A Compilation of Incomplete Failures

1. Scrapped Book Idea

“I’m not crazy,” I muttered as I climbed out of my dad’s truck and slammed the car door.

“No one ever said you were, Sam,” Mom said as we started walking towards the clinic.

“We just…” Dad paused, trying to find the right words. “We just want you to be able to live your life to the fullest. And from what we’ve seen, and from what you’ve told us, you haven’t been able to do that.”

“I told you,” I said for the umpteenth time as we walked through the automatic doors, “I don’t need help. I’m fine.”

“And we believe you,” my mom turned and said to me after she checked us in.

I looked at her, then focused on her soul. I could See she was nervous; the ball of energy in her chest was swirling around, pulsing a sickly-looking shade of purple, with a hint of dingy gray. There was also a single ring of dark orange around her energy ball, which usually showed a spike in pulse and mental energy.

She was lying. And she was scared.

“Sure, Mom. Sure,” I said, giving up on any hope of proving my side of the matter. I hope they were going to be able to get a refund, cause I was not planning on cooperating with some shrink.

After about ten minutes of sitting in the waiting room, a tall skinny nurse entered the room, holding a clipboard.

“Sam?” Good grief, her voice sounded like she had a clothespin holding her nostrils shut.

2. Incomplete Short Story

As far back as I can remember, my parents always told me, “Karen, whatever you do, don’t walk in the forest out by our house at night.” Never really understood why. No one ever told me when I asked.

So naturally, being the dumb teenager that I am, I decided to go for a walk in the legendary “Forbidden Forest” to find out.

Not only that, I took it a step further: I decided to go for a walk in the Forbidden Forest on Halloween, the most terrifying night of the year, where ghosts and demons had their free reign of the place.

What could go wrong?

So after I had eaten dinner (leftover pizza) and finished my chores (washing the dishes and sweeping the floor), I packed myself a small knapsack full of everything I thought I might need for my daring excursion: a flashlight, extra batteries for the flashlight, some granola bars, some garlic (just in case), an umbrella, and my old flip phone. I then yelled downstairs to my mom that I was going over to Susan’s house, and just like that, I was out of there.

I have to admit, I felt pretty giddy as I approached the edge of our property, staring at the tall, slender trees with branches that were reaching towards the dark, moonless sky. I was finally going on an adventure.

Honestly, I didn’t really care if I got into trouble. If anything did happen to me in the forest, it would be so much more exciting than the usual lackluster routine that had become my life.

Taking a deep breath, I crossed the property line and headed into the forest, unsure of what awaited me.

3. Scrapped Scene from Scrapped Book

He finally found her sitting at the bartender’s counter, surrounded by empty drinking glasses. After taking a deep breath to compose himself, he walked over to the counter.

“Hey,” he said as he sat down next to her.

She glared at him. “What are you doing here? Did Hannah send you here to bring me back?”

Ionta shook his head. “No, I came on my own accord.”

Irona downed the rest of her drink and put the glass down with a resounding thud. “So are you here to take me back, ‘on your own accord’?”

“No. I just want to talk with you. It has been millennia, after all.”

Irona rolled her eyes as she flagged down the bartender behind the counter. “And you want to hang out in a human bar? With your exiled sister?” She turned to the bartender. “Refill, please.”

“And I’ll have one, too,” Ionta interjected. The bartender grunted as he walked away to prepare their drinks.

Irona snickered. “You have no idea what you just ordered.”

“And you have no idea what you’re doing,” Ionta retorted. “Running off all by yourself. Getting yourself drunk,” he gestured to the several glasses that were precariously stacked near his sister.

“I’m not drunk,” Irona said defensively, “I can’t get drunk; guess that’s one of the perks of being an immortal enfulzi.” The bartender returned with two large glasses full of a dark red liquid; if Ionta didn’t know any better, he’d have thought it was blood.

Irona reached for her glass and passed Ionta his. “But just because I can’t get drunk doesn’t mean I won’t try.” She took a long sip from her glass. “Humans drink to forget their problems, most of the time. And right now…” the white streak in her hair changed to a silver hue, “That’s what I want.”

Ionta took a small sip from his glass, then immediately spit it back into the glass. “What is this stuff? It’s horrendous!”

Irona smirked at her older brother’s reaction to the drink. “It’s called a Bloody Mary. Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it after a couple refills.” With that, she took another large gulp from her glass.

Ionta looked at her, his face one of concern. “What do you want to forget?”

Irona sighed. “Everything. Nothing. Something. Everyone. No one. Someone.”

“You’re not making any sense, sister,” Ionta chided.

Irona shrugged as she waved the bartender over again. “Well, if you really want the summary of my problems, here it is.” She whipped her List out from the inside of her cloak and slammed it on the table so hard it caused Ionta (and half the other people sitting at the counter) to jump.

“I can’t keep doing this,” she muttered as she fingered the black ribbon around her List, her most prized possession, her life’s work. “Most of the people on this list were killed by the same person.”

“Zardous?” Ionta asked.

“No, not Zardous. But you’re close.”

“Devenok then,” Ionta reasoned as he took another sip of the vile liquid, managing to swallow it this time.

Irona nodded. “And since the only way for me to bring vengeance is to kill the one who caused their death…” she grabbed her refill from the bartender.

“You’d have to face Devenok again,” Ionta finished her thought, then shuddered.

“Not just face him again,” Irona said as she took another swig from her drink, “Beat him. I would have to kill him, and we both know that’s impossible.” After downing the remains of her drink, she looked at her brother’s drink. “Are you gonna finish that?”

Ionta passed his glass to his sister, and she continued. “So for all these years, the List has only grown longer, and no matter what I do, no matter where I go, no matter who I try to save,” she finished off Ionta’s drink, “he always manages to claim more souls.

’And they come to me,” she said, a slight tremble coursing through her. “They come to me for help, for protection, for vengeance. Vengeance that I cannot give.” She covered her face with her hands as she started sobbing softly.

Ionta gently rubbed his sister’s back as she continued to cry. Maybe she wasn’t as immune to alcohol as she had assumed. How many drinks had she had tonight? She’d already had five refills during their conversation alone, including the remains of his drink. How many more had she had before he had shown up?