The fundamental rules of fantasy stories

1. When in doubt, blow something up. (Thank you, Alison)

2. Don't be afraid of blood.

3. Scaring little children is ok.

4. Making people cry is AWESOME.

5. Add beauty and hope

6. Don't get so sucked into making a cool villain that you get good and evil mixed up. Keep very clear distinctions between moral actions and evilness. Try to keep the lines between the two crystal clear in the character's eyes. 

7. Be willing to accept that you will ruin several people's lives. 

8. And kill several people too. 

9. GOOD ALWAYS WINS. 

10. Emotional strife keeps the ball rolling

11. Nothing is more annoying than an annoying main character. 

12. Know the right times to be extremely descriptive and the right times to make the reader guess.

13. Laugh at yourself

14. And don't be afraid to go back to the drawing board time and time again.

There.

A lasting idea

    Ismaril wasn't the sort to banter words in a hurried situation. He took the ring from the Rhoswen and slipped it into his pocket. With the slow movement of a reluctant mother, Rhoswen gave her son one last kiss and let Ismaril take him from her. Her head drooped for a moment, and she clasped her hands before her. To stop them from shaking, Ismaril thought. Then she straightened and stepped away. Very regal she looked, there in the blood-red light of the sunset. A queen. The Last Queen. 

     "Go," Rhoswen said, "before it is to late. Do not hesitate--for my sake, Ismaril."
     Ismaril shifted the sleeping babe to his other arm and bowed, fist over heart. In reply, the queen raised her hand in a fist, thumb and first two fingers pointing up. It was an ancient salute, almost a blessing. Behind the woman, the shifting light of the red sunset made Rhoswen seem to glow with glory. Ismaril fixed that image in his mind as he turned away, first walking, then running, holding her son tightly in his arms.

Ooh. I like that one. That plot seems to come easy. Anybody want more? 

The Alps of Minnesota

     What is so fun about riding up a ski lift in six-degree weather, with thirty mph winds blowing you back down the wire? It would only be fun if you were with a friend.
     I've never had an experience quite like the one I had last night. I'm sure you all heard what the weather was like--nasty, to sum it up in as few words as possible. But beautiful at the same time--the crisp, clear, painful beauty of winter. The hills at Afton Alps were completely iced over, with drifts of powdery snow lying where the gusts of wind had gathered it. Every time we rode the lift to the top of the hill, my hoodie would freeze over my mouth. Falling was inevitable: at least, it was for a person of my tipsy nature--that is, tending to fall down while standing still. At least I provided Ellie with a source of amusement, flopping around on the ground, struggling to get my skis under me, all the while sliding further and further down the slope. Humph.
     The Afton Alps Ski Patrol is a great group of people. Even from my brief contact with them, you got the impression that they love the work they do. You know, it is hard to be grumpy after being out in the wind and sun, saving lives and flying down steep hills for the greater part of the day. If more people would experience the outdoors and the satisfaction of returning to a warm building at the end of the day, we'd all be better off for it.
     The patrol room is small, but homey. The patrollers gather around the long table in the center, often with their families in tow. First Aid equipment, skis, and bags line the walls. Smells of hot chocolate, melting snow, and musty indoor air waft around the room. Conversation is usually lively and good natured, disrupted by the buzzing of the radios as help is needed on the hill.
     Now comes for my rating. Afton Alps is an awesome place for people of all ages. It is family friendly, complete with several restaurants and a rental shop. The Patrol is active, efficient, and devoted. Now, I would probably tell you that any skiing experience is simply awesome, but at Afton, it was one of the best expeditions I've ever been on. I would recommend it. There is nothing more satisfactory than braving the elements and coming back to home base hungry and sweating. Tired, but happy. (Interesting how those words--tired but happy--always goes along with exercise. Think about it.)

Once upon a time...

     "Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a girl named Karly...One night, she and her mother and father and brother and their dogs were sitting around the campfire up at their cabin. The firelight was flickering and casting shadows into the long grass around the fire. Everything was peaceful and quiet. A full moon rose over the trees, casting eerie silver light over the yard...." Dad paused, his voice low and his eyes sparkling with mischief as he watched me for a reaction. "Suddenly, there came a rustling from the grass in the woods. The girl's dog, Sonny, went slowly up to investigate. He disappeared into the long grass and everything was silent. Karly called his name, but he didn't come back. The rustling came again. Karly got up to go look for the dog and walked over to the forest. It was pitch black. Suddenly, a wolf howled. And another..."
      "And then what, Dad? What happened next?"
      "And then.... (another dramatic pause)...Theyallgotflusheddownthetoilet!"
      "Dad!" I complained, grinning. "What really happened?"
      Dad bluffed his way out of the question and began tickling me, evoking several shrieks of merriment. Finally, he chased me away and I sought refuge on the other side of mom, away from the fire. I settled down on the grass and gazed into the coals.
     A wolf howled.
     And I felt a sudden and panicky desire to be as close to the fire as I could be--as far away from the threatening dark. The dogs cocked their heads. Sonny growled. Then we heard the wolves again, this time with more voices. Have you ever heard a bunch of the neighborhood dogs barking all at once? It was like that, only more savage. It sounded as though a pack was having a rather violent discussion just a little ways off in the woods behind the garage. Now, the lake on which our cabin is situated is by no means unpopulated. In the recent years, wolves have been migrating closer and closer to civilization, much to the chagrin of my brother and I, because it stopped our galavanting through the woods. But anyways, back to the story.
     It was definitely eerie, sitting by the fire with the round ball of the moon floating above our heads, and the bats flying in and out of the cabin lights. Dad's story sure hadn't helped. But it was...very neat, to say the least, to hear the wolves howling and barking out in the woods. The stars were so bright that night, I remember.

Frost

Winter either bites with its teeth or lashes with its tail. ~Proverb

Winter is the heart of sharp, vicious beauty 

It spreads across the land like a thin film of ice forming, 

blooming outward and downward, 

reaching out into the soil and gripping the earth with a frozen hand.

When the bold branches
Bid farewell to rainbow leaves -
Welcome wool sweaters.
~B. Cybrill

The Land thaws with the coming of Christmas
Because hearts warm a little

The lights shine on the snow

Like stars, only nearer

But all to soon the cold comes creeping back

If winter comes, can spring be far behind?
~Percy Bysshe Shelly

I say enjoy the snow while you can.

Wonder

The trees, fiery red with Autumn light. A new flower pushing up from the thawing ground. Snowflakes falling silently in the silver light of the moon....the sweet evening air of late summer. What would it be like to see each day, each season for the first time? To look at the world as something new, something never before seen by man. To watch birds fly over the water, to see the sun rise, to hear dogs bark and people laugh. To look at the world with the wonder of a child. Try it some time. 

For lack of a better title

   The Empty House

The empty house stood still and silent,

Alone with the trees and the wind that chides it—

“Don’t leave us alone with the tenants that rome

And long for a home!

The dawn creeps between broken glass

Lighting of courtyard of dead grass,

Walls now crumbling, destroyed

With a vicious blast

What scenes of love,

 What scenes of hate,

The old house had seen

I know shall never abate.

For I had lived there once.

And now I stand before

The tortured door

And I bow my head

I had lived there, once.

-Karly, 8-31-12

This poem makes me sad. Its so...depressing, but I don't have any inspiration left for it to make it less bleak. When I first got this image in my head--the image of a broken down house standing on a grey, windswept hill--It didn't seem as dark as it does now. I don't like writing Gothic poems, or even almost-Gothic poems. I suppose I should go to bed and read it again in the morning. Most things seem better in the sunlight of a new day. 

Oops

     That shocking moment when you're in your living room, practicing for an upcoming show, you jump (its that first explosive move--so exhilarating), your hand flies above your head--and you hear a deafening crash. In that dismaying instance do you realize that you have just singlehandedly (no, literally!) sent most of the chandelier crashing to the ground.

...Oops.

I still feel bad about that one. My only consolation is that the chandelier--still lopsided and missing a shade--is quite ugly and now mom will be inspired to buy a knew one sooner rather than later. Ah, the experiences of an aspiring ballerina.

Square One

Well, its 2013. School is about to start up again. Winter has set in. As I listen to the pastors at church talk about New Year's resolutions, I'm struck by why people save resolutions for the New Year. Really, we could have a New Year's day in the middle of June, and we'd be better off for it. I've never made a "New Year's Resolution" on January 1st because they seem so pointless. Resolutions should be made when they are most needed, not at an assigned date. Food for thought.