Most Amusing, an Email

Another edition of Throw Back Thursday, another email.
I was going to write you a long (and funny) email this afternoon filled with various anecdotes about people at work … but I decided against it.
After all, why should I write a potential keepsake for you when all you ever do is respond with a few witty words?
… Alas, this is all you get today.
Good Riddance.

War is Hell: circa 2010

Throw Back Thursday, an email I wrote my Dad many years ago.

I feel a certain camaraderie now with men and women who have been scarred by battle. I myself posses a battle wound. Last night on the return trip from Sweeny Todd I accidentally closed my leg in the door of a jeep. It was excruciating but somehow I managed to keep a clear head and beat the enemy back (open the car door). My leg is twisted, covered in purples and blues that are brighter than the hues in my hair.
It was hard to sleep, my mind overflowing with questions. Why me? How had this peaceful trip turned into such a bloodbath? What did I do to the car door to deserve this animosity? How could something I had always treated with gentleness and respect, never slamming, treat me in such a way?
War is hell, ladies and gentlemen. And I have the bruise to prove it.

Observations from the Emotionally (un)Stable

This edition of Throw Back Thursday is an email I wrote my Dad when I first starting thinking about moving back to Victoria from Edmonton. I didn’t end up moving that summer, but this email is still one of my favourites.

I am so perky today it’s revolting. I’m not sure if I’m giddy from lack of sleep (I spent an inordinate amount of time staring at my ceiling last night before finally giving up and reading a book) or if I’m just excited that it’s Friday and I was able to wear jeans to work. Perhaps it’s some combination of the two? Or, maybe it’s that I snuck into work this morning wearing my red high top converse all stars (the colour of rebellion!)? Only God and my subconscious know for sure.

Either way, it’s made for an interesting morning. It certainly is a nice change from the last few days which were, well, let’s just say the last few days were dark. Literally, the sun seems to have abandoned Edmonton and, while the weather is still unseasonably warm, the flurries in the fog are taking over the city. I wonder if knowing that this is my last winter in this “City of Champions” (she says with maximum irony) is contributing to my cheerful mood? Probably. I am sure that my nostalgic side will miss Edmonton and the experiences I had here. Perhaps in the future I will click through the Edmonton Journal with a mysterious half smile. Perhaps not.

(You will notice I said click instead of flip. Welcome to the digital age, my friend).

Maybe my time here in Edmonton will be included in the author write up featured at the back of my novels? A line or two about how surviving the prairies has given me a strength of character and an appreciation for the small town community. Or perhaps I will write a semi-autobiographical story about a young girls journey to adulthood on the frozen plains? I suppose anything’s possible. Never say never. *insert other cliché about the unexpected*

Writing this is causing my perky mood to morph into giddily contemplative. I suppose reflection is good for the soul, but I don’t wish to bore you so I will end it here.


Patterns aren’t just for Knitting

This edition of Throw Back Thursday is another example of writing using patterns. It was originally sent as an email to my family.

Apparently I have too much time on my hands, how else can you explain this? Besides just saying I am a horrible procrastinator. Can’t a girl just have a little fun every now and then without it being something weird? Don’t people make allowances for strange habits anymore?

Eccentricity should be revered!

Fortunately for me, I am far too self-involved to care that you aren’t impressed. Great people shouldn’t have to rely on the good opinions of others. However, I could get by with a little more recognition. I am, after all, doing something pretty cool here.

Just you wait until I finish, then you will be impressed.

Know this; you probably aren’t the only person who didn’t get it right away. Lots of people don’t see patterns in the beginning. Many might not even notice until they get to the end. (Not even these hints will help them.) One shouldn’t be embarrassed if it takes a while.

Perhaps I should try distracting you now? Questioning you? Really, I could throw in some misdirection. Should I tell you about my newest hobby?

Today I decided to take up Rapping. Usually I make fun of rappers, but lately I’ve started thinking they are cool. Very cool. Who else can pull off being “Gangsta” with such aplomb? Xander from Buffy certainly couldn’t. You’d think that I would be able to come across “Gangsta” without the aid of rap; you’d be wrong. Zeal just isn’t enough these days.

Ode to a Father (with Horses)

This edition of Throw Back Thursday features a poem I wrote for my Father many, many years ago.

It is true I’m not a poet
(though you seem not to know it,
asking me to write you a poem, the nerve!)
But still you asked
and so I was tasked
to write you a poem with horses.
Horses you say?
Why yes! They go “nay”
And ninny and nicker too!
I’ve ridden a horse twice
though it wasn’t so nice
(I fell on my face, you see)
I broke up my glasses
they were eaten by bass’
(or any other fish in the sea).
My what a rut
I seem to be stuck
oh dear me, what do I say?
I think I must end
this poem my friend
before it runs on too long.
(too late!)

1 through 10

Throw Back Thursday. An experiment with patterns.

One day Two children found a house in the woods. Three times they had to knock beFour the door mysteriously opened. They took Five steps down the hallway before coming across Six sinister gentlemen, who did not seem to know the rules to musical chairs (they were using Seven chairs). It appeared as though the gentlemen were expecting the children as there were Eight pieces of cake, all neatly sliced and waiting for consumption.

Curious, thought the children.

The gentlemen all smiled.

Nine times out of Ten, if there are sinister gentlemen waiting for you in the woods they will not be bearing cake.

Sinister Eyebrows!

Sinister Eyebrows!




Final Fantasy: The War of the Magi (pt. 3)

Throwback Thursday: Final Fantasy: War of the Magi Part 3 of 3

This was a writing exercise I assigned myself one summer when I was 14. I took a story I was extremely familiar with (Final Fantasy 3 – a game I spent HOURS playing for many years and have beaten more times than I can count) and decided to write about it. I wanted practice at writing description and dialogue.

It was originally published on I never finished it.
For part one click here. For part two click here.

The kingdom of Figaro was located on a vast desert, south of the town of Narshe. If a traveler was lucky, they would reach Figaro in two days.

It was rare that anyone was lucky.

Throughout the snow, the grassy terrain and the vast desert that separated the two towns roamed strange creatures of the night and thieves. A weary explorer was a perfect target for any one of the dangers that lurked in the dark.

Locke and Terra reached the Castle of Figaro on the sixth night of their journey. Due to Terra’s weak state, they traveled slowly, only during the day, avoiding any place that was not in the open. There was only one attacker, but he was sent running by a blow from Locke.

Upon reaching their destination, they were stopped immediately at the gate and eyed suspiciously by two guards.

“Halt! What business have you here?” The guard on the left stepped forward and placed his hand on the handle of his sword.

Locke stepped out of the shadows so that only he was in complete view. A sigh escaped the guard who had talked and relief was evident in his tone. “Oh, it is you Locke.”

Giving one of his most charming smiles Locke gestured to Terra. “Of course it’s me. And I have brought a friend. Edgar should be expecting us.”

Terra stepped forward. “A friend? King Edgar said nothing of a friend,” the second guard spoke. “Perhaps we should go clear things up with the King.”

“Nonsense, since when has Edgar ever minded the company of a lady?” Locke winked as Terra eyed both the soldiers. She hoped she would not be left outside of the kingdom to fend for herself. Her strength was still not completely back.

“I suppose it would be alright,” the first guard narrowed his eyes but allowed them through.

It had been hard to see much of the kingdom in the dark, but as they entered the castle Terra was stunned. The walls surrounding them were made up of large stones that had been carefully mortared together and they stretched easily three times as tall as her 5’7″ frame. A wide strip of royal blue velvet carpeting stretched down the length of the corridor towards a set of elaborate wooden doors that faced them. Two guards stood as still as statues, one on either side of the carpet. The only proof that they were indeed alive was when they turned their heads and faced them.

Timidly, Terra turned and faced Locke who had in the last week become her most trusted protector. Locke smiled softly at her and the two headed down the entranceway to the wooden doors that she had so recently admired. He opened them and allowed her to pass through first. Continue reading

Final Fantasy: War of the Magi (pt. 2)

Throwback Thursday: Final Fantasy: War of the Magi Part 2 of 3

This was a writing exercise I assigned myself one summer when I was 14. I took a story I was extremely familiar with (Final Fantasy 3 – a game I spent HOURS playing for many years and have beaten more times than I can count) and decided to write about it. I wanted practice at writing description and dialogue.

It was originally published on I never finished it.
For part one click here.

A blurry haze covered the girl’s eyes as she moved her throbbing head upon the pillow it rested on. This haze was nothing compared to the emptiness of her mind. Her head seemed as if it were a chamber filled only with locked doors, all just out of her reach. Pain radiated from every limb, and it took all of her willpower to not cry as she sat on the edge of the bed. Looking around through squinted eyes, she took note of her surroundings. The room was at once warm and inviting, a fire stirred in the fire place, five feet from the bed. The walls were empty, and the space bare with the exception of a desk and chair, a bed, and a single lamp. A red shag carpet covered the floor. Two doors, on either end of the room, stood closed.

Ignoring the dagger like pains that seared her limbs and caused them to shake, the girl got up and began to walk towards the door at the far end of the chamber. Her legs failed her almost instantly and she collapsed to the floor. Suddenly, one of the doors in her mind opened and an image of burning soldiers crept before her eyes, the memory of burning flesh so vivid it caused her to retch on the floor. She shut her eyes against the flashback, unsure of where it had come and how. She cried out.

Instantly, the door was opened and a man rushed to her aid, kneeling on the floor beside her.

“Terra…? Are you alright?” His voice was low and soothing. Terra. The name sounded familiar to her, she could only suppose it was hers. He helped her up and back onto the bed, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. “My name is Arvis.”

“Arvis,” she repeated. Arvis was not a young man, but not terribly old either. He looked to be close to forty-five and stood at close to six foot tall. His eyes were a light brown and were warm and kind. Wrinkles creased his forehead, some evidently from age, others probably from the shock of having his home town invaded. He was fairly slender in build but strong. “Where am I?” Despite his friendly face, she was too unsure of the world to trust him completely.

He smiled reassuringly at her. “You are in my home in the city of Narshe. You came here with two of Emperor Ghastal’s soldiers in a mission to retrieve an Esper from the mines.” His face contorted with anger for a brief moment as he mentioned the emperors name, it soon reverted back the compassion she had seen there before, as if nothing had occurred to disturb him.

“I don’t remember anything…” tears of chagrin slipped from her eyes. Obviously the emperor was an awful man, she was astute enough to pick that up, so if she had been traveling with his army, than she must be part of the enemy. More tears fell.

“I didn’t suspect you would.” A thoughtful look took over Arvis’s features as he stood and paced the room once, he then headed towards the desk where he opened a drawer and pulled out a broken metal crown, the very one that had recently rested on her head. “Terra, this is a slave crown, it has held a place around your head for the last sixteen years. The emperor was using it to control you. You are not responsible for your actions.”

The mere fact that he mentioned responsibility for her actions showed that they must have been reprehensible.

Before Terra could question him on the situation further several loud knocks sounded on another door. Arvis paled slightly which caused another wave of terror to overcome her.

Continue reading

Final Fantasy: War of the Magi (pt. 1)

Throwback Thursday: Final Fantasy: War of the Magi Part 1 of 3

This was a writing exercise I assigned myself one summer when I was 14. I took a story I was extremely familiar with (Final Fantasy 3 – a game I spent HOURS playing for many years and have beaten more times than I can count) and decided to write about it. I wanted practice at writing description and dialogue.

It was originally published on I never finished it.

“Long ago, the War of the Magi reduced the world to a scorched wasteland, and magic simply ceased to exist.

“1000 years have passed… iron, gunpowder, and steam engines have been rediscovered, and high technology reigns…

“But there are some who would enslave the world by reviving the dread destructive force known as ‘magic.’

“Can it be that those in power are on the verge of repeating a senseless and deadly mistake?”

In this day and age, it has become difficult to set aside fact from fiction. Few things are known for sure about the War of the Magi, and the rest is said to be nothing but myth and legend. Tales told to children to frighten and amuse. Many even feel that the War of the Magi never even happened, that it never existed. These same skeptics scoff at the idea of magic, it is but another fable.

But what if they are wrong? What if the mythical Espers did indeed exist? If the legends were true…

Espers. Magical beings possessing both power for peace and for destruction, merely which ever suited their fickle moods. With a mere utterance of words and a flick of the wrist, the effects could be disastrous. Into the wrong hands they fell, causing a war that outlasted its creators.

In the end, the world, as it had been known, was destroyed. Magitek warriors were decimated in hundreds at the hands of the worlds so called saviors. Peace was restored.

Now, a powerful empire is restoring the long forgotten secrets of the world of magic. This ancient war is on the verge of being repeated. Is there anyone who posses the power to prevent another setback? Can anyone save the world…?

Continue reading

Humiliation? Yes please!

This edition of Throw Back Thursday is in honour of Valentine’s Day! Originally posted on my blog, triSARAHtops, it is about one of my many awkward life encounters. Enjoy!

Humiliation? Yes please!

Oh Friday, why can’t you ever just pass by without incident?

My coworkers, despite the fact that I am moving back to Victoria in three weeks (yup, 3 weeks) are still hell bent on “finding me a man”. (A goal they’ve had since I transferred to this office a year ago and they found out I was both single and straight. Apparently this combination is rare?)

Usually I find it amusing, but today it was downright hilarious. You know, if by hilarious I mean dreadfully uncomfortable. So very uncomfortable.

See, today, well, today I made the mistake of commenting on the attractiveness of a particular gentleman who works on our floor.

I knew it was a mistake before I even opened my mouth but there was no stopping the words as they tumbled out – something along the lines of “Giggidy Giggidy! I’d tap that fo’sho!”. The feeling of panic was instant and I stilled, caught in the metaphorical headlights of four happily settled women (the scariest breed). It was terrifying.

The moment was over as quickly as it happened, and though I still couldn’t shake the lingering dread, I thought I was home free. Perhaps they didn’t hear my grossly inappropriate comment? Maybe they missed the drool pooling at the side of my mouth? Or the hungry gleam in my eyes as I imagined him in his tighty whities? Impossibly, I was in the clear.

Or not.

It turns out V, my most persistent coworker, knows this gentleman and, more importantly, knows that he is also single. (Can you see where this is going?)

After lunch, in the middle of my being very busy and important, I was ambushed by two very meddlesome women with a very uncomfortable man sandwiched between them.

“Oh! Well isn’t this a coincidence! Fancy finding Sarah here, at her desk where she sits from 8:30 to 4:45 every Monday through Friday. Small world! Sarah’s from BC, is 24, loves to bake and is single!” Pause so we could both awkwardly nod at each other without making eye contact. “So … would you like to impregnate her now? Or wait until Happy Hour?”

The poor guy was held in place by identical death grips on both arms preventing the escape he clearly wanted to make.

Me? I just smiled awkwardly, took frequent sips of water to avoid having to talk, and waited for the world to swallow me whole.

After nearly five minutes (yup, I timed it) of forced conversation my coworkers finally let the poor guy go.

In the future I’m sure Mr. Sexy will avoid my end of the office. So long Eye Candy. Self preservation, it’s a kicker.