The Confabulator Cafe

Author: ajaquays

  • Snakebite

    Sweat stung Trish’s eyes and she scrubbed her face with the hem of her threadbare shirt. When the shirt was new, it stretched taught over her soft belly. Now it hung limply and revealed the hollowed dimples of her ribcage as she lifted it.

    “Why’s it called the Library?” Susannah’s youthful tones cut through the silence of the barren wasteland.

    “In the old days, libraries housed thousands of books,” Lani responded as she stirred the pot of what would have to pass as soup—cactus water flavored with old bones, cactus chunks, and whatever insects, snakes, and rodents happened across their path.

    They were a ragtag bunch that she held together with little more than hopes and hollow promises that things would be better once they reached the Library. Most people thought it was a fairytale. They weren’t far off. It existed. At least, it did eight months prior when she dropped off her last group of survivors.

    “What’s a book?” Thomas cut in predictably. Though they were siblings, he shared few features in common with bright-eyed Susannah.

    “It’s how people used to pass along knowledge before the turn of the century. Before information went digital.” Lani couldn’t have been more than a child before the digital era began, when physical books were recycled as passé and replaced with space-saving tablets. Even Trish herself could count on her fingers how many times she’d seen an actual book, much less held one. (more…)

  • Missing Days

    I sat at the edge of the forest in a pile of torn clothing and howled. Long moments of silence answered my call and then, in the distance, I heard a response. I felt heat rush through my body, burning away the foggy haze that surrounded me since awakening.  A sense of belonging settled over me.

    The ground melted away beneath me as I ran deeper into the forest as I followed a familiar scent on the wind. I could catch faint whiffs of them on passing branches. I flung my head back and howled. The response came much quicker this time. My stride lengthened.

    Excited yips greeted me as I came into the clearing outside a den. Home, a whisper came from the back of my brain. Tiny pups slammed into my sides, all teeth and claws and fur. Mine. (more…)

  • The Promise of Running Water

    The aged wood creaked beneath Tasha’s feet as she peered through the dusty windowpane into the dark interior. Nothing. This was the last window she could check and she hadn’t seen even the slightest sign of life. Either it really was abandoned or they were hiding out upstairs. She retreated to the steps of the porch and beckoned. A dusky skinned woman appeared from the woods and moments later a boy’s head peeked out around her waist. Their clothes were filthy and most of their skin was caked in dirt. Tasha knew she looked no better.

    “Looks clear. We’ll need to complete a room by room search when we enter, but it should be safe for the night. If we’re lucky, there will be running water.”

    “If we’re lucky, there will be food stores,” Leesha said. She drew a pistol from her waistband. “Is the door unlocked?”

    “In a moment.” Tasha knelt at the door and slid two thin wires into the lock. “Give me a hand, Rupe?” At her signal, the boy twisted the knob and she shouldered open the door. The wires disappeared into her wristband and she drew her own pistol. “Stay close.”

    Staircase, closet, three rooms to choose from. She started with the closet. Nothing in there. “Get inside. The usual knock. If you hear any other pattern or if somebody opens the door—”

    “I’ll shoot them.” (more…)

  • The Smell of Christmas

    The coffee shop smelled like Christmas when I walked in—rotten eggnog, burnt pie, and BO. I pinched the bridge of my nose, of all the days he chose to stop living up to my expectations, it was on the day that more than anything I needed to guzzle the world’s largest coffee—as advertised on the chalk signboard—in peace.

    I drew in a deep breath—through my mouth, because there are some smells you’d rather not be in your nose—and winded my way through the overcrowded tables to one in the back corner populated by a man in a stained crimson hoodie with the hood pulled up over a baseball cap.

    He grunted and pushed one of the cups of coffee closer to me. I watched as it sloshed over the sides of the cup and dribbled onto the table. I clasped my hands in front of me on the table and leaned forward. “What’s this all about?”

    “It’s good to see you, Sam,” he grunted. “Thanks for coming out on such short notice.”

    “Sure. Whatever. Are you in trouble?”

    “Why would you think that?”

    “Because the only reasons you’ve ever called me in the past decade is because you needed something.” I tried not to breathe in too deeply in his presence.

    “Fine. I was trying to be… nevermind. I finally found it.” He hauled a box out of his rank backpack and dropped it on the table. He’d wrapped it in dark green paper with snowmen and Santa hats all over it. Plaid ribbon wrapped about it several times and finished in an oversized, lopsided bow.”

    “Found what?”

    “It.” He gestured at the box. “It’s in there.” (more…)

  • Making Up for Lost Time

    You may have noticed something missing last week. Around 10am I had a “CRAP I was supposed to write a blog post!” moment but was at work and did not have time to sit down and do it. So I told myself that evening I would go in and write it. Then it was Wednesday and I realized “CRAP. I forgot.”

    That was a pretty good summary of my last week. Potentially even the entirety of the month. Though I suppose it isn’t so much that I’ve been forgetting to write but rather that I’ve been lacking motivation. I have sat down every day and poured words onto the page. Some days it’s been close to 3k, other days it’s closer to 100 words. Per NaNo’s tracker my average daily word count is hovering around 1550. If I excluded the skewed data, my actual daily average would likely be closer to 1400. Which is really great!

    It’s also not a pace that I can even remotely keep up with throughout the rest of the year. I think my biggest takeaway from this month is that I’m fine tuning what does and does not work for me. Waking up early? Totally doable. Writing on my lunch break? Manageable most days, but sometimes I need to run errands. Coming out of NaNo, I want to make time to write every day, either in the morning or on my lunch break. I want to aim for 500-1000 words daily, but I don’t want to force myself. I want to write quality words not just quantity.

    I love NaNo and everything it’s done for me. But I hate that I’ve written over 37000 words in 23 days and my data is still telling me that I’m behind. I keep thinking that maybe I’ve outgrown NaNo, but I keep going back to it. I like the deadline that holds me accountable. I NEED the deadline to hold me accountable. I love the community. I enjoy going out to spend time with friends. Drinking Starbucks twice a week? Definitely another bonus. But I have an awesome writer’s group that was formed out of NaNo.

    And we’ve got each other’s backs.

    (Also, Amelia kissed a girl… and she liked it.)

  • Surviving Another Week

    Wow, a lot has happened in a week. I celebrated my birthday with friends on Friday. Then pulled two 3k writing days. Yesterday I spent the day curled up in bed battling some sort of stomach bug. I’ll spare you the details, but safe to say it was pretty gross.

    I’ve been hovering around or slightly above par most days and I have mixed feelings about it. On one hand, I’m not getting burnt out by writing 3k+ words every day. On the other hand, when I have days I fall behind that means I don’t have nearly as much buffer.

    My novel is starting to come together. Though I’m starting to worry that I don’t have enough material to make it stretch to 50k. Not without throwing in another subplot or three. I suppose this is where being a pantser starts to become problematic. Oops.

    Amelia nearly ran off to India this past week and was very narrowly talked out of it. Mainly because I did not want to write a novel about a several month long boat ride. I know very few nautical terms and would end up spending half of my writing time doing research. If you’re following along from last week, I am no closer to discovering if Amelia is or is not in love with her best friend.

    There’s still time though. At least, that’s what I’m going to keep telling myself.

  • Starting Out Strong

    Hello! Welcome to day three of NaNo. Everything’s going well so far. However, I’ve spent far too much time looking up one random fact or another that I think I might have to throw in the towel and admit I shouldn’t be a pantser. Then again, I think even if I better planned my novel, I would still be googling “Regency House Names” because if there is one thing I remember from regency romance novels, it’s that every house has a name.

    Hey Ashley–you’re a house now. Hope that’s cool.

    I’m trying out a new genre for NaNo. Typically I write fantasy geared toward young adults. In fact, two of my NaNo wins have been in this genre. The one time I deviated from it I had a ton of fun but ultimately hated the end product. Then again, I wrote in a genre I don’t read. This year I’m at least sticking with something I enjoy. Regency romance novels are my guilty pleasure. I can chew through several in an afternoon. In fact, in preparation for my new novel I spent a week with my nose buried in the spines of one of my favorite authors. (more…)

  • Beneath the Waves

    The boards of the pier were rough beneath her hands as she watched the sun sink lower, turning the water fiery red. Her hard mulled cider sat untouched by her hand, long since chilled by the evening air. A stiff breeze cut through the thin sweater she’d pulled over her sexy pirate costume. The wind brought with it the smell of the beachside bonfire and the raucous laughter of the revelers.

    “Hey—Emily, right?”

    Her feet jerked mid swing and she swore as she banged one against the post. She hadn’t heard his approach. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to be alone right now.” (more…)

  • Glitterbomb!!

    I finally found the exit. Someone had covered it in glitter. I hung back for a moment, not trusting the glittery death trap hanging from the ceiling. Surely that could not be up to fire code. I peered at it through the well lit room. Was that red glitter forming the words? Or was it actually light shining through the silver glittering covering the rest of the sign.

    Someone rushed past me. I watched as she shoved open the emergency exit door. Instead of an alarm blaring signaling that somebody dared to open the door without the fire alarms screeching above, a cloud of glitter descended upon the hapless individual.

    I took a step back, wondering if the glitter dump was a one-time thing or if every person fleeing the untoward gathering would receive the same fate. I ducked behind a ficus as another party-goer ran down the hall, approaching the exit sign. Did they somehow find an unlimited source of glitter, I wondered as I watched the woman get doused in sparkles. (more…)

  • Falling Feet First

    Delicate silver wires formed leaves that wound into a basket. Plump berries oozed crimson juices that stained the wires and puddled on the stone table beneath it. The scent of ripe fruit permeated the air, begging for a passerby to pluck one from the bowl and pop it between lips.

    The wall shimmered and a man with almond-shaped turquoise eyes, dusky skin, and long coppery hair passed through. Behind him, a boy with sandy hair and dull brown eyes followed him in, one hand clutching the trailing shirt hem, the other shoved into his mouth.

    The man lifted the boy, setting him on one of the stone benches in front of the massive table. “Remain here and touch nothing. I shall return in a moment.”

    The boy shoved his hand further in his mouth and nodded. The man studied him for a moment before stepping through another shimmering door that appeared in the wall. When the man passed through, the wall sealed behind him and glowed the same soft green as the other walls. The boy sat still for what felt like an eternity before he pulled his sticky hand from his mouth. He shoved himself to his feet, leaving a damp smear on the bench and looked around the room from his new vantage point. The floor looked like a dangerous leap away. (more…)