Previews of Some Writing

Hello, everyone.

I was supposed to go to a meeting today, but it got cancelled. Tomorrow, I have an appointment in the city. I just thought to let you know. In truth, not a lot is going on. I was hoping to see my Dad this week, but I may not get to see him because for the weather.

Anyways, I’m writing because I wanted to show you what I been working on. I’m working on two satirical novels. I think I might had wrote about this before, but in case I didn’t, I’m writing about it now. The first novel is entitled, “Strawberry Milk”. It is about to be about a young female cow that can walk and talk like a human trying to fit in with the other humans. It is going to have examples and elements of animal ethnics and explore how humans treat animals.

The other is entitled, “The Dimensions of Living”. It is going to be about a young woman who recently lost her husband. She gets involved in an accident and has to go to court. Over the course of several weeks, she meets new people, go to new places, and discovers what it means to be alive.

Here is the preface of “Strawberry Milk”:

Preface:

About Strawberry

 
Located in the heart of Texas, surrounded by forests of tall trees and meadows of tall grass, lived a rather small, tightknit community known by the rest of the world as Cattle Rock. Ever since its founding in 1865, the small town of Cattle Rock had been a self-sufficient and self-sustaining community, almost not needing the aid of a larger government. Cattle Rock had everything a hamlet, such as itself, needed, like a sheriff department, a fire station, and a small hospital. It even had things such as a movie theater, a high school, and a small shopping mall; things that weren’t necessary for survival, but made life a little cheerier. The economy of Cattle Rock was almost completely based on food production. The people of Cattle Rock not only grew fruits, vegetables, and grains, but they also cared for the animals that would later be eaten. The majority of the animals raised in Cattle Rock were cows, bulls, and steers, which was the reason behind the name of the town. Speaking of cows, let shift our attention to the Bond family.

Jedediah Bond and his wife, Suzie, were once members of a large Amish community, who believed strongly in the traditional way of doing things, that lived alongside the people of Cattle Rock, who couldn’t image a day without their electronics. Over time, however, the people of that community began to drift apart. Some moved to the city, while others moved out of the state. One by one, the people abandoned their houses and farms, which were either bulldozed or left to wither and crumble. Anyways, Jedediah and Suzie were the last remaining members of that Amish community. At first, they didn’t mind being left behind, but as the years went by, they soon discovered that it was lonely being the only ones left. They felt as though there was an empty void in their lives. A void that could only be filled with the type of love and companionship you’d feel while being near a family member or close friend. They soon found themselves praying for something that would bring back that feeling. Then, to their utter surprise, they found that their prayers were answered.

One day, while tending the fields, Suzie tumbled across a crying baby wrapped in a blanket. Actually, “baby” is not the correct word. The correct word would more likely be, “calf”. Suzie tumbled across a crying calf wrapped in a blanket. Now, by this point, most of you are probably wondering, “How can a calf cry like a human?” Well, this was no ordinarily calf. A moment of observation will reveal that the little creature was somewhat humanoid. She–for the little creature was certainly a female–still had the physical features of cattle, but the way she was shaped and the way she was sized was similar to that of a human baby. Suzie, without hesitation, took the calf home with her to show to her husband.

For many days, Jedediah and Suzie kept the calf, trying to decide what to do with her. At first, they kept her in their barn and treated her like any other animal, but over time, as they grew more attracted to the creature, they began to kept her in their house. They once tried to put clothes on the calf and, much to their surprise, she was very willing to wear them. Then, one day, the calf learned to walk on two legs and babble like a human baby. Eventually, they came to the conclusion that the little calf was a glorious miracle; a miracle that they must share with the world.

After a long, uphill battle, the couple was able to legally adopt the calf as their daughter. They named her Strawberry, because she liked to eat strawberries more than any other food. For the next fifteen years, as Strawberry learned more about the human race and their culture, she become increasingly more human and increasingly less animal. She still retained her cow-like features, such as the tiny horns on her head, her short muzzle, her ovular ears, her long tail, and white fur with black patches. Yet, her appearance only motivated her to act more like a human. She had goes to public school and made human friends, all the while, never acting like an animal.

 
Strawberry Bond became a loving, kindhearted teenager. She was an intelligent and cultured young adult, who seek to help others and improve society. Her friends and family, the people who had gotten to know her, love and support her. However, as Strawberry walked the streets of Cattle Rock, many bystanders, the people who only know her through rumors and gossip, watch her with skeptical eyes. It is not that they don’t trust her, or think ill of her. It’s just that, as they watch her going about her business around town, the same question floats around in their minds: “Is Strawberry Bond really human, or is she an animal?”

Here is the prologue of “The Dimensions of Living”:

PROLOGUE: THE PURPOSE OF EXISTING

 
What does it mean to “exist”? What does the word, “exist” suggest? Does it mean to simply survive or live? What is the purpose of existing? Who is it that creates the universe and commands the life within it? Why is it that Earth is the only planet in the solar system able to sustain life? Why is it that lifeforms on Earth differ from each other? Why did some animals walk on land while others swim in the oceans or fly in the sky? Why was mankind created? What does the word, “exist” mean to a human? What is the ultimate purpose for mankind? Was the creation of mankind just a mistake, and was not meant to exist?

 
These are not uncommon questions. The great philosophers and scientists of humanity had devoted their lives to answering these questions. There is no doubt that the everyday person had questioned the purpose of their life at least once. Those people often search for a meaning their lives, doing whatever it takes to prove to themselves and others that they have a purpose. Yet, eventually, they lose sight of what’s important and adopt lifestyles that lead them away from the path to their true purpose. Many people tend to focus too much of their energy on the present issues of life, often doing nothing to solve them. Some choose to go through life doing whatever they please, often not caring about the needs of those around them. Others seek only to destroy any form of life, though oftentimes, the life they destroy is their own.

Then, there is the one percent; those special few who devote their lives to the growth and development of their spirits. These people see the meaning of life. They see that there is a greater purpose for everyone. Usually, they spend half of their lives trying to find their true purpose, then, once they did, they would help others to find their true purpose. These people often find themselves working as nurses, teachers, veterinarians, or other careers in which they are help or lead others. These are the types of people who are glad knowing they made a different, and they expect nothing in return for their services.

These are, indeed, good people. However, these people did not make it to where they are now by chance. None of them knew what their true purpose was at first and it didn’t come to them as suddenly as a bolt of lightning. They all needed to work to get to where they are now. For most of these people, that work included hours of study and intense labor. Others choose to go on quests or journeys to find their true purpose. A few of them eventually found their true purpose, albeit after some suffering; suffering that was, at times, physical, but more often than not, emotional.

But is pain not a part of life? Are we not able to learn from pain? Doesn’t pain just remind us that we are alive? Don’t all wounds heal with time? If you don’t understand, don’t worry, you will. Just continue reading this story. By the time you’re finish, you just might learn something.

Well, those were the previews of my new novels. Please excuse the odd formatting. I hope you like them. I look forward to seeing what you think for these. Maybe some of you can give me some tips on writing satirical novels. I’m going to eventually post these new stories on the site, as their own pages. For now, however, I hope you enjoy the novels.

Have a great day!

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Crazy Weather

So, today was the last day of the workshop that I’m a part of. I managed to make it there on time, but as I was walking, the rain and snow was assaulting my umbrella like crazy. The winds were also bad; they almost blew the umbrella out of my hands. Anyways, things at the workshop went well. We all got certificates to show that we completed the workshop. Mine is in my room, near the window.

Speaking of which, during the workshop, I looked out the window a few things and noticed that some large chunks of snow were falling from the sky. For a moment, I thought the snow has turned into hail.

After the workshop, I went to my dorm room and spent some time working on a new novel. I had a club meeting at 5. I got there a little late. Also, I think the wind broke my umbrella. Luckily, the snow and rain stopped by the time the meeting ended.

We spent most of the meeting praying. We pray at the end of every meeting, but this time, the whole meeting was about praying. It was great, and we plan on doing it again; at least once every month.

So, like I said, I’m working on a new novel. I’m calling it, “The Dimensions of Living”. It’s going to be about a woman who makes new friends and finds the meaning of life. I’m thinking about making it a satirical novel.

Here is the summary: Simonetta Morgan a was single, 27-year-old, introverted woman. She lived alone in a large house in the suburban area outside the city of Charlotte, North Carolina. She had stringy, black hair, green eyes, and alabaster skin. Her parents passed away shortly after she was born, and was thus put into many foster homes over the course of her life. She was married once, and had not dated anyone since the tragic death of her husband, who she was married to for only seven months. By day, she was the owner and manager of a small gift and souvenir shop. By night, she operated and hosted an internet radio station.

Her life was fairly routine, until one day, she absentminded walked into the little of the street, causing two cars and a truck to crash into one another. The drivers, one arrogant socialite, one smart-aleck attorney, and one short-tempered truck driver, became furious with her and decide to file a civil lawsuit against her. The lawsuit, if won in the favor of the three persons, would bankrupt her, forcing her to give up her shop and her home. She was given several weeks to find an attorney who could help her build her case, however, for the first day of the first week, she was too busy with dealing with her rising panic.

Then, some nights after the accident, she received a mysterious call telling her to go to the café near the local college campus. When she went to the café, she was greeted with a young man. A college student who was a huge fan of her radio station. He had heard about the lawsuit and wanted to offer her help. From there, Simonetta met new and interesting of people, from a renowned psychologist to a revered clairvoyant, from an ambitious artist to a young boy from Nepal. She went to new and interesting places . Most importantly, however, she learned that there were many dimensions to herself, and what it truly meant to live.

I’m still working on it, but once I get the first chapter done, I’ll post it on the site.

That’s all for now. Have a lovely night!

Happy Epiphany

So sorry for the lack of updates. I been working on a few things.

Frist of all, I want to wish everyone a happy Three Kings’ Day, just in case there is everyone out there who celebrates the holiday. I just found that out recently.

Also, I’m working on a new novel that I’m calling, “Unlovable”. Here is the summary: After years of emitting large amount of carbon dioxide, which led to climate change, which led to a series of natural disasters, such as floods and hurricanes, which led to the collapse of infrastructure, which led to the overconsumption of natural resources, which led to a shortage, which led to civil unrest, which led to many cities and towns declaring martial law, which led to a spread of influenza, the United Nations declared that all countries must lower their carbon dioxide emissions by fifty percent every year. While many countries converted to a somewhat medieval lifestyle, the United States, however, took a different route.

The United State government determined that the only way to reduce carbon dioxide emissions was to purge certain people from the population. Thus, they created the Pageant Games, a brutal, cutthroat, winner-takes-all competition that every young citizen from every district in the United States must partake in during the ninth grade. Those who win the games graduate from the ninth grade and continue their lives. Those who lose are deemed unfit to live in society, or “toxic”. These “toxic” people are taken to Blessed Wings Academy, which is a large building complex in the forest. The propose of the old campus is to imprison those who loss the Pageant Games, while cameras record their actions.

There are limited supplies inside the building, there are deadly traps set throughout the campus, and there is virtual no escape. The only way to leave Blessed Wings Academy, is for every student’s heart to stop beating. Zephyr Locke, a fifteen-year-old high school student, along with his close friends, will find themselves inside Blessed Wings Academy after losing the Pageant Games. While the rest of society is expecting them to die, Zephyr is not prepared to let that happen. Zephyr soon becomes the leader of the group, and as such, he is tasked with keeping everyone alive. So long as everyone is alive, there would be no reason to keep them in the school, and, sooner or later, everyone will realize that they have to let them out and rejoin society…right?

I was also thinking about writing another novel, but I can’t come up with an idea.  Anyways, I just wanted to say hello, and let you know that I am ok.

Have a nice night.

Happy Holidays!

Yes, I know, it been more than 23 days since my last post.

I’ve just been so busy with work for school that I hadn’t gotten the chance to post anything. I had to take exams for both of my art history classes and finish homework for my environmental class. I stayed up late to finish a essay. For one of my classes, I had to build a portfolio of all the writing I did.

I’m home now. I decided to write something; to let you know how I’m doing.

For the last few days, I’ve been working on a new idea. I got it some time before my birthday. I’m thinking of creating another animated show and calling it “Magical Talent Showcase”.

Here is the plot: 13-year-old Zephyrus Quisenberry had only one wish: to perform in front of a large audience, He didn’t care what he was doing, he just wanted to perform. He knew he had the talent and the determination for performing, all he needed was the opportunity. Sadly, being the son of a gypsy, no one gave him the chance to do anything on stage. It wasn’t until he met Sabrina Steele that him luck began to turn around. Like Zephyrus, Sabrina loved to perform, and was a well-known performer of magic tricks in her hometown. However, there was a mishap at her last performance, and many people, most of which were people in power, became angry with her. They arrested her and, at her trial, they sentenced her to spend the rest of her life as a half-cat, half-fairy creature. It is her hope that, with Zephyrus’ help, she can find a way to turn herself back into a human. Together, the two of them compete in performance showcases and talent competitions. Slowly but surely, making their way to the top.

I made a few sketches of two of the main characters. They’re a little outdated, but I still want to show you.

I hope you enjoy them.

I also been working on my novels. I finished two new chapters of book one of “Eldritch”, and I finished one new chapter of “Turning a Blind Eye” and “Realm of Madness”. After I post this, I will update the pages.

Anyways, I should go. Will post again as soon as possible.

In the meantime, have a happy holiday!

Back to School

Well, I’m officially back at college. It was a struggle moving all my things, but we got them up in the dorm. Tomorrow, I will start my classes. I got my textbooks this afternoon. I still need a few more things, but for now I’m good.

I been thinking, and I decided that to dump some of my ideas. You might remember my earlier post that I entitled, “Quadruple Threat”. I also this idea for a point-and-click game called, “The Lost Priestess”, and I was going to write a novel about a girl who can talk to animals entitled, “Billie Copperfield”. I realized that I probably wasn’t going to continue working on those. Then I came up with an idea for a television show. I’m calling it, “Good Samaritans”.

Here is the setup of the show: 14-year-old Troy Brooks believed that he was the most blessed human in the world. He was the most popular boy in the ninth grade, beloved by all his classmates. He had a swarm of female admirers who wanted to be his girlfriend. He was the captain and star player of the school’s volleyball team and was promised a sport scholarship from a prestigious college. He never had to work or earn money because his family had money since before he was born. Almost everyone within the bustling town of Great Paxton, USA knew his name. Troy’s life was perfect, but through one event, that perfect life was throwed into chaos. That event was the marriage of his mother, Tiffany Brooks, to Doctor Xavier Francis Everglade, a scientist in the field of biotechnology, founder and CEO of a biotechnology company called Everglade Syndicate, and the father of Prudence Everglade.

Prudence is a 14-year-old girl that goes to the same school as him. She is the president of the Good Samaritans’ Club, which is a club for volunteering, organizing charity events, and other activities that can help others. Sebastian Needlepoint, Hyacinth Papadopoulos, Edith Timberlands, and Billie Copperfield are all members of the club. Saved for each other, the club members mostly kept to themselves, not socializing with any of the other students. Troy had always been suspicious of the club and never trusted them. He and his friends would bully and belittle them, but mostly he stayed far away from them as possible. Now that he and his mother had moved from their luxurious apartment in the center of the city to the Everglades’ mega-mansion built in the rural area outside of the city, he is forced to interact with the Prudence and the rest of the club.

One day, while playing hide-and-seek in the massive house, Troy tumbles across the truth about the Everglades and the Good Samaritans’ Club. Dr. Everglade is, indeed, a scientist in the field of biotechnology, however, that is just his cover. He is actually the leader of a covert organization called Indigo, whose task is to create a team of superhumans that can assist and protect humanity in ways that would be too dangerous or impossible for normal humans. The Good Samaritans’ Club is also just a cover. All its members are agents of Indigo. These children were born with superhuman abilities.

I think it’s a great idea for a show; I already came with a lot of ideas for episodes. Let me know what you guys think.

That’s all for now. Have a lovely night.

Second Parts of Animated Shows

Hello everyone!

Right now, I’m in the library because the Wi-Fi in my apartment is bad. I just wanted to share some things with you all.

Remember in my last post, when I wrote that I wanted to post the first half of my stories so that, in the future when my books are publish, people will be motived to buy my novels. Well, I’ve been think more about that.

For my fantasy novel, “The Infinite Guide”, I’m thinking about posting only the first book; I’m planning on writing a series of book staring Fiona Greenberg. For “ElderHeart”, I’m going to post only the first part of book one; I’m planning on writing a series of books about the eldritch too.

If you read my earlier post then you would know that I can in the middle of writing just not one mystery novel, but a series of mystery novels. Though, I’m only posting the chapters of the first book on this site. That way, if people want to read the other books, they would have to buy them.

I’m going to do the same things for all the novels I’m writing; either posting the first part of the book or the first book in the series. Also, I’m planning on writing a continuation of some of the television shows I’m writing.

For example, I’m already writing one for “Star Children” and “Three Wayward Angels”.

The continuation of “Star Children” is going to be called: “Star Children: A New Generation”. Here is the summary: For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Likewise, for every act of kindness, there is an act of cruelty. When the Gurus created the Grand Star all those eons ago, they had unwittingly created the Dark Star. The Dark Star was created to be the exact opposite to the Grand Star; while the Grand Star spreads happiness and peace, the Dark Star spreads death and destruction. Like the Grand Star, the Dark Star is a sentient and can sense the things that are happening around it. The Gurus, fearing what this thing would do, hid the Dark Star away in one of the caves on their planet. However, when the Grand Star broke during the invasion of the Gurus’ planet, the Dark Star had sensed that it had taken shelter on other planets. Thinking it can spread its wickedness throughout the universe or that it can counteract whatever powers the Grand Star may still have; the Dark Star broke itself in seven pieces. The pieces became dark and sentient entities called Ids. These Ids are the personifications of the seven different aspects of death: Meaninglessness, unwillingness, greed, ruthlessness, hopelessness, enmity, and nether. These Ids have the ability to possess other creatures and afflict them with the vices that they represent. The goal of these Ids is to find the remaining pieces of the Grand Star and destroy them.

The union of King Dillan of Innocence and the young orphan, Mothra, from Ariel had inspired Solomon to talk to Cee about having heirs for the title of Guardians of All Living Things in the Universe. So, Cee and his friends travel to the far corners of the universe to find students who will become their eventual successors. Their search leads them to seven children who hearts glow with the virtues that they aspire to represent. Together, the seven children combat the shadows.

The continuation of “Three Wayward Angels” is going to be called “Three Wayward Angels 2”. Here is the summary: It had been two years since our favorite little angels have been guardian-angels-in-training. The triplets are now official guardian angels, going on more grand adventures and helping humanity. Meanwhile, back on earth, Phoebe is had graduated from the Gifted Children’s Academia and is becoming a successful amateur magician studying under her favorite magician, surrounded by loving fans, friends, and family. But the shenanigans are not over yet, for the triplets are now reasonability for the care and well-being of an infant child!  

I’m still polishing the ideas; working on developing the new characters, working out the new plot, etc. I think what I have so far is great. I’m still adding new stuff to them; sooner or later they will be done. Once they are done, I’ll post them here on the site.

I still have a lot to think about. I’m still drawing and writing. Even when I go back to college, I’ll try to draw and write in my free time, and I’ll be sure to post as must as I can.

That’s all. Have a great day!

Finished Chapter

I was going to upload the pictures I took of the animal sanctuary I want to during my two-week trip to Lee, but then I finished the fourth chapter of “Dark Red Riding Hood”, and I really want to show it here. I posted it on my DeviantArt, and later, I’ll update the page on the blog. For now, enjoy the newest chapter of “Dark Red Riding Hood”.

Chapter 4: The Huntress

Little Red Riding Hood. Notorious huntress-thief for the feared crime boss, Woody Lumberjack, also known as the Woodsman. Never in my young life did I think that would be my identity. In fact, when I was a little girl, I wanted to be an adventurer; traveling to far and exotic places. My grandfather used to be an adventurer before meeting my grandmother. I doubt they would be proud of me, seeing what their precious granddaughter have become. I didn’t blame them if they’re disappointed in me; I was disappointed in me.

Allow me to explain what my job was as a huntress-thief. You see, “huntress”, or “hunter”, were just another word for assassin. We hunt down persons and then eliminate them, hence why we are called “hunters” or “huntresses”. There were different kinds of hunters and huntresses; those whose jobs where more than just assassinating. For example, hunter-runners or huntress-runners were assassins who worked in the drug smuggling business. Hunter-eyes or huntress-eyes were assassins who doubled as detectives. There were the royal hunters and huntresses who worked for the sovereignty. Then there were the hunter-thieves and huntress-thieves like me. Our jobs were to not only eliminate targets, but to also steal from targets. Just last year, I was ordered to steal a prized piece of artwork from the home of a wealthy art dealer.

I had just exited the Woodsman’s hideout and was making my way through the busy streets of Gemstone. The sun was high in the sky and the gentle breeze flew through what leaves where left on the sturdy oak trees that lined the streets of the city. As I walked, I noticed the sidewalks glimmering with a blue sparkle; it was as if the sidewalks were made from real sapphires, and not artificial gems that looked like real ones.

I passed by clothing stores, delis, flower shops, and other small family-owned businesses. I walked pass one of the city’s public libraries, it’s marble columns glistening in the sunlight. The many apartment buildings towered over me, their glass windows reflecting the sun’s light. I had to look away by the time I reached the elementary school; the sight of happy children playing reminded me too much of my own childhood. I turned a corner and walked into a dark alley. At the end of the alley, was my destination: the abandoned train station on the outskirts of the city.

The station was built about seven hundred years ago, I think. It was built near the base of the gray, snowy-topped mountains that stood towering over the city of Gemstone. It was a modest, two-story building that was the length of a modern house. It’s once brilliant and vivid blue painted exterior was now a moldy, dark green. It’s brown, tilted roof was so worn that holes began to appear. Its windows were shattered, their shutters broken in halves. The benches that sat on the front porch were all broken in the center, which made sitting on them nigh impossible. The door that led to the inside was just barely attached to the doorframe; it was hanging on its side, freely swinging. Not too far away from the door, attached to the overhanging roof, was a sign that still displayed the train schedule. In front of the station was the train rail that was abandoned along with the station; it was now covered in tall grass and wildflowers.

I stepped onto the porch, which creaked and groaned under my feet. Carefully, I opened the door and entered the dilapidated train station. The wallpapered interior was just as worn-down as the exterior. Four long wooden benches, all of which were coated in dust, sat in the center of the small station. A small window was built into the wall opposite me. The glass of the window was cracked and looked as if it was about to fall out of the frame. The room behind the creaked window used to be the ticket office, but now, it was mostly a home for field mice, raccoons, or some other wild animal. I made my way to the back of the station, where a narrow hallway led to the back of the station, where the lockers were. I was surprised, but somewhat grateful, to find the door to the back porch still attached to the doorframe and still in one piece.

I pushed opened the door and stepped out onto the back porch. There was a lone bench that faced a meadow filled with flowers of many species. In the distant, I could make out a shape hidden among the grass and flowers. The shape lifted its head and I saw that it was a unicorn. Seeing a unicorn in the wild wasn’t uncommon, that was, if you lived in the countryside. Creatures like unicorns made it a point to steer away from largely populated areas. I briefly wondered why I hadn’t recognized the animal the second I saw it. Then I saw that, unlike most unicorns, that were pure white, this unicorn was gray. It’s coat, mane, tail, and even horn was gray, making it blend in well with the surrounding area. For a moment, I envied the beautiful creature and wished I could just blend in, not stick out, be like everyone else. I snapped myself out of my trance and tore my eyes away from the animal. By the time I looked back, the unicorn was gone.

I turned my attention to the lockers, which sat beside the lone bench. The metal of the lockers was rusted due to years of being left in the rain and snow. The lockers were rectangular containers, stacked on top of each other, forming a six-by-two grid. Each locker had a lock, which could only be open with you had the right key. Lucky for me, I was given the right key. I approached the locker that was on the lowermost-right of the grid, kneeled before it, and inserted the key into the lock. The moment I turned the key, the heavy lock became undone. I removed it from the door and placed it, along with the key, gently on the wooden floor.

Slowly, I opened the rusted door of the locker and peered inside. The locker held three items. One was a leather holster. The other was a thick, black, and cylindrical object that looked to be about a foot in length. Finally, there was a small green and black box made from cardboard. I pulled all three items out of the locker with the upmost care. With one hand, I held the holster and cylindrical object while keeping the small box squeezed between my arm and my side. With the other hand, I closed the door of the locker and placed the lock back on it. I knew that no one came to this station anymore, but I still didn’t want someone or something to know that I was there.

As I stood, I examined the holster and cylindrical object in my hands. The holster was small enough to fit around my waist. There were two pockets, one of which was designed to hold a large gun, the other was designed to hold a sickle with a particularly long handle. Along the belt of the holster, were seven small loops to fit up to seven bullets. It was designed to be lightweight, so not to be a hindrance to the wearer. I wrapped the holster around me and fastened it with the clasp. Once it was secured around my waist, I patted the leather of the belt a few times and, suddenly, it vanished. I patted the area where the belt should be and it reappeared. The holster was enchanted to turn invisible when the wearer pat it. Anything in the pockets or loops of the holster also turned invisible. The perfect way to conceal weapons while walking in public. The Woodsman had this thing made for me around the same time joined his gang, that was about seven years ago. I was mildly surprised that it still fit me.

After putting on the holster, I took the small box from under my arm and opened it. Inside, were seven large brass bullets that were wrapped in purple shell castings. The brass slugs shimmered like gold in the sunlight. I could tell that they were expertly polished; I could even see my reflection in them. I could tell that these weren’t the rounds that I usually use. These were bullets that the Woodsman had his friend made. This friend was a gunsmith who also made specialty bullets. The guns and bullets he made normally came at a high price, but as he was an associate of the Woodsman, he gave them to my boss at the low, low price of free. I wanted to get angry. I wanted to go back to the Woodsman’s hideout and demand that he gives me my usual ammunition, but as I took each bullet and placed them inside the loops of my holster, I reminded myself that I had already made my boss angry when I leave and that I didn’t want to have a falling out with him. I collapsed the small box and put it in the pocket of my jeans.

With the holster around my waist and the bullets in their place, I turned my attention to the black cylindrical object in my left hand. It felt cold, hard, and somewhat heavy in my hand. I twirled it a few times in my hand, tossing it from one hand to the other, before having it toward the sky. The metal of the object shone in the light. There was an engraving on the object that read, “ROSEBUD G. HOOD”, in bright red, cursive letters. I held the object toward the light for a moment, before swinging it down with all my might.

With that one swift and abrupt movement, a red rod, a similar shade of red as that of my hair, protruded from the black cylinder. The red rod extended in length, becoming longer than one foot; as it extended, it also became skinnier than the black cylinder. The moment it stopped extending, a large, long, curved blade appeared from the top of the rod; as the blade emerged from the rod, it made a sound like that of a sword being removed from its sheath. A shorter, but equally sharp, blade appeared from behind the longer one. In a matter of seconds, the black cylinder transformed into a scythe with a black grip, a long red snath, and two steel blades that could slice the toughest of skin.

It was impressive, how an innocent and slightly useless object can turn into a menacing weapon. And it didn’t end there. I threw the scythe in the air and I watched it transform again. The blades retracted within the rod, then the bronze rod retracted until all that remained was the black cylinder. I watched it land into my outstretched hand. As it did so, something popped out from underneath it: it was a red trigger surrounded by a red trigger guard. I watched as a single red bronze barrel protruded from the black cylinder. At the same time, the cylinder bent itself to create the handle. The scythe had changed back into its previous state, and from there it transformed into a single-barrel sawed-off shotgun. This type of shotgun was break-action, meaning I didn’t had to pump anything; I could just break it and load the shell inside. This kind of shotgun was also easier for me to use; I was still considered a novice when it came to guns.

I looked down at the gun. The engraving never left the handle of the weapon; both the scythe and the shotgun has my name etched into it. I cracked a smile. I had this thing for almost seven years; I never did a job without it. It was a birthday gift from my late grandfather; it was on that same birthday where my grandmother gave me my signature red hood. My grandfather, bless him soul, taught me how to hunt, how to fish, and how to survive. He had this made for me and showed me how to use it properly. He told me that the weapon was made with a mixture of technology and magic and that the creator, a craftsman from some major metropolis in Fairytale, was a friend of his. Next to my hood, it was my most treasured possession. As much as I got angry with the Woodsman, even I had to admit that he respected the sentimental value of objects.

I placed the gun in one of the pockets of the holster. I looked down at the floor and saw that the rusted key was still there. I picked it up and stuffed it in the pocket of my jeans; I intended to bring it back to my boss when I got the chance. I had my weapon, ammunition, my holster, and the name of my target was in the jade cylinder, which was in my backpack. Now, I was ready to get back to work.