I hope everyone out there that has a passion, whether it be writing, cooking, drawing- whatever it is, I hope they know that it’s lovely. Your passion is nothing to be embarrassed about. If you love doing it, then it doesn’t matter what other people think. You enjoy yourself and have fun.

I am not lonely with you,
but just alone with your love:
this fragrant coincidence dignifies
the freedom between us;
you are the woman who truly
captures my attention,
in any  other way  or form
nothing compares in your rarity;
you prove to me that there is more
to what can we do together:
Oh woman, my saccharine full moon –
you are sincerely everlasting,
on how life simply revolves around us.
—  Chuck Akot, “Oh woman, my saccharine full moon.”

The Tiny Pumpkin: A Children’s Story

Originally posted by sjanweijers

(The story is mine, the gif is not, it’s just super cute)

It had been a long day, but a good day. The churchyard had been filled with kids and their parents and so many pumpkins! There had been hayrides and face painting and even jack o’lantern carvings. Now the sun was starting to go down and it was time for the families to go home. One by one, the grinning pumpkins were carried away by their humans, until everyone had gone.

Everyone, that is, except the tiny pumpkin who had been given two big, triangle eyes and a wide smile.

She’d been so happy when a little girl had picked her from the patch. Surely this was going to be her family! The little girl had held her in her lap all day, and the tiny pumpkin had liked her very much.

But then the little girl had gotten sleepy and her dad put the tiny pumpkin on the ground and they’d left the churchyard. The tiny pumpkin waited and waited for them to come back. How silly of them to have forgotten her!

The gate at the front of the churchyard creaked shut. A shiver went up the tiny pumpkin’s stem, but she said, “My family will come back for me. I must be brave and wait.”

It started to get very dark all around her. The shadows on the ground grew longer and longer. The wind blew through the trees with a low whistle. The tiny pumpkin suddenly missed her spot in the patch. She’d been safe and snug with the other pumpkins.

Even though she was afraid, she said, “My family will come back for me. I must be brave and wait.”

“Hoo,” replied the owl from a branch overhead.

It was big and had round, yellow eyes that were watching the tiny pumpkin.

The tiny pumpkin shivered again.

“My family will come back for me. I must be brave and wait.”

She didn’t like the nighttime. It was scary to be by herself! Where was her family? Why had all the other pumpkins been picked, but not her? She squeezed her eyes shut and began to cry a tiny cry.

“What’s wrong, tiny pumpkin?” Someone asked.

She jumped as only a surprised pumpkin can and opened her eyes. A ghost was floating in front of her. He was white as a sheet and she could see through him.

“I’m scared of the dark,” she said. “And everyone has left me!”

“Have they?” The ghost asked. He looked surprised.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m all alone!”

“You don’t seem alone to me, tiny pumpkin! The shadows have come to keep you company. Don’t you see them?”

“Yes,” the tiny pumpkin replied slowly.

“And the wind is whistling for you. Don’t you hear it?” The ghost cupped a hand around his ear.

“Yes,” said the tiny pumpkin, and her smile had started to come back.

“And the owl is watching over you. And now I am here, too!”

The tiny pumpkin looked around again. The shadows waved. The wind’s whistled cheerfully. The owl fluffed itself up, so soft and cute. Suddenly, she did not feel so alone at all! But it was still very dark, and she was still afraid.

“I’m scared of the dark,” she whispered.

The ghost floated down to lay on his stomach in front of her. “But, tiny pumpkin, you don’t have to be afraid of the dark!”

“I don’t?”

“No! You’re made to shine! Just think of things that make you happy.”

The tiny pumpkin thought of the little girl and her family. How happy she’d been when they’d picked her. But she did not shine. The tiny pumpkin frowned.

“I don’t think I’m meant to shine,” she said sadly. That must have been why she’d been left behind.

“Of course you are,” the ghost said. “Everyone shines in their own way. Go on, close your eyes and think of happy things!”

The tiny pumpkin closed her eyes. At first, she didn’t know what to think of. But then she began to picture the shadows and the wind and the owl, who had all come to keep her company. And she thought of the ghost, who had been so nice to her. She had felt so alone, but she hadn’t ever been alone at all!

A little warm spot began to grow in the tiny pumpkin, and when she opened her eyes again, light was coming from within her. The night wasn’t so dark anymore!

“I’m shining!” She said happily.

The ghost nodded. “I knew you could!”

“You know, I don’t think it’s so bad here after all,” she said. “Not if I have friends like you.”

And from then on, the tiny pumpkin, Patch, and the ghost, Boobury, were the very best of friends, and the churchyard was never quite so dark again.

Forbidden: Chapter 1

@im5ftbutmythroat66 @dramaqueenamby @amethyst1993 @eriknutinthispoosy @tntnv @vikkidc @dramaqueenamby @hearteyes-for-killmonger @awkwardlyabstract @supersizemeplz @wakanda-inspired @chaneajoyyy @theunsweetenedtruth @forbeautyandlife @amethyst1993 @pumpkinmcqueen @andienoire @justanotherwriteress 

Copyrighted 2018. OnyxVixen. All rights reserve

1863 New Orleans, Louisiana…

           Scarlet seeped steadily from beneath Xavier’s prone battered body, his breathing shallow with coughs of ruby trickling down from the corners of his parted lips. Fields upon fields of sugar cane were lit ablaze while ashes floated into the treacherous twilight sky as it suffocated the lungs of the slave men who charged towards the men who had deemed them savages. Metal clank against another while shouts of fear echoed throughout the dense swaps from the slave women as they lead their children to the North, where it was said that they would find peace in their long-shattered world. While his brethren fought with all valor, one by one they were struck down with everlasting fear in their eyes yet, Xavier showed no sorrow for his fate as he laid in the blood-soaked dirt, letting the coldness of his hatred to seep further into his weary bones.

           Tilting his loc hair head upward so that his deep bronze gaze could look above him, they landed on a rare almond shaded beauty sprawled on her side not far from him whose perfectly heart shaped face was half covered by the thick curly ink mane that was matted with blood that stuck against her forehead and neck. The once decorative emerald gown, given by the head master’s sister, was torn in several places and clouded with her life essence as an axe laid buried in her swollen abdominal. Unmistakable peace graced her delicate features as the dimming gleam of love finally faded from her coco eyes. A slight tilt of her crimson stain lips perched in a sad innocent smile towards him. With one arm out stretched towards him, a sparkle of something gold peeked from her partly open hand. It was the lunar eclipse locket she had managed to hide since the day she was stolen that held a piece of soil from her motherland, Haiti. Knowing it was her most prized possession, giving to her by the Goddess of wisdom and patience, Gran Ibo. She had sought him out in the midst of the carnage that had commence instead of feeling with the other to give him such gift. His lily of the valley had wanted him to have a piece of her. So that one-day Gran Ibo would bring him to her again but, he now knew that would never be.

           Feeling an unwanted tear slowly falling from his left eye, Xavier heaved another wretched cough, spraying more blood unto his soil clothing. Never again will her smile that was bright as the morning horizon bring gladness into his lonely heart. Nor fell her satisfying warmth of her supple skin against his as he brought her to climax. death would soon be his one true lover and it was inevitable to resist its allure. As time moved in slow waves, the battle for freedom roar on while the coldness within him finally crept into his unsteady beating organ as the darkness edged further and further into his vision. 

           It was then the heavy foot falls of someone approaching fell faintly unto his weak ears. The constant thumping of heels striking the gravel gave way to the throbbing pain that was present inside of Xavier’s head until black well-made shoes stop near his head, making him glance up to the being that now shadow him.

           Everything about the man that now stood over him was draped in perpetual darkness. From the blue-black of his skin to the long black trench cloak that hung off his wide imperial shoulders. If not for the scorching blaze that consumed any and all life around him, Xavier may have assumed that Death had sent her messenger for him. 

           Another couching spell fell from his sore throat as he tried to speak

           “*coughs* Kill meee *cough* cough* for I-I will NOT beg for my *cough* life.”

           The Shadow Man continued to stare in utter silence as he openly scanned Xavier’s blood ridden body before crouching down and extending his right hand towards the massive gaping wound in his chest. On contact, searing inferno pain filtered throughout Xavier, spreading deep through his large frame tissue and into his feeble veins with precision. The coldness that had crept into his hardline body fused with him as the blood beneath him seeped back into his body.

           A thunderous roar expelled from his lungs.

           “I willed you to live… Xavier.”

           Pressing harder onto his chest, the Shadow Man chanted a litany of words that went unheard as Xavier’s roars grew louder and louder as the man’s hand press deeper. Juts when the excruciating pain became unbearable, it quickly left him leaving behind abundance of supremacy that felt other worldly flowing through his complete being. Removing his hand from him, the Shadow Man stood to his full height then gave Xavier his hand. Unwilling to accept aide, he knocked the man hands away before jumping to his feet.

           “What have y-”

           His words were cut off by a ravenous shout as one of the master’s men charged towards him, wielding a butcher’s knife high in his grip. Not wanting to give his enemy the success he sought, Xavier backhanded the spiteful, sending him flying several feet into the scorching fields. Unable to believe what had happened, he glanced down at the palms of his hands.

           “This is the power you once begged to behold over your enemies, Xavier. Use these gifts to exact the revenge you so truly seek for your fallen brethren… Sisters-”

           The Shadow Man glanced down towards the almond beauty.

           “Your wife.”

           Curling his hands into fists, Xavier flex his new-found muscles, feeling the power within him coil tightly around his heart.

           “Who are you? And why have you chosen me?”

           A moment passed between them as the Shadow Man took his time before his onyx gaze latched onto Xavier.

           “You may call me Ivan and as to why I have chosen you… It is because YOU out of all your kind know the burden that has befallen an entire nation. YOU who has the strength to carry out what no one else will do.”

           Giving Xavier’s is back, Ivan turned and started to walk away.

           “At what price must I pay for such gifts?” Xavier yelled towards Ivan.

           Stopping in his tracks, Ivan slightly turned his head so that the corner of his dark gaze was focused on him.

           “To never love again… THAT is my price. Make this vow here and now.”

           Xavier shot his gaze towards his one and only beloved before casting his eyes back to Ivan.

           “I vow that I, Xavier Etienne, will never love again.”

           Dark energy shrouded and fused into his once thriving heart, allowing the coldness to set firmly in the center of his soul.

           “Harness these gifts I have bestowed upon you for one day I will call upon you to serve me.”

           With his last parting word, Ivan vanished into the thick ominous night leaving Xavier’s shadow to flicker against the orange and red flames.

Intoxicated.

Tonight I will get drunk

And I will think of you again.

Between shots of whiskey and

Sips of lemonade,

I will think too much

About all the things I stop myself from thinking

When I’m sober.

And I will never tell you,

But I think

Deep down

You already know.

Soooo Tattoos and Tiramisu will be coming out in January.

I’ve been working hard on my precious baby for almost two years. I’m self publishing it with help from Patchwork Press. I’m about to be working on what should be, if things go well, the second to last draft of Tattoos and Tiramisu (the last draft being line edits). 

Things are going to be ramping up over the next couple of months while I try to get ya’ll as hyped as I am for this thing to be out in the world!

Here’s a quick list of things to get your butts ready for:

1. Official synopsis

2. Cover reveal

3. Playlist posts (including details as to why they’re on my playlist for this wonderful book)

4. First Chapter early snippet

5. Who knows what else, I’m not used to doing this stuff!

Hope to tickle your fancy soon!

Originally posted by wantbefit

I want to play another game….

If some one can tell me what IT’s name (from Twisted Vol.4: M.I.N.E.) I will drop the entire FIRST Chapter of Forbidden from the Dark Veil Series tonight.

Hint: yes…. IT’s name is in the story….

May the odds be ever in your favor 😈

@im5ftbutmythroat66 @dramaqueenamby @amethyst1993 @eriknutinthispoosy @tntnv @vikkidc @dramaqueenamby @hearteyes-for-killmonger @awkwardlyabstract @supersizemeplz @wakanda-inspired @chaneajoyyy @theunsweetenedtruth @amethyst1993 @pumpkinmcqueenhitpostlimit @andienoire @justanotherwriteress

————————————————————————

Update

Annnnd our lucky winner is none other than @im5ftbutmythroat66. Congrats love! For those who are just tuning in the answer was ELGOIS and yes…. that is an actual name and i highly suggest no one call on him lol.

Thanks for playing… Until next time 😈

I can’t stress enough how cool it is to be a writer/artist! Like sometimes people will say it’s lame or dorky or something but you are taking something that doesn’t exist and making it a reality (in a way), like you’re converting pure imagination into a visible form! Can’t you see how amazing that is? That’s like a superpower! Use your superpower!

James Baldwin teaching, late 1970s. 

“For nothing is fixed, forever and forever and forever, it is not fixed; the earth is always shifting, the light is always changing, the sea does not cease to grind down rock. Generations do not cease to be born, and we are responsible to them because we are the only witnesses they have. The sea rises, the light fails, lovers cling to each other, and children cling to us. The moment we cease to hold each other, the sea engulfs us and the light goes out.”

“It is a very rare man who does not victimize the helpless.”

No really.

Taking the bullet out does nothing to help the person, and if your characters are in the field instead of a hospital, may actually cause more harm than good.

Imagine for a moment that you (for reasons unknown to all) decided to turn your sink on wide open, pick up a handgun, and shoot the pipes under your sink.

Maybe it hit the drain pipe, which would be bad, since all the water coming through the faucet is now dribbling out all over the floor. But even worse would be if it hit the water intake pipe, right? In that case, water under high pressure would be spraying everywhere!

Two bad options if you for some reason shoot your sink:

The vascular system of the human body is essentially one big set of pipes. The drain pipe? Those would be veins—under low pressure, but still very bad to leak from. The water intake pipe? Those would be the arteries—under high pressure and VERY dangerous to puncture.

But back to the sink example. Say you shot the pipes and hit the drain pipe (vein). Now there’s water pouring out onto the floor. Your roommate says “Quick! Wrap your hand around the pipe to hold the water in!” (“Put pressure on the wound!”) And you do! Water is still slipping out from under your hand, but it’s leaking a lot less than before! Right now, you COULD find some duct tape (bandages) and secure the pipe further so you don’t have to keep holding it.

Instead, however, you say to your roommate: “Hold on! I’ve got to find the bullet!” You let go of the pipe (stop putting pressure on the wound) to dig around in the cabinet (body) for the bullet. Seconds, maybe even minutes pass, and that pipe is freely gushing out water the whole time. 

Finally, you find it! You pry the bullet out of the wood, hold it up to your roommate, and drop it in a little metal dish with a ‘clink’.

“Job well done,” you tell yourself. “We’re out of the woods now.”

Except that, you know, the pipe is still damaged and gushing water out onto the floor, and the bullet wasn’t actually doing anything harmful inside the cabinet. Also, while you were rummaging around for little Houdini, you weren’t putting pressure on the pipe, so that sink (patient) lost a whole lot of water (blood) that it didn’t need to. Can you imagine how much more it would have been if you’d hit the water intake pipe (artery) instead?

I know what you’re thinking. “But in movies—!!” And I know. But here’s the thing: Hollywood? It’s a bouquet of lies. I’m sorry. I really am.

In fact, even that distinctly bullet-shaped thing you usually see pulled out of people in movies may not always be true. Many times the bullet mushrooms out or becomes malformed. Depending on what that bullet ran into (like bone) it might have even broken into a dozen pieces. Try digging those out of your protagonist!

Now sometimes, but not always, doctors WILL remove the bullet (or fragments of bullet). For example, if they’ve already got the patient in surgery, and AFTER they’ve already repaired any veins, arteries, and organs to the best of their ability. Or if the patient doesn’t need surgery (if it didn’t hit anything major and is just lodged in the muscle or fat) but doctors notice that the bullet or fragment is likely to cause damage if left inside the patient. 

More often than not, however, the bullet isn’t doing anything actively damaging while inside the patient, or the removal of the bullet would be more dangerous than leaving it where it is. This is why most bullets don’t get removed at all. 

This is true if your characters are at a hospital, but ESPECIALLY if this is a field job. If trained physicians with all the tools at their disposal, blood transfusions, and a sterile environment most likely won’t take the bullet out, then Dave McSide-Character should DEFINITELY not be sticking his filthy, 5-straight-chapters-of-parkour fingers or his I-just-stabbed-a-guy-but-I-wiped-the-blood-off-on-my-pants knife inside the protagonist to fish around for some bullet that isn’t even causing harm. The recommended way to deal with a gunshot wound in the field? Pack it with gauze (or yes, even a filthy we’ve-been-on-the-run-for-two-weeks-in-the-same-clothes t-shirt if that’s all you have. Wound infection is a different post) and keep constant pressure on it.

Remember: stopping the leak in the sink is the most important thing. Not rummaging around in the cabinet for the bullet. Taking it out does literally nothing.

Two perfectly realistic reasons why you might have a character take the bullet out:

Now, sometimes, depending on the characters or the world you’re writing in, this might be different. In some instances, you might want to write the lead-scavenger-hunt scene in!

The first reason is if they just don’t know

And that’s really important when writing realistically. Not everyone is a professional in emergency wound care. Most people get all their knowledge of emergency medicine from Grey’s Anatomy and House M.D.

  • If your character has any medical training? Probably don’t do it
  • If your character has any military or police training? Some know, some don’t, so writing it either way is believable. It’s a toss-up, but they DO have more experience with gunshot wounds (either personally, witnessed, or in training videos and word of mouth)
  • If your character is a 17-year-old art student who saw blood for the very first time two chapters ago? Well now that character might just try digging for the bullet

And hey, maybe they’re like “I’m gonna get the bullet out!” but another character (the one who was shot, another character in the room, maybe even a 911 operator) steps in and says “No, no, no! Just put pressure on it!”

But regardless, injured characters in movies are always suddenly on the mend after the bullet is taken out. The vitals start to rise, they aren’t gasping for breath, their hand closes firmly around the love-interest’s hand, etc. And this doesn’t happen. Regardless of what your character does, the rules of biology are still in play.

In the end, though, that bullet’s just minding its own business in there. The #1 priority is fixing the damage it caused on the way in.

The second reason is if the bullet is special

This is more for the SciFi/Fantasy writers.

If your character is a werewolf and was just shot by a silver bullet which is stopping their healing process and is slowly killing them? Yeah, take it out

If the bullet is actually some sort of tiny robot designed to burrow into their organs one by one? Yeah, take it out.

If the bullet had a spell or curse placed on it? Yeah, take it out.

If they need to get transported up to the med bay, but the bullet would cause some kind of issue with the transporters? Yeah, take it out.

But in all of these examples, the bullet has to be inherently dangerous. For normal humans with normal bullets, its just a hunk of lead. 

Hope this helped some of you action writers out there!

Good luck and good writing!


Disclaimer: In the event that you or someone you know has been shot, the best thing to do for them is call for an ambulance and follow the instructions provided by the operator. This post is intended to give accurate writing advice to authors and script writers, but I am not a medical professional. While I do believe that the research that I’ve done on this topic is factually accurate, it should not be taken as actual medical advice.

N.K. Jemisin Quotes

Nora K. Jemisin (born September 19, 1972) is an American speculative fiction writer. Her fiction explores a wide variety of themes, including cultural conflict and oppression. She has won several awards for her work, including the Locus Award, and is the only author to have won the Hugo Award for Best Novel in three consecutive years.

In 2010, Jemisin’s short story “Non-Zero Probabilities” was a finalist for the Hugo and Nebula Best Short Story Awards. Her debut novel, The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, was nominated for the 2010 Nebula Award, and short-listed for the James Tiptree Jr. Award. In 2011, it was nominated for the Hugo Award, World Fantasy Award, and Locus Award, winning the 2011 Locus Award for Best First Novel. The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms also won the Sense of Gender Awards in 2011.

In 2016, Jemisin’s novel The Fifth Season won the Hugo Award for Best Novel, making her the first African American writer to win a Hugo award in that category. Its sequels, The Obelisk Gate and The Stone Sky, won the Hugo Award for Best Novel in 2017 and 2018, respectively.


“Any woman can face the world alone, but why should we have to?” 

― N.K. Jemisin, The Shadowed Sun


“In a child’s eyes, a mother is a goddess. She can be glorious or terrible, benevolent or filled with wrath, but she commands love either way. I am convinced that this is the greatest power in the universe.” 

― N.K. Jemisin, The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms


“We can never be gods, after all–but we can become something less than human with frightening ease.” 

― N.K. Jemisin, The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms

Keep reading