WordCrafters Chapter 9

Ah, time for WordCrafters. I hope y’all enjoy my chapter, and don’t forget the go check out the rest of it, here>>

When the children awoke, the first thing they noticed were the colors.

Pippin scrunched up his nose in disgust. “Pink? Purple? Where are we?” He tried to stand, but found he couldn’t move. “Um…guys?”

Alalia was the first one to come to, Pippin’s struggles shaking her awake. “Pippin, what is it?” She asked groggily. Then her eyes flew open.

The five children were in a pink and purple room, all tied together in a circle around a large fancy sofa. Which was also pink, coincidentally.  Large oaken doors that must have been fifteen feet high stood ominously on one side of the room, a large table covered in what looked to be….makeup(?) on the other side. The sofa they were tied to was in the middle. Everything was decorated with monkeys. Even the sofa’s print was monkeys, dancing around flowers.

“Um….Pippin…” Alalia said, “Do you have any idea where we are?”

Pippin shook his head, freckles standing out on his pale face. “N-No, Alalia….you?”

She frowned, studying the room again. “I’m not sure….the monkeys, makeup, pink…it doesn’t match anything I’ve read or seen in Fairyland. Maybe Esme or Vivi would know?”

Taking the hint, Pippin glanced around the sofa to see Esme’s dark head. He managed to bump her with his shoulder, while Alalia woke Vivi. Jacob was between the two sleeping girls, out of their reach and sight.

“Esme.” Pippin said.  Trying again, “Esme, if you don’t wake up, I’m going to dye your hair orange.” He knew she hated orange. It was one of the few colors the timid girl absolutely refused to wear.

Thankfully, Esme’s lashes fluttered and her eyes opened, still hazy with sleep. “Pip?” She asked, confused. Her eyes darted around the room frantically, trying to recall what had happened. “Pippin, where are we? What happened? I remember the mountain, and Ariel, and the mist….”

He smiled, trying to assure her, moving as close as he could with his hands tied behind his back to a sofa leg. Not to mention the long rope wrapping over his chest and all the way around the couch, binding them not only to it but flat on their backs against it.

“I don’t know, but Alalia and me were wondering, say, if you recognized anything in this room?”

Esme’s brown eyes opened wider, and she surveyed the room. “Pink….monkeys….dancing…makeup….I don’t really see anything that–” She cut herself off, mouth shaping into an ‘o’. “Wait a minute….makeup….monkeys?”

“Whatcha got, Essy?” Pippin said.

She barely even noticed the nickname. “Pippin…do you remember the makeup palette I showed everyone when we were reading Katri’s journal? The one by Maleficent?”

Pippin nodded, puzzled. “Ya, sure. But what’s that got to do with this?”

Esme ignored him, instead calling out, “Alalia! Vivi! Jacob!”

Alalia, who had woken up Vivi who in turn shook Jacob from the mist-induced slumber, answered back. “Esme?”

“Do you remember how I showed you guys that makeup made by Dark Fairy Cosemetics?”


“You’re closest to that table full of makeup. Can you read the name?”

“I’ll try,” Alalia replied. There was a moment of anxious silence, and then Alalia’s voice came back, shouting, “It’s the same brand, Esme! Dark Fairy!”

Esme nodded absently, lost in thought. “That just leaves the monkeys….the only villain I know of that even vaguely likes monkeys is the Wicked Witch of the West, from the Wizard of Oz.”

Pippin’s eyes widened, and Esme heard a trio of gasps from Alalia, Jacob, and Vivi. She mimicked Pippin’s earlier movement and scooted as far around the corner as she could, catching sight of Jacob’s surprised face.

“Guys, I think I know what captured us. Well, actually, who.”

“Who?” They chorused.

“Maleficent, also known as the Wicked Witch of the West.”

The four children gasped.


Peter Pan led Wendy towards the forest the children had disappeared in, following the same trail they had taken earlier.

“Wendy, we need to help them,” He said, stopping at the beginning of the path.

Wendy came up beside him. “Peter….”

The red-haired man turned to her. “Yes, Wendy?”

She ducked her head, shame showing in her features. “I….I’m sorry for dragging you out here. I should have never gotten mixed up in this Prince Charming mess. I’m so sorry.”

Peter smiled. It was bitter, full of sadness, but genuine. “I’m the one that should be apologizing, Wendy. I took you to Fairyland, and then abandoned you after you returned to the human world. I should have never done that. I should have never left you alone.”

Wendy smiled back. “I will forgive you if you forgive me.”

A trace of Peter’s old boldness and childlike-swagger came back. He grinned broadly, displaying all his teeth and scrunching his eyes shut. “It’s a deal then.”

Wendy smiled back. “Then let’s go save those kids.”


Back in the pink room, the doors slammed open and a black-clad figure strode in, green skin glinting with makeup.

Alalia stiffened. “Maleficent.” She growled.

The witch smirked. “Ah, I see you finally figured it out, didn’t you? Took you long enough.” Her purple-shadowed eyes slanted into angry slits. “You know how long I’ve waited for this?” She snapped. “Hundreds of years. Hundreds.”

Vivi’s short tempter snapped. She struggled against her bonds, twisting around as far as she could to glare in Maleficent–aka, the Wicked Witch of the West’s eyes. “Let us go!” She yelled.

Maleficent’s smirk disappeared, and she walked over to where Vivi was tied. She grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at her. When she spoke, her voice was deceptively soft. “Child, child. Did you really think you would win? Did you really think you could beat me, Maleficent, the Wicked Witch of the West, the master and disguise? Did you really think you would beat the one who designed this whole thing to play into my hands?”

Vivi’s mouth hung slack. The room was silent for a long time, when Jacob, who had sat silent the whole time, finally spoke.

“What do you mean, you designed the whole thing?” He asked nervously.

Maleficent stood, smile curving wickedly on her lips.

“What I mean, child, is that I planned all of this.”

Dun dun dun!!!

What will happen next? *evil laugh* I hope I didn’t make things to complicated for the next writers….if you have any questions, don’t be afraid to ask in the comments, or talk to Allison and she can get a hold of me.



Firemaster Snippet: Chapter 3, Secrets and Stew

Hey everyone! So, I’ve been going over my first five-or-so chapters before Nanowrimo, and I thought it would be fun to show a funnier side of the story. This is taken from Chapter 3, currently called Secrets and Stew… For a good reason. Anyway, sorry for the lack of posts lately, I’m trying to get back into a the roll again, and I hope you enjoy this! Constructive criticism is welcomed, I need all the help I can get.


“Jax, would you please keep it together?” Kirin snapped. His companion was struggling uselessly against his bonds, trying to squirm his way out of them, and all it was doing right now was attracting unnecessary attention from their captors. “We don’t need anymore trouble than we already have.”

Jax paused, fixing Kirin with a glare like nothing else. Kirin could only dare to compare it to a dragon’s. “Sorry, princess. I wasn’t aware you didn’t like being roasted over a spit by a party of hungry Borgins.”

Kirin snapped his mouth shut. “Well, now you do.” He hissed through his teeth. Jax’s eyes narrowed some more.


“Green—“ Kirin cut himself off. “Uh, never mind. Just get us out of here, will you?”

Jax wiggled a bit against his ropes, as if to show Kirin he was caught. “I don’t have my staff, you dropped my dagger off a flaming waterfall, and the Borgins were smart enough to search my sleeves and boots. Just how do you think I can get out of this mess, the one you got us into in the first place?”

“I don’t know, maybe you could use the skills you’re always bragging about? You’re the one who supposedly escaped from the Iron Hold.”

“That was different! I wasn’t tied to a spit, about to be roasted for some ugly Borgin’s wedding feast! And I wasn’t bragging, I was telling the truth!”

Kirin tossed a glance over his shoulder at the Borgins, who were still busy roasting the does. “Quiet down. You don’t want them to hear you, do you?”

“I’d rather they hear me and untie me to fight them for insults than die like a pig on a stick.” Jax spat. “You’re the ‘Chosen One’, anyway, why don’t you use your ‘power’ to free us?”

Now Kirin was the yelling one. “I told you, I don’t know what that old man was talking about! I don’t have any power, and I don’t need any!”

“Well, now would be a good time to get some!”

“You—“ Kirin’s protest was cut short by the heavy footsteps of a Borgin.

“Kreegan ish-va nee?” The Borgin was tall, his rock-like scales a dull brown color. Kirin stiffened when he bent down to sniff him, large nose snuffling like a pig’s.

“J-Jax? Y-You said you knew Brakih. What’s he saying?”

Jax opened his mouth, intending to tell Kirin that the Borgin was asking how tasty he was, when he saw the look of fear on the other boy’s face. He sighed. “He wonders if they made the ropes tight enough to hold us. Nothing to worry about, Kirin.”

The boy’s head snapped up in shock when Jax said his name, and the boy almost regretted being harsh to him before. No, can’t do that… It’s better off if he knows the truth. Being harsh is the only way to tell the whole truth. Can’t get soft…

The Borgin, seeming satisfied with Kirin’s bonds, came over to his. Jax flinched away from the foul creature’s large hands as they tugged on the ropes, remembering exactly where Borgin lived.

“Arguu! Neco visha g‘nash.”

Another Borgin, this one taller and skinnier, its scales gray and green, strode swiftly over.  “Ishi-va? Orruk ‘nalka ree.”

“Jax?” Kirin whispered.

Jax swallowed his dread. “They—They say that they should take us to their, uh, homes. They say it is harder to escape from a cavern than bonds.”

Kirin felt a chill run down his spine. “Could we… Can we escape from the caverns?”

Jax eyed the two Borgins talking in front of him. He didn’t think they understood Farren, but they were smarter than they looked…Then again, they hadn’t thought to check his boots until after their captain had told them so. “Maybe. It’s not impossible, but…”

“…It might as well be.” Kirin finished for him. “Any ideas?”

Jax shook his head. He wasn’t about to waste everything he’d worked so hard for all his life, just because it was easier…

“No. Not yet, but keep thinking.”

“What exactly do you think I’ve been doing all this time, while you were unconscious?”


What do you think? I made myself laugh writing this scene. Tell me in the comments!


My Plan to Survive Doomsday(Er, Nanowrimo)

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My Nano routine.

Hello there, everyone! Nano is almost upon us, and while I was shopping for supplies(notebooks, chocolate, anything sweet, lots of tea, and more notebooks) I decided I ought to give you guys a heads up on surviving November without any causalities. At least not from your end. Your characters…..are not so lucky. So, here we go.

What you need to survive doomsday:

  • Stuffed animals(for comfort)
  • An electric blanket, plus chili and your favorite show.
  • A pistol(for fighting off plagiarizers)
  • Chocolate(for preventing and curing Writeris Blockias–a deadly syndrome in which a writer loses all motivation or inspiration and is stuck in an endless black pit of plot holes–also known as Blank Mind Syndrome)
  • Prized novels–for creating inspiration and reading when you are fighting off Writeris Blockias. Also good for shoving under pillows to create hard lumps to keep one’s self from falling asleep, to prolong writing time.
  • Apples, waffles, and pumpkin spices lattes. These basic food groups help keep one motivated and properly sugar-fed during the terrors of doomsday….eh….Nano.
  • Awesome music. If anything will keep you motivated while fighting(or writing), it’s some epic theme songs. I like anything Petteri Sainio, The Giver soundtrack, the soundtracks from both Guardians of the Galaxy, any piano piece I can come across, Little do You Know, AMVs for manga and anime….etc, etc.
  • A dagger. It’s cool to look at, plus what sane person wouldn’t want to boast about having one hanging on their wall or hidden under their pillow….he…he he….Also, you can act out your fight scenes in your bedroom. (Doing so outside results in weird looks and maybe even a 911 from your neighbors, because the ‘creepy writer is playing with a knife in the backyard and yelling about swords and dragons’)
  • Pinterest. This is an essential item for anyone needing anything. Many things can be found on this amazing sight, from writing inspiration to aesthetics, to writing articles and links to awesome quizzes.
  • Netflix. A writer must have some help from the greats at times, like Sherlock. It’s elementary, my dear Watson. Elementary knowledge.
  • And last, but not least, several fuzzy kitties to keep you company in the loneliness. (Or just to stare at, since they’re so adorable.)

Did you enjoy this post? What are your Nanwrimo supplies?