REJECTED!

Hey all, so the last time I posted, I’d finished writing The Black Vale, finished editing it and was working on a summary. Both what I’d put on the back of a book and what I was going to send in to TOR.  So I came up with a good one for the back of the book, and its way better than the one I posted in my previous blog. But it took me forever to finish the summary for TOR.

So, I’ve had a lot of people ask me, “When can I buy it?”

Logically…I have no idea. I chose to send it to TOR first because what fantasy author doesn’t dream of having TOR’s little mountain on the spine of their book? Also, they only take unsolicited submissions, meaning that you can’t have sent it to anyone else first.

Well, writing up the summary wasn’t easy. It took me over 500 pages to tell the story, so how do I sum it up in only 10 pages??? And that’s double-spaced, my friends. So my Best friend, Diane, and I have been working on this summary since my last post, which I believe was last year (I know, I’m not an amazing blogger. I just have so much to do all the time…). We tried and tried to make it work before finally deciding to just sum up every chapter in one or two sentences. She started from the beginning and I started from the end. Once we met up in the middle, we put it together…and it was still too long! So we spent the next month or two hammering it out and cutting more and more until it felt like it was nothing. But it was 10 pages. Finally.

That wasn’t all we had to cut up though. TOR asks for the first three chapters but it also has a maximum word count so we had to chop up my first three chapters to make them fit. But alas, after so many months of fighting through it and painfully chopping my book to pieces to it fit into TOR’s submission guidelines, I put it in the mail. Diane was there taking pictures and afterwards we went to Wal-Mart to buy a frame for my inevitable rejection letter. Then we celebrated with wine and cheese J

The wait was on. TOR says they get so many submissions each month that it could take up to 6 months to get back to someone on a submission. So I certainly didn’t expect to hear back from them in only two weeks! But hear back I did.

I opened my mailbox and found the pre-addressed envelope that I’d sent with my proposal with the New York, NY stamp across the stamp(Yes, they stamped the stamp, I know it sounds odd). Well, I knew what it was. No one gets accepted the first time. Especially when they’re previously unpublished. So I opened it up and sure enough, REJECTED!!

So, only two weeks. My guess is that they opened the envelope, read the cover letter that made it obvious that I’m previously unpublished, and shredded the rest.

Am I mad about this? No. Not at all. Like I said, I knew this would happen. I prepared for it. I bought the frame and now had something to fill it. Do I have any hard feelings towards TOR. Hell no! I still love em! Besides, more than half my collection of first edition hard covers has TOR’s little mountain on the spines. They’ll take me some day.

But for now, I think self-publishing is the best way to advertise myself and make myself look good for those big publishers. I thought of sending it to others, but most of them require an agent. Well, I’ve had agents before and they all were about as useful as—be nice Leah!

…Excuse me. I’m sure agents are very useful to some people. But I think I’ll just cut out that middle man for now and self-publish. I can put into action some of those great self-marketing tips I learned at LTUE this year J

On that note, I did meet up with David Farland at LTUE. Yeah, he didn’t remember me at all. That was a little disappointing. I guess I need to work on those first impression skills that I so fantastically suck at. That and I know he and his family suffered a tragedy involving his son that is burying them in hospital bills so obviously he had other things on his mind that were far more important than meeting an aspiring, unpublished writer in Barnes and Noble who didn’t even have a good pitch.

On another note, my short story, Flight of the Raven, did take first place in the Dragon Comet Short Story Contest at LTUE. That was an adrenalin rush! I was my sister Dawn and Diane, sitting at a table, eating dinner at the banquet, listening to an AMAZING speech by Tracy Hickman (a speech that someone ripped a loud fart right in the middle of. Seriously, who does that??). After his speech, they announced the winners of the contests. First they did the children’s, then the adults. I was crossing my fingers. Third place would be great, really.  But someone else took that. So I started twitching, Second place? Nope. Someone else took that too. At that point, I figured I was out. The last time I entered anything into a writing contest, it was for poetry and that was back in high school. That poem actually made it into the semifinals of the contest and was published in two different National Library of Poetry anthology’s. But still I figured I was out. But then they announced the first place winner. Flight of the Raven, by Leah Bergquist.  HA!!! You should have heard how they pronounced my name! I started giggling like a crazy person. It wasn’t exactly that I’d won first place that had me completely ecstatic. It’s that they announced it in front of TRACY HICKMAN and PAUL GENSEE! Two New York Times Best Selling Authors! Holy exciting Batman.

Well, now I’m going to post it on my website, which should be up sometimes this weekend. It took forever because I wanted to put my own artwork on the site. So I had to finish my oil painting that I plan on using as my cover art for The Black Vale. It took nearly a year and a half to paint that thing and it turned out almost like I wanted it to. Close enough. Mom was a huge help. We spent quite a few hours sitting together and painting on it. That was quality mother/daughter time right there. But it looks great now and is ready for use. I put in on about 500 bookmarks that I ordered from Vistaprint and am featuring it as a header on my web site. I’ll have a lot of my artwork on that site, by the way. Both mine and moms.

Anyhow, other ventures of mine have been the designing and fabricating of my costume for Comic Con this year. I’m going with my friend Ginny again and her sister is coming. We’re going as Black, White and Red Final Fantasy mages, but we’re putting a steam-punk twist to it. I’m making a lot of my costume out of real sued. I’ve broken so many sewing machine needles. And doing eyelets is obnoxious!

But to answer the question asked up top, “When can I buy the book?” I don’t know. Someday, that’s for sure. I need to buy ISBN numbers before I can even self-publish it. It takes one per format. But I’m hoping to have I up for sale digitally within the next 6 months to a year. It just depends on funds and how long it takes to get it up and running without getting screwed over some bogus contract or another.

I guess we’ll see.

So…enough yammering from me. I’ll write again when something interesting happens.

The Pitch

There have been two things that have been the most difficult for me when it comes to writing, and writing isn't one of them. Writing just happens, that's the easy part (unless I get writers block, which happens to the best of us). It's coming up with a good title and coming up with a good pitch. The pitch is basically what you'd put on the back of the book. It has to be tiny; I'd say no more than 100 words and even that's pushing it.

So how do you sum up six years’ worth of work and 529 pages of story in only 100 words? Well that's the big question, isn't it.

SO not easy.

I had the opportunity to try my hand at a pitch on Saturday with someone special. I walked into Barnes and Noble to get a leather-bound, special edition Jules Vern for Diane for her birthday and sitting behind a table by the door was a gentleman with a bunch of books laid out for display.

Well, I was on a mission. I needed Jules Vern and to order the next Wheel of Time novel by Robert Jordan/Brandon Sanderson, so I got to it. But while I was ordering the final chapter in one of the greatest fantasy series ever written, I asked the young lady behind the counter who the gentleman up front was and all she could say was that he's a local fantasy writer.

Say no more! Immediately seeing several opportunities bundled into one, I headed up front and put myself in front of his table. I saw a chance to get interested in a new fantasy series, to support a local writer, and to ask a load of questions that I have about my own writing. So I asked who he was and what he wrote.

David Farland was his name. He writes The Nightingale, Of Mice and Magic, Runlords and On My Way to Paradice, and he's a New York Times Bestseller. Well didn't I feel lucky! Mainly because I was the only one at the table so I had him and his friend all to myself (I've been wracking my brains trying to remember who his friend was because he's a writer too but I'm drawing a blank! He even gave me a bookmark with his information on it and for the life of me I can't figure out where I put it. So note to self - Don't lose stuff!). Well I basically got to talk to Mr. Farland for nearly a half hour. It was awesome.

When I told him that I just wrote a book and sent it in for a copywrite, he leaned forward, immediately interested and asked the most difficult question that can be asked, "What's it about?" At which point I pulled a stupid and looked at him blankly for a moment before admitting that I'm still working on a pitch.

Luckily, he was completely understanding and with a disarming smile, said, "Give it a try." So I did. I don't think I did very well. In fact, I'm fairly sure my pitch totally sucked. But he was nice enough to tell me that the story sounded interesting enough, though I definitely needed to work on that pitch. He then asked me if I ever go to any of the writers conferences. Of course, I immediately threw LTU&E out there because going to that this last February was so inspirational to me.

Well, happy days, Mr. Farland is going to be there too and he told me to work on the pitch and find him at the conference so he could introduce me to some people.

I had to fight to keep from twitching right out of my shoes in excitement.

At that point, I bought one of his books - Nightingale - and he signed it. It wasn't until I got home and opened it up did I read what he wrote:

            Leah,

                Dare to Dream

                I'll see you on the bookshelves

                    -David Farland-

I actually teared up, I was so touched. And now I'm looking forward to LTU&E more than ever. In fact, every time I think about it, I get butterflies in my stomach and tickles up my pine.

I spent the next day out in Layton with Diane and her family, celebrating her birthday and since I often have difficulty in loud places, I kind of withdrew and worked on my pitch. Diane and her cousin, Colton Tran helped me the whole way. We asked Colton specifically because he works in the film industry and is exposed to things such as Pitches often. he was a HUGE help. And I believe we came up with something really good.

So, here it is. Please feel free to tell me what you think:

The Black Vale 

            The world of Oreth is still recovering from a devastating mage war that split countries and ravaged the land. A thousand years into this recovery, Thell—mages of chaos—are hunted to near extinction by the Ora—mages of order.

            Now two unlikely companions—Amalee, a highborn lady-in-waiting and Faith, a cannibalistic savage of the desert—find themselves ensnared in a conspiracy that could tip the scales on this ancient conflict.

            As the Ora close in on the last Thell haven, Amalee and Faith are drawn increasingly deeper into a dark world of intrigue and violence that will force them to rely on each other in order to survive.

Well, I hope everyone has a happy Thanksgiving, I know I'm going to have a great one!

I Am Now Something/Someone

When I was little, I would spend hours alone. Dreaming.

I had entire universes in my head where people, animals, plants, trees and worlds lived and died. I would zero in on specific events and individuals. I would live their stories, their lives. I’d feel their joy and their pain. And what amazing adventures I had!

The only regret I had was that no one could go on these adventures with me. So I was the weird kid that didn’t actually like playing with other children. Who preferred to hang out with imaginary friends in imaginary places.

Then kindergarten happened and I learned how to write.

I’ve had more concussions than a professional boxer is allowed so sometimes my memory is like a chunk of extra holey Swiss cheese. But one thing that I remember clearly is the first time I wrote a complete sentence that came from my own head. Something I didn’t copy.

It occurred to me in that moment that all those stories in my head could actually get out. That I could share them! Sitting in my little desk in that colorful classroom of Mr. Funk’s, the future was absolutely clear. I knew then what I wanted to be when I grew up.

I’ve never wanted to just do something for a living. I’ve always known that I needed to be someone. I knew then that I wanted to be a writer. I knew that I would be a writer.

Since then I’ve filled countless notebooks and floppy disks (back in the day). I learned to type on an old typewriter that I would plug in in my room and stick in the front yard so I could sit under the tree and type stories. I’ve come up with more ideas that I could count. Started more stories than I can even remember…but they never kept my attention. I would be gripped for a while, then it would sizzle out.

I never finished anything. Until tonight.

More than six years ago I played the most exciting D&D game ever. My character was a warmage who was so unique that I one day wondered, “Who was she before she became this?” So I started writing a little back story. It suddenly occurred to me that if I made it into an actual story it might be pretty good so, as I do with all my stories, I started handwriting it out. And I couldn’t stop. This story held on to me and took me for a ride. Sometimes I had no idea what I was going to write before I wrote it. It would just happen and unfold and I surprised myself so many times with what happened. I laughed and I cried. The story changed and as it did, so did I. I realized much about myself and about the world and realized that this story was THE ONE. This is my first, my baby. I had to walk away from friendships (with the hopes of returning one day) because there is little room for other people when you work more than full time and write the rest of the time. I had to be alone. No boyfriends (they only got in the way. So needy and high maintenance…), no weeknight hangouts, no girls-night-outs (not that I didn’t allow myself the occasional outing). Many weekends were spent alone in my apartment with a glass of wine or a cup of tea, just writing. The adventure was worth it. Because it helped make me who I am right now.

Up until about thirty minutes ago I was an aspiring writer. But tonight, sitting beside my best friend Diane (who even when she was on the other side of the world stood by me and believed in me and supported me when it seemed that no one else did) in my living room with Halo 4 paused, we went through the final revisions of my book. We finished it. Then I submitted it to the National Library of Congress for a copywrite. I officially completed my novel.

I may not be published yet and I know that that’s still a ways off. But I am no longer an aspiring writer. I am a writer.

I know I've always been someone. But today I became Something. I have never been so proud of myself.

…I AM A WRITER!

Coast to Coast...and then some

This has been quite the busy year for me, I do have to say. I haven’t kept up on the blog as well as I should have but my hands have not, by any means, been idle.

Since my last post, I went to Jacksonville Florida for the week of the 4^th of July. I got to stand on a beach for the first time in my life and look out at the ocean. I almost threw up. One look at those waives and the way they hop right up on the shore and I was like, “Nope, not getting in that.” Not to say I didn’t go stomp in it but swimming? Not a chance. We (my coworkers and I) ran along the shore and collected seashells (my pockets were so full of sand…) and when the sun went down we walked for at least a mile up and down the dark shore watching the moon rise over the ocean and I was struck by its magnificence over and over. It made me realize that the ocean is not just a place or a bunch of water, it’s a living thing. Like a giant, wet blob-monster that just wants to play but might squish (or drown) its people-toys like a child who squeezes their pet gerbil too hard and laughs when it’s eyes pop out, then cries when it just lays there with its tongue hanging out instead of running on its wheel.

I’m not used to seeing my horizon move and bob and sway the way the ocean horizon does. Obvious, since I’m in Utah, a moving, swaying horizon would mean that everyone was probably going to die since that would have to be one hell of an earthquake and the Rocky Mountains would come a-smashing down.

On the 4^th of July, I traveled with my coworker Christine out to St. Augustine, which is the oldest constantly settled city in the US. It had cobblestone streets and all kinds of museums and amazing architecture. We sat on the walls of the old Spanish fort Castillo de San Marcos, whose walls were made of brick that was full of seashells. It was built in 1672.

We watched the fireworks launched over the bay from a barge that waited until the full moon rose, big and red over the ocean before they set off and it was like bombs bursting in air—not to sound patriotic or anything—framing that moon like a tribute.

I love fireworks, but rarely do they take my breath away.

I came back from Florida with a brain full of new experiences and unpacked my luggage, did laundry, and packed em right back up again because about a day later my friend Ginny and I drove out to San Diego. We didn’t get to go to Comic Con this year because of their browser issues, as in, they didn’t tell anyone that they couldn’t use certain browsers so many people didn’t get tickets. But we had already paid for out hotel so figured we’d just go enjoy a week on the coast. And enjoy it we did!

We went to the San Diego Zoo and Disney Land (my first time in America), we went to SeaWorld, walked around downtown around the convention center where we ran into Robocop and saw all the Bat mobiles. We even took a tour of the USS Midway, which was a personal pleasure because the last time I’d been on an Aircraft carrier I was a little girl, walking on the USS Ranger, holding my dad’s hand and gazing about in fascination at all the planes and white uniforms and metal walls. Call me a dork but I think warships are cool.

Last, we went to the beach. Compared to Jacksonville Beach it was a little gross but I found some seashells to take home.

Not long after that I went camping and river rafting with my friends Diane and Yousuke. I’ve gone hiking and even slipped into a few concerts and festivals with my friend Daina.

On top of all of that, I’ve kept on writing. Every day.

I’m reading through the final revision of my first book, the one I finished in…April. And I’m officially half-way finished writing book two in the series. It’s 250 pages in and since book one turned out to be just over 500 I figured 250’s a good spot to call half way.

I really have to give a huge shout-out to my best friend Diane though. She’s been copy-editing it and it’s been a LOT of work. She’s helped me in ways I never thought anyone ever would and she always kept me going and writing more when I got lazy. Seriously, she would give me this…look. And I’d get a case of the Oh-yeah’s? and go write some more.

I’ve told her already but I want everyone to know that I wouldn’t have been able to do it without Diane. She’s like the muse who crams logic down my throat when I’m being stupid and kicks me in the butt nice and hard when I start to lose my drive.

Currently reading:

   Monster Hunter: Legion by Larry Correia (click on his name to see his blog)

     This book is hard to put down. It's fast paced and fun.

   Crave by JR Ward

     Paranormal romance. It gets interesting, then boring, then interesting again. It's taken me a while to get into this one.

   The Lions of Lucerne by Brad Thor

     I'm still not sure what to think of this one. I'm about halfway through it and though it's interesting and there's a lot of intrigue, I'm kind of...ummmm. Well I don't hate it. He's a New York Times Bestseller for a reason. Hopefully soon I'll get to that reason.

PTOB for meeeeee!

PTOB for meeeee!

I hermited.   I worked hard.  I wrote hard.  I blew off the world and ate poorly…and I finished my novel.  I FINISHED MY NOVEL!!!!  6 years of pacing, writing, trashing, writers block, insomnia, research, struggle, irritation, and I finished it.  I knuckled down hard the last few months and pretty much refused to do anything that didn’t have something to do with my book.  And now it’s done.  505 pages of fun.  In fact, I’ll always remember that I finished it the day that Ray Bradbury passed away (moment of silence). I was so giddy while the printer was barfing out page after page that I thought I was going to throw up.  And when I held my first printed copy in my hands (quite the stack of paper)…I actually cried a little.  There were some tears.  I held six years of my life in my hands.

So!  Next step, Alpha Readers and copy-editor.  Then National Library of Congress for a copyright and ISBN number.  Then I can start pushing it on publishers J

Otherwise, I have read a few books; the Monster Hunter International series by Larry Corriea.  Awesome action and there are so many fantastic weapons!  It’s humorous and flows so well.  I could hardly put them down.  I started reading book 1 and next thing I knew I was done with book 3.  I’ve also been working my way through Rob Thurman’s Cal Leandros series.  It’s an urban Fantasy in which two brothers battle the forces of evil.  It reminds me of Supernatural in a way that makes me smile but is different enough that it can’t be considered anything close to a rip-off.  Love it.  So if you’re looking for a good read, pick up these two series and you won’t be disappointed.  Unless, of course, you’re not into guns and monsters.  Then read…I don’t know…something else.  Oh!  Those Cal Leandros books introduced one of the creepiest monsters I’ve ever encountered EVER.  And that’s after reading almost the entire fantasy section at Barnes and Nobel and playing D&D for years.  It’s a troll, under a bridge (go figure).  But he’s soooooo creeeeeeepy!!!!!!!!

I FINISHED MY NOVEL!!!!!!!!!

Once I get the ISBN number I'll start posting sample chapters :)

And Don't Forget the Lego's

I know it's been a while since I've posted anything.  I've been working pretty diligently on my book (yay me! Pat on the back).  But here's a short story I wrote after going to LTUE in SLC:

And don’t Forget the Lego’s

                A drop of cold sweat trickled down Nick’s temple and slid over the duct tape that covered his face from ear to ear.  His shoulders were aching fiercely from the strain of having his hands zip tied so tightly behind his back.  The thick, plastic cords bit painfully into his wrists and every time he moved they seemed to tighten.

                His heart pounded on the verge of panic and he couldn’t get a deep enough breath, or breathe normally at all for that matter.

                He sat against the wall in a room that was empty and blank save for the designs and pictures around the top and bottom of the walls of little, dancing puppies, duckies and kittens.  The darkness was slashed by orange light from the street lamps outside that cut sharply through the blinds and illuminated his captors.

                Watching the two figures before him, Nick found himself, for the first time in this life, scared enough to pray.

                “Don’t kill him,”  the man said, shaking his scruffy, blond head.  He scrubbed a hand over his rough face and looked at the woman.  Nick had though the guy was calling her Ass at first, until he heard the subtle Z.  Az.  He called her Az.

                Where the man was build like an ox on steroids and had a face like an anvil, Az was sleek and slim with a fox-like face and large, dark eyes.  Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail that made her look almost girlish.  Almost.

                Of the two, she was the scary one.  Thank god she didn’t seem to be the one in charge.

                “…O-kay.  How long should this not killing him take?”  she asked coldly.  “My nephews birthday is next week.  If I spend all my time not killing some pink-haired teenage clown I won’t have time to get the present I promised him.”  Her voice tone never changed as she spoke.  It was dead-pan and the lack of emotion made shopping for a kids birthday present sound almost profane.

                “Jesus Az.  I didn’t say I wanted him tortured.  I want him trained.”

                Az blinked.  “Trained in what, Lin?”

                Nick felt a little tension ease out of his shoulders now that murdering him was being taken off the table.

                “In the trade, Az.  What do you think.”

                “Nick raised an eyebrow and said, “Mmwfmp?”  At the same time that Az said, “What!”

                “I’m not going to have a teenagers death on my hands – ”

                “You won’t, Lin.  I will.  And I don’t have a problem with it.”

                “Mm-mm…”  Nick protested, shaking his head.

                “Shut up!”  Lin and Az snapped at the same time.

                Nick was no chicken.  Sometimes – like now – he definitely thought he was stupid.  But chicken?  Never.  He was the only sixteen-year-old straight guy at school who dared to dye his hair pink and wear leopard print pants.  He’d broken into the pricnipals office and rearranged his desk drawers.  He’d snuck out his bedroom window to hook up with his buddies in the middle of the night…

                And now he cowered beneath the glowers of a couple psychopaths in a house that was supposed to be empty.

                He’s just been curious.  He’d heard noises in the house as he was passing it and he’d gone in hoping to get some juicy dirt on someone.  What he got, was a huge cannon of a gun in his face and a bunch of bruises.

                Nick didn’t have a doubt in his mind that Az would have killed him if Lin hadn’t stopped her.  He’d just snuck in through the back door and no sooner did he take two steps into the kitchen, the shadows came alive and attacked him, taking him down to the tiled floor so fast that his brain hadn’t even caught up in the time to tell his mouth to scream.

                He’d never held a real gun, never touched one.  He’d never even been near a real one for that matter.  But when he felt the cold metal of the gun pressed against his neck, he knew exactly what it was.  He’d frozen.

                His mouth had gone dry beneath the duct tape at least ten minutes ago and he gulped nervously as Lin and Az turned their attention back to each other.

                Run!  His spazzing nervous system screamed.  His nervous system seemed to be suffering a bout of stupidity at the moment.  He’d already tried to escape once and that woman had moved so fast that Nick hadn’t even realized she’d so much as twitched before he found himself face down on the carpet with a cold knife at his throat.

                Lin had told him that if he tried to run again he wouldn’t stop Az from gutting him.  So nick sat and ignored his nerves as best he could and pointedly did not look at the door or window.

                Nick wasn’t a big guy.  He often got beat on by the big guys at school though.  He did his best to fight back but he didn’t actually know how to fight so usually he ran.  Even when faced with a bunch of homophobes who though they needed to hurt him for having pink hair, Nick didn’t feel helpless.  He was smart and witty – which sometimes got him in trouble, actually.  He could talk himself out of almost anything and whatever he couldn’t talk himself out of, he could run from.

                But right now, there was no running. He was helpless.  Like a child in the corner with his knees tucked up to his chest.

                These psychos radiated violence like a propane heater on high and despite Nicks laugh-in-the-face-of-danger attitude, he was simply terrified.  Especially of the woman.  She seemed like the kind of person who could blow up an orphanage full of toddlers and go out for cupcakes afterwards without so much as a backwards glance.

                Who were they?  Government assassins?  Hit men for some kind of crime organization?

                “Forget it, Lin.  I’m not training some snot-nosed kid just because your conscience got in the way of logic and protocol.”

                “You will train him, Az.  And if you question my – ”

                Britney Spears’  Hit me Baby One More Time suddenly cut through the air and Lin yanked his phone from a pocket with a curse and barked “What!” in to it as soon as he had it up to his ear.

                The big man swore silently and stalked from the room, only to pop right back in a second later to point a finger at Nick and Mouth, “Don’t kill him.”

                In a pair of tight, black pants and knee-high boots and a tight, black turtleneck that left nothing to the imagination, she should have been a teenage boys total wet dream.  Even the tactical harness that had been outfitted with knives instead of guns should have been sexy.  It always was in the video games.  But faced with the reality, she was just intimidating, and not in the good way.

                There was no sexy warmth in her dark eyes, no sensual allure in the sway of her hips as she walked.  No.  She moved with the stealthy grace of a cobra and those girlishly big, brown eyes were about as warm as Antarctica.

                And she was watching him.  Again…

                Nick dropped his eyes and found a fascinating spot on the floor to scrutinize as she sauntered over.  As soon as those boots of hers came into his field of vision, he actually felt himself start to tremble and he didn’t give a crap if it docked his man-points down to zero.

                She had guns and knives and she knew how to use them.

                Beside him, she leaned against the wall and slid down it to sit.  Nick found himself shying away and though he wasn’t looking at her, he knew she was staring at him.  He could feel her creepy eyes crawling over his flesh like bugs and the longer she watched him, the more his muscles twitched in desperation to flee.  Not that he could even if he wanted to.  They’d zip-tied his ankles.

                “It’s confirmed – ”  Lin’s voice went off like a bomb and Nick would have leapt out of his skin if it hadn’t been held together with duct tape and zip-ties.

                “Oh good!”  Az said with feigned excitement as she pulled a huge cannon of a gun from god-knows-where and started screwing on a silencer.  “Will you grab the plastic out of the other room?”

                “Az…we’re not killing the kid.  The Wiggs agree, it’s time for you to take an apprentice and it’s confirmed that we have a green light on you-know-what.”

                “Hell no!  I’ve seen Star Wars I know how the whole Master/apprentice thing works – ”

                “That’s only if you’re a Sith…”

                Az fixed Lin with a droll stare.

                “Okay, good point.  But it doesn’t change a thing.  From now on, the kid is yours.  Train him and don’t complain about it.  And you,” Lin pointed at Nick.  “You will do everything she says.  If you defy her, she kills you.  If you betray her, she kills you.  If you ever speak of either of us or anything that you heard or saw here tonight, we both kill you and whoever you told…”

                As Lin went on with all the things psycho-bitch was allowed to kill him for, Nick was wondering what all this meant.  What was he going to be trained for?  Who the hell were these people?  Why did he suddenly feel like his entire future had just been decided for him in one swift, violent tug of the rub beneath his feet?

                His parents wanted him to be a doctor, of course.  What parent didn’t want their kid to be a doctor?  In first grade, he’d thought of all kinds of things he wanted to be when he grew up; firefighter, astronaut, pilot…but seriously, the only things he was good at was skateboarding, playing video games, drawing cartoons – and not even very well – getting beat up and getting into things he shouldn’t.

                Truth was, since junior high, he hadn’t even thought of life after high school.  He was too focused on getting through it without being expelled or dropping out like most of his friends already had.  But now, sitting in an abandoned house, wrapped in duct tape and cowering in the shadows of two gun and knife-toting psychos, his future was being decided for him and he didn’t have a single say in it.  His choices were being obliterated before his very eyes.

                “Nod if you understand, kid.”  Lin said, finishing his caveat.

                Nick quickly nodded his head, pink hair flopping into his eyes.

                “Good.  I’m going to leave you two to get to know each other.  Az, tomorrow, you know when and where.”

                Az lackadaisically waived him away with the gun and with that, Lin disappeared through the door.

                Nick gave a sigh that was not quite relief as he slowly turned his head to look at Az.  She was watching him unenthusiastically, still holding that huge gun with its long silencer.

                Several minutes passed with the alacrity of a tired snail before she finally rolled her eyes and reached for his face.  When he flinched back, she grabbed him roughly by the ear and held him in place.

                “There’s no room for pussies in this business, kid.  So suck it up.  I’m going to take the tape off now.  If you sream I’ll cut out your tongue.  Speech is  nice but not exactly a requirement of employment.”

                Nick only blinked numbly in response.  Then she ripped the duct tape from his face.

                The sudden pain almost made him cry out but  he managed to keep his trap shut, even as his eyes watered.

                “Tell me your name.”  She commanded.  And it was a command.

                Licking his sore lips, Nick glared at her, but told her his name.

                “Nick what?  And is Nick short for Nicholas?”

                “Yes.  Nickolas Lastine.”

                “Do you have a middle name?”

                “Jareth.”

                “Okay, Goblin King, do you have a drivers license?”

                What?  “No.  Not yet.”

                “Why, did you fail drivers Ed?”

                “No!  I’m still in class!”  he retorted defiantly.

                “Fine.  What are you good at?”

                “Um, skateboarding.  And breaking and entering – ”

                “Bull shit.  You’re terrible at breaking and entering.  We heard you before you were even in the house.  I guess we’ll have to work on that,”  she said more to herself.

                “I can draw cartoons.”

                “That would be useful if we were ordered to kill Zim.  You will start taking art classes in school.  I want you drawing portraits in six months.  Have you ever fired a gun?”

                Nick blinked and stammered.  He’d been thinking she might not be too bad if she knew who Zim was but the gun question reminded him that she was a killer and he was completely at her mercy.

                “Not unless you count Call of Duty,”  he sheepishly admitted.

                “It’s a lot different in real life – ”

                “Are you a…an assassin?”  Nick almost couldn’t bring himself to speak the last word and as such it rushed out of him in a single breath that sounded awed and frightened.

                Az folded her arms across her knees and tilted her head.

                “Yes, Goblin.  I’m an assassin.  And now, so are you,”  she stated, her voice actually seemed to soften a touch.

                “I…”  Nicks mouth worked and for a few moments he couldn’t speak.  His chest tightened and his vision began to blur with unbidden tears.

                “I don’t want to kill people,”  He finally breathed in a desperate rush.

                She licked her full lips and said, “Well,” lifting the gun before his eyes.  “There’s one sure way out of this.”

                Nicks heart crashed in his chest and he swore the air pressure in the room changed.  Except his ears didn’t pop and he was thankful he was sitting down.  He felt his chin quivering.

                She lowered the gun.  “Have you ever played Splinter Cell?”

                He nodded numbly.

                “What we do is a lot like that, except if you shoot someone in the ass and hide for five minutes they don’t convince themselves that it was a trick of the shadows…

                “We’re not government run, though they do throw us the occasional odd job.  In fact, if you make it through your first year, I’ll tell you who you now work for.”

                She said it as though it were some great incentive and all he could think of was how often he’d seen Sam Fisher die on his television screen while he held the controller.

                “Still, you have a hard choice to make and I expect it made now.  Either you learn to kill, and survive, or you choose not to kill and I make this real painless.”

                Nick gulped and his throat stuck together.

                “H – how long did you have?”  His voice was shaking.

                Az rolled a shoulder.  “Bout four or five seconds.”

                “It took you only four seconds to choose to take lives for a living?”  Nick asked incredulously.

                “If you’re trying to make some kind of comparison, I have to advise against it.  I’m a highly functioning sociopath.  According to my file,”  she added as an afterthought.

                There was another long period of silence as Nick searched every corner of his being and listened to his desperate conscience and hoped she would suddenly say, “Just kidding!”  He couldn’t do it.  He couldn’t kill people…

                But in the end, he said, “I don’t want to die.”  His voice sounded small and pathetic and in his mind, three men who he’d always looked up to for doing what was right and fighting for what they believed in, turned their backs on  him.

                Abraham Lincoln in his tall top hat walked away, shaking his head, followed by Ghandi and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

                “Well then,” Az said, pulling a huge, black knife with the letters SOG on the blade from her harness and slicing the sip tie that pound his ankles.  With one hand, she took hold of the front of his tee shirt and jerked him forward and for just a second, he felt the cold steel of the knife on his arm before the zip tie that had been cutting off circulation to his hands disappeared with a snap.

                She let him go and he rubbed his wrists, wincing at the painful trench the zip tie had cut into his flesh.

                “We start your training now, get up and get my pack from the other room.”

                Nick stumbled to his feet and started for the door.  He only got about two feet away before he found himself in an arm-bar and felt a sting in his neck.

                His tongue immediately became a useless piece of meat in his mouth and his muscles turned to jelly.  She gently lowered him to the floor and looked into his face.

                Lines of orange light shining through the blinds cut across her lithe figure and reflected off the needle in her hand.  A single drip shimmered on its razor tip.

                “Lesson number one, Goblin.  Never turn your back on anyone.”

                His vision was fading around the edges but before he blacked out, she simply melted  into the shadows and disappeared like a wraith.

*

                “Nick!  Wake up!  Mom’s makin pancakes!”  The shrill voice went through his head  like a razor blade.  Normally, he would have thrown something at the little mouth it came from, but Carlie scampered away before Nick could even manage to open his eyes.

                His lips were parched and a foul taste lingered in his mouth.

                The fog in his head suddenly evaporated as he remembered last night and he sat up, grabbing at his neck, which had a horrible crick.

                Had it been a dream?  Thank go –

                No.

                His wrists were bruised and a little cut up from the zip ties and his shoulders ached from almost being yanked from their sockets when that crazy bitch had first discovered him snooping.

                Pushing his blankets off and standing turned out to be a bad idea.  As soon as he was on his feet, the room gave a spin,  his head gave a pound and he was on his ass.  At least he’d landed back on the bed.

                He took a moment to take note of himself and his room.  He was still in his jeans and tee shirt, but his Chucks were by the door, set beside each other with a care he never gave them.  Nothing in his room looked out of place.  It was the same mess it always was.

                Then he noticed the folded paper on his bed stand.

                It was the same paper his dad used in his printer in his office.  The word Goblin was written on it in beautiful, flowing cursive.

                He gingerly picked up the note with a shaking hand and opened it as though he expected to find something deadly inside.  What he found was more of the beautiful handwriting:

Clean your room and make your bed you freakin slob.  If I don’t see

an immediate improvement, I’ll poison you.

Again.

Sincerely, Az

               

                The note dropped from his fingers and he looked around his room again.  His mother used to get on him all the time for being so messy.  It was a good thing she didn’t know how motivational poison could be.

                It was still early and he was afraid to wait so as soon as he could stand, he made his bed and started picking up the cloths and games and skateboard parts from the floor.

                Good thing he chose not to wait until after school too.

                Beneath a discarded pair of pants, was an envelope with the word Goblin scrawled across it in the same beautiful cursive. Again his hands shook as he opened it.

                His eyes bugged out.

                Inside was a wad of cash and another note.

This, little Goblin, is your first mission.  If this is not completed today, I’ll know that

you didn’t clean your room like I told you to do and you should expect to start

vomiting blood any time now as the previous note was laced with contact poison.

This note, is the antidote

Gulp

Take the money.  After school go and buy me some Legos.  I need Hogwarts Castle

and the Black Pearl.  Have them wrapped in some kind of kid-friendly paper.

After that, I’ll find you.

P.S. Keep the change.

                Shaking his head, Nick stuffed the note back into the envelope and crammed it into his backpack.

                “Nick! Come and eat.  Breakfast’s getting cold.”  It was his mother this time, yelling up the stairs.

                Nick changed his cloths, careful to put on a long sleeved shirt to cover the damage done to his wrists and put his dirty clothes in the hamper instead of on the floor where they usually ended up.

                He walked into the kitchen to find his mother picking a plate up off the table from in front of Carli, his seven year old sister.

                Nothing looked real.  His mother smiled brightly and Carlie waived a little hand.  In this bright and happy place, he felt  like a stain.  And he hadn’t even killed anyone.

                …Yet.

                His stomach did a couple back flips and he knew he wouldn’t be able to eat any of his mother’s delicious pancakes.  But he sat down anyways.

                Across the table, Carlie smiled the kind of smile that only that only a child could manage.

                Innocent, ignorant…free.

                “We-come to the fist day of da west... of your life!”  She said happily as though she were repeating something she’d heard recently.

                Nick smiled and nodded, just before upending his chair in his flight from the table. 

                He barely made it to the bathroom before he threw up.

                Concentrating on what he needed to do instead of what he was going to eventually do, he ignored his mother knocking on the door, worriedly asking if he was okay.

                At least there was no blood in his vomit.

                “Lego’s.”  He told himself as he moved to the sink and turned on the faucet.  “Need to get some Lego’s”