You've Got Male Models

A 20-year old prodigy heart surgeon, Chris Cahill, did not expect to share her apartment (or her life) with two aspiring male models when she finally gains her independence. A story in the process of their interesting (and equally hilarious!) adventures of three different individuals living in the present.


I write on a whim, and somewhere along the line, I have collected journals full of phrases and ideas that I use to spark a story. Got any ideas, feel free to share them. How would you interpret a JournalWord?


Gladiators, Bad-ass priests, Robots, Demons, Cowboys, Demon-Cowboys, Fast-food cashiers, Ninjas, Butlers, Pirates, Sailors... The list goes on and they all make me swoon! (We are instant best buddies if you feel the same, just saying)


Albeit reluctantly, Sarah finds herself with the responsibility of raising an angel after he crashes from the sky. Sci-fi, supernatural, and a little silly.


I'm a fiend. *cheeky smile*

Wednesday, 31 July 2013


JournalWord: Branded


She giggles as she flames the needle point of the pin through the candle light and all I can do is trust her.

Maybe I should be a little nervous, I mean, she does seem unnaturally cheery brandishing that pin. Then again, all those pain killers are making me float, so I smile when she scoots closer to me.

I don't know what she whispers into my ear before she pierces it, I'm distracted by the shine of her dark hair, but what she says afterwards rings sharper than the action.

"You're mine now."


I'm extremely out of whack right now, with my days switched with my nights, and my work schedule taking up most of my awake hours...

I'm a mess.

I mean, all I want right now is to take a walk. 
You'd think it would be an easy request at 4 in the morning.

Well, I'll have to put up with my frustration for now, and hopefully by next week I'll start getting back into my routine and crank out cute creative juices :)

Keep cheery,

Wednesday, 17 July 2013

An Opera Unfolds

This is one of my chapters for a collaboration that a great friend and I are doing. My post with Marie Curie  was also included (with a few tweaks). Also, check out my collaboration partner, JeromeR.Vandamme! He's a fantastic writer! :)


Shutting the door behind me, all noise ceases abruptly like a wall blocking the notes of a concerto. There are little groups of people packed into the corners of the halls, hushing each other to check over their shoulders before continuing their whispers.

Grasping my file folders closer to my chest, I tip-toe down the hallway from Personal History lecture and out of the nearest exit to the courtyard to escape the crackling hum.

Another door to shut, but now I can finally breathe. From a room where my instructors mindlessly repeat what my music style should be, to a hallway where the tension could snap a violin bow before it settles it's strings. Days like today, I wish for the deafness Beethoven has now been spared.

Forcing my chin up and away from its familiar perch on the tops of my music sheets, I set a course to my studio, pondering the source of the rumors.

Where did Martha go?

It was awfully strange for her to not make her rounds before ten last night to bid everyone sweet dreams. Absently my hand prods the bags under my eyes. The instructors had not been happy with them or my honest explanation. Although they did not answer my question regarding Martha's disappearance.

"She has bid a leave, probably for a vacation of sorts, and she'll be back soon, I'm sure. Now, get some sleep Mozart; Headmaster will not be pleased when her genius is not presentable for his next concerto."

Sighing, I drop a hand onto the handle of the Arts building door and breathe. "My concerto," I say in an exhale, and finally twist the handle to let myself in.

"Wolf! Wait up!"

Turning around I hold open the door for Marie and instantly my worries clear away when she smiles. I can still remember when I had caught her in my studio, hesitantly brushing the keys. She was embarrassed. Now she's a complete opposite from the girl who I had seen glimpses in the Personal History hallway.

"How is your opera coming along?" she asks, and I groan inwardly at the reminder.

"It's.. coming along. I have a concerto I also have to work on."

She nods understandably, and we walk in silence to my studio. With the glass doors shut, we head to my piano where she immediately seats herself on the bench and practices her scales while I start sorting the two pieces I am working on into their respective piles.

 "Have you heard the rumors?" she asks nonchalantly without a break in her scales.

I cut myself on a couple sheets from my startle and plop my left index finger into my mouth. "About Martha?" I mumble around my finger.

She nods her wispy bun. "They're saying that she has gone off on vacation," she says with a snort. "But she wouldn't have gone without telling us, right? And anyways, the rumor is that she's finally gotten in trouble with Headmaster."

I suck on my cut as my heart drops from my chest to my belly. There is a dull thud of my heartbeat as I recall Headmaster's cold attitude towards Martha last week when she had complained that I shouldn't have to do a concerto and opera scheduled for this weekend.

"Salvador!" Marie calls abruptly and I snap my head up to see Salvador pass by the studio in the hallway. She's off the bench and opening the door to greet our friend in an instant. Her gasp resonates throughout the room. "Your eyes, Salvador.."

He brushes off her comment with a shrug and I notice the dark bruise over his right eye, partially hidden by his long locks. His hair is usually swept up out of her face, but today it looks greasy and wild.

"What happened?" I ask, dumbfounded that anyone would resort to violence on campus.

"Nothing," he answers but he's not looking at either of us. His eyes are sweeping over our heads. "An instructor got on my nerves, that's all."

"Well, maybe Martha-" Marie starts, but stops herself.

At her dejection, Salvador finally turns to look at her and relaxes, placing a hand on her head to reassure her. I creep closer to them and grab hold of Marie's hand.

"Don't worry," he says, voice clear, and I'm surprised to recognize anger hidden underneath his words. "I'll find her."


And I should really be finishing up the next chapter since it's my turn -.-

Keep cheery!

Tuesday, 9 July 2013

Happy 100th Post!

This will be the hundredth post I'll have posted on this blog, and it has been an insane and inspiring ride since my first post.

We've made it through:

  • Failures in stranded island fiction
  • Short stories about OCD cashiers and mafia geniuses
  • Aspiring male models and a young doctor
  • Angels crashing into the life of a secretary
  • JournalWords that become stranger by the moment
  • A maybe not-so-subtle hint of a threesome story
  • Gang nurses fighting off perverts
  • Lots of stories about demons
  • Lists cooked up in minutes
  • A wedding phase
  • Actually, loads of strange phases.. (can you name them all?)
  • Zombies and their evil organization (which hasn't done some evil in a long time..)
  • Kinky games
  • A peek into the characteristics of a masochist
And a bunch more topics and ideas that I'm definitely going to expand and add to. 

This blog was created with the sole purpose of reawakening my adoration with writing my fantasies and creating an outlet to deter my building depression.

Let's just say, it's working. :)

I've worked through some tough times, including some bouts of depression, stress and writer's block, and reacquainted myself with the joys of living.

My familiar positivism is back and eager for the adventures that are bound to come in the future (skydiving, anyone?).

Thank you all who come back here for a read and for those that have endured through the strange workings of my mind. I adore you all! :)

So, until my 200th post, I hope you all enjoy the fantastical, fictitious world I have conjured up :D  

Keep cheery and I hope you have an excellent day!


Monday, 1 July 2013


The 5th installment of Bless!
It's just a filler at the moment, because this is such a slow story, but I've mapped out the rest of the story so it definitely is coming together :)
And to all the Canadians: HAPPY CANADA DAY!!!


Sam pauses his knuckles over the grain of Sarah's apartment door, twisting slightly to procure his cell phone from the pocket of his sweat pants to check the time. He sucks in a breath at the late hour, glad he hadn't knocked, in case they are asleep. Stepping back, he scrummages for the nick in the door frame, tongue peeking at his intense concentration as he feels the boards making up the frame with his fingertips.

Dropping his duffelbag onto the floor, he snags the thin string painted the same colour as the boards, and hooks it with his pinky. Tugging the key out of the hidden nook, he chuckles in triumph.

"That little sneaky creature," he playfully chides as he sticks the key into the doorknob and unlocks the door with a congratulatory ping of successfully interlocking metal hooks. 'Always thinking up new hiding places. Hasn't changed a bit.'

Softly, he peels the door open, surprised the lights of the apartment are all on. He recognizes the blaring of infomercials from the living room and he frowns, hoping she hasn't waited up for him.

Locking the door behind him and abandoning his bag with his shoes, his frown lifts at a corner when he enters the scene. Holding back a chuckle, he tiptoes to the T.V. to switch it off, silencing the incessant chattering and revealing the snores escaping from the couch.

For a moment he just watches, absorbing the oblivious couple tucked into the cushions. 'No wrinkles', he marvels, relieved to see his childhood friend as she was years before the worry and stress inhabited her thin shoulders and collected on her brow.

Her hair is tousled, splayed out around her face like an aura to highlight her cheekbones and jaw. A strand tickles her temple and she absently scrunches her face to deter the offending lock. She has slid down the couch to lay across the length of the furniture, her right arm tossed above her head, and her left wrapped around the boy snuggled deep into her chest.

A spark of jealousy spikes through his veins and he remembers the challenging stare the "innocent angel" had displayed.

"You damn cheat," he hisses, and attempts to wipe off the pout that wants to settle on his lips. Instead, to break the losing battle and to satisfy the jealousy building up inside his chest, he pokes Sarah in the cheek, none-too-gently, to wake her up.

After the fifth poke, all unforgiving, she starts to move, although only to shift away from the attack. "Leave me alone," she mutters in her sleep, slipping her arm from around Blue and flipping away to face the back of the couch. "I'm sleepy."

He almost doesn't contain his laughter when Blue is effectively tossed off the edge of the couch from her roll. Managing to stifle his laughter to a smug grin, he remarks, "Looks like both of us are on our own tonight."

Noticing her struggle to curl up against the couch, he twists his mouth before scooping her up into his arms. She doesn't move a lid as she settles into the crooks of his arms as he transfers her into her own bed. Automatically, she sinks into her familiar duvet and pillow, ignoring the feelings of the man watching over her.

Sighing, he pivots on his heel, ready to make himself comfortable on her couch, when he realizes who is making his way to the bedroom.

"Oh, no, you don't," he whispers, wrenching Blue out of the doorway and into the living room. "You get the love seat and I'll take the couch, you sneak," he announces, waiting pointedly for Blue to obey.

As if taking the moment to think over the demand, Blue slowly complies and lays on the cushions, not meeting Sam's eyes as he stares off at the ceiling. Taking this as a sign of obedience, Sam retrieves the spare blankets and pillows from her hallway closet and tosses one of each to the motionless boy before settling himself on the couch so his long legs hang off an armrest with minimal discomfort.


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