The end of the horror

Part 2:

My lab is overrun with jewelry from the crime scene. Each item is in its own baggie waiting to be organized. There will still be more once they're done with the pieces that have forensic evidence on them. I've got to sort this all by type and value and then start trying to match them to pieces that have been reported. At the same time, I have to look for links that would explain why these pieces are all together and what they might have to do with the boy's murder.

I cannot imagine the amount of work that lies ahead of me.

I turn up the stereo and let the music get me into the zone. Once it's just the pieces I need to deal with, I love my job. I lose myself in the art.

Something in the corner of my eye catches my attention and breaks my concentration. But I turn around and can't figure out what. I try to get back into my work, but now I have the feeling that something's not quite right. Maybe this is connected to the boy's murder. Fingers crossed my subconscious is working out a clue I'm just not aware of yet.

But there it is again! I know something's happening behind me, but I can't see it. What is this?

Suddenly the necklace holder is on my table - twice as big as when I'd found it. What?! It swells up - tentacles pour out from where a head should be!

I run for the door, but I'm not fast enough. The tentacles have me around the legs, arms, face, neck. Everything is going black.

The End


Guess I'm not really into writing horror, especially when it turns out to be more of a bad cop story with a random monster at the end.

I  just got one of my favorite rings back from the jeweller after having it checked, so in honor of that I Googled jewelry related writing prompts. These two quotes inspired me to try a bit of horror writing for the first time:

"Tentacles pour out from where a head should be" (from greybon.com)
"Nice jewelry and a boy's corpse"


"Nice jewelry."

"And a boy's corpse."

Not a description of the crime scene I was expecting. No matter how many times you hear the cliche "expect the unexpected," you're still always thinking it'll be the same old thing.

As I enter the scene I can tell immediately that those cops hit the nail on the head. The small room is littered with  nice jewelry of all kinds and in the center lies a boy's corpse. It looks like he was about 12 years old, bloody, clothes torn, and twisted in the terror he died in.

I try not to look at him too carefully since it's the bling I'm here for. Normally I wouldn't be anywhere near a murder scene since I specialize in jewelry and art theft. But the accessories around the body told the Chief I'd be an asset on the case.

I start examining the pieces one by one. It's immediately apparent that there's a lot of quality work here. Whoever killed this kid and ditched the jewels is either the biggest moron alive or something happened to make him run and he planned to come back for the treasure. Either way, he's lost out on thousands, probably hundreds of thousands of dollars.

I bag some of the pieces to take back to the lab and make sure that after the body's been dealt with it everything else will be sent to me. Not only will it all be evidence in the case, but it's also probably all stolen and we'll have to try to return what we can.

Something catches my eye as I head to the door- a necklace holder shaped like a dressmaker's dummy with wires coming out the top. I add it to my bag.


To be continued...

There's a cello in your house now*

That's the best line from Rocket Science, which I just watched. I had another post planned for tonight, but now I just have to talk about the obnoxious writing in the film. This is what happens when writers want to impress you with cleverness:


"Suitcases end marriages and farming subsidies launch cataclysms."
"Then on Thursday - it could have been any day, but it wasn't, it was Thursday,"


Honestly, I believe that if you're sitting there trying to be funny and clever and witty then you're going to fail and be annoying. And I could just hear the writer trying. It didn't help that those two lines were delivered by a narrater who disappeared for a chunk of the middle of the film and wasn't missed.


It strikes me as amazingly unfortunate that a story about finding your voice failed miserably because the writer's voice sounded so hollow and contrived. The goal of all that advice floating around about "finding your voice" to write is aimed at avoiding junk like this movie.




P.S. I also found every character in the film really creepy, with only two exceptions, which made the writing come across as even more annoying.




*I've always really liked cellos and have been thinking lately that after I'm satisfied with my piano skills and learn to play D's guitar and can afford to buy one, I might learn to play the cello.

Cooking Evening

In honor of the three dinners and ten lunches I prepared this evening, and the two apple pies I still haven't baked because I'm all cooked out, the prompt from the internet tonight is

How does your family prepare a turkey?*

First we order one from the local butcher so that we get a free-range, organic turkey that costs more than we should spend but makes us feel awesome and superior to people who don't care about their turkey's background. Our turkey last year was Mennonite, but this year we didn't specify that we wanted a religious bird so we got one without beliefs. It honestly didn't taste as delicious.

Once the turkey is home, Elva comes over and rubs secret spices all over it and sometimes stuffs it with things like apples and cinnamon sticks. We boil up a saline solution with chicken broth and bathe the turkey in it overnight.

On Canadian Thanksgiving we put the turkey in the pan, surround it with vegetables or apples or other things Elva knows will be yummy, and bake it.

Lastly, we carve it up and serve it to our friends who come to celebrate with us.


*Apparently, "Some people grill the turkey outside." Who? I'm from Southern California and, although we can comfortably eat the turkey outside on Thanksgiving without jackets, I don't know anyone who's ever grilled it.

Poisonous Bitch

Don't worry, I don't even have a sister (or a gluten intolerance):

My sister poisoned me! That bitch! She swore those cupcakes were gluten-free, but I wouldn’t be sick like this if they were. She must have snuck some wheat in while baking them.

Why would she do this to me? Especially on my birthday! Is she still mad that I was a little late to her birthday dinner last year? She’d only been waiting 15 minutes, even if I was supposed to be there an hour earlier. It’s not my fault my seminar ran late. And why should I have left early if I knew she wouldn’t be on time either? Really, she got mad at me for not waiting for her for 45 minutes, and I apologized for months.

And then she poisoned me! I can feel the nastiness moving through my veins despite my body’s fierce attempts to expel it. I knew she wasn’t the nicest person in the world, but I thought she was better than this. A sister should be safe from the evils she unleashes on the world.

How could I confront her about this? I can’t just accuse my sister of poisoning me, but I can’t let her treat me like this. I won't stoop to her level with revenge. I’ll just have to tell her that I ate gluten somehow and that she’ll need to be more careful in the future because I know she’d never feed it to me on purpose. She’s too good a sister to ever hurt me like that and she must feel so bad about causing me all this pain through no fault of her own. So from now on she’ll just have to bring over only foods that are labelled gluten-free. It’s not my fault they cost two to three times as much as regular food. That’s just the price she’ll have to pay for having a sister who’s stronger than she thinks.

I've been thinking quite a bit about writing and what it means lately. I met a professional writer last week and during the whole conversation about writing and books it was so hard not to be jealous of him. But the great surprise was that I didn't also feel intimidated because I've become confident calling myself a writer. One day other people will work not to be jealous of me.

I've also been thinking a lot because I'm coming across "expert" opinions that are pissing me off. One writer is considered a must-read for writers and other artists and another is someone I know who's coming off pretty cocky for one so young. What bugs me most is being told that I write because I want to communicate with an audience, even if that audience is just myself.

If you ever want to piss me off, just tell me why I'm doing something.

Here is a perfect example of my writing that was not created to communicate, but to sound beautiful to my ear and look lovely on the page:

Sometimes I write just because I enjoy the activity of making letters and words on the page. So there.

It's so hard to blog when the weather's beautiful, because it's hard to do anything at a computer hat's not absolutely necessary when the weather's beautiful. Now that crappy fall/winter is coming on I swear I'll be better.

But not so much tonight because I have to practice piano and write another two letters. So here's another wonderful quote to tide over my eager reader (you'd better read this since you're the only one so far), a wonderful example of simile from an email I received:

"The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00pm instead of 7:30."

Little Did James Know What that Drink Contained

The prompt is that the first words of the story are "Little did James know what that drink contained" and the last word is "caught." I played with the beginning a bit, and it's really rough, but here's what I came up with:

James took a sip from the goblet in his hand, but little did he know what that drink contained. He didn’t know much about anyone or anything at this party. The only reason he’d come was to see the ballroom of the historic Maribelle Hotel.

James had always loved the Maribelle’s grand exterior and dreamed of going inside, but the doormen were quite good at keeping out non-guests, and why pay for a hotel room in your own town? Seeing the sign posted on a streetlight for an open party in the Maribelle Hotel’s ballroom was like a gift. He could make his dream come true and enjoy a party at the same time.

The drink felt funny in his mouth and tasted awful. James quickly ditched the goblet and decided to try the food instead. A long table held dozens of different finger foods, but none were recognizable. After that nasty drink, James decided not to risk trying anything else.

He turned his attention back to the ballroom, which was as stunning as he’d hoped it would be. It looked very different than it had in his imagination - darker, with more red and black velvet than the cream and gold he’d predicted. He also hadn’t dreamed of the mezzanine that wrapped around the room, accessible by a grand staircase at the back of the room.

Almost all of the main floor was set up as a dance floor. Although James was far too shy to ask a stranger to dance and too self-conscious to dance alone, he still enjoyed watching. Even before coming, he’d known he would spend most of this party right on the edge of the action, just like at every other party. He took a spot beside the dance floor where he was close enough to pretend he was dancing with everyone else.

The other party-goers were not exactly what James had expected. Given that this was a flier-advertised party, he thought it would be full of young, loud, wild people, and it was. Everyone was gorgeous and exciting. These people, however, looked like they were dressed for a fantasy ball. He saw quite a few girls in short skirts with wings on their shoulders or back - definitely trying to look like fairies. A few others had flowy medieval gowns that must have cost a fortune at the costume shop. Some men had tall boots, others low-cut loose white shirts (the kind pirates always wear), and at least one guy had a bow and arrows.

This made James feel more out of place, not only because he looked different, but because it meant there had been some code on the flier that he hadn’t been able to understand indicating dress code. That wasn’t a surprise since he’d never really been in-the-know socially. It was probably intentionally cryptic to keep out people like himself who didn’t belong. But he would have felt like more of a loser if he’d walked out right away than he did staying and trying to enjoy himself for a bit.

As he danced James began to feel a bit funny, almost tingly. He’d only had one sip to drink so he couldn’t be buzzed, but it felt slightly like he wasn’t in full control of his body. He stopped dancing and took the grand staircase to the mezzanine for more air.

Up there only a few people were milling about. A couple of shadowy nooks gave a bit of privacy to entwined couples, and even though it was open to the dance floor, it was much quieter.

James leaned over the railing and watched the crowd below. ‘So many beautiful women down there,’ he thought dreamily. After a while he realized that his arms had gone numb and he couldn’t feel his hands anymore. He assumed they’d gone to sleep because he was leaning on them, but when he looked at them he couldn’t see his hands either. The rest of him appeared foggy and insubstantial. What was happening?

“I see a mortal has shared our meal,” said a deep voice from behind.

James whirled around. A tall, dark, regal woman stared at him. “What was that in the drink? What’s happening to me?” he asked her.

“When one who isn’t Fairy eats or drinks our nourishment there is no way to know what will happen.”

“What are you talking about? Who are you?”

“I am Regona. We are the Fairies of the Forest. Sometimes we tire of the forest, however, and when we do this is our home.”

James had trouble understanding this. It didn’t just look like he was an outsider in a room of magic people, he was an outsider in a room of magical people. Plus, something magical was happening to him.

“I believe I can confidently tell you that what is happening to you is that you are becoming invisible,” Regona told James. He looked down at his body again. this time there was no fogginess. There was nothing to see at all.

James turned and ran down the stairs, pushed his way across the dance floor, and slammed into the heavy doors that led out of the ballroom. They wouldn’t budge for him, however, even with all his strength. He’d stumbled upon a fairy realm and he remains there, invisible, caught.

Oh yeah, I have a blog

That's exactly what I thought the other day and was completely amazed that I had forgotten this for a while. Time to fix that!

I'm working on a couple of stories right now, but since Translink recently replaced my favorite bus ever with the 14, I'm sharing the mock magazine article I wrote for my university composition class. It's from 2006, so it was already out of date even before they changed the route, but oh well.

A Day Along the 17 Bus Route

Go on an enjoyable journey through parts of Vancouver
you may know well and others you may not.

A good public transportation system is one of the marks of a great world-class city. Luckily for us, Vancouver has good public transit. Not only is that beneficial to the environment in an area of ecologically conscious citizens, but it’s key with Vancouver’s Olympic future. Parking will become even more scarce and expensive as thousands of visitors converge for the Games. For these reasons we should all think carefully about using our cars. Transit provides an alternative way for everyone to get around Vancouver. It relieves you from having to look for parking, buy gas, or deal with bad drivers in traffic. One of the best things about taking a public bus is that you can easily discover places on the way that you might miss while driving.

Discovering what’s along the 17 bus route provides a full day of enjoyable activity for locals and tourists alike. Starting downtown, it goes down Granville, turns onto Broadway, then onto 10th Avenue, and ends at UBC. With lots of great places to stop, there’s something along the way for everyone in the family. One of the appeals of this route through the western side of Vancouver is the mix of different environments. You start out in a bustling city centre with skyscrapers and professionals intermingled with the grit of the edgier population. Gradually you move onto wider streets with a more suburban feel. Finally, you end on a university campus that feels secluded from the rest of the world.

Begin your adventure by exploring downtown. You can shop on Robson Street or in the Pacific View Mall. The Vancouver Art Gallery, which is placed among other major museums such as the Met, MOMA, and MOCA when it’s referred to as the VAG, also has a store full of funky fun things you probably don’t need but will love anyway. If shopping isn’t your idea of bliss, you check out the VAG’s exhibits, or the people who gather on its steps, often protesting or performing. Or stroll the streets looking at some of the wonderful city architecture. The Fairmont Hotel Vancouver, at 900 West Georgia Street, stands out from its surroundings thanks to its green copper roof. Another striking building is Holy Rosary Cathedral, an amazing example of gothic architecture, at 646 Richards Street. Seeing the Central Library is worth the walk over to 350 West Georgia Street. Inspired by Roman architecture, the circular building was initially controversial but residents have grown used to it. A feature that sets it apart from other libraries is the enclosed entrance with stores and coffee shops.

When you’re ready to start your journey, get on a bus that says 17 UBC at any of the stops on Granville. You might not want to walk too far down the street because the lower section looks a little dodgy due to the numerous porn shops and peep shows. The area is harmless, however; I’ve never been made to feel uncomfortable there. Soon you’ll cross the Granville Street Bridge. This is the third bridge in that spot; the first one was wooden and opened way back in 1889. Once across you can get off at 5th Avenue to walk down to Granville Island. Follow the signs to the pedestrian underpass and then take the right fork out of the tunnel. Walk through the park (remember to stop at the fountain to make a wish), cross 4th Avenue, and then cross to the right side of the street. Then just keep walking straight until you reach the island.

The most well known thing on Granville Island is the Public Market, which sells fresh meats and produce, prepared food, plants, and craft items. This huge indoor area is a maze of stands and people where the various smells, sounds, and colours can easily be overwhelming. Everywhere you turn you’ll see lots of mouthwatering food so go hungry (or full if you prefer not to be tempted). In addition to the Public Market is the Kids Market with its own special entrance for children. The stores inside also sell board games and puzzles for people of all ages so it’s fun even if you’re not a kid.

The main shopping building is the Net Loft, which has some one of a kind stores, like the shop that only sells postcards or the cookbook bookstore. A real treasure for paper or journal lovers is Paper-Ya. This little store has rare supplies and lots of fun little items. The rest of Granville Island is covered with more businesses, artists’ workshops, restaurants, and theatres. Make sure to walk carefully in the streets because drivers tend to be inconsiderate here.

When you’re done on Granville Island, walk back to Granville Street. There you can either get back on the bus at the 5th Avenue stop, or if you like art galleries, walk up Granville to Broadway. This section of Granville is sometimes referred to as Gallery Row because so many line the street. There are also a few high-end furniture stores that can be interesting to look at. Turn right (west) when you get to Broadway. If you like hats then I Love Hats is definitely worth a look. It’s just around the corner and the bus stop is just a few yards down so hop back on there.

Dainty rosebud bouquets for sale on Broadway

The next place I would get off is Macdonald. This stretch of Broadway is full of great stores and provides a more laid-back shopping experience than downtown. Adding to the famed West Coast feel are numerous restaurants and coffee shops with patio seating along the sidewalk. This is a great area for buying gifts. For the younger generations there’s Kidsbooks, which has lots for young adults as well as children, and The Toy Box, which has very nice selection. Women will likely love LouLou, a small store with nice cards and funky small items. Next door to it is LouLou Luv, which has bigger items such as jewelry and hats. Another great place to find a present (possibly for yourself) is Karisma. For animal lovers there’s Noah’s Pet Ark, known for their friendly service. Once you’ve done your shopping, get back on the bus at Macdonald, Bayswater, Balaclava or Blenheim.

At Alma Street the bus turns onto 10th Avenue. This section of the route passes through a residential area full of nice houses. As the bus climbs upward, if you look out the right hand side windows you can see in between houses across the water to downtown. By now you may be getting tired from all of your exploring so take this time to relax. Don’t worry; you’re getting close to UBC.

The final area worth exploring along the 17 route is 10th Avenue between Trimble and Sasamat. This area is relatively quiet and slow-paced. For crafty people, The Cloth Shop and Urban Yarns are conveniently located right next door to each other. A couple of blocks up, Splish Splash Bath Boutique is also a fun place to look. Those shopping for clothes will enjoy the cute stores that are much less crowded than those downtown. Climb back aboard the bus at Sasamat. As you ride along the final section to the UBC campus enjoy the magnificent trees that border the road.

The bus route ends at the gorgeous University of British Columbia Point Grey Campus. The campus architecture varies greatly from classic stone buildings to modern structures. My favorite is Koerner Library. Made of glass and shaped like an open book, Koerner has been featured in many films and shows. The Museum of Anthropology is even more famous for its design. Inspired by traditional Northwest Coast buildings, the museum houses some incredible pieces, including a large collection of totem polls.

UBC also has many lovely gardens. I especially love the Rose Garden at the north end of Main Mall. Colourful all year long, this charming area has stunning views of the ocean and islands. If you want to identify the visible islands you can look on the map in the middle of the railing above the garden. Another outdoor gem is The Nitobe Memorial Garden. Tucked away in the northwest corner of campus, this unique garden features many native plants in traditional Japanese style. It was carefully designed to provide visitors with a different experience in each season while always looking amazing.

Wyman Plaza with Flag Pole Plaza in the background on Main Mall at The University of British Columbia.

After taking in the beauty of UBC you can get back onto the 17 to return to downtown or you can get on one of the many other buses that run from campus to all over the Vancouver area. If you want to stop for dinner there are lots of yummy options back along the 17 route. I love Enigma, which is right next to the stop at Trimble. It’s nice but not fancy and relatively inexpensive. Just off campus at 10th and Sasamat is Candia Taverna. This Greek restaurant has been around for decades: my parents ate there when they were dating while my dad was still in graduate school. If you want a more casual meal, try Moderne Burger. Only serving burgers has allowed them to perfect the dish. Located at 2507 West Broadway (a couple of blocks east of Macdonald), this 50s style diner comes complete with fun old-fashioned atmosphere.

Although you’ll see a lot during you busy day on the 17, remember that this is only a tiny fraction of what Vancouver has to offer. There are dozens of other great places to visit and plenty of ways to get there on public transportation. So put on your walking shoes, grab a water bottle, and get out and explore this lively city!

Cyclist Dan

The prompt last night at Word Whips was "Cyclist Dan," the theme for the evening was "circles," and this is what came to mind:

Cyclist Dan can ride to the moon. Riding is dream time- a trip through Province, a journey into space. Old friends ride with him, because a friend never really leaves. He refuses to take riding "seriously" - no special pants, no paniers, no silly shoes that are no good for walking. Dreams shouldn't be serious, but little trips of joy. The bike is a ride back to childhood, the chain connecting all his life together, because he is a circle himself, growing but always complete.

I've been trying to come up with more interesting character combinations for writing prompts. I like this one, but it didn't get very far:

The Queen Lets the Plumber In
"Please, do come in."
"Oh. Uh, thank you Ma'am. What's the trouble?"
"I'm afraid the toilets are malfunctioning."
"Aren't there servants to handle these issues?"
"Yes, quite right, but all the staff are down with ghastly food poisoning. We would normally simply wait until someone could take care of it, but, with the illness, you see, it's rather urgent."
"Of course Ma'am. I'll get right to work."

Button Flu teaser

I will eventually write this story, but I can share the intro for now:

The Great Button Flu has struck dolls and teddy bears all over the world! Buttons pop up on fabric and fur, impossible to remove without catastrophic stuffing loss. Soon the poor toy is completely covered with buttons- left hard and un-huggable. Can anyone stop the epidemic? Or will children everywhere be left with nothing to cuddle?