jennicarn

“There is no use in continuing this discussion.” The older woman leaned back in her executive chair, the leather creaking softly in protest. “The detective’s instructions were very clear. Until they have finished their investigation, only the mother’s family can have visitation privileges.” Kelly’s fingers tightened around her favorite pen, shoved deeply into her front pocket of her scrub top. She knew there was not a single thing she could say that would change her nurse manager’s mind. She glanced at her watch; it was already 6:30 p.m. The next shift would be starting soon. She was out of tim

I was absolutely positive she was howling, and I knew what that meant. They were coming for us at last, and I was glad. There had been too many days hiding in the darkness, curtains closed and doors barricaded shut. Praying that the baby would not give us away, though he seldom woke now. I had been forced to water down his formula two weeks ago and he barely had energy to move his head. The rags I used for diapers were seldom wet anymore. He was dying, and it was a slow, painful thing to watch. Once he did, what reason did I have to keep going? I had left Nymaera tied to the tree outside. Watching her starve was painful, too. But at least

“So, how did it go?” Elizabeth leaned forward in the middle folding chair, eyes wide. “Come on, I have been dying to talk to you all morning. Go ahead, spill!” There was nothing about what happened last night that I wanted to ever see the light of day. “It was ok,” I finally mumbled. “We saw a movie, got milkshakes from a drive-through, he took me home.” I paused, adding, “The movie was good.” She frowned, and I realized that she was not going to accept my bland description without a fight. I desperately tried to think of an excuse to leave. Spill. My milkshake spilled all over t

No one was sure how to welcome me home. They looked as though they saw me as somewhere between a patient and an alien. "How are you feeling?" My dad asked. I shrugged, because I was as confused as they were. I sat down my purse, set the small potted plant in my arms on a side table. "Maybe a little tired," I murmured. "I’ll just go to my room." There was no missing the utter relief on their faces. I forced a crooked smile and climbed upstairs. Not patient, then. Alien. My room looked the same. Overly neat, as that is how I left it. I hadn't expected to be back. It was kinder, I thought, to not leave a mess behind. That same consi

Peaches   The orange sludge in the Mickey Mouse bowl looked less than appetizing. I stirred it with a tiny plastic spoon, but it didn't help at all. I glanced back at the small glass jar, frowned at the picture of the smiling, cherubic baby on the label. I doubted that baby actually ate this tangerine slime.   It was all I was getting for lunch today, though. I raised my spoon in salute to the happy, fat infant. “Peaches!” I said, my voice echoing in the girl’s restroom, sounding like a shout. I shoved the spoon in my mouth. After two days of fasting, the baby food tasted like nectar. I dropped the spoon on the dirty linol

I was painting your room the day I lost you. The color was called 'ballet slipper', your father said it was just pink. You would have understood the difference. It was hard to reach high enough and the step-stool felt steady. But I was clumsy with you growing so big. I stumbled and fell and I lost you. Your father blames me. I blame myself, too. The day I lost you, the sun was shining. Now my days are dark. When I lost you, I lost my heart. Forgive me.

His name had a hyphen, his accent was English. He was thin and had red hair and a matching, pointy beard. He drove an Italian sports car that he hated to leave in the rain. His suits looked expensive, and his briefcase was some sort of leather. I was fourteen, and a prisoner. "Hello, again. Are you going talk today?" His words were curt, and he was not even looking at me, He was staring at the file on the desk in front of him. I did not even bother shaking my head. No, I was not going to talk today, or any day. "I will reminder you once more that I am required to give you the opportunity to speak with me for forty-five minutes. Your ins

"Why do you fight?" The Pandaren ask it often, especially to those who seek training among the elite warriors of the Shado-Pan. I thought it a useless question at first. I am Sin'dorei, and a Farstrider, a mother and grandmother. I fought to protect my people, my lands, and especially my family. I fought to preserve their existence, and my own. But the question has a deeper context, once pondered about long enough. As I learned the true answer to it, I finally knew why it was that I was apparently so resistant to the corruption of the Sha. The hidden, dark, and twisted power that dwells beneath the beautiful vistas of Pandaria feeds on ang

It is not my first deployment. Outland, Northrend, Hyjal, and many other places have been my home over recent years, and not once did I ever wish to linger in any of them. Always so anxious to return to my family, to our city, to Eversong. To my home. But this place is different. I am different here. Our battalion was separated into dozens of different assignments, sent out with the native Pandarens to secure our positions, and their loyalty to us. The Pandaren have a visible joy that they take in each day. It would seem foolish, but for the fact that at the first sign of danger, the smiles and laughter disappear, and the warriors within t

In the fields near Halfhill Village, many people were working. The pandaren Tillers seldom ceased in their labor. Sunrise to sunset, they not only tended to their crops, but fought valiantly against vicious predators and sentient weeds. To be a farmer in Pandaria was to be a warrior as well. Leaning against a carrot the size of a small tree was one figure that did not quite seem to match the rest. The mere fact that she was sitting and not working was enough to make her stand out. Her obvious lack of work ethic was something the rest of them did not share. But on closer inspection, the slim woman was even odder looking. Her coppery skin was