thmrevel

Just when you think you’re safe, Spring rolls around again, and before you know it, it’s time for the A to Z Challenge. I didn’t participate last year due to having too much on my plate, so I’m really looking forward to getting back in there this year. (Remind me in May that I actually wrote that.)


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A-to-Z+Reflection+[2015]+-+LgWell, the A to Z Challenge is done and dusted, but, truth be told, I’m still pretty exhausted from the whole thing. If I go dark and disappear from the Interwebs for a while, you’ll know why. But not before I write a post about the whole experience.

This was my second year participating in the challenge, but this is my first reflections post on it. I didn’t do one for last year, mainly because I didn’t really have anything to say. This year, however, I do. This year, I had a goal, and I wanted to explore the whole endeavor, as well as talk about what it might mean for the future of the blog (well, that sounds ominous, but it’s not, really).


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Zelkova paddled across the lake, taking care to disturb the water as little as possible. She slipped the oar in the water, pulled it towards her, and gently lifted it before repeating the process all over again. She could almost believe she was alone, and that she was paddling out in the open air. Crystals sparkled in the cavern ceiling, and Zelkova could almost believe that they were stars.

Ruby turned and scowled at her. “Do we have to go so slow?” She pushed a lock of red hair away from her freckled face. “At this rate, we’ll never get there.”

“We’re going fast enough, especially since it’s just me paddling. I could pitch you overboard—see how fast we go then.” She smiled.


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Yew

Isobel walked around the mound of earth as crickets chirped in the evening air. On the hill, the branches of a great yew stretched across the twilit sky. The old woman had told her to come here—either at twilight or dawn. Isobel hadn’t wanted to wait, and so here she was, wandering through darkening field as the dampened grass chilled her feet.

She looked around, but the hill and surrounding field remained empty, other than the one yew tree. She turned towards it as she remembered what the old woman had told her. Kneel, she had said. Kneel and then bleed.


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“Xantho-what?” Widow Mayfair said from the plush red armchair in her stately parlor.

Ceras sighed. “Ceras. Xanthoceras. Everyone just calls me Ceras, though.”

The widow sniffed. “I should hope so. What were your parents thinking, giving you such a name? And for such a scrawny lad.” She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “A person needs to grow into a name like that. If you ever do, I’ll eat my handkerchief.” She put such a handkerchief up to her nose, peering at Ceras over frills of lace with rheumy and disdainful eyes.


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With introducing Hazel earlier in the H post, I thought it would be fun to continue with her as well for W. This one is more an exploration of her background and character than a story. But I enjoyed getting to know her a little bit better.


 

Witch Hazel and Willow

 

“Witches wither and warlocks weather,” Willow chanted in a melodious voice as she walked along a winding forest trail. “That’s the difference between us.”

Hazel frowned and wrinkled her nose. “That’s not much of a difference. What is it that they weather, exactly?”

Life, my dear girl. They are like boats in a storm—you’d best cling to one should you ever hope to find safe harbor.”


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