Live Novel Friday…

The Wharf

Episode VIII

After Ollie’s abrupt departure, Maiyah found herself facing quite a different set of challenges than before. While she no longer had the need to hide Brugo, nor was she required to fulfill her normal list of chores, the poor barmaid was saddled with all the work Ollie normally did, which was far more than she’d ever realized.

There were the books to do each day, along with ordering fresh supplies, assigning duties, and paying wages to all those employed at the tavern.

The problem was… Brugo was in constant need of attention, often refusing to let Maiyah out of his sight. It was an unusual change in the little one’s behavior, since Ollie had gone. It was almost as if the baby were searching for him, from the moment she brought him down each morning, til they retired to her room for the evening. It seemed odd that the baby would notice Ollie’s absence, and Maiyah wasn’t entirely sure that it was all just her imagination.

What she did know with certainty, was the increase in Brugo’s crying sessions. He’d barely made a peep when she was hiding him in her bedroom, but now he seemed to cry all the time.

It made no difference whether she fed him, changed him, or even tried to play with him. No longer was it safe to leave the baby by himself, as he began to find mischief wherever he was, at the moment.

Somehow, he learned how to open doors, drawers, and any cupboard that wasn’t padlocked! Maiyah spent all her free time cleaning up his messes, which seemed to be everywhere.

Days turned into weeks, with Maiyah struggling to keep the tavern running, in Ollie’s absence. At times, she would feel so frustrated with her situation that it filled her with anger towards the aggravating Orc. She told herself that it wasn’t her problem, so this was the time to simply walk away. She could be well and clear of the place, before Ollie ever returned, and surely someone else could care for baby Brugo.

But then, at night, while she sat beside the sleeping babe, Maiyah knew that she could never abandon either the child, or Ollie. The orc was the only family she had now, just him and Brugo…

As time went on, Maiyah began to have troubling thoughts about Ollie’s version of things, as well as, how abruptly his behavior had changed when he read the letter she’d given him. How she now wished that she’d broken her own rules. She should have read the letter first, before giving it to the orc.

Why would Ollie lie about the timing of when he bought her from off that ship, so long ago? There wasn’t any way that the sleeping baby was older than she was, as Brugo couldn’t be more than a year old, possibly two. Maiyah, herself, was nearly grown into a young woman, and she hadn’t been more than seven or eight when she first set eyes on Ollie.

And, why was he so quick to hand her the tavern key? The business of running the place had always been his passion. Something wasn’t right, and Maiyah knew it. But, as to what wasn’t right, the answer was yet to reveal itself.

A great distance from the old shanty town, Ollie found himself journeying along an old familiar trail, heading toward a distant seaport, rather than toward the orc’s clan. He’d already decided that he would not seek them out, as they had turned their backs on him after he abandoned Shelor, and his son. There would be no warm welcome from any of his clan. Some wounds run deep, and stretch beyond one’s lifetime, never to be mended.

Ollie felt a pang of guilt over leaving the way that he did, vowing never to return to that world, after the way things went with Shelor’s clan. The circumstances were partly his fault, but much of the blame truly lay with the leaders of both clans. They had ruined everything for the young couple, and when Ollie left, he felt certain that he would never look back.

It wasn’t Maiyah’s fault that she wasn’t orc, by blood. How could he choose between the human child that he’d raised, and the woman he loved, not to mention his own son!

All that the orc had ever wanted was a family, his own clan. Maiyah was just as much a part of that clan, as his wife and baby. For a time, he had actually believed that it might work out…

He split his time between the tavern, and life within his wife’s clan. But, for as much as he tried, Ollie wasn’t able to convince the clans to allow his human daughter to join them. Even Shelor had accused him of loving Maiyah over herself, and their son. Things quickly fell apart, after that. Both clans threatened to turn him away, unless he abandoned the tavern life, as well as, his human pet, as they called Maiyah.

Now, the orc found himself separated from his clans, his wife and son, and his life upon the wharf. And, to make the orc feel even worse, he bitterly regretted the lies he’d offered Maiyah, shortly before they parted. He was a coward! How could he tell her the reason why things had gone the way they had? She would be devastated at such an awful truth, just as he now felt.

In shame, the orc made his way along the trail until it split, and then carried on down the path that led to the sea, instead of inland, toward his warring clans. There, he boarded the first vessel in need of an extra sailor, and sought to forget all that he was leaving behind…

Deep in the heart of orc territory, amidst a myriad of battle encampments, sat Brugo’s mother, Shelor. All orc were born to be warriors, whether male or female… it was the way of their people. Shelor had seen many battles before, though none since the birth of her son. It now felt different, somehow, though she found it difficult to understand the reason why. She should be proud to fight alongside her clan, and even more proud to die upon the battlefield. That was every orc’s pursuit, especially hers! At least it had been, at one time.

Sitting before the fire, listening to the men as they talked of the upcoming battles, all Shelor could do was think of Brugo. Her heart ached at the thought of never seeing him again, never feeling the touch of his fingers tangled in her hair, nor holding him in her arms. What if she die in battle, without knowing what happened to the child? After the way she had crushed Ollie’s spirit, over the human child he’d raised, Shelor understood why her husband would never come for her, now. The least she could hope for was that he would care for their son, in her absence. Surely, he would do that.

Shelor had watched from a distance, on the day she’d left Brugo behind the fish shed, just outside her husband’s tavern. The young barmaid that found the baby, fit the description Ollie had given of his human daughter, from what Shelor could remember. The girl looked kind, Shelor thought, and had felt sure that the baby would be kept safe. As she sat watching the flames flickering in the darkness, Brugo’s mother pray that she had made the right decision…

Back in the small shanty village, miles away from the orc battlefields, and oceans away from Ollie, Maiyah watched over the baby, as if he were her own. Night after night, she sat by his bedside as he lay sleeping, hoping with all her heart that Ollie would one day return. And, with the babe’s mother by his side!

Maiyah pray that perhaps one day, they could all become a family. The young barmaid hadn’t any memory of a mother, so the idea of a family began to wash over her like a comforting, warm blanket.

Many times, long after the streets lay empty and quiet, and when sleep refused to come, Maiyah walked along the dock, listening to the sound of the waters. Would Ollie ever return? A nagging doubt had begun to grow, as to whether the orc had simply fled, abandoning both her and the baby.

In truth, Ollie didn’t owe Maiyah anything, nor was he obligated to her, in any way. She had been nothing more than a purchase, a worker for his tavern, so perhaps he hadn’t cared for her so much, after all…

Will Ollie return from the sea? Can Maiyah keep the tavern afloat, and still manage to care for Brugo? Will Shelor survive the impending battle?

Until next time…

Hugs

Oh, the answers I could give…

Daily writing prompt
If you had an unlimited budget for 24 hours, what would you do?

Do you realize how easily I could spend someone else’s money? No one would ever offer me such a proposal, once they realized the damage I could do. Do we actually believe that most lottery winners make wise choices with all that cash they’ve won?

If they can spend money fast, I can do it faster!

You see, I’m not talking about shopping sprees and frivolous gifts for anyone close by, no no. In the span of 24 hours, I can do substantial damage to our national debt!

The first thing I would want to do is gather up all the politicians that have any real power, but I’d do it in the middle of the night. I’m sick of tax dollars being spent on their extravagant holidays, from such hard work that they claim to be doing on behalf of the American people. I’d get them all in the office, but on their dime, not ours.

Besides, the prompt didn’t give any stipulations, as to what time my 24 hour spending should begin. If we get all the paperwork done during the night, we’ll have the whole day to spend said money. See, pretty smart, right?!

What would we be spending money on, you may be asking. Why the people, of course! My desire would be to create a nationwide trust fund, and every politician, or government worker, must fork out 10% of their annual income to fill the coffers, so to speak. No one said whose money I get to spend, right?

Said trust fund would be meant for widows, orphans, and disabled, no questions asked! If anyone of those folks come knocking, they are to be given a monthly income provided by the trust fund, equivalent to the cost of living. Why am I adding such specific rules? Haven’t you seen Pirates of the Caribbean? Balbosa was very good at taking advantage of specifics. That’s how Captain Jack got marooned on that tiny island, and more than once, I might add.

So, anyway, if there’s any money getting spent overnight, it’s got to come from somewhere. I just want to make sure we’re not spending our own money, by whomever planned on funding this party. Isn’t that how it’s done? Promise someone something special, but in the end, they have to pay the tab? I know Oprah did it, with all those ridiculous cars she gifted to her audiences.

Just sayin!

Cookies should take the sting out of that…

Chocolate chip cookies spilling out of a glass jar labeled homemade cookies on a wooden kitchen counter
Fresh homemade chocolate chip cookies spilled on a sunlit kitchen counter

Thursday’s Travels…

Maps… check!

Snacks… check!

Books, clothes, games, tools, fishing stuff, diving stuff, and of course, exploration stuff… check, check, and triple check!!!

Oh well, we can always send Brutus to retrieve anything we’ve forgotten, right?!

Now, for everyone coming along on this venture, a tour of the ship, as well as your quarters, is in order. Otherwise, you’ll never find the bathroom, and the babe’s will take all the best bunks.

Come on, let’s get you settled…

First stop is the kitchen. This is one of the best places on the ship, and where we spend a good deal of time together. Mini Wiwohka will be our cook for this voyage, as Miss Tilly has her hands full with babies, and all.

Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you that Tilly had twins…

While mamma and babies are all doing well, Tilly won’t be able to accompany us this time. She is needed at home, which is totally understandable. With that being said, Mini Wiwohka has gained quite the skill in the kitchen, so we are all in for a real treat!

Moving on, let’s show you where everyone sleeps, as well as, the restrooms.

You’ll find that there’s a ladies room at the bow (that’s the front) of the ship,

And, yes, we do provide unlimited hot water. Why, we have a dragon to heat the hot water tank, of course! There’s water being piped to both bathrooms, the kitchen, and also a washroom for the cook.

Check out the boy’s bathroom at the stern (the back)…

Oh! I’m so sorry, Peanut! We didn’t know you were in here.

How embarrassing!

Anyway, you get the idea about where the bathrooms are, so let’s move on to the bunk area…

It looks as if Nugget has already claimed one of the bunks. You should probably make quick work of finding your bunks, before the rest of the babes get here. They should be arriving any moment.

Speaking of the babes arriving, I must leave you here to settle in, as I must finish my tasks before we depart. As soon as little feet start dropping on the deck, we’ll be shoving off. I want to get started as soon as possible. Hopefully, we’ll be weighing anchor shortly.

If you wish to say your goodbye’s, I suggest you stow your things and make your way above deck. I think I just heard Eustace moving about above our heads, so I better get up there. I made the mistake of telling him it was alright to bring extra things for the baby, if necessary. He’s gone a bit overboard (no pun intended, there)…

Oh, brother!

Well, at least the baby will have more than enough stuff to keep her happy. I can’t fault the camel for that. I know we’ll be thanking him later, and he knows it, too!

Luckily for you, she has her own designated bedroom, so Eustace can shove everything in her closet.

There should be more than enough room for us all, thanks to Creed’s handywork. It’s too bad that he couldn’t come, what with schoolwork, and all. We’ll have to make due without him. No worries, though. If anything needs repairing or replacing, Brutus can fetch him for us.

Ummm, I think that’s everything. If I’ve forgotten something, there will be plenty of time to figure it out, and fill you in. For now, let’s say our goodbye’s, or farewell’s, if that sounds more mysterious…

Awww, look how excited Squagon is to be leaving. It’s no wonder though, as this whole journey is to find those lost to him. And to think that you will be a part of this adventure, as well. I couldn’t be happier to have you all aboard.

Shall we depart, then?

Perfect?

Daily writing prompt
What’s a show that had the perfect series finale?

Honestly, I couldn’t tell you the answer to this prompt. Do you realize how many shows there are, and have been, in the past? That’s a huge list, my friends. One that I’ve no time to divulge.

Cookies?

Golden trophy-shaped cookies arranged in a pile on a wooden cutting board
A pile of trophy-shaped winner cookies on a wooden cutting board

Wednesday Words…

As you may know, tomorrow is departure day for our Barnyard crew, so everyone is busily loading the ship in preparation for the adventures ahead.

Eustace is apparently all packed, and ready to head for open waters. If you ask me, the camel is taking the whole baby preparedness thing a bit further than anyone might have anticipated.

But, if you think I’m going to burst his happy bubble, you’re crazy!

What this ship needs is a happy camel, a confident camel, and a free babysitting camel, standing at the wheel. Traveling the high seas with a baby onboard will be quite the undertaking, and I’ll need all the help I can get!

None, thank you…

Daily writing prompt
If you could have dinner with any philosopher, who would it be?

Why on earth would I want to eat dinner with a complete stranger? How uncomfortable would that be?

Busily trying to prepare and serve food to someone I don’t know, while simultaneously attempting to hold a somewhat intelligible conversation with them, seems absurd.

You know, I went out onto the internet and queried a list of all the philosophers. It’s substantially longer than I expected, and no surprise here, folks… I didn’t recognize any of them.

That’s not to say that they don’t hold any value, or useful knowledge. It just means that I don’t know them, personally. What on earth would we talk about? I fear I would bore them with ridiculous questions about how they managed to survive without modern conveniences.

There honestly isn’t any list of important questions I’ve been holding onto, for someone I’ve never met. I mean, if they hold important information, don’t they normally write it all down somewhere, anyway? If I’ve a list of burning questions, I can simply look them up on the internet. Why do I have to fork out dinner for them, first?

Now, I would go back and walk beside some of our greatest prophets, and apostles of Jesus Christ. Those would be the only people of interest to me, as I spend most of my time reading and studying scripture about them. They saw the things that Jesus did while on this earth. They heard his voice, walked with him, and were taught by him. I’ve always wondered over the impact Jesus had on those He touched, those that were changed by his teachings, and his sacrifice.

Outside of that, I don’t really have any desire to seek a dinner reservation with anyone I don’t know, personally. Don’t judge! I’m just not a social as I once was.

Cookie?

Cookies shaped like faces of philosophers spilling from a baking tray onto a wooden table and floor

Tuesday Tinkering…

With our departure this Thursday approaching rapidly, there’s a good many things still needing to be done aboard The Torrent. Along with the comfort level of all her guests, this ship needs to become more solid, as a whole.

I’ve made numerous Avatars of the differing personalities you see, moving about the ship, but no solid re-usable image for the ship, herself. Don’t ask me why I like to refer our ship as a her, but I thought to look it up, out of curiosity. Did you know that there’s an actual reason for calling a ship her? Well, there is…

Referring to ships and cars as “she” or “her” is a centuries-old tradition born from a mix of historical superstition, deep emotional bonds, and linguistic quirks. [1, 2]

The main reasons behind this practice include:

  • Maternal Protection: Historically, sailors spent months at sea and relied completely on their vessels for survival. Because a ship carried, nurtured, and protected the crew from the harsh elements, it was often viewed as a maternal or goddess figure.
  • Linguistic Roots: In ancient languages like Latin, objects (including ships) were assigned grammatical genders, and the Latin word for ship (navis) is feminine.
  • Honoring Loved Ones: Sailors famously named their ships after wives, mothers, or influential women as a mark of respect and to bring good luck on perilous voyages.
  • Appreciation for Elegance: Just as with ships, early cars were highly prized, expensive possessions. Early enthusiasts and drivers anthropomorphized them, assigning feminine pronouns to reflect beauty, sleek lines, and perceived grace. [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9]

Huh, go figure! Well, at least now we know why, right?!

Anyways, back to the work at hand. The Torrent needs to become a solid ship, before we can adventure anywhere, so let’s do this!

First, we need some images to begin the process:

As you can see, creating a visual that is authentic and yet appealing isn’t such an easy task. Just trying to be far away enough to capture all her sails and riggings, is a feat, in and of itself. I spent some time out on the internet, looking through differing styles of ships, masts, and sails. It’s quite extensive, actually.

Here is the image I worked with last year, from OpenArt:

Starting with a simple boat image, I worked with Norbert to enhance the colors, and transition into a more authentic design:

From those images, I finally struck gold, so to speak:

Now this is a good stock image, I think. It’s still rather simple, as those sails, ropes, and riggings need a lot of work, if we’re to seem legit!

How bout these?

All that’s left to do now, is to take the handful of images we’ve gathered, and hand them off to Norbert. Let’s hope the ai can create something beautiful…

I think she is coming along nicely, though we’ve still work to be done on that figurehead… what on earth is that supposed to be, anyway, a fishhook or something?

Overall, I feel rather confident that things will all be ready to go, come Thursday.

For those joining us, don’t forget to bring your Dramamine, if you get seasick. While the seas in this image seem calm, once we leave the safety of shore, all bets are off! It can get pretty choppy out there, and where we sail will be quite stormy, at times.

At least you’ll sleep good, knowing that the ship is sound, and the crew be loyal, to a fault.

See ya at the docks!

Surrender…

Daily writing prompt
How do you handle fear and self-doubt?

Much of my life has been spent running… running from hurts, fears, and enough self-doubt to sink a battleship, as they say. From the time I was a small child, anything that caused one or more of these emotions, meant it was time to run away.

I ran away from an abusive and neglectful home, ran away from every foster home they put me in, and tucked myself away from watchful eyes. Much of my youth was spent wandering the streets, in the hopes that I might find my own safe place.

Somehow, I managed to let my own fears and self-doubts destroy my first marriage, and the lives of my children. Ouch! Yeah, fear will do things like that.

For much of my 58 years on this earth, I allowed my own fears to dictate my journey. I refused to let go of all that haunted me, all that continued to cause incredible damage to my body, mind, and soul.

When Covid brought about a nationwide shutdown, the world around us imploded! When that occurred, the scales of balance in my fear department were simply shattered beyond recognition! The weight of it all seemed to crush my spirit, leaving nothing more than an emotional disaster area!

Not more than three years ago, I chose to quit running from painful things, as I’d been doing all my life. The running hadn’t done anything for me, aside from make things worse. God offered me the freedom of letting go, surrendering it all to His will, and trusting in something other than myself, for once. While I’d been a Christian since the age of 18, I never fully let go, and let God, if you will. I’d made a right disaster of my life, thus far, so I had nothing to lose.

Well, I did have some things to lose… like that ole fear and self-doubt that the prompt was asking about. It’s not a perfect walk, nor always an easy one, as I’ve shared with you on occasion. But, whether the journey is easy, hard, long, or even painful… it is without fear, and for the most part, without any nagging self-doubts. If any of those pop up, it’s not God that’s the problem, but my willingness to surrender.

So, when fear and self-doubt come knocking at your door, you don’t have to let them in. Be brave, be strong, and lay those fears down. They won’t change the outcome of a thing, unless you let them.

Cookies?

Plate with hen-shaped cookies decorated with colorful icing

That’s not cocoa…

Daily writing prompt
What’s a moment that made you question reality?

If you’ve ever seen the video of the little boy who ate a spoonful of baking cocoa powder, you’d agree that he was probably questioning reality, right at that moment!

Aside from moments like that, I can’t say that there has ever been a time that I was unsure of reality. I’ve hated it, avoided it, and downright ran full force away from it, but never questioned it.

Reality is one of those undeniable factors of existence, just like time. Time doesn’t change it’s pace, though at times, it feels as if it goes too fast. Then again, there are times that feel as if they might drag on for eternity. I would say that reality and time probably go hand in hand.

As far as questioning reality goes, as long as I don’t have to eat unsweetened cocoa powder any time soon, we’re good!

Cookies?

I promise they’re sweet!

This is such an honor, really…

Daily writing prompt
What is the meaning of life?

While I am entirely flattered that WordPress desires my definition for the meaning of life, it’s highly doubtful that my response will be world altering, or anything.

Perhaps, on certain occasions, I may feel inclined to think that I have a firm grasp on life, and how I fit into it. You might even observe me patting myself on the back, in my own self-delusions. But, if you think I would ever really offer an actual statement on my assumptions, regarding the meaning of life… your out of your mind.

Why? Because all of us, and none of us, has it figured out! We’d like to believe that at some point, we’ve finally got it all mapped out, right?! Maybe some will, but I highly doubt it.

While none of us may ever figure out the entire meaning of life, I think most of us get to a place where we have a solid grasp on the meaning of our own lives, hopefully. We find our place within the world around us, as best we can, and make peace with it. And, we discover what treasures are worth holding, deep inside our hearts.

I think those treasures are the very answers to the meaning of life, and they’ll be different for everyone. They’ll look different, and feel different… but in the end, most likely they will all mean close to the same thing.

I’m not sure if I just explained myself, or if I’ve simply confused everyone. It’s Saturday though, and I’ve no desire to overthink this. Let’s just move on to something else, like cookies. Yeah, that’ll balance things out…