July 22, 2026 Update

    Hello, dear readers!

    I know it's been a super long time since my last update, but I at least have some things worth mentioning in this update. 

    So I had a summer goal to get as far in Curse of the Red Amulet as possible. Even to complete the first draft. I've been on summer break since the beginning of May. Initially I was working on this book.

    

    For some reason, I kinda just didn't really want to write that badly, and then in the beginning June I got severe writer's block. I've never had writer's block like this before. I was still thinking of my stories and fleshing out the plot in my mind, but as soon as I sat down to write it was just... like the words wouldn't come.

    That lasted for over a month. I was actually starting to panic because I did have a goal that I was only 4,000 words into. Then last Monday, I felt my writer's block just... lift. I just had to write. So I went and grabbed my Chromebook and that very evening, churned out 1,000 words.

    I have basically been writing nonstop since then. Over the course of 9 days, I've written 14,000 words. Which is fantastic.

    Although this might be a newsflash for you guys... None of those words are on Curse of the Red Amulet.

    Sigh. I seem to keep doing this, don't I? 

    It is now that I might as well introduce my current work in progress, now that I'm 17,000 words deep in it. Which... is pretty serious. This has now become my 3rd most developed story. In less than 2 weeks. Honestly I've been writing so prolifically on this I've not dared to try to shift my focus over to Curse of the Red Amulet. Because yes, I want to finish Curse of the Red Amulet first, but this is also a story I do want to get published someday. So since writing has been so easy on this the past few days, I'm just going to continue with it for now.

    I refer to this story as #083. This one's quite different then other projects I've worked out. Instead of being Fantasy/Fiction like almost all of my stories, this one is Sci-Fi. It's been a lot of fun to write so far. Here's the synopsis I wrote for it:

Rory turned to face him, eyes wild and scared. “Nico, they found out what I am. I need your help. Before they find me.”

Nico’s gaze fell upon the streak of red at the corner of Rory’s mouth. He stood quickly. “Why do you have blood on your mouth?”

Rory didn’t respond immediately. He wiped his mouth with his fingers, and stared at the blood on them. Finally his gaze flickered back up to Nico. “I bit someone,” he whispered. 

16 year old Nicolo de Martino isn’t expecting anything out of the ordinary when he returns for a second year at his province’s Space Academy, an elite school that specializes in training teens for the Space Force. 

His roommate, 15 year old Rory Caldwell, is new to the Academy. Rory’s quiet and somewhat withdrawn, and just seems like he wants to go home. 

It’s not long before the two become inseparable friends.

That’s when the rumors start. Someone claims to have been bitten by a vampire. Quickly, the rumor grows. Students are reporting to the Academy’s infirmary, pale and lightheaded. Others flaunt strange marks on their necks. 

Nico thinks it’s nonsense at first. Vampires aren’t real. He can’t help but notice, however, how oddly Rory’s been acting. 

Rory always gets super quiet in the evening, and is never seen without his hood up after nightfall. He often returns minutes before curfew, with no good excuse as to why he was out so late. He’s often up long after Nico falls asleep.

Initially, Nico just chalks it up as coincidence.

But as Rory continues returning to the dorm just before curfew, Nico can’t help but start to believe that maybe vampires are real.

Then one day, Nico realizes that Rory has fangs. Everything seems to click into place with horrifying certainty. 

His roommate is a vampire. 

For a while, Nico doesn’t say anything, not wanting to become Rory’s next target. But finally, he confronts Rory about it and demands to know what’s going on. Rory tells him, and begs Nico not to turn him in.

But the truth turns out to be far more than just a pair of fangs and a thirst for blood. Unwilling to betray his friend, Nico promises not to tell anyone. For a time, things seem to return to normal.

Then an accident happens, and the whole school knows Rory’s secret. Now both boys are being hunted. Quickly, they find themselves caught up in a scheme more terrifying than either could have imagined – one that threatens far more than just Rory’s life.

    

    Until next time, 

                  Rhianna

Story Number 070: Feature - Poem

Secrets Untouched by Light

The morning’s light is far from near

When I’m aroused from my deep sleep.

The voice is impossible not to hear,

It echoes in my head, to seep

In through my thoughts and mind,

It whispers the same repeated lies

It’s hissed for years; an attempt to blind

My thoughts and keep my eyes

Away from the beauty, the goodness, the light

To keep me empty, hollow and blank

To drain my strength so I can’t fight

To free myself from the cell, all dark and dank

Of utter despair and long dead hope.

I’m exhausted but yet it won’t let me rest,

Controlling my actions, making me cope

With a fate that’s far from blest.

The night is dark, the stars are dim,

They glimmer coldly, hung in a curtain woven of dread

The clouds are thin but solemn and grim.

In the darkness, everything hangs from a thread.

I rise to my feet, I try to ignore

The leaden tiredness that weighs my limbs,

It runs like heavy waves along a narrow shore

To erode and destroy, the water skims.

The night has the darkness, black as tar

Of expected morning, hours away.

And as dawn’s new light is nothing but far

I rise to my feet. I cannot stay,

The voice does snarl with horrid contempt,

It commands my submission, to fear its demands

It hisses, like a beast unkempt -

I know it would kill, if it had hands. 

The woods are dark, their blackness expose

All secrets the day will never touch with its light

The stars, they whisper, the moon, it knows

The dark thing that claims me; there’s no strength to fight.

A shadow it is, but more strength it possesses

Then anything else this broken world does own.

It’s sure of itself, it makes no guesses -

Can quickly devastate, leaving only bones. 

The veil of the night is pierced, the fabric is torn,

The sky itself can hardly wait for the day,

To hide this shadow with brightness of morn,

The darkness inside this broken piece of clay.

It’s hours till dawn. To go back I don’t yearn,

My friends are not safe, not ever, not yet -

To kill and destroy them the voice does burn

I know what I’ve done, I’ll never forget.

I dare not go back, I dare not return.

It’s safer this way, I’m only a threat.

Feature - Poem

The Tide

The salty tang of bitter sea

Can fill the air and seems to be

Unfazed by wind, that tries to take

The salty tang, to smugly prove

The sea is naught except a lake.

To show its fault, the sea awakes

It sends a wave, such force it takes

To prove its might cannot be tamed

Unconquered yet, and never will

Submit to force, or be restrained.

The water roars, and crashes hard

Upon the sand and rocks all scarred

From years of force and roaring spray

The water foams, returns to tear

Against the shore with no delay.

And flowing back, it leaves the sand

Then turns and rushes to the land

With stronger waves it roars and hurls

Upon the shore it breaks and foams

With sprays of salt and drops of pearl.

The wind draws back, its pride is spent

And drawing back, it does relent

The ocean won, the ocean proved

It’s not a force to trifle with 

So old and strong it can’t be moved.

The sea continues - smiling, knows

The tide goes on, like clockwork flows

It rises, falls, and rises, then

Again, the water rises, falls -

Continues ever on again

Feature - Poem

Child’s Play

There’s a certain kind of majesty

That is found in a child’s simple game -

First laughing, then bemoaning a travesty -

Anything is possible in imagination's frame.

Kings rise, and kingdoms fall,

Commoners rebel, traitors are slain.

All attend a feast held in a great hall -

Roast swans they eat, and chalices drain.

Gallant knights on dappled horses ride,

To rescue the damsels in distress,

Even as the knight’s services are denied.

The damsels are rescued nonetheless.

A bell summons them to dinner, but they’ll return

To that same game, now tomorrow’s first concern.

Feature - Poem

Evening Walk

Night is falling quietly over the forest, 

Like a small bird on the wing it glides

But silently floats, without a chorus.

Its cloak envelops the trees, and hides

All colour from view, the only shade left

Is black; all colours are gone as if by theft.

A lone wolf howls, thanking the night

For dimming the sky, turning it black,

And dimming the shine of the snow, silver-white.

I start forwards again, my foot on the track

This wolf had made, its prints in the snow

Are beckoning, telling me where to go.

The wind blows softly, rattling the branches

Of the slumbering trees, and stirring up wisps

It’s a warning I ignore - I like to take chances.

What fun is life if you don’t take risks?

The branches are frightening but quite harmless.

They don’t scare me; they continue regardless.

Between the gaps of wind-blown cloud,

The stars glitter above, like specks of silver,

Shining in the navy black of heaven’s shroud.

The clouds flow smoothly on like a pale river,

Hiding the stars and filtering moonbeams

That fall to the earth in brilliant streams.

The forest stops and the treeline gives way

To a field, covered in snow and drifted smooth

Except for the set of tracks, leading ever away

The wolf howls again, it’s cry to soothe

And assure - it’s far away, too far to find.

I turn back to the forest in shadow defined.

The wind slows, and decreases its sound.

The darkness settles calmly on the land,

The clouds keep light from falling on the ground.

Behind me the trees coldly and boldly stand.

As I reach home, the wolf howls once more -

And night is left like it was before.

Feature - Poem

Mountain Sunset

I’m sitting on a wooded hill, facing west

As evening falls, and dusk draws near.

The indomitable peaks in front of me shine,

with a bright alpenglow, gently illuminating

The lifeless craigs of stone.

The light of the setting sun shines

On the trunks of the trees around me,

Till they shine with a mahogany shade

The colour given only briefly

As a parting gift before the sun disappears.

The sky deepens to a shade of Cerulean,

And now only the clouds glow with colour -

Red and orange and purple and pink

Catching my eye and sparking my wonder

At the silent, majestic beauty of the sky.

The night darkens further, now dark as schorl

And the stars glitter warmly above, 

Like a handful of luminous pebbles

Strewn evenly over the rich, velvet depths

Of the night sky’s mesmerizing darkness.

A nightingale sings somewhere above my head.

Tonight it sings a lamentful dirge.

As the song floats across the hills,

Every note is ingrained in my memory.

Night falls fully now. And with it, peace.

Feature - Poem

Birch

As I sit here on the porch

On a beautiful August day,

I stare at the majestic tree

Rising proudly into the sky.

Regally and silently soaking up

The last rays of the summer sun.

Its white parchment bark is a beautiful

Contrast to its glossy green leaves,

Jagged on the edges

But not as sharp as they seem.

When the wind blows through its boughs

Its leaves make only the softest sigh.

They don’t try to hold the breeze,

But let it slip by and disappear

Like the last draughts of a dying river.

In the summer it stands so proudly,

Giving shade to the children and animals

That play in its coolness, and bask

In its beautiful, refreshing shadow.

Autumn comes, and the tree is cloaked

In splendid shades of saffron and amber.

When the wind blows now the tree

Releases its leaves with sorrowful regret,

Holding onto a few like some precious secrets,

Letting the rest be taken and scattered

Like the dying hopes of a forgotten love.

Soon the tree is decked with snow

And frost clings to its branches.

In the depths of winter

The tree looks so lost, so forlorn,

Like an old stray dog

That’s forgotten its name.

It stands like an old worn-down scarecrow,

Out of place and useless in purpose.

And it’s then, as the icy winds whip

And the flurries fall

That I wonder

If the tree remembers the summer;

The children playing, 

Butterflies dancing,

And the songbirds’ ballads.

It’s then, in the midst of winter and the cold,

That I wonder if it remembers

The warmth of the sun,

The rustle of its foliage,

And the splendid sight it was.

I wonder if it remembers

Being truly

Alive.