You've Got Male Models

A 20-year old prodigy heart surgeon, Chris Cahill, did not expect to share her apartment (or her life) with two aspiring male models when she finally gains her independence. A story in the process of their interesting (and equally hilarious!) adventures of three different individuals living in the present.


I write on a whim, and somewhere along the line, I have collected journals full of phrases and ideas that I use to spark a story. Got any ideas, feel free to share them. How would you interpret a JournalWord?


Gladiators, Bad-ass priests, Robots, Demons, Cowboys, Demon-Cowboys, Fast-food cashiers, Ninjas, Butlers, Pirates, Sailors... The list goes on and they all make me swoon! (We are instant best buddies if you feel the same, just saying)


Albeit reluctantly, Sarah finds herself with the responsibility of raising an angel after he crashes from the sky. Sci-fi, supernatural, and a little silly.


I'm a fiend. *cheeky smile*

Saturday, 26 October 2013

A Life Left On The Shores

JournalWord: To an island.


His fingers dig into the sand that spills away from his hands. He claws at a hidden 
rock but the silt sweeps away and pulls his handhold from under his palm. 

They want him to sink back into the depth. 

Coral scrapes at his ankles and shins as punishment for leaving home, and an urchin desperately threatens him to move another step. 

His limbs are numb and he can't feel the chill that waits for him in the morning horizon. His mop of dark hair clings to his neck and forehead as they break the surface, frightened and seeking comfort. Dripping locks dangle on lifelines before his eyes. 

The full height of his body greets the atmosphere, clouds of breath floating like bubbles of air escaping. 

His skin recoils and shudders at the foreign exposure, having shed his original layer during the riptide. He remembers the skin tearing silently as the ocean's hurricane howled around him. 

Absently, he brushes off the leeching seaweed and thick swatches of kelp that tether him to the ocean floor at the sight of the edge of water. The wall of green flora dispels childhood fear for excitement. 

Urging his muscles back to life, he treads through the sea with a renewed vigor, fighting the heavy tides until they are just light, helpless laps around his heels. 


Trudging through the waves. 

Lifting numb limbs from the sands. 
With the aim to leave behind the person he was before he makes it to the treeline.

I hope you enjoyed this short piece :) (And had a ball dissecting it :D)


Monday, 14 October 2013

Autumn Grace

JournalWord: Autumn.


The alarm sets off in a blinding light behind his eyeballs like a protesting scream.

His knee is pounding with every footfall, and he curses between a hiss when they threat to collapse. Spotting a bench, he quickly drops himself onto the wooden seat, immediately stretching his legs out in front of him gingerly as an apology. 

His shirt is sticking to the trail of sweat running down his chest like a waning river. He yanks out the ends of his headphones, greeting silence from thick rock and roll. Flicking his mop of wet hair off his forehead, he leans back and arches his neck over the top of the bench as he regains his breath. A ripple of warm aching rushes up his calves and he flexes them to stave off the prickle, gulping deep inhales of air to cool his steaming body. 

A rustle interrupts his concentrated breathing, and he almost chokes from the startle. He twists his neck awkwardly to the bushes behind him and stills.

Fantasy was never his interest, but he's completely certain he is watching a realm unfamiliar to his own. 

She hums, oblivious, and he can't recognize the foreign tune that chimes sweet and light. He can taste it on the center of his tongue, melting quickly with a sugar coating that lingers. 

She snaps a flower from the plot, the stem between her bright, short fingernails, and sniffs the white petals. They gently caress her blushed cheeks and pollen speckles the tip of her tiny, button nose. In a swift motion that counters her previous ease, she weaves the stem through the floral crown piled between her hair.

The mass doubles her own scalp, interlocking pure black, shiny, straight hair and a cacophony of brilliant brights and silent pastel petals. Varying shades of fire edge the masterpiece, popping pinks and clashing against the dark violets. Like an affectionate, extra extremity, an emerald vine escapes the blossoming sphere, uncurling against her temple and grazing the tip of her thin, slanted, charcoal eyes.

She easily brushes the hanging leaves, twirling and tucking the vine back into her headdress with an absent hand, her light, puckered lips glowing with her hum. She picks up an auburn leaf from the autumn pile, studies it and brushes off any dirt, blowing a light breath as a precaution before sneaking it into her hair. 

Blinking wildly, he wonders if he's seeing right. His phone buzzes in his shorts pocket and his focus wavers as he checks the text message. Dismissing the message, he whips his head back, dragging his legs with him this time at the ache in his neck. 

She's gone like a fallen leaf blown by the wind. 

She's not in sight, her presence lost except for the few leaves and flowers she had plucked but forgotten. His eyes scan for any sign of her escape, but not a branch from the bushes reveals where their exotic autumn goddess disappeared.

His phone vibrates again, this time relentless and he shuts the phone off, rubbing his eyes with his palms. He pauses his merciless attack to peek between his lifelines, miffed when the leaves and flower petals don't move. Sighing, defeated by the mirage, he pulls himself to his tired feet, stomping to revive them. 

He glances once more at the window in the bushes with a twisted mouth and huffs a breath before hiking his knees up for a jog back. Through the eased pain, he muses at the extent of his imagination.

But the hum sticks in his mind, softly blowing like a rustle between the trees, and he can almost see her disappearing through the foliage like the nymph she probably was.


Am I back? Perhaps :P
We shall see.

I'm finding that I'm saying that a lot lately, "We shall see," as I am not completely sure. 
I'm going through some life improvement (when am I not? Hah.).

As well, I've been celebrating my 20th birthday over this long weekend :D
What a weekend to feel ultimately loved! 

Anyways, as always,
Keep cheery!
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