Tag Archives: Newfoundland

G is for Geocentre

The Johnson GeoCentre is one of my favourite spots to visit in St John’s, especially on cold or rainy days when Cape Spear and Signal Hill just aren’t going to happen. Packed with exhibits about the natural history of the area, film presentations, interactive activities, and other fun stuff, this is a place you can kill hours in… at least, you can if you don’t have kids hanging off of you saying crazy things like “BUT I’M HUUUUNGRY! I WANT TO GO TO THE MAAAAALLLLLLL.”

I thought for “G” I’d share a few pictures of our most recent visit (with links to more info on their site).



^The ceiling of the underground entrance hall is a 3D model of our solar system. Pretty nifty.


^The ExxonMobil Oil and Gas Gallery is… well, pretty much an ad for the oil industry. But it’s interesting.


The Titanic Story exhibit is both fascinating and depressing. As you follow the story, it becomes clear just how many people screwed up, goofed off, or just didn’t care, all of which led to this disaster. TEAMWORK.


The list of every passenger on the Titanic fills a binder. The greyed-out names didn’t survive.



^The 3D Earth & Space Theatre shows a rotating schedule of films that are both fun and educational. The octopus one was our favourite on this trip. Also, the glasses make you look SUPER COOL!



^Uranus is gassy. Go figure.

The folks in charge are always adding to my favourite part of the GeoCentre, the BIG EXHIBIT HALL. I didn’t take photos of everything, because there’s just too much. Geology, natural and human history of the planet and Newfoundland, new exhibits on space and space travel… and several films narrated by Gordon Pinsent, who’s just the most adorablest.




^This chunk of gneiss from Labrador is almost as old as the Earth itself, and I TOUCHED IT.




^For anyone curious about the blue feldspar in my Gempunk experiment: Labradorite. See also: the necklace in my sidebar pic. 🙂


^The outdoor exhibits are loads of fun, but the weather just didn’t want to cooperate on this visit.

So there you go. When you come to Newfoundland to visit me (and I know you will), you’ll want to check out the GeoCentre when you’re in St. John’s. 🙂

For more information, here’s their website.

For more A-Z blog challenge, go THISAWAY.


Gros Morne Magic

Remember how I’ve said there’s magic around here?* Apparently Newfoundland and Labrador Tourism agrees wholeheartedly. Here’s the new TV spot:

I haven’t been to Gros Morne yet, but I’ll get there some day. I think this is some of the most beautiful senery in the world.

*(Not to mention the dragons…)

The Fox

Have I ever told you about the magic that comes with the fog around here? It’s not something you notice right off.  In fact, I’d say most people just curse and fiddle with the high beams, or use it as a topic for small talk at the grocery store. But for those who pay attention, whose eyes are open to magic, the strangest things happen around here when the fog rolls in.

Take last week, for example. It was a cloudy day, but the roads were clear as I took the highway in to town. It’s a simple enough drive to do on auto-pilot, if you’re so inclined, but it’s a bad idea. In Newfoundland, you have to keep your eyes open for moose. Bunnies and weasels are tiny tragedies when you hit them, but a moose will total your car.

So sure, I was paying attention, but I was enjoying the drive, too– music cranked up, temperature controls set the way I like them, and enjoying the fact that the back seat, though as messy as ever, was free from any small people who might interrupt my passionate caterwauling. It’s not often that I get out without the kids, and I was making the most of my alone time.

The October leaves had captured my attention as I came around a wide bend in the road, and at first I didn’t notice the small, dark shape trotting down the shoulder of the highway through the thin fog that had settled in the low places. A fox, but not red. Come to think of it, I don’t remember ever seeing a red fox here. They’always got darker, black-tipped fur. Still, certainly a fox, bushy tail and all. I tapped the brakes and slowed in case he decided to dart in front of me, but I shouldn’t have worried. In fact, the fox stopped, parked his fluffy butt on the gravel shoulder, and raised a forepaw in the air.

I slowed again as I approached. The fox twisted his paw, holding it out like a human offering a handshake, and jerked it upward.

He’s hitchhiking, I thought, and pulled over. I’d never picked up a hitchhiker before, never trusting them not to be serial killers, but it seemed like a good time to make an exception. I leaned over and popped the passenger side door open, and the fox leapt up onto the seat. I excused myself as I pulled the door shut, and started down the road again.

“Thanks,” the fox said, and reached up one back foot to scratch at an ear. “I wasn’t sure that would work.”

“No problem,” I said. A car honked at me as it passed, and I checked my speed. Ten under the limit. I pressed harder on the gas pedal and tried to pay attention to my driving. “Where are you headed?”

“Just down a ways. You know the entrance to the dump?”

“I do.”

“That’ll be fine.”

I reached out to turn the music off. “You know, this is quite unusual. I can’t say I’ve ever met a talking fox before. Or given one a ride.”

“Yeah, well. What can you do?”

He didn’t seem inclined to say more, and we traveled for a few minutes in silence, save for the sound of his frequent scratching.

I turned in to the dump road. “You can just let me out here,” the fox said.

“Oh. Sure.” I hesitated, then asked, “Is that it, then?”

“I’m a little short on payment options.”

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. “No, that’s okay. It’s just that in stories, talking animals always appear to offer advice, or a warning, or to share something at a turning point in a person’s life. I thought maybe…”

The fox sighed and closed his eyes, then stretched his neck and stood. “Open the door,” he said, and I did.

He turned and sniffed the air, then raised a leg and pissed all over the back of the seat. He bounced out and trotted a few paces away before turning back and holding out a forepaw again, this time in a gesture that brought to mind a human flipping the bird.

“You want advice?” he asked. “Don’t pick up hitchhikers. It never ends well.”

And with that he was gone, bounding away into the mist.

I’m telling you guys. Things get weird around here when the fog rolls in.

New Story For You: WIPpin’ it good again, and ROW80

No, I’m not back to my regular works in progress, but I couldn’t stay away any longer. Wouldn’t want the WIPpeteers to forget me entirely. *sniffle*

So what the heck am I doing for WIPpet Wednesday? Well, according to a recent amendment to the rules, we can post the beginning of something new if we have nothing from our current work in progress to show, we can start something new. So this morning (yes, leaving it to the last minute, I was sewing Barbie pants last night) I whipped up a little something I was contemplating yesterday while I was out picking blueberries.

You’ll see the connection very quickly. 🙂

Today is the 21st… this is the first 23 paragraphs of the story. I’m sorry, but cutting off the last few lines of the scene just seemed mean. Forgive the first-draftiness. But hey, I’m here! That’s something, right? Actually, this is kind of a story in itself. I may or may not continue…



“And that’s when the dragon ate her. The End.” Gran chomped her teeth together and grinned, eyes sparkling.

I snorted. “I had no idea dragons even liked blueberries,” I said, and settled on my haunches to reach a few sweet berries nestled beneath a spruce.

“Oh, they don’t particularly.” She twisted a thick strand of iron-grey hair behind her ear, pinning it beneath the arm of her glasses. “But they’re a might territorial, my dear, and unlikely to pass up a meal.” She stood and stretched her back, rolling her shoulders forward and back. “Especially not a tender, tasty morsel like that. You know, she probably looked a lot like you. Young woman, strong, tender. Blueberry-filled.”

I turned to her and tossed a handful of berries into my mouth, and we both laughed as juice squirted out between my lips and down my chin. I wiped it on the sleeve of my red plaid shirt.

My grandmother had always told unconventional bedtime stories, even when I was a child. Princesses found their way out of ogres’ lairs without the assistance of princes, the old witch in the woods occasionally saved Hansel and Gretel from their abusive parents, and no one was guaranteed a happy ending. At eighteen I had long outgrown my need to be tucked in when my family visited Gran in Newfoundland, but I still enjoyed the stories on rainy days, and they helped pass the time during chores.

Gran winced and rubbed her knuckles.

“Are you all right?”

“Of course,” she said. “Rain coming, though.”

I glanced up at the blue sky, streaked with a few high mare’s tails. Cirrus, I reminded myself. I kept two sets of names in my mind for most of the natural world: the Proper Names, and Gran’s Names. She always listened with polite and amused interest when I shared names from my field guides, then went back to explaining the useful properties of whatever plant we were examining at the time. I looked at the clouds again. Mare’s tails. Gran’s names were always better.

She crouched beside me and resumed her efficient plucking. “D’you have a story for me today, my treasure?”

“Maybe later?” I asked, and she nodded. It was so easy for her, telling her stories as she worked, the ones she’d learned when she was a child, fables from her family or her isolated community, or those she’d made up herself as she raised her children. I was a storyteller, myself, but I had loftier ambitions. Fame. Fortune. An adoring fan-base who would devour very word I came out with, if only I could find the courage to share those words.

Not yet. The words weren’t ready yet. They had to be perfect before I could share them.

I stretched my own stiff back. “Excuse me for a minute? Lemonade’s catching up with me.”

Gran nodded, and I wandered off to find a likely-looking spot in the bushes.

“Mind you don’t wander too far,” she called after me. “They say they found that poor girl’s charred bones not far from here.”

I smiled and nodded, hoping she was joking. My mother worried that Gran was growing senile. I usually told her that she was being overprotective of her mother-in-law, that Gran was just being fanciful when she talked about the fairies in the garden. Sometimes, though, she seemed to believe her own tall tales, and I wondered whether Mom was right.

A few minutes later I pulled up my jeans and rinsed my hands as well as I could in a cold stream. A patch of sunlight on the other side lit a berry patch, packed with promising-looking blue clusters. Best time of year, I thought, and hopped from stone to half-submerged stone across the stream. I thought about going back to tell Gran where I was going, but I wouldn’t be gone long. I’d just check it out, then go back and let her know. I didn’t want her to wet her boots in the stream, anyway.

The berries were like nothing I’d ever seen or tasted. Large, juicy, and impossibly flavorful— I couldn’t resist eating as I went. Without realizing I was doing it, I followed what looked like a path deeper into the woods, stepping forward to reach each tantalizing bush as it came into view.

When I looked up, the shadows were long. I pulled out my phone, but the battery was dead. It wouldn’t have done me any good to try to call Gran, not out here where there was no signal to speak of, but I’d have liked a sense of the time. Was she worried? I turned to run back toward the stream, but the path was gone.

“Gran?” I called, but the sound seemed to disappear in the trees. I cupped my hands around my mouth. “Gran?” No response. Don’t panic. Fine advice, of course, but my racing heart didn’t want to hear it, and my skin broke out in a cool sweat.

We weren’t far from civilization. Someone would find me. I just hoped Gran wouldn’t try to search on her own. To pass the time and distract my mind, I stepped into a clearing and crossed to look at a strange tree that grew on the far side. Its thick, twisted trunk was covered in deep and regular scars, as though someone had been at the bark with a knife. Long branches drooped toward the ground, covered in deep pink, heart-shaped leaves. I inhaled. The smell was sweet, and somehow comforting. I wanted to touch the leaves, but resisted. I wasn’t going to risk a rash on top of being lost.

I spun toward a rustling sound behind me, sending a few berries flying from my over-full basket. My throat tightened as a sleek, green head appeared from beneath a clump of bushes, followed by a sinuous neck covered in shining scales. The lips on the pointed snout pulled back in something like a sneer, revealing dozens of teeth that looked razor-sharp, and glowed white in the shadows.

The creature chuckled, and every hair on my body stood on end. A hiss burst from the long throat, and golden eyes looked me up and down. My stomach clenched as the beast smiled. “Who’s been eating my berries?”

So there you go. This is what I think about when I’m picking berries. What will happen? Do you think she’ll get chomped?

If you’re looking for more (and probably shorter) WIPpety goodness, check out the linkie here. Good times, good times. If you want to join in, post a snippet of a work in progress corresponding to today’s date on your own blog (21 lines, a few paragraphs from page 21, whatever). Or start something new! You could end up like our dear host, K.L. Schwengel, and have WIPs climbing all over you like needy quadruplets, begging for attention! FUN!



OK, I’ve already said that I haven’t been doing much actual writing (as in, the writing I’m supposed to be doing), but that can wait for now. I am getting other goal-related things done. The pony I was working on just needs hair and touch-ups, and I’m now customizing a Barbie doll for my son’s birthday, because for some reason there’s no Beothuk Barbie, and he wants one. Go figure. I’m trying to keep up with meal-planning for the family, and we’re doing some Big Fun Things. Today I was planning to take the boys out to a book signing, but they’re not behaving very well this morning, so that might not happen.

Reading goals: I read Outlander in three days this week. That’s a lot of words (as in, almost 300,000). I really enjoyed it– obviously. Great story and characters. I did find myself a bit distracted my the extreme adverb abuse in the dialogue tags, but I think I’m getting better at just enjoying stories again.

Really, though. In the space of three paragraphs we get “he said, rather grumpily,” “I said nastily,” and “I demanded ungramatically,” which actually made me giggle out loud. The phrase “his hands digging bruisingly into my flesh” was also… present elsewhere.

Otherwise, though, I had a good time. Highly recommended. Great sex scenes, too, detailed without being graphic. That’s a tough balance to achieve, and I can see why so many people mention this book when the subject comes up. It was also a nice change to enjoy a book where the story is allowed to take some time to unfold, where descriptions aren’t rushed and no one is perfect.  I look forward to reading the next book in the series, AFTER I get through more of my TBR pile.

So there you go, my goal updates, in higgledy-piggledy form. For more Round of Words updates, give this here a click.

Bye for now!

Oh, What a (Canada) Day We Had!

Just a few photos from our trip to Twillingate. Guys, this town… we were driving around, and I lost count of how many times I said “it’s SO PRETTY!” If you like fishing villages, gorgeous views, an amazing landscape, lighthouses and a whole lotta ocean, this is the town for you. There weren’t any icebergs around on the day we visited, but Twillingate is one of the best places to see them (not to mention the whales and the sea birds). Honestly, if AJ’s next posting can’t get us close to St. John’s, I’d be happy to move here.

Here’s the website, because I ran out of space for all the pictures I wanted to take.


The view from the restaurant where we ate lunch

The view from the restaurant where we ate lunch

A fun wine selection

A fun wine selection

Welcome to Newfoundland, flks. Did I mention that this is near Dildo Run Provincial Park?

Welcome to Newfoundland, folks. Did I mention that this is near Dildo Run Provincial Park?

This lighthouse looks like a chocolate milk bottle. The view from the top is spectacular!

This lighthouse looks like a chocolate milk bottle. The view from the top is spectacular!

That may or may not be Horney Head Cove. Pretty though, ain't it?

That may or may not be Horney Head Cove. Pretty though, ain’t it?

beach treasures

beach treasures

Sleepy cove

Sleepy cove

I thought the abandoned mining equipment was delightfully creepy!

I thought the abandoned mining equipment was delightfully creepy!

Somebody's shed

Somebody’s shed

More urchins than a Charles Dickens novel, I swear!

More urchins than a Charles Dickens novel, I swear.

Sunbeams over town. I wish I could have taken more pictures of the buildings; I do love a place where the houses don't all look the same!

Sunbeams over town. I wish I could have taken more pictures of the buildings; I do love a place where the houses don’t all look the same!

Oh, and here’s the weirdest thing we saw, when we were walking near the boats in the harbour: these things that looked like tentacle-less jellyfish, and they lit up. Rows of light reflecting the sun in rainbow colours. They looked like those cheap fibre-optic toys you buy at the circus, but tasteful. And also alive. We probably spent way too much time looking, but they were amazing! And it always drives me nuts when I can’t put a name to an animal. Closest I’ve come so far in my search is “comb jellyfish.” Any other thoughts? That’s a solid blob of critter there, not tentacles.


see the light-up dots in lines on the right?

This one appeared to be quite deceased (an ex-whatchamacallit, if you will), but you can see the structure

This one appeared to be quite deceased (an ex-whatchamacallit, if you will), but you can see the structure. And its… mouth?

So there you go. Twillingate. And gelatinous blobs. YAY!

I’ll be back…

Cape Spear

(OK, so the picture showing up in the WordPress reader preview? Not Cape Spear. Not at all. Anyone know how whether we can change settings on that?)

Good Monday, my dear peoples! I hope you all had a great weekend, whatever that means for you.

Our weekend was quite fantastic. We headed to St. John’s as soon as school was done on Friday. There wasn’t time to get to all of my favourite spots. there never is; there are just too many of them. But the little guy and I got up to Signal Hill while AJ took Simon to see Man of Steel:

cabot tower

View from the lower parking lot. Yep, we climbed up there.

So that was fun. Then on Sunday, instead of leaving in the morning like we usually do, we decided to go up to Cape Spear. It’s probably my favourite place in the world. Why? Well, on a day like yesterday, you’ve got the fact that it’s the easternmost point in North America; not quite yelling distance to Europe, but as close as you’re going to get without a boat. The landscape is pure Newfoundland, rocky and rugged and covered with boulders left by glaciers, more kinds of beautiful little plants than you’d ever expect, and long grasses blowing in the constant breeze off of the ocean. Plenty of trails for walking, boardwalks over the mucky areas, and lots of room to spread out even on a ridiculously busy day like yesterday. Like, crazy busy: both parking lots full, cars parked on both sides of the winding road leading up to them.




Dat landscape! (this is looking back toward the city; Signal hill is in the background there)

Also, stairs.

Also, stairs.

Then there are the lighthouses. We didn’t get all the way up to the old one on this trip, but they’ve got the inside set up as a museum showing what life was like for the lighthouse keepers way back when. At least, I think so… we haven’t paid the admission to go in yet. It’s beautiful, restored to the way it looked back in 1839. Great pictures here, and lots of information, too.

But there’s also the newer lighthouse up there, fully functional and doing its job.

...and apparently about to get smashed by my giant husband. O.o

…and apparently about to get smashed by my giant husband. O.o

You’ve also got military history up there: WWII cannons (sorry, 10-inch guns) and bunkers. Not the most cheerful place to have spent time back then, I imagine, and really creepy now, but interesting. Also, for the more mature among us, you can catch people standing near the guns and…



So yes, it was a lovely day, but why so busy? Well, we were there to see the whales, but it turned out there were other things going on that we didn’t now about. Oh, Cape Spear, you so crafty! Touch tables from the Ocean Sciences centre where the kids could interact with crabs, sea cucumbers, snails, and other local creatures, a colouring table, and a minke whale skeleton courtesy of a group that does whale/sea turtle/basking shark rescues, also available for touching and close examination. So interesting!



As for the whales? Well…

We saw them!

Humpbacks, and quite a few of them, some very close to the shore. It was AMAZING. I wish I could have got better pictures for you all, but I don’t have a camera that’s better than the one in my phone, and it’s a very, VERY bad idea to get too close to the water at Cape Spear. Even on calm days rogue waves can come up, and not a year goes by when at least one tourist doesn’t get swept away after he/she ignores the dozen “dangerous coastline, stay on designated trails” signs.

This doesn’t stop idiots people with no brains careless… um… well, people who think the signs aren’t for them from taking their little kids down to get closer to the whales… and the dangerous ocean. I love you guys, but not that much.

But I did get this for you.

See the light blue patch between the dorsal fin and the rocks? That’s one massive, white flipper right there. One was swimming away and we could see both stretched out to the sides… just amazing.


When they exhale, they make a very loud “PFFFT” sound. AJ thinks they were just making fun of all of the crazy humans watching them from the shore.

One more thing before we leave the whales: When they go back under, the water pooling behind them leaves a flat space in the waves. This is called a whale footprint. Yes, I got pictures of the Prints of Whales.

You didn't think you were getting out of this without at least one stupid pun, did you?

You didn’t think you were getting out of this without at least one stupid pun, did you?

So that was our trip to Cape Spear. If you’re ever in St. John’s and have a way to get out there, I highly recommend visiting. Even if the weather’s not perfect and the whales aren’t around, it’s an amazing place. Have I ever showed you all my pictures from the foggy evening we spent up there last summer? It was creepy and surreal and quiet and kind of mind-blowing. We went past the old lighthouse:

Tell me this doesn't look haunted.

Tell me this doesn’t look haunted.

…and out onto the lands beyond. Very eerie in the fog! When I stepped close to the edge of the cliffs, it was like the end of the world opening up under my feet.

I got the most delightful shivers!

I got the most delightful shivers!

The ocean was down there somewhere. I know, because I could hear it whispering.

A few more pictures from last August:

foggy lighthouse

pitcher plant. Yep, our provincial flower is carnivorous.  How fun and creepy!

Pitcher plant. Yep, our provincial flower is carnivorous. How fun and creepy is that?

Remember when I said the glaciers dropped boulders all over the place? Sometimes they did stuff like this. I sat under there. It was cozy. :)

Remember when I said the glaciers dropped boulders all over the place? Sometimes they did stuff like this. I sat under there. It was cozy.

So there you go. That’s Cape Spear, and I love it. Highly recommended if you’re out that way, with or without the whales. 🙂

WIPpet Wednesday, “I’m Running Out of Stuff Again” Edition (and #ROW80 Update)

Wednesday again? Really? Seems like we just did this. It’s so weird how individual days can seem to drag on, but then a week goes by and I have no idea where it went.

For anyone who’s new to this (and hello, welcome!), WIPpet Wednesday is the day when we post a bit of a work in progress that somehow relates to the day’s date: 22 lines, something from page or chapter 22, 22+5 lines (for the 22nd day of the 5th month)… we like to get creative.

As I said in the title, I’m running out of stuff to post on Wednesdays, for a few reasons. One is that I’m going back to editing Bound, and I don’t know whether I can finish this story before I do. I read a post on heroines at There and Draft Again the other day, and it made me miss Rowan so badly I wanted to cry. I need to get back to her story. But I don’t want to disappoint anyone waiting on this one… The other issue is that while I love how this Newfoundland vampire thing is going,* a lot of it might not be appropriate for WIPpet Wednesdays. Some of it is sex, a lot of it is violence. Gory post-murder scenes, tortured bodies of innocent people. Necessary for the story, but kind of only appropriate for a certain audience.


Well, here’s something for today, anyway, 22 paragraphs. This takes place a few days after the training from last Wednesday. After they went to help investigate one of these disturbing scenes, Trixie decided to leave Daniel and Shivva to go train under an experienced rogue hunter. Now Shivva and Daniel are alone in the townhouse. Shivva was pretty shaken up over the way the people died, and by suspicions that Katya, the rogue hunter, had something to do with the murders (she’s keeping that to herself for now). Sorry if some of what they talk about is confusing; it was all explained earlier. :/

Again, this is first draft stuff. You’ve been warned.

I sit on the counter, swinging my feet, banging them against the wood of an empty cupboard door. Daniel leans against the fridge, and kicks it when it starts making that thrumming noise like it does sometimes. We’ll need to replace that, too.

My thoughts are everywhere tonight.

“So,” Daniel says. “This shouldn’t be weird, right?”

“I don’t think so. We’ve been alone in the house before. You and Trixie were here together before I came along, I assume that wasn’t weird.” I assumed a lot of things until he kissed me. Assumed there was nothing more to our relationship than the hard-ass trainer/desperate-to-achieve underling. Sure, I’ve always known he was attractive, but I’ve never really considered dating vampires… or whatever. I have my fun with the humans I feed on, some times more than others, and I’m satisfied with that. To consider a relationship is just crazy. Especially with him. He doesn’t want that, of course. It was a training exercise. Calm down, Shivva.

He’s watching me again. He steps closer. “This morning was hard for you, wasn’t it? Worse than the other one.”

“Um. Well, yeah.” I’m not sure what to say. Katya is an old friend of his, and someone he respects. Who respects him. Who I’m wrong about. Why do I have to keep telling myself that? Best to focus on something else.

God, his eyes are gorgeous.

“Maybe telling you to open yourself up to that whole compassion thing was a bad idea. I’m sorry, Shiv.” He pulls his hair back from his face, then lets it fall forward over his eyes, shadowing them.

“No, it’s fine. I was getting something, but I guess it wasn’t quite there. I think it’s helping, I just need to learn to hide my emotions better.”

“Yeah.” There are a thousand words floating in the air between us, unspoken. I wish I knew what they were. He wants to say more, I can feel it. He steps closer again. “Shiv, about the other night…”

“Oh. I told you it was OK.” I try to laugh, but it falls flat, adding to the weight of the room’s atmosphere. “You were right about a lot of things, you know. About not trying to be a good vampire and just letting it happen, about my enemy perception being flawed when my expectations are too… specific.” He’s locked his eyes onto mine, making me stumble over my words. My mouth is dry.

He swallows hard. “I can’t be your trainer anymore.”

“What?” I want to jump down to the floor, but I can’t without crashing into him. “I’m fired?”

“No, you’re not fired.” He’s got that worried look again. No, confused. Uncertain? Why can’t I get a handle on this? “I just can’t do it anymore.”

“But I’m doing better, really! I know I haven’t been making much progress recently, but I think with your new ideas, I could do better. I am doing better, already. Daniel, please—”

He holds up a hand, places a finger on my lips to silence me. My skin prickles, and a shiver like a bucketful of cold water washes across my back. He feels it, and smiles. “Shivva, you’re doing fine. I know I don’t tell you that enough. Or ever, actually. But you’re doing great. Once you get past this last block, you’ll be ready for whatever you want to do. When I found you, I thought you’d be suited for investigations and hunting, but if this isn’t working out for you, the world is yours. I’m proud of you. You’re strong and smart and amazing, and I wish I could say that it hurts me to kick your ass, but it’s actually pretty fun. I like training you.”

“So what’s the problem? I’m not done like Trixie.”

He steps forward again, into my space, his hips between my knees, hands resting on the counter on either side of me. His face is just inches away from mine. “If you feel like you’re not ready, I can find someone else to train you, but it would be unethical for me to be in a position of authority over you.”

“Daniel?” Is he going to kiss me?

“Just say I’m not your trainer anymore.”

“You’re not my trainer anym–”

His mouth cuts me off, pressed against mine. Harder than the other night, forcing my lips back against my teeth. He stops, pulls back so that his lips are a hair’s breadth from mine, not touching. Giving me a chance to pull away.

Think she’ll tell him to shove off? 🙂

Be sure to check out the other WIPpeteers’ contributions here (updated all day long!), and thank you to the splendiferously spectacular K.L. Schwengel for hosting all of this. If you want to join in, post your own work on your blog (relating to the date in some way) and add your link!

And if you have a moment…

ROW80LogocopyNow, I also need to toss in a ROW80 update, don’t I? Not much to say. I’ve had a few days when I’ve got my 1,000 words in, but I’m feeling a little uninspired right now. I know where this story is going and how to get there, but I’m tired. We’ll see if tonight’s write-in with the writing ninjas perks me up at all. I haven’t been waking up early; the tiredness extends to everything, not just writing. I’m reading a bit, but it’s on the Kobo, and I find myself wishing I had a paperback copy. Still adjusting to it. I might hold off on reviewing anything I read on there, because I think it’s affecting my enjoyment of the stories, and that’s not fair to the author or the story. Maybe after I find one I can’t put down, my brain will get the message. 🙂

I really want it to work out, because books are so much cheaper that way, especially stuff that doesn’t come from big publishers. I’m finding myself much more likely to try a book I wouldn’t have otherwise when I can get it for less than $5 (so no, this doesn’t include most traditionally published stuff, but I’m finding some interesting-looking books from other sources).

I hope everyone’s having a great week, whether you’re a WIPpeteer, a #ROW80 participant, or someone who’s actually sane and does neither. If you’re here, I want you to be having an amazing week.

*My kingdom for a title!

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