Thursday, June 14, 2012

From Scratch Rum Cake

Anyone who has tried to find a good rum cake recipe lacking in pudding mix and box cake mix, will know that it is practically impossible. 
  Oh, you can search for hours, and not find anything. And though box cake and pudding mix can make for a tasty cake, it's a bit of an internal struggle for those of us who believe in doing things the old fashioned way.
  After making the same faked rum cake time after time, I decided it was high time to just experiment.
I took three different recipes and smooshed 'em together; a typical rum cake recipe, a relatives apple cake recipe, and an applesauce cake recipe of my own design.

  And the results were scrumptious. If I were a scrooge, I would keep the recipe from you. But since I love spreading food joy, here it be!

Cake
2 1/2 cups all purpose flour
2 cups white sugar
1 1/2 tsp BK soda
1 1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp BK powder
1 1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 1/2 cups fine chopped apples (Granny smith)
1/4 cup water
1/4 cup milk (Whole)
1/4 cup Bacardi rum
1/2 cup lard (Don't shake your head, just trust me)
2 eggs
1 cup fine chopped walnuts 

Glaze
1/2 cup butter (No margarine!)
1/4 cup water
1 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup rum
1/2 tsp salt

Mix all ingredients until smooth (well, as smooth as possible, with the apples). Grease and flour a 9.75 x 3.38 inch bundt  pan, and sprinkle nuts in the bottom. Pour batter into pan, bake at 350* for 40-45 minutes, or until pick inserted comes out clean. Make glaze. Melt butter in saucepan. Add sugar, water, salt, and rum. Bring to rolling boil for just a few minutes. Flip cake out onto serving platter, and drench in glaze. Be generous, go on. Let sit, or nom immediately. The cake will keep, if covered, for several days (If you don't nom your way happily through it).

  Enjoy! A rum cake free of Narsty mixes!



Saturday, April 21, 2012

Zahncliff Character Sketch 3

Allo! Here is a sketch of the Jorōgumo, a Japanese spider woman. You'll have read about her briefly in the Zahncliff Institute.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Zahncliff Segment: Chapter 7, Bloody Sand

7

Bloody Sand


**

Adam


After the call, I sat in stunned silence for a few minutes.

Dead. Dear God, all of them are dead.

Death is not a stranger to me, but neither is it a friend. I had seen far to many people die in my far-too-long lifetime, and each time it is just as painful as the last. There had been seven hundred and thirty-four beings in the Scheherazade Institute, and I felt in my gut that we would find nothing but rubble. Rubble and ash. Not even bones. Nothing to bury.

Destra sat across from me, looking just as stunned, yet in a different way. She didn't, couldn't understand the death toll.
“This is wrong.”
Her voice startled me out of my stupor.
“yes, yes it is.” She was right. All of this was wrong, so very wrong, and I couldn't tell why. Unless I see for myself.

I stood up abruptly, and raced out of the room. I heard Ms. Simmons rush to follow behind me.

“You're going, aren't you? You're going to Saudi Arabia!”
“Yes, Ms. Simmons, and if you wouldn't mind, I need you to explain the situation to Milly. I'll be back in a week.” I spun quickly around the corner, and began the climb to the roof.

“Seeing as how I don't actually know what's going on, I don't think I should be the one to explain!” She was still following me. Now we were on the roof, and I headed toward one of the many Institute helicopters.

“I don't have time to argue with you, child, I have a very long flight ahead of me, and very little time. By now, both the American government, and the Islamic government will have noticed the mess, and if I don't get there before they do, even more blood will be shed, over who did it. Now, if you will excuse me!” I climbed nimbly into the cock-pit, and started the blades spinning. Destra stared at me wide-eyed, and backed away from the quickly accelerating blades. After a few minutes, I left the ground, and headed East into the rising sun.


**

Destra


I watched Zahncliff disappear into the blinding sun, a flash of silver. Then I headed back down stairs.
Now not only was there a murder that would have to be investigated, but we also had to find the next girl before she got killed in some gruesome fashion. And there was the mystery of my informant.
This isn't my responsibility. Why should I care?

I laughed at myself as I calmly walked back down the stairs, and to the kitchen. They would be up by now, starting breakfast for the diurnal patients.
In a way, it is my responsibility. It's my ability. Of course, the others here have much more experience handling such things as murders and monstrous mayhem, but I can do my bit.

In the kitchen, the lunch ladies were busy stirring gravy, cooking meats, and were pulling out muffins and bread pudding that had been made the night before. The New Yorkers ignored me, or made sniping

comments about my appearance, but I shut them out, and waited for the sound of familiar voices. I leaned back onto the cold metal counter behind me, and closed my eyes for a spell. After what seemed like only seconds, a large hand was shaking me awake.
“Destra, girl, this is not the time for a nap. Adam's left without a single word as to where he'll be, and how long. And I just got a call from the chief of police; they've found another body.” Milly sounded impatient, but my eyes and ears were slow to respond.
Finally I sat up. It was noon, and I was still perched on the edge of the counter. I rubbed my eyes.

“Sorry, Milly, Zahncliff did leave some news.... I've had a rough night, just a second,” I yawned loudly, and stretched my arms, enjoying the cracking sounds they made. “Adam got a call early this morning from the Scheherazade Institute-- I think they were attacked.” I watched Milly's face fall, and a look of horror come into her eyes.

“He took off in a copter as soon as the other line was cut. As for the murder, I knew about that, too. I was visited by some weirdo last night who warned me about a 'fire dame', whoever that is, and that I would be the thirteenth. Then I saw the murder scene. And I need the records for every college in the city.... I saw who the next victim is going to be, and we need to get to her, fast.” I finished, finally taking a breath. I was shocked by how calm I was. Normally this wasn't my style, normally I was the one to freak out, and lose control. But I was cool with this. This, I could handle.


**

Destra


The first three days that Adam was gone were a hectic mess, with many angry outbursts from patients out of fear for their brethren over seas. Everyone wanted to know what was going on, when would Adam be back, were there any survivors, and what could they do to help?

All we could do was wait. Wait, and pray.

Things finally fell into an uneasy sort of norm. I did all I could to help, and tried to block all of my anxieties. But you can't do that for long. Eventually, you have to have something to release anger, fear, and pent up crazed energy.

And so, when I got home that night, I changed into yoga pants and a tank, turned my stereo up as loud as I could without getting the cops called, and danced to vintage techno . I had taken a few ballet classes, and some belly dancing years ago, and so my dance was a strange collage of pirouettes, hip-shimmies, and hair flipping. I danced until I was covered in sweat, and still I danced.

Then, as I was bending back as far as I could, I noticed that my window was wide open. I flipped upward, right into the arms of a now familiar stalker. He placed his hand right on my hips, grinned, then spun me, and brought me back to face him.

“What in the hell are you doing in my house?” I asked, my voice dripping with venom. I pushed away from him, and his unnaturally bold green eyes sparkled wickedly.

“Well, if I had knocked, would you really have let me in?” He stepped backwards, and flopped down onto my creaky, hand-me-down couch, his arms stretched out to each side, and drummed his fingers on the back of the couch. “Nice little place you got here.... Not quite what I pictured, but cozy.” He propped his feet up on the coffee table.

“What do you want?” I walked by, and angrily kicked his shining black boots, which hit the floor with a pleasing thud. He sat forward.

“Before I tell you, you got any grub in this place? I haven't had a bite in days.”
For some reason this struck me as odd. Even though I got the idea that he was a wanderer of sorts, he also seemed like a hunter. It didn't occur to me that he might ever go hungry. I blinked.

“Um, ya, come into the kitchen.” I said, slowly walking into the kitchen. I heard him quietly get up behind me, and follow silent as a cat. Even though I knew he was dangerous, I didn't fear him. Something told me that no matter how he was around other people, he wouldn't hurt me. Not on purpose, anyway. I busied myself pulling random things out of cabinets. He watched me quietly from across the rickety dining table, his shoulders slumped, face softened.

“I-I, um, don't know what you eat.....” I held up a can of chicken & noodle in one hand, and a package of macaroni in the other. “....Your choice?”

He quirked a smile.

“whichever is most filling.” He said, casting his eyes downward.

He really had to humble himself to ask for food. Poor guy.

Wait, what? 'poor guy'? This is the guy that has stalked me, broken into my house, and given my creepy warnings. What's to 'poor guy'?

“Mac and cheese it is!” I said, false cheer in my voice. This guy totally threw me. I pretended that the task needed all of my attention, even though a dummy can make macaroni. While I waited for the water to boil, I glanced occasionally at my guest; he kept twiddling his long slender fingers, and picking at his black, slightly pointed nails.

“What's your name?” I asked. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and I pressed on. “Last time I asked you, you dodged the question. And since you seem to know everything about me, I at least deserve the name of my unshakable stalker.”
He chuckled, a low growl.

“You really don't want to know much about me. It's safer that way.”

“I'm not the one coming to you, buddy boy. And frankly, not much about my life is safe anymore. It never really was.” I came and sat in the chair across from him, which startled him ever so slightly.

“Gabr--” he stopped. I smiled encouragingly. “Gabriel. Gabriel Morrison.” He put his right non-human hand forward cautiously, and I took it in my own. His hand was hot and dry, like a summer day in the dessert, and strong, callused from many years of use. My own very human hand felt small, delicate in his. I felt my face flush. Suddenly hissing filled the kitchen.

“Damn!” I spun around, glad of an excuse to pull my hand away, and quickly whipped the boiling-over pot of water off of the stove, and set it on the counter. Water still skittered angrily across the burner in little bubbles, each one dancing into nothingness within seconds. I went about putting the rest of it together, working to ignore the very male presence still sitting there, rubbing the hand I had held. Then he saw me watching and quickly jerked his hand under the table.

Once the mac & cheese was done, I dished it up, grabbed two forks, and slid a steaming bowl, and a utensil over to Gabriel. He bent over his bowl, and began hastily shoveling the hot cheese sauce and noodles into his mouth, barely chewing before he gulped it down. I watched him for a few minutes, until I became aware that my mouth was hanging open. I snapped it shut, and began lifting forkful after forkful to my own mouth, never looking away from him. After he finished, he got up with his bowl and fork, and went over to the sink. I watched him turn on the faucet, and slowly start rubbing the dishes with his hands under a trickle of water.

“There is a sponge, if you want.” He looked up at me briefly, then nodded his head, and went back to washing. He stacked them in the drainer, thanked me in a hushed tone, then headed silently towards the front door. I followed him, and just as he was about to leave, he turned.

“By the way, those are some mad dancing skills you have there.” He smirked, and the quiet, contrite Gabriel was gone.
“Oh, get out of here you turd!” He spun out, and winked at me before disappearing down the hall. I blushed and closed the door. Then realized he never told me anything. I opened the door again to shout at him, but I knew he was long gone.

I should have called someone, Milly, perhaps, told her about the strange man who drifted in and out as he pleased. But I had few secrets in my life anymore, and something in my gut told me this was one I needed to keep to myself.



Monday, February 13, 2012

Silhouettes


Here is a silhouette that I did just today, of a hunter Satyr.
I'm posting it simply for the sake of posting something. Hope you like it!


Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Zahncliff Character Sketch Part Duex

Here are some more sketches of some important/previously mentioned characters... Hope you like them!
Above: The Three New Yorker Goblin Lunch Ladies. I wanted them to be loud, obnoxious, and born with the knowledge that they have the right to hate their fellow (Or distant cousin), man.
Below, left: Mysterious Informant. So far, all we know about him is that he goes a bit to long without bathing, and that he is not to be trusted. Good guy, or bad guy?


Munro! I wanted him to look as described in the story.... Very much like a teddy bear. This is a first sketch, and in my next one, I'll make him look older, and add a stoop.

Monday, January 2, 2012

The Zahncliff Institute: chapter 6, Nightmares


6


Nightmares

Destra



Ouch.

My head thrummed and pulsed a tattoo in my mind. I was teaching the patients how to mold clay. Things were going smooth, considering. I didn't have a single smudge of clay in my hair, and that was an accomplishment with this group. But then one of the Ningyos (a Japanese mermaid of sorts...) held up a perfect sculpture of a scared, running me. She smiled gently, and pushed it into my hands.

“I am sorry.” she said, her voice that of a gently sighing breeze. I took it with shaking hands, and turned it in front of me.

My hair flowed backward, my clothing was torn, my limbs were tense, and I was looking over my shoulder, as if someone was following me.

I glanced at the Ningyo, who had gone back to working the wet brown clay, fingering it gently with her long webbed hands, her multiple fins swishing back and forth in the water filled wheelchair. Like when cold water hits you, like when an unexpected shiver dances along your spine, and when a singer hits a high note with perfect clarity, this head ache hit. But it was different from the first ones. This was a good hurt, if that makes sense. I closed my eyes. Images flashed through my mind.

First the girl on the news, tangled and bloody from a month ago. Then a sheet covered figure on a metal table in a sterile room. The face was obscured, but my mind flowed up, up across the body, and to her mangled face, her red hair flowing around her. Her eyes opened, and they were mine. I gasped, as if breaking from water, and clutched the table.

The patients looked at me with varied expressions, but a scary sort of understanding reigned in their eyes. They knew what it was to see what others do not.

I felt a rush of uncontrolled emotions, first anger, then inescapable sadness.

I ran from the room, and to the woman’s bathroom, where I slammed the door after me. I spun around into a stall, and pressed myself against the cool side, heaving uncontrollable. I balled up my fists, and slammed them against the wall, causing it to shudder and shake. Then I slid down until I was on the floor, and let myself crumple into an infant like pose. I sat like that for several minutes.

Then, all of the sudden, I was in control again, like being given the wheel back after your crazy friend has been the one driving the past few miles. I breathed deep, and let myself unwind. Of course, then the smell of bathroom got to me (Even if it was immaculate, there is always that lingering odor.), so I picked myself up, let the bathroom door swing shut behind me, and walked very slowly back to the art room.

I didn't know what that was about, but it had something to do with the murder. Somehow, I was involved. Or was going to become involved.


**

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 tell them I'm taken until further notice.” 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.


**

Adam


I was laying on the ground in a death-ridden waste land. The female figure approached me, stepping over bodies and debris, swathed in flame, with a jagged-blade clutched in her hand. Blood dripped off the end of the blade, and covered her hands. Her red hair was tangled and matted, her face crazed with blood-lust. A toxic breeze came by, blowing some of her hair into her face. She used her free hand to brush it out of the way, dragging the rust colored liquid across her cheek.

“Son of Adam, you are the last?” She said, tilting her head to one side. I thought about the pun for a moment before answering.

“Well, I suppose so.” I looked harder at her face... It seemed extraordinarily familiar.

She laughed, and it sounded clear and musical, a vast opposite to her evil fiery state. I was very calm, which I found strange, seeing as how I was surrounded by bodies.

“Why did you do this? Why would you kill so many?” I asked. She stepped right over to me, and sat down on her haunches in an animal like pose. She gently slid her fingers through my hair, then grabbed onto it with surprising strength. She brought her face close to mine.

“Humans are weak! They are undeserving of survival!” She spat, pulling her upper lip into a snarl. “Humans have been on this planet far to long, kept our kind dormant far to long. I am cleansing, so that we may begin again.” she stood up then, and drove her sword through my heart.


I woke up sweating again, clutching where her sword had struck. I sat panting for several minutes, making sure my lungs still worked, breathing in the clean summer air.

When I knew that I indeed was not dead, and that it had only been another vision, I looked myself over. Rarely did I remember going to sleep. My suit was more rumpled than usual, and I ran a hand through my shaggy hair. I reached for the bottle of brandy I kept next to my bed, and took a swig, letting the alcohol sear its way down my throat. I stood up, stumbled wearily into the adjoining bathroom. After soaking my head in the sink, and letting the cold water wake me up, I dried my hair, and walked into my office.

If I'm not going to get any sleep, I might as well file.

I stopped at my desk, then went back for the brandy. I pulled the wooden shades all the way up, and opened the windows to let in the smell of green and damp earth. I slumped into my chair, and took a long drink from the small brown bottle.


**

Destra


Around four in the morning, I realized I hadn't taken the garbage out. I muttered a few rude phrases as I tossed my covers aside, and gathered up the few bags from around the apartment. Sliding on a pair of lumpy old boots and a sweater over my pajama pants and tank top, I clumsily opened the door, and headed down the hallway, the bags threatening to burst at the first corner to cross my path.

I made it out to the dumpster in the alleyway without losing any garbage in the halls, so I felt fairly accomplished. As I raised the bags over my head to toss them into the large metal container, someone moved behind me. I squeaked, and dropped the bags, which banged loudly against the dumpsters side and crashed into the other garbage, making quite the ruckus. I spun around quickly, and moved into a fighting stance.

Before my stood a male figure. He smelled of sweat, animal, and leather. His eyes glowed faintly in the dark, and his sharp teeth glistened. His hands were tucked into his brown leather duster, his spiked hair stood boldly outlined.

“I come to warn you, Simmons. Chill.” He sidled over to the wall, and leaned casually against it, a fairly cat-like pose.
“You.... You're the dude from the library!” I moved closer to the dumpster. He clapped his hands slowly and dramatically.

“Bravo! You're a quick one, aren't you?” He said, pointing at me. I flushed, and clenched my fists at my side. I inhaled deep in order to calm myself, and set my jaw.
“What have you come to say?”

He sobered, and straightened up.

“The Fire Dame's servant is coming. You will be the thirteenth. The Host. Prepare yourself." He finished his message, and paused for a moment. "Does that mean anything to you? I've been trying to figure it out all day."
"Who are you with? What are you?" I asked, eyebrows raised. He grinned wickedly and approached me. As it was, I was up against the cool smelly metal.

Obviously this guy has no clue what 'Personal Space' means.....

He stopped a couple inches from my face. He was just a few inches taller than me, but his presence was much larger. His breath cascaded down on me, hot, and sweet smelling. I gulped loudly, and felt around for something large and metallic with which to whack if necessary.

"Can't we just skip the introductions? It might complicate things." He said. I raised an eyebrow suspiciously, and he backed up a few paces. As he started to go, His head swiveled to face me again. "You have allies, Destra. Trust them." He said.

Then he turned the corner, and disappeared into the coming dawn.


**

Destra


I tried to work out the message as I wandered back upstairs. My head started to pound. I knew what was coming.

My head started to ache, not the sharp pain it used to be, just constant and thrumming. I fell onto my knees, and made my way slowly up the stairs. Stumbling along the hallway, I finally came to my door.

Suddenly I was blind to the things around me. Images of the murder passed in front of me. But this time there was another woman. She was laying broken and twisted on a cement path through a copse of trees.... The park. I saw the distant sun glinting off of the buildings, and the mornings first joggers come around some bushes.

The woman shrieked at the sight of the body, and the man's eyes grew wide. He pulled out his cell phone, and dialed. I heard sirens wail. Then it jumped to another woman, alive, asleep in her bed in a small dorm room. Her red hair was short and choppy, and wild with sleep. Then I was yanked back into reality; it was like jumping into cold water.

My senses screamed, and I felt cold and wet all over. I was lying on the old musty carpet of my apartment, shaking softly. My door was still wide open, and I could here people waking up in the other rooms. It was still quite dark out, and shapes weren't much more than gray blobs, so I crawled carefully along the floor to the thin plywood door, and started to shut it.
I only just made it up here.... Zahncliff needs to know.

Pulling myself up right, I grabbed my car keys, headed down to the parking lot, not bothering to change, and slamming the door behind me.


**

Destra


When I arrived at the Institute, it was still and calm. Everything was dew covered, and frost nipped at the grass. The leaves were starting to turn to the shades of autumn, burning scarlet, crimson, and gold, bold yellows and ochers. I could hear distant birds echoing across the sky, and the trees shushing quietly back and forth.

I strode quickly to the employees entrance around back, and threw open the door. I dashed down the hall, spun around corners and up the stairs. I passed rooms with moaning patients, and I could here the shriek of a nightmare in progress. Finally, I found the door to Zahncliff's office, and rapped on the hardwood smartly. I didn't expect him to be up, but he answered the door minutes after me knocking.
“Ms. Simmons? Is something the matter?” He was a mess, worse than usual. His breath stank of alcohol, but his eyes were sharp as ever, piercing green.

“It happened again--” I said. His eyes widened, and he spun me quickly into the dark paneled office. Files were stacked and scattered all over the desk, and an empty brown bottle sat perched on top of a red leather bound copy of Treating The Common Troll Cold. He waved toward one of the chairs, into which I plopped without hesitation. I recounted my nights adventures in vivid detail, cementing the fact that it really did happen.

When done, Adam sat with his left arm supporting his chin, surveying me with an odd expression.

“Well,” he said finally, sitting up straight, “It seems as thought we have our work cut out for us.” He sighed heavily, heaved himself upward, and picked up the phone.

He was about to dial when a call started flashing on the phone base. Adam cocked his head to the side, and answered. Even from a few feet away, I could hear the a loud, irregular booming sound coming from over the line. I couldn't hear what was being said on the other side, but Zahncliff's face became Increasingly ashen colored. He started speaking quickly in what I thought was some sort of middle eastern dialect. Then he jerked away from the phone, and quickly set it back in the base. He stood breathing heavily, shoulders slumped and heaving. I was vividly aware of the buzzing of the computer, and the chirruping of birds outside.

“What's wrong?” I asked quietly. He raised his head, and he solemnly looked beyond me.

“The Middle Eastern Institute has just been attacked. They're all dead.”


**

Thursday, November 24, 2011

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!


Sunday, August 14, 2011

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.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

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.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

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!

Monday, July 4, 2011

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!

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

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.



**

Sunday, June 19, 2011

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.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

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!

Thursday, June 9, 2011

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.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

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.

Monday, May 30, 2011

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.