Character sketch

Long time, no type! So, since I am being excessively lazy/lame, and haven't been posting story segments or chapters, I decided to do some sketches of some of the main characters in the Zahncliff Institute. More will follow!

Escaping The Medae Sun

I did this about a year ago as an experiment in Sci-fi.... I'm still working out the many kinks!




It's hot here.
The rays from the sun are penetrating the outside panels and insulation of my ship. The metal grating presses against my face, and everything is in the wrong direction. I sit up, run my hand over my sweating face, and brush the hair out of my eyes.
The rest of the crew is still unconscious, and some look worse for wear than others. I don't even know if they are still alive.
I pull myself onto my knees, and feel a twinge in my lower abdomen. My stomach lurches as my hands come away from my side covered with blood. I grasp the hyper drive cables, and use them to lever myself to a standing position.
It's getting hotter and hotter. I check the internal thermometer. It's at a hundred and three. I reach for the radio, and bring it closer.
"this is Jean Silver of the 006 Artemis, requesting immediate assistance...... Is any one there?" The radio crackles, and a voice answers.
"006 Artemis, this is the StarGlider Base in the Ofelia ring. We have received your message, but are unable to assist. The sensors report that you are nearing the second sun in the Medae system." bile tickled the back of my throat. I checked the heat again. A hundred and ten.
"That is correct.... Is there anything to be done?" I already knew the answer.
"Negative." I let my head fall to the table. My tears feel cool against my hot skin, and my eyes begin to ache.
"I'm so sorry-- Over and out."

I move over to check the crew, taking the radio with me.
turning them over one by one, I talk into the speaker.
"Chessa LeMond, deceased."
"Eric Gilliam, deceased."
"Jarom Gilliam, deceased."
"Lacy Simone, deceased."
"Margretta Lu, breathing, but unable to move from current position." a ventilation shaft had fallen from above, cutting into Lu's hip bone. I felt shaky and helpless.
Why check the heat again? I knew it had gone up again, and would continue to increase.

We had been crossing through the Medae System to make a routine supply drop on colony planet
#00-491, but had been hit by an unforeseen meteor. We took it hard. The main engines and life support had been knocked out, the hull compromised. we were shaken off course, and moved closer to the sun. we were slowly floating through the silent darkness toward the fires of hell.

It wouldn't be long before me and Lu died of heat, and she would probably go first. I would die alone.
The pain in my side is getting worse, and Lu's heartbeat erratic and shallow. I propped myself on my elbows, and let my eye lids drift shut.

Something is messing with the Mainframe. A beeping sound comes from the sealed off corridor to my left. I hear metal hitting metal, and the beeping ceases. Someone knocks on the door.
I sit silently, waiting for the noise to come again.
The someone raps out 'Shave and a Haircut'.
"Hello? anyone there?" it was a light tenor voice with a slight lisp. My heart leaped in my chest.
"I'm here!" I stood hurriedly, and cried out in pain.
"Miss, are you all right?"
"I'm injured. But Hades, it's hot in here!" I moved towards the door control panel.
"Miss, can you open the door?" I wasn't much for electrical Jerry-rigging, "Miss?"
"I don't know!"
"What is your name?"
" What?"
"Your name, miss."
"Jean.... Jean!" I was breathing heavily, and my sweat started to steam on my skin.
"right, Jean! see the panel on the right side of the door? take off the cover, and look for the black wire."
I pulled around the edges of the panel, and exposed the hundreds of multicolored wires. I found the black one.
"Now what?"
"Cut it!" I turned around and rummaged through the tools, finally digging up the wire cutters. Separating the black wire from the others, I snipped through it. The door slid open, and I screamed.

>*<

"Miss? Miss Jean?" I opened my eyes, and looked up at the slanted reptilian eyes, and felt sick to my stomach. I was never one for the Strange Ones. My head hurt, and my vision was blurry. The Slaviil all looked down on me, their eyes non-blinking.
I couldn't count them proper. So many, then so few. When my eyes stopped jumping around, there were seven, all scaly-skinned and yellow-eyed.
the one by my side grinned, revealing thin pointed teeth.
"Miss Jean?" I gulped and brushed the hair out of my eyes.
"Ya, what?"
"I am Sythiim Hyssti. You are injured, and badly too. We've patched you up, and if it is all right with you, we can move back to our ship. Of course, we'll have to hurry," I looked each of them over. The uniforms suggested some type of federation, or alliance.
The question was, which one? there were hundreds of thousands in the Liicripto sector alone, and not all were honest folk. I looked over my situation.
"What the heck, get me out of here!"
Two of the Slaviil from the back came forward, awkwardly lifted my slender form, and carried me through the doorway.
"Wait! what about Lu?" I spun around frantically, trying to see her, and causing my side to sting in protest. Door-Man turned around, and glanced at the blue-skinned beauty.
"She is among the dead now." he tilted his head, and blinked for the first time, "I am sorry."


I was carried through the ship, down to the failing airlock, and taken on board a salvage vessel. Now that was unusual. Federations held at least a small amount of class, and wouldn't fly something as slap-dash as this. The hairs on the back of my neck rose up. It was cooler than on the ship, but I could tell it was still hot. Blue lights flashed on and off, and the Slaviil left odd shadows on the mixed-metal corridor walls. We twisted and turned, and I lost all sense of direction. Finally we came to a panel in the wall, which slid silently aside when we approached. I was set on a padded table in a well lit room.

A female Slaviil stepped forward, and began removing the gauze bandaging on my wound. All the men folk left except for Sythiim, leaving a nothing but silence. I began to shake from the sudden drop in temperature, and my mouth was dry. The nurse injected me with something, and I lost feeling in my limbs. Sythiim came over to me.
"Everything will be alright now. You are safe. Rest. When you wake up, you will be home. Rest." I slipped into the dark of calm safe sleep.

I woke up in my city apartment, in my bed. The sun peeked through the curtains, and the sun had risen high over Eldoridine.

Help!

Bad news, people. Writer's block has me once more in its vicious, merciless grasp! So, I have to ask help from my readers: Where do you want the characters to go? What questions do you want answered? What creatures would you like to see more? please share your thoughts! I have made it so that ANYONE can comment, and you don't have to have a Google account.
Would love to hear from you! Every tip is welcome!

Your writer in need,
Anne C.

Update!

Yes! I have broken free of the deadly Writer's Block, and you should be able to look forward to chapter six in just a few days! In the next chapter, we delve into the basement, and a bit of Zahncliff's past. Hope to see you then!

Autumn

This is a piece I did in October, near Halloween. Hope you enjoy!

The sky blazes bold azure, and the scent of fallen leaves is ambrosia for the senses. The warm colors of autumn surround me, and the gentle cool wind trickles by, a precursor to the coming cold and snow. My mind decidedly wanders away from the thought of the unavoidable winter months, and back to my current surroundings. The school-yard swings creak, a raven calls to its mate, and children hurry home from school, many in masks, others with bright colored capes or fairies-wings, skipping, singing, laughing with friends. There is a noticeable buzz in the air, a note of excitement, a gay demeanor brightening the little red noses and ears of the elementary students. Its time I started home. I turn, my long brown suede coat swinging behind, sending leaves skittering in every direction. My black and white sneakers slap the paved-path, and my wool scarf rubs against my neck, making me tingle. I shove my hands deeper in my pockets, and make the trek home.

As I approach the front door, the smell cinnamon and baked goods reaches me, pulling me in. I feel a smile tug at the corners of my mouth. Mother has been busy. Once in, I am greeted by my siblings, clamoring at my feet, showing me their costume-jewelry, and twirling in their multi-colored skirts.

I begin to collect my costume articles, and retreat to my bedroom to change. My heart is racing with anticipation, and I hurriedly pull my under shirt over my head.

And so it is every Halloween. This love of fall is wrought out of years of joy and happiness, days full of baking and music and full-moons, hours with good friends, leaf-fights, and tree climbing. Autumn is when the soul tolls like a drum, a resounding rhythm, a tune that keeps you on fire, and livens your feet to action.

The symphony of fall; forever may you sound!

The Zahncliff Institute: chapter 6 preview

Victim #2

I died on a Thursday, a bloody mess on the grass, shadows all around.

That day I didn't have many plans, just a few errands, then a date that evening. Everything went wonderfully; the guy was tall, dark haired, had eyes the blue of the ocean, and we clicked. After the the renaissance fair and some dinner, he walked me to the edge of the park.

“I'll be fine from here, thanks,” I said, smiling at him in the moon light, and rearranging my shawl.

“Are you sure? I don't want any wandering suitors to come along and sweep you off your feet.” He pulled me in, settled his hands on my hips, and pressed his lips against mine. I felt a flutter in my stomach.

“I'll simply say 'I am taken until further notice. Please hang up, and try again later.'” He laughed and spun me around.

“Tomorrow night, same time, same place?” He said. I started to walk along the path into the trees.

“Sounds lovely. Farewell, good sir!” I said.

I heard him laugh faintly.

“Farewell, dear maiden!”

I continued walking along the path, a song in my heart, and let everything amaze me. The gentle breeze whispering through the tall stately trees, the bright sky over head, the scent of earth and distant flowering trees. Coming around a corner, I stopped suddenly. There was a tall bald man standing in front of me, hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket, small earrings glinting in the moon light. With the moon to his back, he had black holes for eyes, and the shadow made him look like some sort of demon. I slid my hand into my purse for my pocket knife, and carefully pulled it out. The man grinned, and his teeth glowed. Then, his body started churning and snapping, twisting out of shape, elongating, until a mighty cobra rose as high as the trees, scales gleaming like jewels. Vicious green eyes slanted down on me, and I shook like a reed in the wind.

“Little one, why do you wander the dark night alone?” He hissed, swaying back and forth in front of me. I clenched my hand around my knife, knowing it would do little good.

“What are you?” I asked, my voice trembling. He laughed, a vile scraping sound, and began to wrap himself around me, drawing tighter and tighter.

“Please....Please.....Ple--” I gasped, as the dry scaly muscles of the snake started to crush my bones. I could hear myself breaking, and felt hot pain everywhere inside of me. Blood dripped from my nose and mouth, but I did not feel it. He withdrew, and as I lay broken on the pavement, he returned to the form of a man, took my knife from my still clenched hand, and used it to cut a piece of my hair. Then, he turned and left me there, my body twisted and shapeless. I closed my eyes.

My name is Elanor McKinney.

I died on a Thursday, a bloody mess on the grass, shadows all around.

**

Winter

This is a random scribbling I did some months back, when Idaho was still in the icy chains of winter. All I can say is that I'm glad it's summer!

The wind is whistling past our house, the screen door banging open and shut. Frost creeps across the front window, Hoar frost building in the corners, and coating the trees outside.

It's beautiful, but deadly.

The heaters barely stave off the effects of the silent chill, sneaking into your bones, and making you quake from the inside.

Breeze rising to a howl, it drags across the lawn, fighting; the tree whips to and fro, and snow begins to descend in a flurry, struggling to land, but instead getting carried afar by the icy tempest. Occasionally, headlights are seen through the dim pale, but otherwise, I am blind to the outside world. All has been obscured from my view.

Nights falls, and the cold seeps into the walls, up the headboard, and once more burrows into my bones. Sleep hits like a black wall, and I do not resist.

Morning comes. Sun glints through the window in a merry dance. I abandon the warm embrace of my blankets, and draw aside the curtains; the sun has emboldened, and now continues to grow in strength and warmth. The frosted trees take on a new demeanor, crystalline curtains of ethereal glory, and the shafts of shining light touch on the snow, now lazily drifting downward, like a million miniature mirrors glinting joyfully, celebrating for the new come morn.

Worst Vacation Ever!

Last Friday we started a four hour drive to Utah for the Scottish Highland games. Dad had been coughing, and so had Col, but we thought they would be fine when we got down there. Boy, were we wrong.
First, we went to the Dinosaur Museum at Thanksgiving Point, and that was awesome. Except for all the dirt. There were "Excavation" sites all throughout for children, and due to Kitty and Avie's great interest in this, we were delayed. During this time, Dad's coughing escalated, and he started pretty much drowning in his own mucus. After that, we headed to the games.
Due to a delayed spring, however, the Cotton Wood was blooming late, and fell from the sky like snow while we were in Lehi. Of course, Col and Dad are oober allergic to the stuff, and started to get puffy red eyes after just a bit. Plus it was hot, and me and Avie got lost, and then the food was terrible, and it was over all suckish.

Dad's condition kept going downhill, and everyone else started coughing too.
The next day, we left Dad at the hotel, and went to Temple Square in Salt Lake. After driving around the block, looking for a way to get to a parking lot, we finally found a place, and started to explore. We wandered around the museum there, and saw a bunch of cool stuff, but Col and Kitty started acting up a wee bit. Next we headed across the street. After walking just a few steps, Avie spewed up her grapes from that morning. Barfing at temple square: Yay! luckily it was outside, and was hosed away by the time we came back around. It was another hot day.
The kids continued to be royal pains. At Beehive House, the sister missionaries became very pushy about signing a slip thing so they could call someone and tell them about the gospel. We got tired of that, and left. My camera kept malfunctioning, so I didn't get many good pictures.

That night we went to the Blue Plate Diner for dinner, and all was well until we were almost done eating: Avie puked all over the floor. After cleaning up, we went home for the night.
Monday rolled around, and Mom had a small sewing academy, so we were left with a sickly dad, a barfy Avie, and coughing Col and Kitty. Me and mom are the only ones that are semi healthy! That night we decided to reschedule our flights to Biloxi Mississippi, and forgo the rest of our "Vacation". Today we drove back along Utah's INSANE highways, and came back home to our chickens. I have never been more glad that a trip was over!


Hopefully we won't all be zombies the next time around!

On The Road Again....

Due to a family trip down South, chapter six of the Zahncliff Institute may be delayed..... I'm taking my jump-drive with me so I can keep working, but I also need to squeeze in trips to the beach, and classical diners.

I'll be sure to take lots of pictures, and post them! also, I may be doing some watercolors.
We leave tomorrow at O' dark hundred to Utah for such things as the Scottish Games, and a Dinosaur Museum. I shall geek out. And maybe bring back a small sword. And a Tyrannosaurus claw.

Also (Off topic), if you have any ideas for mythical creatures, I would love to hear from you! I need as many ideas as I can get. Comment below, and the coolest, most amusing, or most creative might be seen in the next chapter of the Zahncliff Institute! Thanks so much!
Anne C.

Stats

Hey guys! thanks for being so patient with the writing.... At points, it gets to be hard going, so I'm glad of support. Since I've published chapter five, viewer numbers have spiked! Its gone from one, maybe two a day, to five or more a day! Thanks for reading Pancakes and Pixies, the blog that has to do with a little bit of everything.

Anne C.

The Zahncliff Institute: Chapter 5

Please note that the following Japanese characters have yet to be cross referenced with actual physical fact. Names, descriptions, etc., have been taken from Wikipedia articles.

Also, this chapter is shorter than the others. Don't be alarmed, I'm not making this a habit.

5

And the plot thickens

Victim #1

I died on Friday.

Nothing but ribbons of flesh, blood spilled across the hot pavement.

It was your typical Friday night: Shopping around five, then dinner at a cafe. Afterward, more shopping, then off to the dance club. Loud, pounding music, bodies pressing all around you, the adrenaline and euphoria that you get when around that many people. At about one in the morning, I get claustrophobic, and head outside to get some fresh air. Some drunk near the door pukes beer and potato chips all over my brand new mini-skirt, top, and heels. I move toward my car.

“Little darling one, why are you in the dark alone?” A voice says. I jump, and a spike of fear shoots up my back.

“Who's there? I have the police on speed-dial!” I respond, trying to keep the shake out of my voice. It's generally a bad thing when a stranger approaches you in a dark side street. A tall bald man stepped out of the shadow. He had pierced ears, and was wearing a black leather jacket. He laughed.

“Police? Not to worry, pet. It will be quick.” Suddenly he wasn't a man anymore.... He was a tiger, orange and black a bold statement in the blues and purples, large sharp claws shredding the night.

Bright neon green eyes glared at me.

Before my eyes closed for the last time, he was a man once more, and was leaning over me. He pulled a knife out of his boot, and cut a hank of my hair. After gently tucking it into his pocket, he turned once more into a tiger, and ended me.

My name is Emily Gardner.

I died.

Nothing but ribbons of flesh, blood spilled across the hot pavement.

**

Darwin

I hate filing. It must be the single most awful job, on the planet. The one upside is that I get a fair amount of insider info on some pretty nasty stuff. For instance, last year when the Level Eight patients got out last year, two were killed, three almost made it to the News, and one evaded capture all together.

That can't be right.

I scanned farther down the file. Hah! It says here they are still hunting for either a body, or....

Dropping the file, I shuddered, and decided to leave it be. I was not going to be the one to point out that it was a Djinn that had escaped.

**

Destra

Ah, another lovely afternoon at the Institute.

Not.

At nine Zahncliff yelled down the stairs to prep the Hospital wing for incoming patients. Shortly after Milly had called the chief of medicine, helicopter blades could be heard.

“We have a helicopter pad?” The things I didn't know about this place. We headed up to the roof, where a military banana copter was just setting down. The sides were thrown open, and stretchers carrying bloodied figures were being lifted out by our medical crew. Adam joined them. Milly turned to me.

“Lass, you'd best run along to the kitchens, tell them they'll need to prepare for guests.” I moved toward the stairs when she stopped me again. “Also, go get Nickolas. We might need help with some of them.” She gestured to a frightened Jorōgumo (Spider woman), who was thrashing angrily, and getting herself tangled in her own golden web. Her children clung to her, hissing at anyone who came near. I nodded, and ran.

When I got back with Nickolas, they were still fighting the she-spider, who was hysterical by now, black ink tears streaming down her beautiful human face, her whole body quivering.

Nickolas sighed, and began shrugging off his work uniform.

“What are you doing?” I asked. He pulled off his undershirt as he spoke to me.

“You don't really expect me to tear my clothes, do you?” I was silent. “I need something to wear afterward.” He grinned doggedly (pardon the pun.), and started to change. His whole body rippled, and began sprouting fur all over his skin.

He twisted and cracked and popped into his new form. After a few seconds, he stood before me, a seven foot monster, sharp teeth gleaming in the sun, hazel eyes now wild.

“Pardon ladies, I have some business to attend to.” He said in a deep, rough voice. He then launched himself at the spider. The Medics and Security stepped back, and stood at the ready. Nickolas pinned each of her eight legs, and ignored the nips of her children as he slowly brought her to the ground. She still fought, and was now screaming a high, piercing wale. Nickolas stroked her black hair, and spoke quietly to her. Eventually, she calmed, and let herself be led to the Hospital wing. He turned back into a human as he strutted over to me, pulling his clothing back on as he went, so as not to be indecent.

“Why, Nickolas, I didn't know you had such a way with the ladies!” I smiled at him, and he grinned back.

“Wolf Song can be very calming.” I widened my eyes in mock-shock.

“And now he sings!” I said. He shook his head.

“It's not as girly as it sounds. Come on, let's head downstairs. I'm pretty sure I deserve a coffee.”

**

Adam

“.....the East wall at Shangri-La fell early this morning. The Naga moved to the forward, but was chopped down within minutes. A brigade of enemy southern Trolls entered the plaza, and slayed all in sight.”

“Southern Trolls? What were they doing in Thailand?”

“We don't know yet, but we believe they were imported for the sole purpose of attacking Shangri-La. We are still investigating the matter.”

I sighed. The rotund, wide-eyed Chinese informant stood across from me, speaking in hurried English, and bearing several battle wounds. He continued.

“We evacuated as many as we could into three helicopters. They sent a squadron of Harpies after us, and copter one and three fell. We lost many rare species, and friends.” He bowed his head. I pondered over this for a moment.

“Southern Trolls? Grecian Harpies? In Thailand? There is more to it.... Did you see who was leading them?” I said, taking a seat at my desk. The Chinese man shook his head.

“No, sir, I saw only the beasts.” He paused for a moment. “Who do you suspect? Burma, Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia have been quiet for many year, Indonesia and Malaysia have been our friends for many more year. China? Russia? India? There is no reason!” he ran his hand over his balding head, and stared off for a moment. I crossed my hands.

“I don't know..... But whoever it may be, we don't know if this was a freak attack, or if it will happen again.” I stood, reached for the phone, and dialed the main desk.

“I need to set up an emergency meeting with the African, Arabian, Russian, Australian (Do you need a paper and pen?), Celtic, Indian, UK, Antarctic, Oriental, and Islander Sects. Please stress the 'emergency' part of that please. Thank you.” I hung up, and sighed heavily.

“Jaw-Long, go down to Milly and request a room,” I placed a hand on his shoulder, “You need to rest, friend.” He nodded, and stumbled out of the office.

**

Destra

Before I left that evening, I decided to swing by the Hospital wing and see how the refugees were doing. As I walked through the main hospital door, a bedpan flew past my head, and hit the other wall with a loud clang.

Luckily that was empty....

I swerved around cots, and ducked under hammocks that had been put up for the newcomers. And new they were! Most had more than two limbs (Even the humanoid ones), and many were strange and bizarre animal combinations. I hadn't gotten a good glimpse at most of them during their chaotic landing, and now I found myself in the same state of shock I had been in when I first came to the Institute. Hanging overhead in a golden web was the spider woman, her twenty children clinging to her legs and back. The lower half of her body was a deep black, and was immense compared to rest of her body, and her eight long legs were folded up gracefully underneath of her. Her dark hair flowed down her fit upper back, and her large slanted eyes had multiple pupils, each sparkling in the sterile hospital light. She smiled and hissed gently at her children, showing thin, translucent, pointed teeth. She caught me watching her with her kids, and glared at me in an almost predatory manner. I looked down and moved on.

Sitting on one of the cots was a small boy, no older than seven, almond shaped eyes the color of a storm staring into the distance.

“Hello!” I said, perching next to him. He stared blankly at me. I looked at his ragged rice farmer's tunic and pants, all blue and gray, and his straw coolie hat perched on his head. I tried again.

“I'm Destra.... What's your name?” He looked up at me. Then he smiled, and began jabbering off in Japanese. I tried to catch the drift of what he was saying, but couldn't, and instead settled myself into staring apologetically at him. He finally understood, and lowered his head. When he looked back up, he began talking in a garbled English that was just understandable.

“Destra? Hear the rain? Clean, new.”

“It's not raining....” I said.

“Yet. Rain will come. I dance, rain will come.” He smiled, stood up, and dusted off his tunic.

“Will you play music? Biwa, or Sanshin?” I shook my head.

“I've never played those instruments......” he looked sad again, and I had an idea. “But is a guitar close enough?” He nodded, and I ran to the art room to grab my acoustic guitar. When I came back, He asked for the guitar. He plucked several strings, and nodded.

“This will do well. Like this?” He played a few more strings, and I got the drift. He handed it back to me, and I began to play as instructed. As only a child can dance, he started twirling and spinning, jumping and pirouetting. One of the other refugees started beating on a small animal skin drum, and another to clap. Suddenly I caught the smell of rain on the air. I glanced outside, and large droplets began to descend from the heavens. I stared in awe at the small boy, and kept playing. Finally, he stopped and bowed. It continued to rain, and the boy had a smile from ear to ear.

“You play well, yes? The rain has come! Praise U-shi!” he walked over to a window, and threw it open. Leaning against the sill, he stared out at the falling summer rain, and let himself be still. I smiled.

"You still haven't told me your name, young man.” he turned to me.

“I am rain child, Ame Ochiru, spirit dancer, in service of great U-shi.” He said. I stuck out my hand.

“Nice to meet you.” He took my hand, and shook it. Picking up the purse I had dropped earlier, I grabbed my guitar. “I have to go now, but I'll see you tomorrow, okay?” he bowed his head to me.

“I will look forward to the dawn of day next, Destra Ame No Ongaku.” he waved, and I left the hospital wing, walked down the long hallway, out into the warm rain, and to my car.

**

Adam

After seeing to it that the refugees were all fed, and had a bed to sleep in, I retired to my office with a hot mug of fresh coffee to read up on some files. We had an interesting group of refugees here.

Apparently, we had three Ningyi, a Byakko cub, and a Yakshini, as well as multiple spirits, Catazoni, Dhumavarna, Kirata, Hibagon, Apsaras, Centicore, and an Enenra. Most of those could cause issues, but the one that worried me the most was the Yakshini. We would have to make sure she was properly contained. And it was about to get more interesting. Several of the larger creatures are being transported tonight, and most, if not all of them will have to be kept in the basement so as not to draw attention.

**

Destra

The next day was totally nutty; apparently another huge shipment of creatures arrived late that night, and were now residing in some hidden location. Room was being made for the refugees in more permanent quarters, because, as Zahncliff said, he didn't know when Shangri-La would be able to sustain life again. After introducing a smelly, Japanese, Sasquatch like creature to Munro, he asked me to come with him to check on the refugees. What I found out that means, is 'You hold the clipboard and pen, and take down names like some flirty secretary, while I do the actual talking'. Eventually we came around to the bunk of a pretty girl in her late teens, with the same long dark hair and almond eyes as the other Japanese creatures. But her eyes were a vibrant blue, and she had a mischievous smirk. Something told me I was going to like her.

“Name, age, sex, and species, if you don't mind.” said Adam, standing business-like in his suit.

The girl smiled, and stood in front of him.

“You're very old, aren't you?” She said, swishing her long brown skirt back and forth.

“Yes--”

“I like older men, they are so much more tender then silly young men.” she said. Adam sighed.

“Please answer the questions.” She grinned, and turned to me.

“Ni Hana, ten and nine years, female, Yakshini.” Adam's head snapped up.

“So, you're the Yakshini..... I'm afraid we're going to have to move you to somewhere more..... Secure.”

She laughed, and stuck her hands forward.

“You had best restrain me, I'm feeling a little..... Hungry.” I guess this was some sort of joke I wasn't privy to, but she was definitely messing with Zahncliff. He shook his head, gently grabbed her arm, and guided her toward a member of security.

“Dan, take her to Level Eight.” the man nodded, and led the still flirting girl off down the hall.

I spun around toward Adam.

“So..... What was that about? Why does she have to go to Level Eight?” He raised his auburn eyebrow.

“A Yakshini is a creature of two personalities, with a nasty habit of eating travelers.” I looked at him like he was crazy.

“What, her? She's like, four-foot nine, and looks like a gust of wind could knock her over.... Are you sure you've got your critters right?”

“Quite sure.” he said, taking the clipboard from my hand.

The Zahncliff Institute: chapter 5 preview

I figured I had better give a quick update on the progress of chapter five, before my friends murder me. It's slow going, due to a hopefully short burst of Writers Block, a deadly disease. Also possibly due to my cold. Here is a short preview for chapter five. Enjoy!

And the plot thickens

Victim #1

I died on Friday.

Nothing but ribbons of flesh, blood spilled across the hot pavement.

It was your typical Friday night: Shopping around five, then dinner at a cafe. Afterward, more shopping, then off to the dance club. Loud, pounding music, bodies pressing all around you, the adrenaline and euphoria that you get when around that many people. At about one in the morning, I get claustrophobic, and head outside to get some fresh air. Some drunk near the door pukes beer and potato chips all over my brand new mini-skirt, top, and heels. I move toward my car.

“Little darling one, why are you in the dark alone?” A voice says. I jump, and a spike of fear shoots up my back.

“Who's there? I have the police on speed-dial!” I respond, trying to keep the shake out of my voice. It's generally a bad thing when a stranger approaches you in a dark side street. A tall bald man stepped out of the shadow. He had pierced ears, and was wearing a black leather jacket. He laughed.

“Police? Not to worry, pet. It will be quick.” Suddenly he wasn't a man anymore.... He was a tiger, orange and black a bold statement in the blues and purples, large sharp claws shredding the night.

Bright neon green eyes glared at me.

Before my eyes closed for the last time, he was a man once more, and was leaning over me. He pulled a knife out of his boot, and cut a hank of my hair. After gently tucking it into his pocket, he turned once more into a tiger, and ended me.

My name is Emily Gardner.

I died.

Nothing but ribbons of flesh, blood spilled across the hot pavement.

**

Adventures In Food

Recently my mother has introduced me to the horrors of the food we eat today, and has succeeded in turning me into a mini food activist. I've been looking at the food that they are serving my public school friends, what we are eating at Girl's camp, and what barbaric processes everything we eat goes through.
And so, I start my own tiny revolution.
A few months ago I asked my Young Women leaders if they would help me with a project; to turn around our girl's camp food.
For the past years that I have attended the stake camp with my friends and leaders, it has been difficult to eat properly, due to the vast amounts of prepackaged food, and high sugar and sodium contents.

Several girls have gotten sick at camp because of malnutrition, and I intend to change that. I had an interview with each of my leaders, and asked them why they chose processed over fresh.
The bishops wife, beehive leader, and Alaskan said that it was mainly due to effort, lack of time, limit on camp fires, and because they didn't know if the girls would actually be willing to work.

The Young Women president, a woman I have bumped heads with for years, said very similar, and was shocked at the results of a camp food survey I passed around to the girls. Once I explained my plan, she too was very supportive, which shocked me, and pleased me greatly.

Since then, several other families have moved into the ward, and new leaders have joined the old. It turns out that a few of these leaders have been asked to come to camp, and are worried that they won't be able to, due to food allergies, sensitivities, and health. Once my Mom started telling people what I was doing (Making sure I couldn't back out of it), these leaders too stood behind me.

I now have to plan a three day menu that will fit the needs of a diabetic, two vegetarians, one person that is allergic to peanut butter and bananas, one person that's allergic to eggs, and several picky eaters. I look forward to the challenge, and if all goes well, I'll also be able to publish a camp food planning/cook book, based around following the Word Of Wisdom, and falling well within a planned budget.


P.S.

Just looking at what we are thinking about for camp meals, we are going to come way under budget :)

The Zahncliff Institute: chapter 4

4

Blood Stories

Destra

Now I knew what I was. Well, not so much. I still didn't know the fine details, like what I could actually do with this 'special ability'. So far, it still seemed like just a lame excuse for brain-splitting headaches. Since I had nothing more to do after the meeting with Adam, I decided to wander around the gardens. Most of the past two weeks had been spent inside, getting used to all the creepy-crawlies, and learning my way around the huge building that was the Institute.

After grabbing a sun hat and some shades, I went out an entrance through the cafeteria, and beheld the glory of some very serious gardening.

As I wandered underneath trees with trailing blue blossoms, I let myself diffuse. I was a normally calm person, but my parents were the one thing that set me off. After what happened to me, I promised myself that if I had kids, I would never abandon them like my parents did me. Or I would just not have kids.

By this time I had meandered over to the other side of the building. This side was left to be a bit more natural. Wild grasses grew with the lavender and mint, and they were left without control. The mint of course took advantage of this, and spread like a thick, scented carpet under the large old willows blowing mournfully in the gentle afternoon breeze. Forsythia bushes sprang up wherever they pleased, the cheerful yellow brightening the otherwise cool color palette.

I eventually ended up at the side of a large pond. It was filled with clear, clean water, and you could see the multi hued stones residing at the bottom. I picked up a small, smooth rock, and chucked at the pond. It bounced once, then whizzed down to join its brothers.

Stupid rock.

I squatted down on my haunches, and let my sneakers sink into the mud. The dull brown fish in the pond swam lazily around, eating algae and blowing bubbles. I sighed deeply.

Crack.

A twig snapped nosily in the quiet of the gardens. Jumping to attention, I stayed low. You didn't want some of the patients sneaking up on you. Especially if you're alone. I silently looked across the gardens, my eyes and ears open.

“What the heck are you doing?”

I gasped against my will, and spun around. A tall grizzled looking man in a pair of dirty coveralls stood behind me. His arms were crossed, and his legs were spread apart in a defensive pose.

“Uh.... Nothing. I just needed to get away....” I stood up. I barely came to the guy's broad shoulders!

“Mm-hm.” He turned back to a rusty wheel barrow toting a variety of seeds and potted plants. He started to push the wheel barrow away, and I moved to walk along side him. He turned to me with a raised eyebrow. His hair was short-cropped salt and pepper, and he had wild hazel eyes. Scars ran across his face, and he had a strong jaw. Even with the older-dude hair, he couldn't have been any older than thirty or so. Overall, he was pretty cute.

“What do you want?” he said. I shrugged my shoulders.

“Oh, nothing. Are you the guy that does all of this?” I Waved my hand in the direction of the gardens, and pride flashed across his face for a moment.

“Yep.” he replied.

“By yourself?” no one dude could do that! There were like, fifty acres! He grinned big at my surprise.

“Certainly. Nickolas Vansluys, Zahncliff gardener.” He presented me with a large dirt-caked hand. I gingerly shook it. He returned to carting his plants, but this time he was far less closed off. Something told me he didn't get much back for all the work he did.

“I'm Destra.” He shook his head.

“I know.” I was about to ask him how, but he beat me to it “The kitchen ladies gossip about everything. Doesn't help that little 'Kenzie has a crush on you.”

He what?

“He what?” I said out loud. Nickolas chuckled, which sounded like a growl.

“Oh ya, 'Kenzie thinks you're something else. He pretends to be dignified about it, but he giggles like a school girl when anyone says your name.”

Name. It was then that I realized what an idiot I was. Vansluys. Duh! That's the same name as the dude who killed the art teacher.

The nut-ball had a brother, and no one told me?

I guess I had suddenly gotten silent, because Nickolas stopped and turned to me.

“What, you didn't get it right away? No headache? Eldridge is my older brother. It's a fact. But I'm not crazy. My brother was a patient; I was a refugee. Don't get us mixed up.” He must have read my mind....

“so you're a--”

“Yep.” he leaned over and put on a pair of garden gloves. “But as I said, don't get us confused.”

He then reached into his barrow, and pulled out a small plant with strange purple petals. He gently placed it into the rich brown soil, and covered the roots.

Wolfs Bane.

**

Destra

Nickolas didn't give me any reason to fear him. He was gruff, and a little bit of a hermit, but otherwise he was a pretty cool guy. He lived in a little brick shack hidden away in the trees. I found this out, because he invited me back to his place for coffee. He could tell I was.... Well, less than comfortable around him, so we sat outside instead of going in. “So that if I go rogue, you at least have some chance of running.” I knew he was joking, but hey, anything is possible. We talked politics, music, books, and trash. I hadn't had a chat with anyone sane for a while now. After a bit, we started discussing families. We got along well, in that area specifically, considering the fact that we both had messed up relatives. His parents left him and his brother alone in the wilds of Alaska when they were just cubs, as he put it, and it messed with his brother's head. He became obsessed with protecting Nickolas, and dragged him across the mountains. When they reached Valdez years later, they boarded a ship, and came to the lower forty-eight. They spent most of their time homeless, because Eldridge didn't trust anyone. Eventually they ended up at the Institute, and Nickolas's then paranoid older brother deemed it safe. Of course, just a few years later, Elvina happened.

After Eldridge killed himself, Nickolas stayed at the Institute, simply because he had nowhere else to go. No family. No friends.

Compared to his life story, mine was practically a fairy tale.

Since then, he had been tending the grounds, and helping control the more wild and dangerous patients. He didn't room inside like the other employees, because when the moon became a complete glowing orb, he would get a bit nutty, and couldn't be around other people for a few days.

Around six, he stood up and stretched, his back popping and cracking impressively, and lit a small fire in the ring of stones just a few feet away. As he sat back down, he turned to me.

“Do pardon the fire; Sometimes patients get loose, and fire keeps a lot of 'em back.” I nodded, and took a sip from the chipped mug in my hand, only to be disappointed when I remembered it was long empty. I sighed sadly. Nickolas spoke up again.

“I wonder why Zahncliff is so concerned about this 'gift' of yours..... There are quite a few patients here who can catch glimpses of 'future occurrences', as he puts it..... I mean, how is your gift different?”

I didn't know, so I didn't answer right away.

“Why do you call Adam 'Zahncliff'? That's his name, obviously, but he's not some sort of senior citizen.” Nickolas gave me a strange look.

“He looks exactly the same today as he did fifteen years ago, the day we came to the Institute. You have to remember, we are a different people. Some folks may look normal enough, but often those are the ones that are the most strange and confusing.” He said.

That made sense. It would explain his old-world feel.

The sun still hung high in the sky, blinding us now, but we sat for a while longer. Then Amy, the blond tennis instructor came through the trees.

“Destra, you're off shift. You can leave now.” if eyes could shoot daggers, Nickolas would be dead as a doorknob. She then stomped back off towards the main building, high ponytail flipping angrily behind her.

“Wow, talk about cold. Is she by any chance part ice-sprite-thingy?” I said, watching the slim blond disappear.

“No.” he laughed “No, she just hates my guts. When she came to work here, she thought I was pretty awesome. Then she heard about Eldridge, and found out what I was, and....... Ya. It got a little messy. Big scene during a patient produced musical. I'll tell you the whole of it some other time.” Now I was curious. That sounded like a fun one.

“well, I'd better go before Icy-Amy comes back with friends. See you tomorrow, and thanks for the coffee!” I said. He raised a hand, and disappeared into his shack. I walked toward the back entrance, feeling much better than I had earlier.

**

Adam

That was probably the strangest meeting I have ever had with an employee. Well, that's not true; there was that time involving pink dye and turnips......

Anyways, it was the oddest most recently. I did not expect Ms. Simmons to get so angry when I mentioned her lineage. Of course, abandonment can do things to the mind.

It was one of those few quiet moments in the hectic life that is an insane asylum for the fantastical. The evening summer sun was slowly moving across the sky towards the west. The paper work had been done for the day. I let my mind unwind, and was very close to sleep. Tomorrow was another weekend. The Monday through Friday employees would go home, and the Saturday through Sunday ones would come in. There were many things that constantly worried me.

When would the next upheaval occur. What would it be. Are the Ogres and Giants properly contained. Do we need to clip all the winged patients again. What if we run out of coffee. What if the electricity goes out. What if the automatic security fails again.

Then a fairly amusing picture crossed my mind: Destra, concentrating on the television, trying to turn it on with her mind. Destra, extending her hand over a magazine, willing the pages to turn. Standing in front of a door, fingers to her temples, glaring at the wood, hoping a hole would suddenly appear in the center.

Of course, that will never happen. The Gift doesn't allow for such things.

I leaned back in my chair, and let my head droop.

Still, it is a fairly entertaining thought....

An hour or so later, Milly came in and woke me up.

“To bed. I swear, if I weren't here, you would live on your own spittle, and be deformed from sleeping in this darned chair....”

“Yes, yes, Milly. Say, do you know any Zebras? Would love to meet one of those.....”

I wasn't awake. I don't normally talk like that. Milly shook her head, and laughingly lead me through the side door and into my personal quarters, where she unceremoniously shoved me onto the bed. She then left the room. I was asleep shortly there after. But my dreams were disturbing, horror films playing over and over in my head, bloody scenes of death and destruction, all involving a fiery female figure who stared down mercilessly at the fallen figures surrounding her. Then she looked at me. I woke, shaking in the pale dawn light, covered in sweat, and terrified by my vision. I had to find the Woman, before she became a threat. Before she destroyed everything.

**

Destra

The next day was my day off. I waited anxiously for the headache to come, but thank the heavens it didn't. I most certainly did not want that to happen again. About one in the afternoon, Grandma Ellen called me up, and asked if I wanted to come over for lunch. She always made the best grub, and all I had at my apartment was chips, cereal, and ketchup. Not exactly substantial. So I climbed into my little Honda Civic, and drove the whopping three blocks to her house. The tall, elegant, steel-eyed woman that was my grandmother embraced me warmly, and immediately I could smell the lavender that she had worn for as long as I could remember. We went in and sat in the old wing-back chairs next to her front window. Once we were comfy, I picked at the orange and green upholstery. Grandma Ellen looked at me disapprovingly. I grinned at her, and stopped.

“So, how is your new job? Do you like it?” She said, crossing her legs.

“Well, so far, it is definitely the most.... Interesting job I have ever had.”

“In what way?” Her eyes bore into me, but the old sparkle was still very much there.

“Just stuff..... Fun people, freaky people, classic work place drama.....”

I can't tell her where I really work.....

“Oh? I heard from your neighbor you got a job at Zahncliff.” she paused, “Is that true?”

Darn. Who squealed? Must have been Jamie....

“Yes.” I said.

She leaned back in her chair.

“Right. Well, lunch is in the other room..... Come on, dear.” The subject change was a bit abrupt, but I followed her into her small, well lit, country style kitchen. We sat and dined like queens. Nothing beats grandma's cooking; a sweet potato cheesecake that was just rich enough. Salmon grilled with dill and drizzled with butter. Fries ( or chips, as grandma calls them) that were a beautiful gold color and tasted heavenly. And to top it all off, a big jug of sweet tea, with lemons floating lazily around amongst the ice.

When I thought I was going to burst, I let out a loud belch, and suddenly had room for another slice of cheesecake.

“Destra Marie Simmons! Where are you manners!” I thought my grandmother’s eyebrows were going to disappear into her white curly hair, although I could tell she was ever-so-slightly amused.

“You know, in some cultures, belching is a sign of respect, a compliment on the food.” I said.

“Well, not in this culture, so I would ask you kindly to watch your bodily functions a bit more closely the next time you wish to eat.” She began to put things away, and doing a general tidy-up. As she was filling her stone sink with hot water to wash the dishes, she turned to me casually.

“Do you have a boyfriend yet?” I did a spit-take with my iced tea, and started to laugh.

“Nay, dear granny, males offended be by my bold take, and strong persona.” I laughed a little more quietly. “No, guys don't dig chicks that are able to take care of themselves, it seems. I've met several guys, but none of them seem to be boyfriend material.”

Even Nickolas.

Grandma stopped washing dishes and came over to me.

“None of them? Are you sure you're just not giving them a chance?” I had had this talk a million times before: This was the 'You won't be young and beautiful forever' talk. I wasn't the sort who dated in high school..... Well, no, I wasn't the sort that was dated. Anyways, grandma always assumed I was going to get married as soon as I was out of school, but I disappointed her, and instead worked whatever random jobs I could get, saving up for art school. She wasn't happy with my decision, but supported me none the less. I guess she still had hopes that I would be a normal oober happy cutesy mom.

Hah! That's not happening!

“Trust me, some of them are really cool, but none of them are even close to being 'The One', as so often you put it. I'm just not ready for that, Grandma.” She sighed as if defeated, and shook her head as she returned to the dishes. It was quiet for a while, as it often was after such discussions. Finally we started talking about semi-normal topics, such as fighting over whether Tesla or Edison was more awesome.

Tesla forever, baby!

About four-ish, I drove to the library to pick up some books. I decided to take out some biographies from people who spent some time in insane asylums. Of course, none of the experiences came close to what I was doing, but I thought the behavioral tips might help. I parked under a shade tree in the library parking lot, got out, and entered the cool, quiet building. This was my second home; I had ran silently along these corridors since I was seven.

I grabbed the books I had on hold, and started to browse in the fiction section.

The Novels Of Tiger and Del.... Wonder if that's any good....

As I picked up the book and flipped through the pages, I heard someone moving behind me. I kept looking at the book, but didn't read it. The person moved around beside me, not speaking a word.

You know, typically, this is a normal occurrence at the library, but what bugged me was the fact that they smelled wrong. I could smell sweat, leather, and animal. It was male, and gave off a scary vibe.

My mind started buzzing, and a primal fear rose up inside of me.

“Nice day.” His voice was a smooth and light tenor, but it felt like snakes in my ears. I suppressed a shudder, and attempted a cheery reply.

“Yes, it is.” My voice shook. I risked a glance at him; he was a compact man, not particularly tall, and was wearing a brown leather duster. His shirt and cargo pants underneath of that were ragged and filthy, and bore rust colored stains. His black army boots were the only clean part of the ensemble. When I glanced up at his face, he shot a nasty smile at me. His teeth were yellow and stained, yet very straight. On a second look, I noticed they were ever so slightly pointed. His eyes were wild unnatural green, and stared in a disgusting way. The whole picture made my stomach churn. Other wise, his looks were normal. If you didn't know to look for small differences, he would look like your average homeless Joe. But he wasn't.

I turned back to my book, and did my best to ignore him. He stood there breathing down my back for a few minutes longer, then turned away, his coat swishing behind him, and disappeared behind the far wall. I felt my whole body shaking, and began to grow light headed, so I checked out my books, and left.