Noface's notebooks.

A compilation of all things random and...brilliant? I'll leave you to decide.

A story about Indian Medicine cards (notes):

Renee Adams: aged 15

East – Mouse/Scrutiny

South – Bear/Introspection

West – Badger/Aggression

North – Otter/Woman Medicine

Above – Elk/Stamina

Below – Blue Heron/Self-reflection

Within – Weasel/Stealth

Right side – Opossum/Diversion

Left side – Wolf/Teacher

Personality: Not a cheerleader but holds a good social standing. Is very attractive and confident. Surrounds herself with friends to hide from insecurities. Is a member of the track team. Can’t hold down a boyfriend. Distances herself from family.

Journey: Renee is first visited by Elk who teaches her about true stamina boy running. Mouse teaches her of the harshness of life and the loss of a loved one enforces that. Bear tells Renee to look inside for the importance of love that exists is life. Badger warns of an oncoming attack and Otter gives her the strength to overcome it. Elk returns as source of strength, praise, and explanation. Heron grants time for reflection. Weasel supports the counter-attack.

Vivian Martin: aged 15

East – Butterfly/Transformation

South – Turkey/Give-away

West – Lynx/Secrets

North – Porcupine/Innocence

Above – Snake/Transmutation

Below – Fox/

Within – Buffalo/

Right side – Dragonfly

Left side – Whale

(End current notes)

Something random:

Crimz was an intelligent beast. He didn’t spend time daydreaming about possible mates, nor did he try exceedingly hard to made his appearance any more likable than when he first woke up in the morning. This was probably why at 47 he still hadn’t sired any children. What drake would have a dragon with such an outlook. Crimz made no effort at all to be social. He didn’t take part in rituals or celebrations, preferring to interpret the stone slates his ancestors had left behind. Being one of, if not the only lizard left alive that could read, he was very much a hermit in his old age.

Part of a story line I came up with while in Kidder, MO/Provo and Santa Quinn, UT

Plot: The Robin has taken control of The Realm since the death of King Trenton. He raised taxes, raised the price of many needed resources such as linen, ink, and bread. The Villages are all but bankrupt. The written word is such a scarce thing that authors are grouped together with their apprentices, as are illustrators.

Arwenn has run away from home and disguised herself as a boy in order to write, going under the name Wynne. She is apprenticed to Silas Aitchison, land lord at the Author’s House. Arwenn frequently rides to the city to visit her urchin friend Faxon. She teaches his to write and he tells her stories of the famous Cardinal, a theif who once ruled the underground of Halliphac.

An illustrator has been paying visits to the castle orphanage in search of an apprentice. Faxon hopes to be chosen so he and Arwenn ay someday write stories together. Lately, the Robin has taken to collecting prisoners; mintrels, maids, players. All kinds of entertainment and servitude. The result is a number of businesses have shut down due to lack of management… (notes are unfinished)

“Cat Dog”

Cat licked her paw gracefully and rubbed her whiskers, cleaning off the last reek of mouse with her own scent. After all, Cat needs to smell like Cat. Her claws dug into the wood beneath her to hold her balance on the thin rail, her tail flicked back and forth, curling around her paws from time to time. The Warm Bright felt nice on her fur, but the heat was just a bit too much, Cat moved to the shade.

Dog was lazing on the grass, enjoying the head and soft wind that tickled her paws. She was watching one of those buzzing annoyances chase after a flower that wasn’t moving when the familiar scent of Cat drifted down to her. Cat’s always fun, thought Dog happily, sitting up and sneezing the grass off of her face. She shook herself awake and squeaked out a yawn before trotting up the short hard stairs to where Cat was.

Cat heard Dog before she saw her. Bounding and snuffling erratically up the stairs. Cat opened one eye – (unfinished)

One time I lost my voice and used a notebook to talk with my friends. This is what it looked like:

It goes on and on my friends!

I want to end it! Oh please?

Then you’ve killed me.

We’re delusional. It needs to end!

Who’s outside?

I have an idea! Can you fly me up there! Follow me lead.

All that for a game we don’t want to play.

I’m bored now.

Or we could get up.

I want a monkey! Roy. Waaah! I can’t talk!

But sheep just stand there. It’s boring at first and sort of sinister after that.

Oh and don’t chug apple juice…

I was supposed to give you that movie. The Wild Thornberry’s in exchange for Miguel and Tulio.

I gave Tessa the first chapter of Shifter.

They attacked each other.

A little piece of Lia that I did for the CLD mark II:

People liked to think that winter was the season for hibernation. For most animals that’s true, dragon’s included, but not for Lia. She wasn’t your usual dragon for various reasons. The first being that she hibernated from April to June and nothing in the world could wake her. The most obvious reason was that she practically lived on the shoulder of the most powerful person on Earth – the God Nyx.

I’m making an afghan, look at my lovely stitching pattern:

R1 and 3 – sc

R2, 5, 7, and 9 – hadc

R4 and 10 – dc

R6 and 8 – X – over

Notes for the story Anastasia and I started:

Bannon – basement. Parents hate him for being bitten. Crazy. Lycan coven save him.

Colin – Undead clergymen take him to ghost town at the same time as Ban. Enter Saba, visiting barmaid. Thinks pack leader turned her.

Few years later – Ban’s coven killing humans against regulation. Trying to find out who’s responsible the town contact Black Cat Society, who send Colin to investigate. He sees it as a chance to see Saba again. She moved on. Lycan town bringing back all travelers within the last five years for cross-referencing.

Ban’s Coven – 18 members

Interius – Coven leader, male, HP

Fabienne – Female, HP

Schones – female, Informed

Draconius – male, HP

Ceran – male, HP

Finnius – male, ignorant

Drula – female, HP

Talon – male, HP

Nicholas – male, Informed

Vanas – female, Informed

Roria – female, HP

Ayanis – female, Informed

I think this was a three-year-old story that I was basing off a dream:

Brightville. Normal name for a normal town. Wrong. Because you see, Brightville is anything but normal. A lot of good things came from Brightville, but also a lot of bad.

Part one: Ann

Chapter one: Brightville

I remember the day we moved to Brightville. I thought it was stupid. Why should I have to move because that’s where our family was living? Mom said it would be an adventure, whatever that means, I really don’t care.

Brightville has a huge gate and a six-foot brick wall surrounding it. That made me feel like we were driving into an asylum. Why would you build a town with a wall around it? What kind of freaks are living here? Was the wall supposed to keep them out, or us in?

We drove through the gate and my thoughts were confirmed Brightville was the freakiest town ever. The man at the gate said to drive slow to we wouldn’t hit anyone, turns out Brightville has 427 people living here and not one of them has a car. (Unfinished – plot lost)

More ancient ramblings:

I hate mornings. They force me to come back to reality, which I seldom do. Nonetheless, I shoved myself from bed, leaving behind my nirvana-like sleep and faced the day ahead.

List of movies I love:

On the Town

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

Bringing Up Baby

Yolanda and the Thief

Anchors Aweigh

So Bored!

Dead guy because he didn’t follow the rules. Can hardly tell what I’m writing because my hand writing sucks. And my pen is going dead. Like that rule-breaking, good for nothing… Wait. What?

Batman pen works better but my penmanship still bites. Bites like a bird. A hungry, angry bird. How many times can I use the letter B. Not as good as dead guy.

My cursive is larger than my print, how backwards is that? Bored again, or still, whatever. I don’t care anymore. Penmanship.

“Because Wilson thinks it’d be nice to give the little girl another year to say goodbye to her mommy. I guess she stutters.”

I was supposed to write a story with a friend but she ditched me. Here’s the first paragraph:

Megan thinks I should write a memoir or something. My grandchildren with love it, she says. But I’m thinking what about my children? Shouldn’t I have those first? Or maybe my grandchildren will be the only ones who love whatever this turns out to be. Not that it matters anyway because I am never having kids, because I am never falling in love. But I’m writing this down anyway to humor Megan because Megan will keep telling me I should until I do. Or until she dies. That’s just the way that girl works.

A bit of romance:

“I – I’m not so good at – with – feelings.”

“You’re not so good with feelings.” I muttered, wringing my hands together and pacing. Why the hell was I pacing?

“Well, the fine.” I said sharply, “I’ll give you mine.” I stopped pacing and looked him straight in the eye. “I like you, OK I like you. I like the way your hair hits your eyes, I like the way your clothes fit you and your shoulders – god, what is it about your shoulders that I like so much? I like everything about you and I am tired of kissing you in earnest and feeling like I need to keep it a secret.

“I want to be able to hold your hand and not care if the world sees. I want to be able to kiss you and not walk away awkwardly without talking about it again, and I want to be able to talk to you about things and I want you to tell me things and – “ It only just occurred to me that I was pacing again. Jesse was looking really confused but also slightly pleased. I had to finish my rant though, even though I was going a bit red, “I want you to tell me why you seem so happy to be alone, while I can’t stand to be without you.”

I couldn’t believe I had said so much. I told him everything I didn’t want him to hear. I stood there awkwardly for a moment, avoiding his gaze. Then he did the most amazing thing; he stepped forward, cupped my face with his hands, and kissed me. This wasn’t one of those tentative, spur of the moment kisses we had shared before. This was slow, forceful, and carefully thought out, and it seemed to shake me to my very core.

It was far too short for my liking. Eventually he pulled back but only a few inches. His breath was slightly harsh and he looked at me with an unreadable expression. “I hate being alone.” He whispered.

((Note: Well, that's pretty much what I do with my free time. This is unfinished, and I have yet to drag out all my notebooks again, but one day when I do, this will be added too. Also, I have no idea what the last little thing was going to be, I think I was just bored and realized I had never written anything romantic. It's like three years old.))