Glory Glory Writings

Writings of Two Forever Friends

The Cliffs: Prologue

Good morning! So Kat and I have finally made some progress on our newest story, The Cliffs. We hope you enjoy!


I always dreaded going to a new foster home.   Always gripping the fear of meeting a new family who would just continue pulling at the already thin threads of my existence. Never had I once considered it was possible for someone to weave me back together.

Instead of simply moving to a different home in London, I was moving out of the great city, into some small town on the coast. It was strange, knowing that I wouldn’t see the false glow of the grand city lights any longer, or hear the screeching cars from my bedroom window at night.  I supposed I would only hear the howling of the wind and the anger of the waves as they crashed against the sea cliffs of Moor-Upon-Ambridge. At least that’s what I expected to hear…   

The couple I was supposed to stay with had no children.  Miss Irene, the social worker, hadn’t  told me much about them, but I knew a little. They were a fishing couple; they ran a bait shop out of the side of their house. I was hoping they didn’t have worms stored about everywhere.  As in the fridge.  The Mahoney’s had stored crazy stuff in the fridge…That’s why I was removed…

Oh, dear God, please don’t let these people be like the Mahoney’s…  

I was nervous, my fingers bounced against my khakis as I ran through everything that could go wrong.

My social worker was driving slowly, or perhaps my nerves were making it seem much longer than it really was. Another factor might have been the fact that she was listening to opera: my least favorite kind of music.

We drove past small hills, covered in weeds. The land was so green. So different from the usual gray I had grown accustomed to. And it seemed so vast, when before I could only see a short way down a large road.  The sun was setting over a vast hill, and a little stone-rimmed village nudged itself against the warm bulk of that massive star.  I didn’t like stars.  They reminded me of problems…   Frozen nights spent on starry rooftops, away from the yelling of stepfamilies inside, then windows cracking like ice when the police burst into a flat as isolated as Siberia, icy voices and chilly breath smacking sharp against my face as Blankley threatened me, the little foster girl nobody cared about, the ten-year-old rooftop hostage, gun cold as liquid nitrogen, frozen to my face –

I guess you could have said I’d had a rough childhood.  


My nerves were almost to their breaking point when the social worker pulled up on a chalky driveway.  My face was smashed against the pane, trying to make out the structure in the dim evening air.  A lone porch light gleamed in a faded, tired sort of way through the fog.  The social worker slid off the slick leather seats of her Londoner’s car, stumbled through her heels to my door, and tugged it open.  I stepped out, tugging my bag, and slipped.  My chin hit the porch, and I grimaced.

“Maggie Fuller, darling, are you alright?”

The social worker padded over to help me up, but I forced a laugh and turned my face away from hers as I stood up.  

So she wouldn’t see I was bleeding.

“I’m fine Miss Irene, just a bit of a bump, that’s all…”  I attempted to chirp, as the social worker floated up the stairs in her Ponte sheath and stilettos.  I was wearing threadbare khakis and a fading sweater.  The last family hadn’t deemed me to be worth my keep.  They said I was too quiet.  The ones before them said I was too sassy… I had tried to laugh it off again and again…

On the inside, I felt I was unloveable.

Miss Irene knocked on the door, and a hollow, splintery sound echoed within the house.  I grimaced, hearing Miss Irene’s finely polished nails grind on the wood.  A young man, in his mid-thirties, answered the door.  He had a smiling face as prickly as a cactus and plain gray overalls.  A woman, whom I assumed to be his wife, flowed over to me.  I sneezed at the scent of Night-Blooming Jasmine perfume, which smelled to combat the stench of drying fish.  She was dressed in a flowing bohemian skirt and layers of smooth glass beads.  Quickly, her plump self enveloped my skinny one in a hug.  Miss Irene, talking quietly with the man, scratched at her neck.  My nails scratched my skin, firm, to prevent me from crying.   Was I expected to stay in this fish shack, with a couple of hippies?

“Hi, you must be Maggie,” the woman said. Her face then crumpled into a confused look at my frown. “Well, if you’re not Maggie than I’m sorry I lunged on you like that.”

I nodded quickly, confirming that I was, in fact, the right girl.

“Good evening, dear,” she said. “Oh, this is my wonderful husband.”  pointing to the man in need of a shave. Miss Irene was still discussing something with him, but once she heard the woman say this, she spat out one of the worst things she could have said.

“All right, the paperwork is completed.” Paperwork.  As if I were a physical object, something you had to rent to own. She turned to me. “I hope you’ll be happy here. I’ll be back to check on you next month!” She shook the couple’s hands and squeezed mine.

It only took all of about fifteen seconds for her to get in her car and disappear back into the road.  

I felt lost.


Prompt Collab- Whoop Whoop!


Hey y’all!  So Em & I each wrote a short story (about a page) on this prompt. We’re finally doing something after disappearing into black holes for four months. Sorry bout that by the way…

Kat’s story – Death Cliff

            It had been a long time since Cecilia had seen the light.  She stared at the chopping horizontal plane of rich blue, thousands of feet below her.  Taking a deep breath, shivering, she rubbed her dewy skin for the thousandth time and stared out at the lapis lazuli horizon.  Not a light could be seen but the orange glow of some star or planet, far out behind the sheaves of mist.  Searching in vain for one last hope, Cecilia rotated her cold body, ragged and blue like a frosted pane, and examined the thick and heavy lines of trees.  The forest was identical, as the minds of the propagandized people.  Not a soul shows itself, although whispering runs through the mould-green branches, as they swerve and slice through the gelid air.  Beyond the seemingly infinite border of trees that rim the land, unevenly cropped grey foliage brushes the bare stone like a badly done buzzcut.  Cecilia shivered in the eerie atmosphere.  The gravelly cliffs where she sat were high up from the midnight blue sea.  

It would have been beautiful, had it not been so cold.

Off in the distance, almost cut off by the clouds that shut off all light but that of the single orange planet, a whale flips its tail besides a lonely iceberg.  

Cecilia has seen this sign of life many times before, and she shakes her head at the icicle mirage.  

A cormorant calls, and is suddenly silenced.  The mossy dust shivers on the gravel, yet there is no wind.  Cecilia is dying, yet there is no remedy.

The earth is cold.

The thousands of lives which have passed its span on the planet’s bounteous surface are but living memories now.  

A cricket chirps.  Cecilia remembers that sound.  She has heard it every forty minutes for the past ten years.

It is a dead sound.  

Everything has died but Cecilia.

And so she stands, her ankles rolling on the slippery gravel, trembling in the lone ray of the orange star.  

That ray has been the one glimpse of warmth in Cecilia’s dying world.  She hardly remembers what warmth is now, or crickets, or sustenance other than the dust-paste that is the arctic moss.

Then a gust of wind rattles the cliff.  When was the last time she truly felt that harsh breeze upon her face?  She has heard that sound of memory countless times.  Gravel shakes as she raises her crumbling self to her feet.

And Cecilia leaps.

Em’s story-A Letter

I lumber out of the boat onto dry land. I try to avoid the waves but they move despite my desire for them to stay put. My feet get wet.

I gaze up onto the top of the mountain and nearly gasp. The clouds are just as overwhelming and shadow inducing as I suspected they would be.

The opposite of how I suspected them to look. Normally, I let my mind wander and I overestimate how something will look. But this time my mind was frighteningly accurate.

People venture here all the time. Tourists come from all over. Trying to find what exactly happens here.

People come to this mountain all the time but no one ever comes back.

Few people know the secret. This is where people go to die. Not to be accidentally stolen from life. But to end it well and beautifully.

My mother died two months ago. Not just died, died, but killed herself. She stole herself away from life. I can’t live without her. I need her to see that I’m always going to be by her side.

I remember her soft words right before oxygen left her lungs. “Life is beautiful, but death is sacred.”

I begin my trek up the hill in near anticipation. Words of poetry whisper softly in my ear as my feet hit the wet grass. The great unknown is near now, my beloved, reach out and grasp with all your soul.

I start running. The clouds come nearer and nearer and I’m in their shadows.

The great unknown is near now, my beloved.

And there it is. The Fountain of Fair Life. The unknown.

Reach out and grasp with all your soul.

The pool is supposed to be bottomless, so drowning is like a never ending swim.

The great unknown is NEAR now, my beloved.

I hear my phone ring, I ignore it. I want to write down this poetry but I know it will never be found.

Reach out and grasp with all your soul.

When was the last time I felt truly alive?

When I jumped.

1000 lights flash before my eyes and my heart melts like chocolate.

But of course, it was beautiful.

Terribly, horribly beautiful.

The great unknown is HERE now, my beloved, reach out and grasp with all your soul.

New Story Coming Soon!

I feel like almost every post I write on this blog starts with something along the lines of “I’m sorry we haven’t posted in a while.” And I say that for good reason. It takes a long time between each post. The days seem to fly by and I visit the dashboard and it says, it’s been 24 days since your last post. Dang it. I’m really sorry for that, truly. I just want to say that because it probably seems like I don’t really mean it after saying it so many times. 😉

In other news, we have a new story coming soon! We have some written down, but not enough to post I don’t think. I don’t want to say anything about it yet though. Just keep your eyes peeled for it. 🙂 We haven’t picked a new book for book club yet however. 😦 It’s that summer fever. Do you have any classic suggestions? We would love to hear them.

Thank you for reading this new post, and “I’m sorry we haven’t posted.” There, just know that it’s sincere. 🙂

Wuthering Heights: The End

Hello there. So I finished Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights a couple days ago, and I want to share my thoughts on it. Overall, it was a fantastic book. Really, my only complaint is the fact that it was just storytelling, there wasn’t much plot to it.

But, on the other hand, it definitely kept me interested throughout the whole thing. And just for the record, I totally predicted that Catherine would have a thing for Hareton in the end. ❤ He was my favorite character.


Okay, so the book did start off a little slow, so it took me about seven chapters to really get into it. But once I got into it, I couldn’t stop. I was hooked!

So, talking to Kat about it, she didn’t like Heathcliff really at all. I was into him. He had a rough childhood, and Catherine went and ruined his life for no good reason. Why must she be such a dumb head? Good gravy.

Yes, as I said earlier, Hareton was my fave character, he was so cute when he had a little crush on Catherine (jr), but instead, she picks Linton. The biggest crybaby in the history of all crybabies. He’s so obnoxious and horrible.

And then Heathcliff dies and I was like what?! HE CAN’T DIE! Why must I have emotions. Why. Why why why.

Anyway, that’s all my thoughts! Kat, go right ahead!

(contains SPOILERS) 😉

Hey guys!  Kat here, reviewing Wuthering Heights.  So all in all, the book started off a little slow.  Like Em said, I was really not into Heathcliff.  He was, to put it frankly, a demonic dude.  I know love can hurt, especially when you lose your childhood partner-in-crime, bff, and high school sweetheart, but to go all Count of Monte Cristo on your ex-girlfriend’s relations? C’mon, dude!

Since four out of the original five neighbors/enemies: Heathcliff, Hindley, Catherine, Isabella, and Edgar – have died, Heathcliff takes in their kids.  He corrupts Hindley’s child into an uneducated, swearing young man.  As if that isn’t enough, his nice, foolish, and pretty wife Isabella raised her son away from his abuse until she DIED (of course).  Therefore, Heathcliff makes a total jerk out of her mild pansy of a son, Linton, eventually forcing sweet little Cathy to marry his vile offspring.  Oh yeah, and Linton Heathcliff – guess what – DIES – a few days later.

{That sounds a little harsh, but adjectives can help me prove my point.} 😉

The part I did like was the happy ending – Catherine (jr) and Hareton make a sweet match and Heathcliff – you guessed it – DIES. 😛

Well, yeah.  That also sounded harsh.

So, now that you’ve got a taste of both sides of the coin, you can try this gothic drama out!   (or if you feel like a shortcut, just read some reviews) XD

This is Em, I’m Kat, and this has been our first book club!

Find Me Swallow: Chapter 12

Our. Final. Chapter!!! Enjoy!  Feel free to leave feedback if you have read some of the story. ~Kat

Chapter 12


Something’s shaking me… an earthquake?  Or is it the clannie, ready to finish me off…?

“Wake up, Al!”

I cracked open one eye, and saw a blurry image of myself.  My body was stiff with dew.  My left arm was numb, and my torn dress was crusted with blood.  

“Hum?”  I questioned, trying to sit up.

“Yes, Al, it’s Hum.  Everything’s okay.  Just keep calm, your Mema and I are going to transport you to the village.  Ibis is up with the others guarding the stockade.  The clannies are gone, stay still!  You don’t need to fight us.  

I stopped kicking.  Hum grinned.

“Whoa, great lichen foot!  That’s quite the slice on your arm there.  But it’s okay, we’ve got you covered.”  

Two pairs of gentle hands raised me from the ground.  Hum bore the brunt of the stretcher, a soft voice answered him occasionally, as he kept up an ever-running stream of questions.

That voice – Mema.  She’s still safe!  I smiled weakly.

Through one eye, I noticed the ransacked stockade field.  Villagers were tending the wounded and burying the dead there.  Some villagers stood still, pausing their grave-digging, in quiet thought.  A few appeared to be in a state of shock.  Others danced for joy, although they were surrounded by such sorrow and suffering, they were free!  A child danced toward us.

“Oh Liberators!  Ma’am and sir, can I speak to the Miss?”  A rosy-faced little girl cried, running alongside my bearers.  

Hum smilingly nodded his assent.  

“Thank you so much for freeing us from the Wicked Ten Elders and their guardian clannies!”  She cried, bestowing me a grateful smile.  “And which of you Bold Ones will lead us now?”  The noon sunlight streamed upon her face, which was alight with childlike admiration.  I glanced at Hum and Mema, who bore my wooden stretcher.  They lowered me to the ground in a cottage doorway, and Mema began to answer our admirer.

“Clan Princess Ibis will lead us, I assume, now that the enslaving Chief Fal and the Wicked Elders have been slain.  The rest of their tribe is scattered among the great woods of Eldritch, and we shall never let them regain what we have rightly won back from them.”  Mema said.  Her voice rang proud, although sorrow ran its rhythm still along its mellifluous strains.  A tear slipped down her cheek.  

Nonetheless, she continued, “My husband, the Brave Plover Frond, founded this movement, Swallow recruited two good warriors for the rebels, and she and her newly betrothed friends, Hum and his soon-to-be-wife Ibis, enacted upon their mission.”

“They weren’t betrothed when they left here.”  The eight-year-old spoke with sagacity, looking up into Hum’s big blue eyes.

“Well, young Robin, as the last stream of injured clannies were fleeing our village – our free village –  leaping over the stockade, as we inhabitants finished off their elders – “

“Do get to the point, Mr. Hum!”  Robin cried, although her eyes clearly watched him in rapt admiration.   Mema, now tending my wounds as I lay on my side on the stretcher, laughed in spite of herself.  Little Robin sounded like an old woman!

Hum smiled, and glanced up at the overhang of the wooden hut’s roof.  “Well, I smiled at Ibis, after the fight, and she, in great satisfaction, threw her battle-stained arms around my neck and kissed me…”  

“Oh, how grand!”  Robin cried, and I winked at Hum.  

He winked back at me, as a blissful grin spread across his face while he remembered that happy moment.  “Well, as our emboldened residents used whatever weaponry or hunting and farming tools they had to herd the Elders over the stockade, shoving them into the dangerous, Hun-infested Eldritch Forest, I-”

“Truly, Hum!”  Mema said, winking at me as I winced under her cleaning syrups and healing scrubs, “You are most annoying!  Tell cheeky Robin what she wants to know and get on with it!”  

Hum sighed, laughing.  “So, to get to the point, after the battle and Ibis’ embrace, I asked her to marry me.  She consented – of course, who wouldn’t consent to such a handsome fellow as I – and now we shall be the luckiest couple in all the Clan!  And, Robin and Swallow, it is our hope that in a month’s time we shall be wed by the ford at the creek.  Where you, Great Swallow the warrior, first rescued me from drowning!”

I grinned, and managed to summon the strength to say, “And you have my blessing, Hum!  You have more than repaid my swim in the creek since, saving my life several times, I should say…”  

However, my heart ached just a bit at the thought of losing Hum, my brother-through-trials  and my friend, in marriage to Ibis, the warrior-princess that I had once despised.  However, they would lead our new clan excellently, that I was sure…

Nevertheless, I groaned, in spite of myself.  

“Sorry, Swallow, but these battle wounds and bruises must be cured.”  Mema said, scrubbing away at my raw back, beaten sides, and scabbed arms.  “After all, just a short time ago you were scrubbing my wounds!”  Her brow furrowed, and I knew that she was remembering the pain of that time.  Her husband’s exile, her daughter’s bullying and wounding, the pain of separation when both Swallow and Plover had been engulfed by the forest…  And now, their village victorious, Mema’s body and soul freed… but her husband dead, and her child marred and weak!  

I knew I would heal, though.  I was young, but I was Swallow the Fierce.   I was wise beyond my years…

I read my mother’s confusion in her eyes, as Hum and Robin turned to me, waiting for their Warrior Leader’s reply.

I smiled.  

Taking a deep breath, I whispered, “Sweet birds sing, but a Swallow never cries…”

It was then that I knew everything was going to be all right.

And great Lichen-Foot!  If life isn’t meant to be an adventure, I don’t know what is!



Find Me Swallow: Chapter 11

a short chapter of dystopia. 😉 

Chapter 11

As the village of Eldritch swirled around us, streaming down the hill to work with the Huns to fight the clannies, I wondered where Hum was, then dismissed the thought from my mind.  Instead, courage filled my soul.  Brandishing our weapons above our heads, we let out our battle cry,


Battling courageously, we knocked out one clannie after the other. Over top of the crowd, I could see Mema watching tentatively from the doorway of our old hut. She looked weary, but hopeful. Very hopeful.   And proud.  Very proud.  I winked in her direction and charged down the hill, brandishing my dagger with courage.

Charging into battle was much like slow motion, the sun’s rays seemed to beat down like an observer; watching us go to our deaths. Our probably slow, painful deaths. But, if we did win, it would be very satisfying, and our lives will improve more than we could ever, ever imagine.

I immediately ran towards one of the clannies, and his sword met mine with a nearly sickening crash. But I felt too alive to notice the fact that the sword could have cut my head off. Right away, when the swords parted, I struck again, and this time the sword made it’s way home.

It lodged into his sword bearing arm and he cried out in pain. In the back of my mind, I was thinking I haven’t cleaned this sword in a very long time, that probably made it worse. But for some reason, I didn’t really care. Perhaps the whole war was making me immune to violence. I hoped that wasn’t the case but I couldn’t think about anything for a moment as I saw the sword meet his flesh.


But as soon as the man was on the ground, nearly unable to move, I moved on to the next clannie.

The fight seemed to go on and on, swords clashing, the sound of people yelling their battle cry, and the sound of victory.

Do you know what victory sounds like? The sound of the rising sun on a new day, a bird chirping happily in the breeze, lifting someone’s spirit.  And grunts, and the clash of steel on steel, and the whizzing of arrows ringing sharp against the breeze.

This is what victory sounds like, and I was hearing it.

I kept going, slashing as quickly as possible, but at one point, one of the clannies got me. Their sword hit home in my shoulder, and I screamed.

Sometimes it’s embarrassing to scream, to admit your weakness. But at this point, I didn’t care. The pain ran through my entire body. I couldn’t stand it.

I saw stars in front of my eyes, bright, shining stars. They danced and sang, seeming to mock me as I lay upon the cold ground. I saw the clannie move in, his wicked grin flaunting his face, as he raised his sword.

I’m ready to die… Oh great Lichen-Foot, when victory was so close!  And now – to die, the mission to be lost!  

“Oh, Hum!” I cried, “Help me!”

And I saw my life flash before my eyes on that one ribbon of steel.

That was when Da came on the scene.  With a grunt, he dove over my scarred, cringing body.  The startled elder’s sword sliced through his back and pricked my chest.  I screamed, a weak moan which faded out against the din of the battlefield, then felt my father’s body – a brave one, with a heart of gold – grow cool.  

Weak from blood loss, and surrounded by death and turmoil on every side, I fell asleep.

Find Me Swallow Chapter 10

After a night in the village, each of us sharing clean cottages by sturdy barns on freshly swept streets, I arose and wandered off in search of Hum or Ibis.  I couldn’t find them, however, and later Ibis told me where she had been.


Ibis pushed the tan curtains aside from the doorway of the clean cottage where she stayed in Eldritch’s village.  As she watched the sparkling waters of the fountain, from which the villagers gathered water rather than hiking to a muddy creek, a faint sigh caught her ear.  Startled, Ibis slipped silently from the sleeping house, careful to not wake the dreaming tenants.  Her heart skipped a beat when she saw who it was, forlornly slipping into the forest, tripping fast towards the waterfall.  

Hum.  Where could he be going?

Tiptoeing silently after her friend, Ibis watched him stumble blindly through the woods.  

Where could he be going?  Hum and her – he would not leave her?  Hum would not betray them, would he? Oh well, Hum couldn’t even swim, he could never get back up that –



fall… Oh lichen-foot.  Why were there a group of Huns by the pool.  Ibis burst from the shadows of the woods, just as Hum reached the cluster of Huns by the falls.  

“HUM!!!  Don’t leave me!!! Where – are – you – going!!!”  

“Shut up Ibis, okay!  I had to make a deal with these men when I was fighting that Hun with Swallow.”

“MEN?!?!  Don’t you mean savages!”  Ibis screamed, anxiety taking over, rather than sense.  The four Huns began to converse carelessly with her friend, ignoring her.  

“HUM!!!  LISTEN TO ME!!!”  Ibis shouted, her voice reverberating across the pool.  Shouts poured suddenly forth from the village.

Oh good.  The villagers could help stop Hum and his evil Hun-friends.  Ibis stopped and thought for a moment, then, gripping her dagger, she plunged across the pool, wondering all the while, “How did the Huns get down the waterfall, anyways?”  

The Huns, hearing the voices of the villager army being raised and seeing the crazed girl swimming after them, scampered behind the waterfall.  

Ibis had reached the place where Hum stood, only to find all of them vanished.  Villagers crowded the banks of the falls, swooping across the stream with strong strokes, Plover Frond among them.  

“Ibis!  We heard you shouting for Hum!  Where is he?”  cried Plover, brandishing a bow boldly.

“He was conversing with four Huns.  He is a cowardly traitor – Hum is against us – he showed the Huns the location of our village and they vanished into a tunnel…a tunnel behind the falls!”  Ibis hollered back tearfully.

Plover, already clambering up the bank near Ibis and a few other swimmers, froze mid leap, frowning deeply.  “Well, we must speed up our attack plans, fellow Freemen!”  Plover cried courageously, but his voice trembled and his brow furrowed even more deeply with worry.  

Ibis and the others glanced at him for direction, and Plover made a split second decision.  His daughter Swallow and most of the village stood beside him now.  

Taking a deep breath, Plover Frond shouted commandingly, “You there, Brown-Finch!  You’re the nearest to the tunnel by now, I would ask you and Ibis to investigate it.  Ibis, this is a time of action.  Please dry your tears and hold your dagger at ready.”

How could no villager have yet discovered this tunnel behind the falls?  Ibis wondered, as she followed the boy called Brown-Finch under an overhang which blocked the thundering canopy of water.  The two found nothing.  Brown-Finch even climbed up a little ways but merely discovered a seeming dead end. Disappointed, they returned to the villagers on the bank, and Plover, after consulting with Swallow, determined that he would set up some of the villages strongest men to investigate and guard thoroughly the passageway from evil users.  Leaving ten villagers to guard the falls, and sound the alarm if invaders were ever sighted, Plover, Swallow, and Ibis returned to the village to make plans of battle.  The battle against the Clan and the Huns must happen the next day.


After a hurried conference with my father, Ibis, and some important men of the village, I, Swallow sank down.  Hum really had left us.  But wasn’t Ibis his friend? His best friend? Whom Hum would never leave?  Hadn’t I, Swallow, saved the boy’s life in the village creek?  What was the cause of his betrayal to the Huns, then?  Could the Hun my friend had supposedly fought by the forest creek have allowed him to escape if he promised to show the malicious peoples the location of the village?  Had Hum made an unwise promise to the Huns?  Were the Huns working together with the Elders to destroy us?  Were –

I stopped my worrying at the sound of clashing iron. I ran through the trees with extreme emotions running through my mind and body, all reaching a tumultuous climax when I saw Da, Ibis, and all the warriors of our newfound village madly tearing through the shrubbery from our Eldritch village.  The boy called Brown-Finch led the way through the waterfall passage, all the village scrambling through the dank space behind him, trying to keep up.  After an hour or so of beeline-straight, guided running, our attacking rebel group reached the outskirts of the clan.  I noted that several of the villagers ground their teeth in anger at the sight of its dreaded stockade.  Da had already discussed the plans with the village, so all were in readiness.  We would strike, silently, leaping over the walls, catching the elders off guard.  Brown-Finch and I were the first to mount the stockade, the distant sound of rising chaos, as though the clannies already fought some unknown invader, reached our ears. The sight we beheld was not at all what we had expected.  

The Huns were fighting against the clannies.

They hadn’t betrayed us.

We were going to win.


Wuthering Heights: 1-5

Hello there lovely peoples. So, finally, (because of my procrastination) we will be reviewing chapters 1-5 of Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights.  (hint: there may be slight “spoilers,” but mostly not)

PS. I’m super sorry if it autocorrects to “Withering” without my knowledge. ;P

Okay, so first off we meet this super grumpy guy, Heathcliff. He’s a grumpy, standoffish kind of dude, and I’m immediately like, dude what’s your problem? Also, the narrator, Lockwood is wimpy and annoying:

Example. In the beginning of chapter two, he came back to Heathcliff’s windy house despite the fact that he wasn’t really welcome. Then he proceeds to jump over the locked gate, and bang and yell through the locked door.

Bruh. Srsly?

The part that really got my goat was the part in chapter three where we are put under the impression that Heathcliff wants to be possessed by a ghost.

Heathcliff. Buddy? Are you okay? Cuz I’m not convinced at all. And you had a pretty sick childhood.

Those are my general thoughts for the first five chapters… Kat? Take it away!


Hey guys, Kat here.  So, I must admit, I’ve read a little ahead and am getting to be pretty disappointed by this guy, Heathcliff.  Totally rude, and his dogs attack his tenant.  (Yikes for Lockwood) As a bonus, he lives in a gloomy old house on an isolated moor with a bunch of grouchy people who are somehow related to him.

Cheery setting, right?  Oh, so you think Heathcliff is inhospitable.  Turns out he was abused as a kid, an orphan, and so now he seeks to make everyone around him’s lives miserable.  Or at least it’s something like that. 😉

So, one of our narrators, Lockwood, gets snowed in while visiting Heathcliff.  He reads a girl, Catherine’s, journals from years before, and then dreams she is haunting him.  Heathclif comes in to blow up at Lockwood for being there and, like Em says, wants to be haunted by  her.

So, in summary, Heathcliff is pretty messed up, and the setting just ain’t happy at the beginning of the book…

Check in for more reading next week!

Find Me Swallow: Chapter 9

hello! enjoy the next chapter of our novelette! 

Chapter 9

Hum, Ibis, and Da looked at me proudly.  Our conversation strayed to topics of the upcoming rebellion, then turned once again.  This turn composed of Da’s explanation to us  regarding the cause of the village.  

He sighed with a happy weariness, watched the fountain’s gurgling for a moment, then began, “This will be rather a long story, I assume, but since you all have just eaten, we have some time to discuss this.”  

A villager woman sat down on the rim of the fountain to listen.  She was a smiling middle aged girl with the “barbarian” looks of the Huns.  However, I thought, The Huns probably call our Clan’s people “barbarians” too.  

As I observed our visiting villager, Da continued his explanation.

He said, “This village was created to help those in dire danger, those in such danger that they would leap from the heights of a waterfall to escape their malicious pursuers.  Those escaping from the other Clans, or even the wickeder societies of those heathen Huns, could stumble upon us if they had the courage to run from their known trials into the unknown tortures of these woods.”  

“The only thing that allowed me to find out about this place were my visions. Back when I would receive them in the village, I would try to act on them. I began receiving them when I first married your Mema. For a long time, I put them off, demanding myself to say that they weren’t true. But they became more intense. Instead of only having them at night when I was asleep, they began to plague me during the day. The worst one I had came over me when I first got into Eldritch. It led me straight to the village, which I almost knew it would do. So that’s how I found myself here.” Da looked over at Hum and beckoned him to tell the rest of his story.

Hum quickly accounted his story, which was nearly the same as my experience; after fighting the Hun, he had driven the beastly man back, only for the Hun to retaliate by making a running leap!   The Hun then hurridly dragged Hum down the length of the creek, then threw the boy into the rapids.  Hum had then tumbled down the down the waterfall.  There, Da and Ibis had discovered him.

Everyone hurried off to get some more food, but I didn’t go immediately. Ibis didn’t either. She looked exhausted, but also confused.

“You okay?” I asked carefully, hoping that I wouldn’t offend her in any way.

“Yeah, I’m just confused.”

“Why’s that?”

“Everything in all my life has been horrible until Hum. And then you. And then this village and your Da. I can’t help thinking that things might get better.” Ibis glanced at me, ashamed.

“What are you confused about?” I asked again.

“Why is everyone all of the sudden acting nice to me?”

I looked at her solemnly, and I was a bit hurt. Hadn’t she been the one persecuting me before all of this had happened?  “Well-” I began, but I was interrupted.

“I’m just shocked that all of the sudden everyone treats me like a, like a- princess.” She smacked away a tear. “When I was born, my Mama was banished from the clan, so naturally, no one knew that I was a clan princess. Da – no. He isn’t worthy to be called a father to anyone. Chief Fal used to beat me because I didn’t want the power and responsibility that came with being who I am; he would hire me out to work as a slave in his fields because I refused to be who he expected a princess to be; someone who is only a doll that stands in front of a village. I wanted to be a Warrior. He hated that.” She looked down at her lap and was absentmindedly twiddling her thumbs. I knew the look.

“I’m one of the only people you’ve told about this, correct?” I asked gently.

She sniffled and shoved her hand to wipe away another tear. “Yes. You and Hum. I trust you guys.” I got a small sensation down deep inside my gut, as I knew just how hard it was to earn someone’s trust.

“Thanks Ibis.” I said, smiling quietly.

“I figured because Hum went through some tough stuff being an orphan and all, and you lost your dad kind of, you guys would understand how broken I am.” I looked at Ibis’ face for a moment and I saw her eyes darken. She had experienced horrors under the thumbs of the elders that I could never even fathom. But she trusted me with her brokenness. And that made all the difference.

“When did you and Hum become so close?” I asked innocently. I saw a look in her face and immediately said, “I don’t mean to pry, I’m just asking.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s okay. He accidentally walked in on Chief Fal beating me one time. I was nine. He ran in front of me, kind of like when you saved your Ma. Chief told me all about the outrage.” She smiled. “That was dreadfully brave by the way. Anyway, he protected me from Chief Fal. Later, he came back and we got to know one another. He’s one of the most loyal people you will ever know, Swallow Frond. He swore that day that he would always protect me. No matter what. Chief Fal hasn’t beaten me since then.” After she told me, all I could say was,


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