Star Trek: Voyager, J/7: The Measure Of Logic - Chapter 11 Posted

Another Snippet from The Farm at Wardenwood Hollow

“Hey,” Taryn called as the door groaned open. The woman looked over her shoulder, her expression back to the familiar one of worry it always wore. Taryn walked up while she climbed into the truck, leaning an arm against the top of the door. She used her chin to gesture at the back seat. “You the only one we got here that buys that powder.”

In the seat, the woman tensed. She didn’t speak right away, and the gaze she fixed on Taryn made her believe she’d just asked something very, very wrong.

“You best be glad ‘bout that,” she told Taryn finally. The way her voice had gone low left her uneasy. “In fact,” she added, face more serious than Taryn had ever seen it, “if you notice anyone else start buyin’ it–you let me know. Y’hear?”

Taryn looked at her strangely and chuckled.

“I ain’t the sort to go ‘round discussin’ people’s purchases with others, Miss,” she said.

“I said you let me know.”

The grin faded from Taryn’s face, and she pushed back off the door frame.

“You’re serious, ain’t you?” she asked, eyeing her.

The woman stared for a couple seconds, then pulled the door shut with a clank. The truck roared to life and she leaned toward the passenger side, rummaging through the glove box for a moment. The window rolled down, and before Taryn realized what was happening, she’d thrust a business card into her hand.

“That’s my phone number,” she explained, eyes flicking to the card and back to Taryn’s. She nodded at it. “It’s a landline. Only way you gon’ reach me. Leave a message if I don’t answer. Keep callin’ and leavin’ ‘em ‘til I call back.”

Taryn’s mouth opened and closed a few times, confused and troubled by the odd exchange. She blinked down at the card. She recognized the name of the farm.

When she looked back up, the woman was still watching her.

“You tol’ me last week you don’t gotta drive far,” she said, narrowing her eyes. She held up the card. “But this is the ol’ Sterling place. That’s thirty miles from here.”

“Don’t you worry ‘bout that,” the woman warned, shaking her head and dropping the truck into gear.

“‘Bout your lyin’, you mean?” Taryn asked with a frown.

“Ain’t important.”

“You lyin’ ‘bout something small like that sure make it seem important.”

“You just worry ‘bout that powder, an’ tellin’ me if it ain’t me buyin’ it.”

Taryn held her gaze, then shrugged and shoved the card into her jacket pocket.

“Fine,” she said, tugging her beanie lower on her head. “I don’t know what you on about, but if I see anyone else buyin’ it, I’ll give you a call.” She pulled a face, wondering if she’d misinterpreted the woman’s nature and questioning if she just might, in fact, be crazy.

“You promise?”

The way she asked it–quieter again, and very worried–gave Taryn pause. Her own face softened at the edges, and she nodded.

“Sure, Miss,” she told her, smiling again. “Yeah. I promise.”

“You keep your promises?”

“Sure do,” Taryn said with a stern nod, almost offended by the implication she wouldn't.

“Good.”

Taryn chuckled again, stepping back.

“You drive safe, now,” she said.

“I will,” the woman replied. Then, with a smirk of her own, “That’s a promise.”

-----

Synopsis:

Taryn Monroe prefers simplicity–her place in the mountains, the predictable rhythm of her job at the mill, and the peace that comes with keeping to herself.

Every Tuesday, a woman shows up at precisely fifteen minutes to close. Taryn doesn’t know much about her–just the rumble of her truck, the way she never wastes words, and the peculiar gallon of sulfur she buys each week.

Then one Tuesday, she doesn’t show up.

Taryn tells herself to leave it alone, that it’s not her business and the woman can handle herself. But when she overhears an argument and starts asking questions, she can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong–and her life becomes anything but simple.

Something wild is living in the barn at Wardenwood Hollow. Something keeping the woman bound to the old Sterling farm.

And Taryn may be her only chance to break free.

“Never make fun of someone’s passion because that’s the thing that saves them from the world.”

— Unknown

Snippet from The Ithaca Mandate

“How long?” Judith asked, hugging her arms against her ribs. She shivered slightly, the chill of the open space seeping into her. “How long until…?” The question ground to a halt, and no amount of will could force it into the air. How long until we’re gone? She could hear it in her mind. She could see it in the gaunt lines of her reflection. The bones of her cheeks and shoulders pushed out against her skin and the thin fabric of her undershirt, her brown eyes framed in dark crescents–fault lines and shadows where there should have been rolling hills and light. Judith scrubbed a hand across her face, like she could wipe that terrible, broken reflection away. Beneath them, Ithaca creaked and trembled as if even the leviathan herself was afraid of what it meant to die. Rage boiled to the surface, at the great, suffering beast still clinging to her perverse, miserable excuse of a life and her demands she not die alone. How long until you finally let us go?

I remember trying to describe Farscape to a friend of mine and ended up just sending this clip because, yeah. This is pretty much it.

Happy Easter!

Farscape: Bad Timing

I haven't watched this show in years and I can still hear the way she says, "...and you don't get...bored?"

2.20, The Evil Queen 3.13, Witch Hunt

Daylight savings time is stupid.

That's all.

Regina, what are you doing? ONCE UPON A TIME, 'Devil's Due'

The only time I've ever spent a full day scrounging the internet to collect all 15 books was for Taylor Anderson's Destroyermen series. I cannot recommend these enough. I still have yet to read the first of the spinoff Artillerymen series, but if you need a SciFi/twisted history series to get lost in--this guy's books are it.

Snippet of a new WIP I didn't need to start...

“What happened to your truck?”

The woman leaned a bit, like she’d just noticed the damage.

“Dunno,” she answered, leaning back with a frown. “Found it that way.”

Taryn dropped the bag in the bed, then clapped the dust from her palms.

“Looks like an animal got it.”

The woman shrugged.

“S’pose it does,” she said.

“Some kinda grizzly?” Taryn asked, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking one hip out to the side.

“Could be.”

“You don’t seem real concerned,” Taryn remarked with a lopsided smirk.

The woman shrugged again.

“Not my truck.”

Taryn didn’t say anything more for a moment, the pair of them studying the scrapes. She glanced over just once to get a glimpse of the woman, of the way she tilted her head like in thought. She should leave it alone. But she pushed anyway.

“You got cameras at your place?”

The change in the woman was immediate. Her head snapped around. Her face became edgy and hard.

“Why?” she demanded.

Taryn wasn’t ready for the sharp note of suspicion.

“You got a grizzly you prob’ly should know,” she explained. “What if it comes after you?”

The woman seemed to relax. She pulled the keys out of her pocket and spun the ring once around a finger. It landed in her palm and she closed it.

“Ain’t got grizzlies up there,” she said, and this time, she seemed almost to chuckle.

“This whole area’s got grizzlies,” Taryn countered. She waved toward the store. “My boss hit one just last week.”

Another shrug.

“Won’t hit any grizzlies drivin’ up there.”

Taryn raised her brows and gave up.

“Thanks for loadin’ me up,” said the woman, and she tossed out a light smirk and pulled on the door handle. Taryn watched as she climbed into the seat, flinching a bit when the door clattered shut. The woman looked small as she leaned out the window and glanced back at her. “See you next week.”

The truck choked for a second and then roared back to life. Black smoke spat out of the tailpipe. Taryn backed up a step, waving the cloud out of her face.

“Yeah,” she called out over the ruckus. “I’ll be here like always.”

The woman nodded, then rolled up the window. The truck clunked into gear and lurched forward. It grumbled when she reached the hill at the end of the driveway, then splashed through the pothole on the shoulder. Taryn’s eyes followed it until it disappeared behind the bend in the road, and only when the sound of its engine faded back into silence did she turn back to the mill to close up.