Justin Blaney's Blog, page 56
January 2, 2014
Announcing the winner of the 2013 Best Short Story Award
The votes have been tallied. Thanks to everyone who voted. Your favorite short stories are:
1. Dreamer by Janae Schiele
2. Bliss by Vanessa Rasanen
3. Out of the Shadows by Katrina Umland
4. Facing Memories by Deanna Wiseburn
Here are the official results:
Best short story of 2013
Which is your favorite short story of 2013?
Dreamer by Janae Schiele
Bliss by Vanessa Rasanen
Out of the Shadows by Katrina Umland
Facing Memories by Deanna Wiseburn
Other
Vote
View Results
Do you have a short story you’d like to see published on JustinBlaney.com?
If we like it enough to publish, we’ll enter you in a $250 giveaway and give you a signed copy of Justin’s bestselling novel, Evan Burl and the Falling. Email justin@justinblaney.com
Help congratulate the winners and spread the news about these great stories!
Announcing this week’s Isfits Mega Giveaway. I’m giving away over $1000 in prizes including a $250 Amazon Spree and signed copies tons of great books.
Last week’s winner is Hope Clippinger
Along with winning a signed copy of Evan Burl and the Falling and a first edition signed copy of Isfits Volume 1, Katrina joins the other semi-finalists in the $250 Amazon gift card giveaway. Claim your prize by emailing
Click here to enter now for your chance to win, plus get the free eBook instantly, just for entering!
Watch for my next blog to see if you’ve won. These are some places to read the blog: Facebook, Twitter, in your email, on my website, on Amazon, or on Goodreads.
Here is a list of the semifinalists for the $250 Amazon giveaway!
Jessica Mamac, Kristen Patinka, Lou Scott, Scott Bothel, John Wargowsky, Tammy Dalley, Carl Smith, Heather Miles, Sally Hannoush, Christopher Burrell, Cathy Smith, Blake Goldstein, Katrina Epperson, Janae Schiele, Vanessa Rasanen, Katrina Umland, Deanna Wiseburn, Hope Clippinger
December 22, 2013
Vote for your favorite short story of 2013 and survey to help me make JustinBlaney.com better
Help us decide the top short story of 2013
It’s time to select the top short story from 2013. If you haven’t already, check out the four finalists by clicking on the images below, then cast your vote. The winner will be crowned on December 31st.
Best short story of 2013
Which is your favorite short story of 2013?
Dreamer by Janae Schiele
Bliss by Vanessa Rasanen
Out of the Shadows by Katrina Umland
Facing Memories by Deanna Wiseburn
Other
Vote
View Results
Do you have a short story you’d like to see published on JustinBlaney.com? If we like it enough to publish, we’ll enter you in a $250 giveaway and give you a signed copy of Justin’s bestselling novel, Evan Burl and the Falling. Email justin@justinblaney.com
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December 19, 2013
Dreamer by Janae Schiele, Finalist 4 for the International Arts and Letters Society 2013 Short Story Award
I ran a contest to find the best short stories from authors all over the world. Problem was, I couldn’t decide between the top four (with the help of my distinguished selection committee). We need your help. I’m going to publish each of the four stories over the next four weeks for your reading pleasure. You will decide which is the top short story from 2013. All four are finalists, but only one can win the distinguished place in history as the 2013 International Arts & Letters Society Reader’s Choice Award (also known as the most popular short story published on justinblaney.com… hehe). Voting will commence one week after the last finalist is presented. Enjoy!
Finalist #4: Dreamer by Janae Schiele
Having only a short time to find the bomber threatening New York City, I started the day at my dream job early. I arrived at my desk and looked over a message planted by the bomber.
At each crime scene, a picture of a fashion model was found. This picture was of a young woman wearing a long red dress, her hair pulled into a half updo.
I felt the message somehow showed where the next location would be. Hours passed since I had first begun, but I wasn’t going to give up. I looked at the dress again–long, red, high-waisted.
“High-waisted.” I thought aloud. “What is the name for that…empire waist?”
“What did you say Daphne?” Carl, an agent on my force, asked.
“Empire waist. You don’t think…”
“No, that would be too easy. Right?”
I looked at the picture again. “It’s a long shot.”
“What is?” Roger, our team leader, came into the room.
“Daphne may have found a clue in the picture,” Carl said.
Roger cocked his head. “Go on.”
“I think our bomber’s next target is the Empire State Building,” I said.
“You got that from a dress?”
Carl showed it to him. “Daphne says that’s an empire waist.”
“Interesting. So when do you think the bomber will strike?” Roger said.
“Bear with me on this one.” I took the picture from Carl. “But I think this afternoon.”
Carl raised his eyebrows. “Expand.”
“Look at her hair; that’s a half updo. If we think this is predicting the bomber’s next target, her hair could signify half of the day.”
Roger shook his head. “That’s not only insane, but brilliant! What does this say about our bomber? Female? Fashion designer?”
“Could be anything.” Carl looked at his watch. “It’s 11:00 a.m. We need to clear the Empire State Building and the surrounding areas.”
“We can’t just clear the Empire State Building. That would cause a panic. We need to search the building, discreetly, and make sure we’re correct on this assumption before we take action,” Roger said.
I looked at my team. “And if we are correct?”
“Then we move as fast as possible. What about detonation time? Noon?”
“I would say so,” Carl said.
“Let’s do this.” I grabbed my gear.
“I’ll gather the rest of the force. Carl you alert the bomb squads, make sure they are ready. We leave in five minutes.”
<<<>>>
My pulse quickened as I searched the building. I finished the 99th floor, and looked at my watch: 11:40. It was taking twenty minutes per floor. I sprinted up the stairs. Oh God help us.
Half way through I saw something so subtle, I almost missed it in my rush. A blinking red light. My heart sank.
A voice chirped over my radio. “I’ve got eyes on the bomb! Call the squad! Get everyone out of here now! Third floor!”
I had never been more terrified in my entire life. “Two bombs.”
Then another voice. “This is bad! I also found a bomb . Floor 30! Clear this building now!”
I spoke into the radio. “Floor 100! Bomb on floor 100!”
I looked at the bomb–no timer–then at my watch, 11:53. An alarm shot through the building alerting everyone to evacuate. I knelt by the bomb and examined it. A yellow, red, and white wire stuck out.
“Bomb one neutralized!” Rogers’s voice came over the radio.
“Tell me how to defuse it,” I responded. “What wire do I cut?”
“Daphne, let the bomb squad get this one!”
“There isn’t time. It took them three minutes to defuse the first one!”
“I’ll talk to the squad’s chief, but don’t touch anything.”
I checked my watch, 11:57.
“Daphne, this is Roger again. The chief said if the bombs detonate at noon, you’re right. There isn’t time. Just get out of there!”
“What. Wire. Do. I. Cut?”
He paused. “Red, then yellow. Don’t touch the white. But Daphne, you don’t have to do this! The bombs may not be the same.”
“I have to do this, sir.” I clicked off my radio.
I looked at my watch one more time, 11:59. I placed my wire cutters around the red wire. Snip. Then yellow. Snip. The red light stopped blinking. I sighed and turned my radio back on.
“Daphne! Daphne!” Roger screamed into the radio. “Answer me!”
“Sir?”
“Don’t touch the wires, the second bomb is different!”
I stopped breathing as the red light flicked back on, and the bomb starting beeping. I, the fearless, the fighter for justice, felt a tear run down my cheek, it was all over. I messed up.
“Daphne, wake up.” A voice said. “You’ve overslept.”
“Huh?” I opened my eyes. I was in a hospital. “I made it? The bomb didn’t kill me?”
A plump nurse looked sympathetically at me. “Probably another bad dream, Daphne. Here’s your medication. Now if you would just take it, you wouldn’t have those anymore.” The nurse walked to another patient.
Reality set in as I sat up.
Carl scooted his chair over to my bed. “What adventure did you go on this time?”
“I was on the case of the New York City bomber!”
Carl’s eyes widened. “You catch him?”
“I don’t know.”
“What was he blowing up?”
“The Empire State Building.”
Another patient in the ward wheeled himself over to us. “Must be a lunatic!”
Carl chuckled. “Roger, we’re all lunatics! Mentally insane, aren’t we Daphne?”
“That’s what they tell us.”
I stood and peered out the barred windows. The New York City skyscrapers stood miles away and I could hardly see the tip of the Empire State Building. Dreams were my only freedom.
I tossed the pills down an air vent. I had to dream. A police siren sounded. I closed my eyes, saw myself solving mysteries, and bringing justice to my city. One dream at a time.
More finalists: Bliss by Vanessa Rasanen, Out of the Shadows by Katrina Umland, Facing Memories by Deanna Wiseburn and Dreamer by Janae Schiele
Leave a comment and help spread the news!
December 13, 2013
Some people fear risk. I fear losing the moment.
“Some people fear risk. I fear losing the moment.” – Justin Blaney
December 12, 2013
Facing Memories by Deanna Wiseburn, Finalist 3 for the International Arts and Letters Society 2013 Short Story Award
I ran a contest to find the best short stories from authors all over the world. Problem was, I couldn’t decide between the top four (with the help of my distinguished selection committee). We need your help. I’m going to publish each of the four stories over the next four weeks for your reading pleasure. You will decide which is the top short story from 2013. All four are finalists, but only one can win the distinguished place in history as the 2013 International Arts & Letters Society Reader’s Choice Award (also known as the most popular short story published on justinblaney.com… hehe). Voting will commence one week after the last finalist is presented. Enjoy!
Finalist #3: Facing Memories by Deanna Wiseburn
She walks into the bedroom, and sees the White heels sitting beside the dresser where they have always sat when her mother was not wearing them. The tears begin to flow unbidden, there are so many memories in this room, and so many more surround those shoes.
She picked them up lovingly and gently she held them in her hands, checking for the scuff that she knew would be there. Hard to believe that her mother would no longer be wearing them.
She recalled sitting at church beside her mom, staring at her mom’s heels while listening to the preacher’s sermon. Wondering when she would be allowed to wear shoes that made her important. She thought about how her mom visited all those who were hurting while wearing those. Her mom always said that she dressed for visiting others because it made them feel special.
She recalled the day that Kaylee had taken those heels and put them on and tried to walk in them at 4 years old. Coming down the steps, trying to look graceful like mommy, when she stumbled and broke her arm. The rush to the hospital and the tears her sister cried and the fear that she felt, seeing Kaylee’s arm in such a grotesque position.
She remembered Kaylee’s laughter later when they decorated the cast, to make it seem better. Then she recalled those same heels caked with mud, when Kaylee was buried a few years later, the rain that wouldn’t stop, and her mom wearing those heels to visit the grave anyway, because they were Kaylee’s favorite.
She recalled her mom, cleaning them later and as she cleaned the shoes, she talked about the stains that life gives us, and how Jesus and the blood He shed could clean even the deepest stains.
How she would miss her Mother’s wisdom, her love and her gentle spirit. She knew it was coming, however it wasn’t enough to prepare her for this. The pain of loss cut deeper than she ever thought it would.
This room held so many memories, and yet this was the last time she would allow herself to be in this room. She went to the closet grabbed the box of photo albums, tossed the shoes in the box and turned to go.
Just then she saw Him. It had been years since they had seen one another face to face, but it seemed like just yesterday. He crossed the room and took the box from her saying, “I was hoping I would find you before you left. You know that she always kept in touch after that day.”
She was shaking, she couldn’t believe she had to face him now after all this time. “Why would she keep in touch, and not tell me? What do you want from me?” Her mind was spinning, what on earth could they have possibly had to discuss. After that fateful day she had no wish to speak to Him, no wish to see Him. It brought back to many painful memories.
“I wanted to let you know that I am so sorry that things happened the way they did, sorry that I wasn’t here when you needed me after it happened. Your mother knew that I loved you and would have done anything for you, and I think in many ways she felt sorry for the loss we faced…all of them.”
She coughed nervously, and said, “She was always a hopeful person…but that doesn’t explain why you are here now?”
He said, “When we talked last week, she gave me something for you. Something that she wanted to be sure you had when she was gone.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a key, and said, “I have it out in the truck.”
“But why, would she give you something to give me? I don’t understand.” she replied. “She knows that we don’t talk anymore and that ….”
“I know, I asked her the same thing,” he interrupted, “but she insisted that it needed to be this way. She also would not tell me what was in the package, just that I needed to give it to you and be there when you opened it.”
She wondered if this day could get any worse. First the funeral, then the memories of being here again, and now face to face with one of the ghosts of her past. She growled, “Fine, but let’s just get it over with, it’s been a long day.”
He couldn’t help but smile at her attitude. He felt lucky to even be given this long to talk with her. He wished that he didn’t have to do this, He tried telling Becky that this was a bad idea, tried to talk her out of having him be the one to deliver this mysterious package, but Becky insisted.
When they get to the truck, he hesitates and turns to Heather, and says, “Where should we go to open it?”
Heather sinks against the truck and says, “I just want to get out of here, so please, just give it to me. It’s been a long day, and honestly I want nothing more than to get out of here and away from all the memories.”
He grabs the package, and grabs her hand, and says “Let’s just go to the lake, and we will finish this there, and you can run again if you must.”
She catches her breath as He pulls her behind the house and down to the pier. If there was any one place she had avoided it was the lake. She dreamed so many dreams there, before everything fell apart.
She sinks down to the pier shaking, overwhelmed by the flood of memories. He hands her the package, a thick manila envelope. He has been curious about why Becky was so insistent that they do this together.
Heather shakes her head to clear it and stares at the envelope, her mother did not write on it and there was no clue what was inside. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take today. With trembling fingers she opens the flap, and as the picture falls out, she lets out a strangled cry. All the pain she held within’ all these years exploding in her chest as she saw her baby swaddled in a pink blanket lying lifeless in the incubator so that her Mom could take the picture. She refused to look at the pictures before, she simply couldn’t do it, it was too much.
Seeing the picture for the first time He also lets out a tortured cry as He wrapped His arms around her apologizing for not being there when she needed Him.
More posts coming soon from all four Finalists: Bliss by Vanessa Rasanen, Out of the Shadows by Katrina Umland, Facing Memories by Deanna Wiseburn and Dreamer by Janae Schiele
Leave a comment and help spread the news!
December 4, 2013
Out of the Shadows by Katrina Umland, Finalist 2 for the International Arts and Letters Society 2013 Short Story Award
I ran a contest to find the best short stories from authors all over the world. Problem was, I couldn’t decide between the top four (with the help of my distinguished selection committee). We need your help. I’m going to publish each of the four stories over the next four weeks for your reading pleasure. You will decide which is the top short story from 2013. All four are finalists, but only one can win the distinguished place in history as the 2013 International Arts & Letters Society Reader’s Choice Award (also known as the most popular short story published on justinblaney.com… hehe). Voting will commence one week after the last finalist is presented. Enjoy!
Finalist #2: Out of the Shadows by Katrina Umland
“Oh!” exclaimed Meg as she fell to the hard floor of the school’s hallway. She scurried around trying to collect her books and papers from her previous class before others could stomp them into crumpled heaps like the last time she tripped on the air and dropped her supplies. She was just reaching for the last of her things, a very important music score she was hoping to look at again before solo auditions took place, when a five-inch heeled, blindingly-blinged out, shoe smashed down where her hand was just about to be.
“Sorry, Meg-a-looser,” a female voice sneered. “I was just showing off my brand new, Louboutin Strass Crystal Heels. They are far too expensive for someone of your kind to ever own,” and with the perfect smirk that Meg just knew would be there if she were to look up at her full time assaulter, she added, “Or like you would ever be able to walk in them. You can’t even stand on your feet without toppling over.”
“Gee, thanks for noticing, Karen. Can’t see how you even have the time or energy to ever worry about me and my finances,” Meg replied sarcastically, “But you do know that there is a big wad of bright green gum stuck to the bottom of that ankle breaker your wearing.”
“Oh gross!” Karen screeched, miraculously able to hop up and down on one heel as she carefully lifted her other one up for inspection.
Meg took that opportunity to grab the sheet of music, hop to her feet, and hustle down the hall before the other girl could figure out that there was really nothing there at all.
Meg slumped out of the school; well that was what everyone else called it, to her it was more like a prison. A horrible night-mare of a place filled with monsters and hypocrites that only the strength of hard cash could fight off. It was raining again. She hoped that someone had remembered to come and get her this time, but as she scanned the few remaining vehicles in the parking lot she doubted that anyone at the house had. She sighed as she looked up at the clouds that showed no sign of stopping, and stepped out into the chilling down pour.
When she got home, looking more like a sewer-rat than the girl no one had waved off to school, she sloshed her way down the main hall and up the grand staircase to her little room. It was the smallest room in the house, but Meg didn’t mind so much. At least she had a place that she could say was all hers, and it was in all honesty completely hers. In fact she basically had the entire house to herself, the occasional maid would wonder up to vacuum, but her parents would never care to check in on her little part of the world, and her siblings where all grown and out of the house.
“Parents,” she muttered to herself under her breath as she changed out of her icy school uniform and into a pair of jeans and a sweater, “Parents would care more.” But as she started back down the stairs toweling off her hair, she felt a bit of guilt at saying such things about the kind family that had taken her in. After the accident her parents had gotten into, Meg had been left alone, with no other relation to take her. She was moved from care home to care home, never really fitting in, until a couple came in search of a well behaved, teenaged, child to take in. They had such a big house and all of their own children had left to make a big life for themselves, so they felt they needed someone to fill the silence of the house.
As Meg entered the kitchen she found her favorite of the five maids that worked for the house busy at the kitchen sink.
“What are we having for dinner tonight, Maya? I assume it will be just you and me, right? Mom has a clothing line to finish and dad probably has some over emotional client to calm down.” she said as she plopped into one of the high legged stools at the center island, dropping the towel to the floor for the time being.
“Oh!” Maya gasped with surprise, “Megalyn your home early!” And then with a glance at the clock exclaimed, “Oh, I’m so sorry. It was my day to pick you up wasn’t I? James is driving for your mother tonight. I completely forgot! Did you walk all this way in the rain? You foolish child you could have caught numina and died. You should have called me!”
“It’s ok. Honest. I’m used to it. And don’t call me Megalyn. You know I hate that name. It’s too high class for someone like me.” She said hopping down from the stool and walking over to the sink to see what Maya was doing. “I can help you with all of those dishes. I know they were starting to pile up so you must have been working on them all day.”
“Oh no you don’t.” Maya said wiping her hands on her apron before gently pushing Meg away from the dish loaded sink. “I actually have a surprise for you.”
Meg let Maya lead her into the massive living room that occupied most of the first floor, and sat down on the vintage couch, careful not to let her still wet hair touch the not-so-waterproof fabric. She could just see her mother’s reaction if she were to find any sort of spot on it.
“You know how I was gone on a little vacation right?” Maya said as she pulled a small box down from one of the many shelves that lined the room’s walls. “Well I saw this and just thought of you. I know you two will be such good friends, and yes, I do know that you could use a few more friends.”
Meg took the box, curious as to what could possibly be in this box that would be her friend, seeing as the rest of the world seemed to want nothing to do with her. She carefully lifted the lid to find a little face looking up at her. Surprised she carefully lifted the little figure out of the box. In her hands she held a little clay dragon. It was large enough that she had to hold it in both hands, but it felt strangely light for its size. “It’s wonderful!” Meg gasped. “Thank you so much.” She smiled up at Maya, who happily back. “I think I will take him upstairs to my room, before dinner and everything.” Meg said getting to her feet and heading for the stairs.
She carried the little dragon to her room and sat him on the desk while she looked around for an open spot on one her shelves to put him. When she finally cleared an open spot and turned back to her desk to get her new addition she froze in shock.
The little dragon was still on the desk, but instead of sitting motionless, it was not standing on its hind legs, front paws crossed in front of its chest, flicking its wings in such a way to suggest that it was annoyed by something.
Meg could not believe her eyes. She slowly approached the desk, sure that that was not how the dragon had been sitting when she placed him on the desk. As she drew closer she thought she saw it blink. No, she told herself, your imagining things. Meg came to the decision that because of the lack of proper food provided at the school she was imagining things. She turned to go back down the stairs to tell Maya she had better be making a little something extra for dinner when she heard a the sound of a throat being cleared. She froze on the spot, slowly turning eyes wide, mouth hanging open.
“Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice your blank décor and unattractive clothing,” it said to her.
Meg could not believe her eyes, or her ears for that fact. The voice was coming from on the desk, and on the desk sat the dragon. But the dragon was made of clay, and everyone knows that clay can’t talk, and there was no such thing as dragons. “I must really be sick. This is all in my head!”
“Well excuse me!!! I was only trying to make conversation. Leave it to a human with a strong Energy Pulse to be so dramatic.”
“DRAMATIC!!!” Meg yelled crossing her in front of her chest. “You’re a clay dragon that just a minute ago was not talking. You’re not even supposed to be moving! You are clay and clay does NOT do those things. I’m totally out of my mind. Why am I even talking to you?!?” Meg flopped down on the bed covering her face with her hands and sighing deeply, then sat back up to stare at the little creature perched on the edge of desk.
“Well I guess I will just have to SHOW you how real I really am.” The little dragon said holding out a tiny paw that Meg assumed she was supposed to take, but she just could not bring herself to take it, after all it was just too strange to believe. “Suite your shelf then, but you don’t strike me as the flying type.” It said.
Flying type? Meg wondered. “What…” But before she could finish her question her bedroom floor vanished beneath her feet, and she was falling through darkness. Too stunned to scream, she flailed her arms around in the darkness, desperate to find some sort of hold.
“I told you you should have taken my paw cause you couldn’t fly, but you didn’t listen to me.” The little dragon was there beside her, still holding out the same little paw. This time Meg took the paw, and to her surprise her ascent slowed. Suddenly light erupted around them.
“Here we are,” the little dragon said happily gently dropping Meg to the soft, grassy ground. “My home. See I told you I was real.”
Meg could not believe her eyes. The world around her was all so fantastic, flowers and green as far as the eye could see and in the distance the shape of a magnificent castle. She could not believe what she was seeing. All things that should not have existed, but here they were.
“And I took the liberty of fixing your clothing for you. Your welcome.”
Meg looked down at herself to find that her jeans and t-shirt had been replaced with the most glamorous dress she had ever seen. It’s deep green color complimented her well, she had to admit, and with its slim fitting sleeves and flowing skirt, it looked like the type of dress that she had always wanted to wear, but never had the courage or finances to.
“And now we have a little party that we must attend. There is someone there that you must see.” The little dragon commanded and started to push Meg toward the castle. “You see there is this guy that I really, really think you should meet and..”
“Hold up,” Meg said trying to dig her slippered feet into the ground, but not having much luck thanks to the thick carpet of grass. “I can’t show up here and then crash someone else’s party. That would be really rude!” But try as she might to resist the dragon’s shoving in the castle’s direction, she seemed to be no match against the little creatures surprising strength, and eventually gave in.
As the two of them approached the castle a pit rose in Meg’s stomach. She had never been to a big party like this before, she was sure. Back home she had not been popular enough to even dream about being invited to something as big as a party. And as they entered the hall she was sure she would stick out like a sore thumb.
“Oh yeah, almost forgot.” The little dragon said snapping his fingers. “You can’t party with the prince without a little shiny something of your own sitting on top of your head.”
Meg felt something suddenly alight on her head, and glancing in a mirror by the hall entrance she was astonished once again to find a delicate tiara sitting on top of her head. This has to be a dream, she thought to herself.
“Now get in there and have a good time.” and with a final push the little dragon had forced Meg into the stunning hall.
She tried to blend in as much as she could. The party scene had never really been her thing though, so it was difficult not to stick out. She finally settled for sitting at a table in the far corner, almost completely hidden from the rest of the guests. She watched them, feeling as though she had never really left home. They all seemed to be just as full of themselves. Their dresses and gaudy jewels far out shined her simple green and silver gown. She sighed deeply, wishing that she would just wake up already because it was starting to feel more like a nightmare than a dream.
“You look like you’re having fun.” A male voice said from behind Meg. She jumped nearly out of her chair, turning to see who was standing behind her. Judging from where she was sitting he was about a head taller than she was. His hair was dark brown with a natural wind-swept look to it, and his eyes where a hypnotizing shade a green. She could see the impressive muscles in his arms through his white shirt. He seemed to be a very attractive guy, and she wondered why none of the other girls had noticed him yet. “Mind if I join you?” he asked taking the seat next to her.
Meg was grateful for the company, but she felt weird sitting there with this guy she knew nothing about. Finally he broke the silence by saying, “My name is Dargon.”
“My name is Meg.” She managed to say. “Megalyn, but everyone calls me Meg.”
Dargon smiled at Meg. His smile was as perfect as his eyes, making her melt inside. “I like that name. I think its beauty fits you perfectly.” he said, and then suddenly asked, “Would you like to dance?”
“Wha…? Oh, um, I not much of a dancer.” Meg stammered trying not to blush.
“Good.” He said, “Cause neither am I.” Grabbing her hand and leading onto the floor. Meg was so astonished that she let him lead her onto the dance floor with no resistance.
Out on the floor it seemed that he moved much more gracefully than he had first let on. Meg noticed how many of the other girls, even the ones who already danced with a partner, looked at them. Jealousy burning in their eyes. But Dargon just held her close and danced like he had no care in the world. Little by little Meg let go of her cares, dancing with Dargon just seemed so right. For the rest of the night they stayed by each other’s sides. Meg actually started to enjoy getting the jealous glances. All she wanted was to be with him.
After a number of songs had played they both decided that it would be wise to take a short break from dancing before they collapsed to the floor with exhaustion. Together they returned to the table where they had first met, just then an older man approached them. “Son a few of the guests have voiced great displeasure in the fact that you will not dance with them as well. They tell me that you have been spending all of your time and attention on this mysterious young lady who no one has seen around the village, let alone the kingdom. Why not indulge some of the other finer ladies? The princess of Riven is here and I know her father would be greatly upset if you do not ask her to dance at least once. And over yonder waits the duchies of Wrethering standing next to her is lady Persefiss…”
Meg was slightly taken aback by the words that this man said. Why would Dargon care about princesses and duchesses, unless… she gasped. Looking from the elder man and Dargon, she could see how much alike they looked. “I am so sorry!” She managed to stammer to the king, “I had no idea. I mean, um, I…”
“I am quite happy over here where I am thank you father.” Dargon said, not making any signs of leaving Meg’s side, and before his father could protest again he took Meg’s hand and started to lead her out of the hall.
Outside and away from the rest of the party guests Meg turned to Dargon. “Why did you not tell me that you were a prince!” She felt suddenly weak and had to sit down before she collapsed and made an even bigger fool of herself.
“I didn’t think it would matter that much.” He said, staring off into the distance. “I took you as the kind of person who really saw people for who they were on the inside, not by their titles or riches. I want to be with someone who is true to them self and to others. I want to be with you.” He turned to face her. Those deep green eyes and that warm smile pulled her back under his hypnotic spell. She couldn’t be mad with him, not after all of time they had just spent with each other.
Just then Meg felt a strange sensation throughout her body. It was almost like her very core was vibrating. She looked down at her hands to find them slightly fading.
“What’s happening!?” she asked, looking desperately to Dargon for the answers, but even he looked at a loss for words. The sensation shot through her again and she fell to her knees. “I’m scared.” She cried covering her face with her gradually vanishing hands. Dargon knelt down next to her, holding what was left of her slowly fading form tightly in his arms.
“I won’t let you go. I will be right here and will always be there for you.” He whispered as her entire body vanished in a soft, glimmering, silver and green mist. Leaving no trace but a delicate diamond tiara that had once sat on Meg’s head and the memories Dargon swore he would never forget.
Meg sat up. She was still lying on her bed. She jumped up and looked wildly around her room. The little dragon that Maya had given her still sat on the edge of her desk, not moving or talking, and her alarm clock right behind him said that an hour had passed since she had come up stairs to find a spot on her shelves for him to sit. Had she fallen asleep? Was it all just a dream?
Meg shock her head to clear the foggy feeling and headed down stairs to the kitchen where she hoped Maya would have dinner ready, so she could get to work on the pile of homework the teachers had loaded onto them, and then get to bed early because for some odd reason she felt exhausted. She hoped she hadn’t come down with something from walking in the rain.
The next day at school, Meg walked down the hallway to her locker, in a particularly good mood since she had managed to get the solo even though she had spent no extra time practicing it. She pulled out the books she thought she would need for the weekend and the art supplies she would need to finish her assignment. She was just starting to put everything into her back pack when a pair of bright green high-top boots kicked the wobbling pile of items all over the hall.
“Wow, Mega-loser, you should really take better care of your things. I would never let something like that happen to anything that I own. Of course everything I own is top-of-the-line, imported, and far more expensive than anything that you could even start to dream of.” Karen scoffed as she walked off.
Meg sighed, bending down to start collecting her things again. “Just another day in the life of me I suppose.” She said to no one in particular.
“Well I happen to think that this life looks far more amusing than mine.” said a familiar male voice from behind her.
She froze. That voice. She knew that voice. But. It couldn’t be. She slow turned around. Standing over her was a boy with dark wind-swept hair, deep green eyes that were hypnotizing, and a smile so warm it melted her heart. Dargon.
He stood there smiling down at the shock covering Meg’s face. “I told you I would always be there for you.” He said as he reached into the pocket of the jacket he was wearing. From it he pulled the diamond tiara Meg remembered having worn at the party at his castle.
“But it was all just a dream.” She stammered as he gently placed it back on her head. “Wasn’t it?” She asked, staring deeply into his eyes.
“I think not,” said another familiar voice from behind Dargon, and the little dragon flew up and perched on his shoulder.
Dargon took Meg’s hands in his, and as she stared up at him he smiled down at her and said, “No one could tear us apart, there is no magic that could possibly break our bond. You are the only princess for me, and you will never have to be alone again.”
More posts coming soon from all four Finalists: Bliss by Vanessa Rasanen, Out of the Shadows by Katrina Umland, Facing Memories by Deanna Wiseburn and Dreamer by Janae Schiele
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November 26, 2013
Bliss by Vanessa Rasanen, Finalist 1 for the International Arts and Letters Society 2013 Short Story Award
I ran a contest to find the best short stories from authors all over the world. Problem was, I couldn’t decide between the top four (with the help of my distinguished selection committee). We need your help. I’m going to publish each of the four stories over the next four weeks for your reading pleasure. You will decide which is the top short story from 2013. All four are finalists, but only one can win the distinguished place in history as the 2013 International Arts & Letters Society Reader’s Choice Award (also known as the most popular short story published on justinblaney.com… hehe). Voting will commence one week after the last finalist is presented. Enjoy!
Finalist #1: Bliss by Vanessa Rasanen
It has been months since the last letter, but I try not to worry.
Every day that passes without a knock on the door brings peace, and I fall asleep trusting he’s safe, at least for now. The officers visited Ellie two doors down this week, and I wiped my tears away from behind the lace curtain watching her crumple in pain on her porch. Our town is small and nearly every family has been touched by this war. Fathers, husbands, sons called up to fight evil in far-away lands. Those of us left behind pass the time as best we can with little word aside from what we can pick up in the newspapers or in the few letters we receive.
For the past two years I’ve held onto his picture, desperate to keep his face from slipping from my mind. The only thing worse than losing him is to lose the memory of him, too. I spend my days tending to the house, hoping that when he does come home it is ready for him. After breakfast I sweep the floors and dust the shelves. The afternoons I run to the store and start dinner. I cook for two every night, sitting down to the meal watching the door with eager — and perhaps absurd — hope. Our porch calls me in the evening where I enjoy fresh raspberries from the bush under the window. Sometimes I sew. Sometimes I just sit. But I’ve found it’s best if my hands are busy so my mind doesn’t wander to the nightmares and the worries.
Of my closest friends, three lost their husbands in Normandy, another a few days later, and that was tough. I had to hide my relief as I mourned with them, unsure of how to help them beyond the extra casserole or the baked pie. I was barely eighteen at the time, a new wife, a new adult, and I felt ill-equipped to handle this new reality of pain and grief. With each new telegram the town weeped together, wrapping each other in loving arms of support twenty-three times in the last two years, nearly half of my graduating high school class.
I lean against the porch railing tonight, basking in the summer evening glow of the sun, wondering what I’ll do when the last of these berries have been picked and eaten. I close my eyes while biting into one. I want to enjoy the burst of sweetness, but the image of Ellie that morning takes over, keeping me from sensing anything but despair. I reach down to grab my glass, but don’t realize it’s empty until I’ve already tilted it back. I drop my handful of raspberries onto the railing, not caring that they’ve rolled, a few falling into the grass below. I sigh and head inside to get a refill of my lemonade.
I decide to bring the pitcher out with me and start pouring as I walk through the screen door, focusing on the glass in my hand so as not to spill any over my fingers like last time. I wonder if the neighbor’s cat has come back to eat my berries, and I wish I’d never shared with her that evening last month. Maybe then the bush wouldn’t be so bare so soon. I look up to see the berries missing, but it isn’t the cat who has eaten them.
He stands there with his back to me, and my heart stops. At first I wonder if this is an officer coming to deliver bad news, but my eye drops to the cane in his right hand, his weight leaning on it as he uses his left to wipe raspberry juice from his chin. He hears my gasp as my breath catches in my throat, and he turns slowly.
He doesn’t look like his picture anymore. His face is weathered with a new scar above his left eye. His eyes show the years of war, battle and combat, but as he stares at me the pain and loss fade from the deep blues and all I see is love. I want to drop everything and run to him, but with a deep breath I remind myself that would only leave a mess to clean up later, so I set the pitcher and glass carefully down on the table. The cane has me nervous, and I hesitate, walking slowly, fighting the urge to tackle him, not knowing what injuries he has hidden under his uniform. His eyes change again, this time to the mischievous spark I remember from years ago. With one motion he’s removed his hat, dropped his cane and closed the distance between us. Ignoring the cringe the pain in his leg creates, he lifts me up and twirls me around, and in that kiss — with the taste of raspberries and summer and years spent apart — is the wedded bliss I’ve been missing.
Most posts coming soon from all four Finalists: Bliss by Vanessa Rasanen, Out of the Shadows by Katrina Umland, Facing Memories by Deanna Wiseburn and Dreamer by Janae Schiele
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November 19, 2013
Short story winners and update on Isfits
First, I have to apologize for being so tardy on the short story contest. I’ve been swamped with work related to Isfits (and video work with my agency, which keeps the lights on). Plus, we received way more entries for the contest than I expected and it took a lot of time to go through.
The jury (Me and my wife Anna) narrowed the contest down to our four favorites, but we can’t decide between them. In an effort to avoid the need for marriage counseling I’m announcing all four as winners!
I’ll post the four winners over the coming weeks and let you weigh in on which you like best. There were many other great entries and I wish I could publish them all. Thank you so much to everyone for submitting. I hope to do this contest again soon.
The winners are: Bliss by Vanessa, Out of the Shadows by KT Umland, Facing Memories by Deanna Wiseburn and Dreamer by Janae Schiele
Quick update on Isfits
We launched Isfits two weeks ago and have had over 3000 people express interest in supporting it. Because of all your help, we’ve been presented with some amazing opportunities and I think we’ve stumbled on a unique and powerful tool in Isfits for fighting sex trafficking in the US and around the world.
To take advantage of these opportunities, I have to tweak a few things and relaunch the project with a new focus. I’ve held off on promoting the project since the launch because I didn’t want to push a project that I was going to be soon changing.
I’ve been working really hard at relaunching it with this new focus and fundraising strategy. I’ll let you know as soon as it’s ready to go. In the meantime, you can check out the new launch page and please let me know if you have any feedback to make this more successful!
Thank you so much to all of you who have helped us get out the word for this project!
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November 8, 2013
Books are mirrors through which we discover something greater insider ourselves
“Books are mirrors through which we discover something greater inside ourselves” – Justin Blaney
November 7, 2013
What if Cinderella, Serious George, and Meatloaf exploded inside your mouth?
Immerse yourself in Isfits lore by taking in this video. Best shared with a friend. And a drink.
Please share this video with the following post or write your own
This video http://ow.ly/qAZJr answers the important question: What if Cinderella, Serious George & Meatloaf exploded inside your mouth?
Thank you for helping support Isfits! Here are some images to share
