, epic tales and stories they use to teach children lessons. Though she had fallen asleep in an abandoned house that had been mostly taken by the sands, she was now standing in a strange house, holding a wooden box.

Somewhere that was quite obviously far away from her current home. She knew that her dream would force her to go where it wanted and often ended quick, so she tried to remember everything that she could. She could smell food, bread, maybe some kind of roast. Her stomach growled at her; it was an odd sensation in her dream. She had both senses at the same time, one being that she wasn't hungry here in the dream and the other where she knew that in her real life she was starving. She took note of the sensation and continued on.

She studied her surroundings, she was in a dark room with ornate wood floors and large wall tapestries depicting different battles. There was a large mural on the opposite wall that seemed quite familiar to her. It was a single person, small in size, with long black hair and colorful clothes, standing against the an entire army of soldiers in armor. She was drawn to the mural but knew that she had to continue to study her surroundings. Searching around she found a small desk with papers littering the otherwise neat top. She attempted to move toward the desk to find out any information about where she really was or even when she was, but suddenly her focus snapped back to the box in her hands.

The box was ornate and beautifully crafted, with strange writing that somehow seemed familiar to her but was foggy in this dream. She push two figures on the box causing the box to open with a snap. She removed the lid carefully trying to to disturb anything. Inside she found a book wrapped in leather. She would inspect that later.

Moving on she found a brass key with four points each with notches and grooves, something she had never seen before.

Next was a silver pen with what looked to be a glass reservoir for ink. No she thought clear glass hasn't been seen in over a thousand years. She did note that the pen had been crafted with intricate designs she were unfamiliar to her.

Then she noticed a square red wax candle. She flushed with surprise and nearly dropped the box and all its contents. Red wax was only used my the governing council to mark decrees and pass laws that affected the entire known world. She knew with almost certainty, that whomever the owner of this box was, it was someone very powerful. Very powerful indeed.

She almost hadn't seen the ring next to it, at first it seemed like nothing more than a common ring currently in fashion, but she soon realized that this was probably the ring that started that fashion. Subtle, yet classy, it was a fine ring with a symbol etched on the top. Something about the symbol resonated with her and she tried to get a closer look.

A flash of bright white light enveloped her. All of the hunger, the aches and the pains of her current predicament flooded over her and made her nearly double over in pain. Had she not been lying down and huddled in a corner she probably would have been seriously hurt. Even though the dream was over, she remembered every detailed, just as she had for the others.

It always saddened her when the dreams ended, not because of the pain but because of the possibilities it promised. These things always seemed further away now that she knew they were even possible.

Excerpt from Unnamed Novel, "Finding Paradise Lost"

 Sitting back on a semi-slick leather seat of a cab, that looked like it had rolled down a few hills, Jacob sniffed the stale air. The air smelt of something between patchouli and ass, he was not really sure whether to vomit or laugh. The driver rambled on about something in a half-broken dialect that seemed to resemble something mid-eastern with just a hint of British slang. Not really paying attention he just nodded his head trying to relax enough to help the headache he had go away.

Rolling down the window to peer up at all the bright lights he wondered if the people who came to this city, were attracted to the lights like a moth is attracted to a flame. It all seems bright and pretty until you get too close and get burned. I suppose that’s why they call this the city of lost souls. Las Vegas, home to everyone that the rest of society won't take, the city of unwanted refugees. This was his home; he loved to hate it, and hated to love it.

It seemed him that in the city of sin that a cab is like a mobile confessional. The priests of a downtrodden society, who give us absolution by simply listening to our problems, no matter how many times they have heard it before. Talking to a complete stranger seems easier because they don’t seem to judge you, let alone know who you are. Your chance of ever seeing them again is about as good as leaving Vegas happy. It happens, but not very often.

He imagined now that the smell of ass in the car was a metaphor for all the shit that people left behind. The patchouli was perhaps a manifestation of all the pent-up sexual frustration we all inevitably go through, especially in a city where sex sells everything. Then again, he thought, it could be just something to help cover-up the smell of ass. It didn’t matter; the cab finally arrived at its destination. He tipped the cabbie more than he should have and stepped out into the warm night ready for anything that would come his way.

Looking up to read the signs, he carefully found Banal Airlines, which oddly meant bland, not some foreign and exotic country. He smiled at the thought of it. He caught a glimpse of it at the far end of the long row of check-in stations.

Upset now, he reasoned that cabbies seem to know where to go, so long as it serves them a fare. Somewhat like a priest he thought, taking tidings to guide you to everlasting life. Only problem is, that you don’t know if it’s the right gate.

He grabbed his duffel bag; the driver had kindly placed on the sidewalk before running off to his next confession. He found it amazing how you could fit your whole life into such a small bag and never really appreciate the humor in it. Remembering to make sure he had his ticket, he finally headed toward the beginning of a long adventure. He checked in and soon found a seat near the gate that seemed comfortable enough to sleep in until they called for passengers.

A loud sigh woke him, abruptly. He lifted his hat to see where the noise had come from. A young attractive girl sat with arms and legs crossed with a sour expression on her face. She had obviously been crying. He quickly closed his eyes hoping she had not noticed him. He really didn't want to get involved in other peoples affairs. Unfortunately she had seen him, and excitedly said, “Oh, you are awake, I am sorry to bother you I just didn't know what else to do. Could you please just pretend to know me? I’m trying to hide from someone and I really need some help”.

Jacob stayed quiet hoping she would find some other patsy to fall for her sob story and sad eyes. A moment later thinking she had left he felt a strong push, “I know you’re awake. So stop pretending to be asleep and help me!” She exclaimed, slapping his shoulder in a teasing fashion.

He sat up quickly and fixed his hat, looking her square in the eyes and grumbled, “Fine! What is it you want? How did you know I was awake anyway?” She reached out her hand and laughed, “I’m Amber, and you are?”

“Jacob, the name is Jacob. But why are you bothering me?” He said slightly aggravated, shaking her small hand, noticing the odd strength she had.

“Actually, Jacob. I really don’t need anything. I heard you snoring and thought it was cute. Then I noticed your ticket and saw you were on the same flight with me, and figured you would like to know they are about to call passengers.” She said in a hurriedly and excited way.

Jacob was angry but intrigued by this strange girl. He looked at her with a quiver of a smile escaping his lips. She had noticed, and was happy she had done what she did. Jacob couldn't help but look at her. She looked amazing, in a rugged half insane sort of way he thought. Her hair was a mess of curls bouncing wildly around her small face. She had eyes that, he had an eerie suspicion, could peer right through you. Her small frame was unmatched by her obvious strength in personality and will. Jacob couldn't believe he was thinking about a girl he just met, in such detail. He barely ever noticed people, or rather never would like to be noticed at all by most people. She smiled at him in a crooked smirk befitting any devious mastermind accomplishing their mission. He laughed and asked, “What are you smirking at?”

“Nothing, I just thought your furrowed brow was cute. You seem to be thinking rather hard on something. What is it?” Amber asked in a modest childlike way.

He thought for a moment longer, and with a questioning voice he asked, “Nothing much, I was just wondering why you went to such lengths to get my attention. I mean the fake tears, the pouted lips, the sad blue eyes and last, the messy hair? Why such attentions to detail when you could of easily just have shaken me awake and said, “Hey, your flight is being called?”

She looked a little upset now. She crossed her arms and turned slightly away. Reminding him of a surly girl who didn't get what she wanted for her birthday. She finally spoke, in a half defensive manner and half apologetic. She said, “Well, first of all I was only doing you a favor. Secondly, my hair is not messy it’s just… natural. I can’t do anything about my sad blue eyes, and the rest… well it’s just that I thought if you saw a pretty girl in need you would talk to her. I really wanted to talk to you, OK. There I said it, I liked you and didn't know how to approach you.” She said and put her face in her hands from embarrassment and sobbed, “So I understand if you don’t want to talk to such a dork.”

He saw her hopeful eyes peek out from her soft hands, waiting for him to apologize. Suddenly the intercom overhead rang out, “Calling all passengers for Banal Airlines, Flight 433. Please report to gate B6.” Jacob grabbed his coat and bag and headed for the gate. He paused shortly and turned around toward the most beautiful and quite possibly the craziest girl he had ever met. Grabbing her bag, he threw it over his shoulder and held out his hand toward her. “Oh come on Amber, take my hand. You’re not going to miss our flight are you?”

She looked up, tears in her eyes she wiped them away, and asked, “Are you saying you don’t care that I did all that corny stuff just to get your attention?

He laughed and said, “I actually thought it was cute, a little corny, but cute nonetheless. Besides, if I didn't want talk to a dork, I couldn't look myself in mirror every morning and say, “Today, you find out where you belong. Today, you will become the man you are destined to be.” If that isn't being a dork, I don’t know what is.”

She reached out and let him take her hand in his and pull her towards his body, which is exactly where she wanted to be. Smiling at him, she reached up towards his face and leaned in. He was sure he was imagining this; he closed his eyes and the hair on his body stood waiting in anticipation with him. Suddenly her hand was on his shoulder, he took a breath, and she grabbed her bag and took off toward the gate, turning back only to see him stammer awkwardly for a moment, she smiled. He shook off the awkward feeling and took off after her.

Standing in line waiting to board, the world went quiet. It reminded him of those moments in movies when something substantial was happening to the main character emotionally, and slowly soft music starts playing to represent the mood. To him, it was as if everything moved in slow motion. He noticed Amber at the front of the line, her smile wide as could be, the soft curls of her hair danced delicately off her face like a careful ballet. He knew in that moment, that this was his beginning. Her, this flight, and everything surrounding them was where his life really began. He didn't really know how he understood this, but it was as if his soul was aching to tell him the secrets of the world. He boarded the plain, waiting patiently like he never had before. He smiled at the nice attendant welcoming him on his journey. Drifting past the other passengers in the front he noticed an odd man, well normal really, Something was out of place with him, he didn't know what but something just struck him as odd. The man was sweating profusely, but then again he thought, this is Vegas. He found his seat Isle 22B. He looked down to see a grin as wide as the pacific ocean. Amber, seated in 22A, laughed at the serendipity of things. He couldn't help but smile back and laugh. He stowed his luggage overhead, grabbed his notebook and pen and sat down in his seat.

"What do you think the chances are that we would be sitting right next to each other and yet still meeting before hand? It has to be astronomical, I bet." babbled Amber, trying to strike up a conversation. "Well, you figure there are roughly 300 passengers on this plane, plus we would generally be in the same area, and also given the fact the the average age of the rest of the passenger seem to be at least ten to twenty years older than both of us. I would say it was a pretty small chance." He joked. Her face went pale and it looked as though she were about to cry. "However, the chances of us having this good of chemistry, and also the chances of me actually liking you were astronomical. Yet look at us now. Thick as thieves we are!" Her face lit up and she hugged him. No words, just a hug. Longer than it should have been for most people, but oddly just right for both of them. Jacob couldn't remember the last time he was hugged. Maybe third grade, he thought, but that was an case of mistaken identity from Becky Shoemaker, who thought he was Billy Johnson. A mistake he payed for with a slap in the face.

He shook off the memory, and looked at Amber and wondering what she was thinking. She smiled at him and laughed. “That look on your face, such deep thought for such a young and handsome face.” Jacob lay back in his chair and smiled, eyes closed and relaxed. A sigh of relief left his body in a slow shudder. He spoke softly not moving, “Good night.” She laughed lightly "Good night too you too." His eyes were heavy with the memories of the past and slowly he slipped into his dreams, with only the soft rumbling of the engines to sooth him.

Rambler - An Excerpt

Below is an excerpt from a book idea I had a few years ago. I took the idea and wrote a rough draft free flow and this is what we have here. There is much more to this world, and many ideas to help make it have more depth, not only to the character but to the world itself. Let me know what you truly think, but remember this is a very rough idea and a very rough draft. I am just putting it out there because I decided to work on it again, and I wanted to see an initial reaction. Enjoy:

Rambler

Most people think of me as a wanderer. Perhaps I am, if only to find my true place in life. These past few years that have gone by were fast. Many would say they were a waste of great talent and a good life. I do not understand this logic nor shall I pretend to. It seems problematic to think that what we call civilization as even remotely civilized. I have lived more in these years past than I could have ever, before I left.

It was hard at first, lying to myself, but there was no mistaking what was needed to be done. I had heard that withdrawals could be hard, but never would I imagine the pain in loosing all that you care for, the kind of pain that cannot be healed with a shot or pill. I cut myself off from everything that I knew and had become. It seemed to be only a terrible nightmare.

First came the night tremors - then there were the cold sweats, but worst of all were the splitting headaches that would blind you, if you weren’t careful. Finally the dreams would come; terribly-wonderful dreams. For the first time in my life I was able to dream. It is difficult to say what it was I had envisioned during my slumber, but it truly did not matter. These dreams were more magical and uplifting that any virtual world or experience could ever be. There were no limitations, no control, and that is what scared me and, even more, thrilled me to the bone.

This new revelation opened up a whole new world to me. A world where magic is real, where wishes come true, and where fairies can dance from star to star. Perhaps it has always been this way. The more we seem to creep toward technology the further we move from our core foundations, our “true-selves.” We loose sight of what hope is, what love is, and the beauty of what life really holds. We seem to only think of Data Manipulation, Quantum Cryptography, Simulated Date Scenarios, and the Possibility of being connected all the time, everywhere.

I can’t say we didn’t see it coming. Society simply turned their heads, cranked the music, and forgot that an outside world even existed. I am undoubtedly sure that by now my name is only a footnote, a small caption of assembled data logged on some forgotten server. No one wonders where I am, they simply accept that I am no longer here, if even I ever was. Even when I was at the top of the game I had only remotely heard of some people disappearing, going wireless or underground is what they called it. I had never imagined that this is what they would have gone through. I simply believed it was just another, less active data plane for those who could not handle the pressure of the whole core of the web. In simple terms, people who couldn't keep up with me, but then again that would have been a lot of people.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Perhaps I should start from the beginning, a time when I was only 23. Many knew me as “The Rambler,” but my analog or real name is Jo vãn Perry Corvus. My job, a Data-dog, an Information Broker, or even a Word Puppet. Which meant my life centered on finding, manipulating and selling information, data, just ones and zeros and all the surprising things in between.

It all started on a cool day in September; there was the slight chill moving in from the north. Autumn leaves fell, coloring the ground in beautiful reds, yellows, and oranges. At night the wind blew like a lone wolf howling at all that could not be seen. When the moon is full and the sky is clear we seem to live as though there is no tomorrow. It seemed that most of my days were spent plugged into the net. I had dreams of nights as a child when I would sneak out and wander past the Secure-Walls and play in the forest. I would wake up in a cold sweat and stare out at the black sky, only to convince myself that it was an effect of to much data retrieval. This night was much like any other night, in that I never really slept. Data streams flashed over the back of my eyelids when I slept, an after affect of being wired for more than 36 hours. My fingers tapped access codes, and Boolean logarithms in the air like a pianist taps Beethoven’s “Fur Elise,” In his sleep. I could tell today would be hard, I could already feel a headache moving in, and it was only 3am. I got up and walked to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the full moon. It always seemed to ease me when I could see it; it always grounded me and made me feel more connected to the real world.

I found my pills and popped two reds, just in case. I hurried down to the separate floor of my open loft, and switched on the shower to 86 degrees. While the shower got warm I selected “Moroccan tea” at 76 degrees, watched as the autonomous bots went about their business. I wondered if we would ever come to a point where these bots would control themselves. I quickly shook the thought out of my head when the shower signaled it was ready.

(To Be Continued...)

Love with Laughter

I wrote this short story back when I worked as an Office Manager in late 2003. The story is based partially on real events, but the majority of it is fiction and is an experiment in a new writing style. I am open to comments, criticism, and feedback. Thank you all - J.D.C.

Love with Laughter
By Johnny Crow © 2003

My name is Darren Anderson. This story is but a small part in the opus of my life, grand as it all was, this story has more depth, happiness, sadness, intrigue, irony and heartbreak than one would only expect in an opera. Perhaps first I shall tell you details about my life that are essential to the story. The only place that seems a fitting start is the beginning itself.

I grew up a small boy, a part of two separate families. Not wholly belonging to either, it seems this would be the mark that I would carry with me throughout my life. I can say this made me have a tough skin. However, in reality all I really ever wanted was to be loved. Anyway I grew up in many different places, which helped to facilitate this feeling of not really belonging anywhere. I had a few friends that I did stick by throughout the years, with phone calls, letters and the occasional long distance visit. I had few girlfriends, and fewer opportunities.

My life seemed to stabilize when I entered High School. I worked hard, and tried to finalize my plans for the future, only to again be moved away from the only friends I had, and the only life I really knew. I sank into myself, closing off the world, and soon found myself as low as I could be. Staring up at the world from the bottom of the proverbial well, it seemed as though life were just a dream, a figment just out of arms reach. Somewhere though, deep inside I felt this burning need to find my place, because even this hollow cave I was in, was not where I belonged. It was not the comfort I needed. I worked hard and I worked slowly. I set small goals, and started to accomplish them one by one. Again my life seemed to have a stabilizing affect, things were good, not great, but good. I did not have everything I wanted, but I did have something, and that is better than having nothing.

Then, she walked into my life - actually It was more like I bumped into hers. I had first seen her in passing, and turned to look, and could not breathe. It seemed as though my whole world had come to a crawl, and I could hear only the shallow rasp of my breath trying to escape. She never really noticed me, and as usual I just stood there with a dumb expression, doing nothing. My friend finally drug me away, back to normality. I had told my friend what I had experienced; he told me I just needed a good lay. This felt different somehow. It felt like no matter what happened I was supposed to know this girl, this magnificent creature whose beauty could move a mountain without a single word.

I finally got the courage to talk to her. The more we talked the more I seemed to know that there was something more to us than just passing acquaintances. I had to know what that was. We exchanged numbers, and we talked here and there, nothing big. Through some tribulation I had to come to grips with what I felt for her. I had to tell her, whatever the outcome. I could not lie to this girl. I mustered the courage and told her, and it was like a great weight was lifted, yet with nothing really to show for it. It was great. Perhaps monumental for me, but overall it was just a needed revelation. I can’t say that it made our friendship better or worse. It seemed as though we talked less, but it also seemed we understood each other more. We both were getting on with our lives.

I threw myself into work, and tried to loose myself again. You would think I had learned my lesson the first time. I caught myself this time. Realizing that things happen for a reason, and that it is more about how we deal with things that makes us who we are than the things we do. I bettered myself, again working slow and hard, staying friends, and working through the problems of daily life. Here I was months later again feeling the stabilizing affect of hard work. Still talking to her, seeing each other here and there, messages sent to a from even if only to say hi. Life was okay.

Perhaps it is my own fault for the stability in my life to be put asunder, it would seem likely that subconsciously through my very nature I was better at dealing with stress and pressure, until I had finally found what I was looking for, never really settling for just anything. It had been a few days since I had last received a message from her. Nothing out of the ordinary, as it were. The day was quiet, serene skies floated above, and the last hint of spring still lingered in the air. I received a message in the early afternoon. Surprisingly it did not say as to whom it was from, but it was addressed to me, and it said


“I still love you, and I always will.”

I was taken back, shocked at the suddenness of it all. Not really expecting this from her, I sought counsel in close friends who gave me sound advice. They said that you get nothing in life without asking for it. I decided to take the chance, not wanting to ruin a friendship, but also not wanting to miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime. I replied back to her message, choosing my words very carefully. Never having done this before I said,


“Marry me someday then.”


Maybe not the way I had wanted, but it achieved the goal nonetheless. I waited. Thinking of all the possible outcomes. Waiting longer still. Then finally a message arrived.


“Are you proposing to me?”


Of course my jaw nearly fell to the floor. I waited so long only for a clarification. Now it seemed there was no mistake in this question and she had to answer, good or bad. I sent off my reply, nothing short of eager.


“Absolutely.”


Again I waited in agony for an answer, any answer. Quicker this time, I received a reply.


“Why would you want to?”


I had not anticipated a question like this. But perhaps she did not fully understand how I felt about her. So with everything I had, I put it all out there and said,


“It was hard for me to admit my love for you. My Heart aches when I am reminded of you. I get lost in your soul when I look at you.”


I waited, not so much in agony, but more in hope now. That with all that I dared to reveal that there would be something tangible I could take away from this. And soon I received another message, and it read,


“I do not ever think I would be on this side of your affection, I knew how you felt, but I had never realized that my hopes of being by your side would come true. I have heard you say these things to others but never to me.”


Now I was intrigued. I read the response several times, to make sure I understood what she meant. It seemed good at first, a revelation that she wanted to have my affection. Yet something didn’t sit right. Something in what she said was bothering me. She said “…I have heard you say these things to others but never to me.” I have never said these things to another living soul. My worst fears are coming to fruit and I can’t contain my despair. I write back in desperation, hoping that it is not true.


“Who is this?”


I waited hoping she would just laugh at me, for being silly. Silently knowing in my heart of hearts that I was about to know first hand the pain of irony and heartbreak. A reply comes; I open it slowly, with eyes closed not wanting to read it;


“It is Veronica, this is Richard right?”


… My heart sank, and I sobbed aloud. No one around me knew why, but they knew that it was real. I had to gain composure. I needed to rectify the situation and hopefully save face. I sent a message that I know would have a similar if not easier affect on this poor girl.


“No, Veronica… this is Darren, I was under the impression that I was conversing with Kaitlyn. It is all my fault, I do hope you can forgive me for my blind error.”


And so, I slowly slipped into a cocoon. Wishing that I had never been born, thinking of all the words I said to Kaitlyn, that she would never hear, for my heart could not take the pain of suffering another loss so soon. Later, that day I received another message from Veronica.


“Darren, I too am sorry. I am sorry that we both had to go through this experience. Now knowing that neither one of those intended to hear this will ever know the truth, I am grateful. I know you are Richards’s friend, and being such, I hope that not a word of this is passed between you two. I hope your search for loves ends well.”


I believe that it is these trails and tribulations that we go through in life that make us the men and women that we are to become. I came away from this knowing more about myself, and what I am willing to give to other people. This gave me the strength to move on in life and pursue what I wanted more vigorously.

The question I bet your asking is “Did you ever tell her? Did you ever marry her?” The answer you seek does not lie in this story; the answer you seek is in you. Perhaps the rest of this story is better told another time, a lesson for another day. I pray you take guidance in these words, and know that love is out there and that we should never stop pursuing it. I leave you with these words from e.e. Cummings,


"The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.”

Welcome to my world

A simple introduction should be provided since this is a place new to both you and me. I wonder if using "both" would right, since it would designate two people, unless you consider me, the writer, as one and you, the readers, as another; thus making it correct in context.

I am currently writing on my main blog at jdcrow.blogspot.com and you can check out my daily diatribe, until the day that I merge the two together. My hope is to make this more of a place to place my more professional writing, things such as poetry, music, screenplays, novel ideas and excerpts, and any other seemingly interesting piece of literature I would sling ink to create (notice the wonderful use of the blog title here). The previously mentioned blog would be more for my daily ramblings, my thoughts and feelings and more personal space to vent.

So, without much more delay, I welcome you to my new home. Please enjoy yourselves and relax. If you find the time, I would more than welcome your comments, criticism and opinions. I would prefer to know who you are but I am leaving the ability to comment anonymously, because I believe in many things regarding freedom. I would prefer you not to be vicious in your comments, but I do prefer honesty and I want the truth. But flame wars have no place in the world of adults and professionals. Thank you all for your time.