he Kivi People were happy, gentle, and kind. They solved problems by talking to each other. But one Kivi decided that he wanted a shiny stone that belonged to his friend. So he took it. Little by little, one Kivi at a time, his meanness spread and over time they changed into mean, unkind people. Years later a little boy was having terrible temper tantrums. His mother learned how to help her son and ended up helping everyone. Little by Little. One Kivi at a time.
Available now on iTunes for iPhone, iPod Touch and iPad – Kivi and the Lizard People.
App Preview – “Kivi and the Lizard People” – by Gayle McCain
© 2010, 2012 – Gayle McCain – Didymus Prime Corporation – All rights reserved.
ll of us have felt isolated at one time or another. This is a story about one of God’s little creatures who experienced those feelings but was able to overcome them with the help of those who cared. I would like to introduce you to a children’s story about a beautiful fairy child who has lost her ability to find her way home. She comes to befriend two young girls as well as some forest creatures and they end up working together to help the fairy child find what it is that she needs to get home.This is a warm hearted story that is set in a little town called “Fairy Cove”, nestled in a mountainous region surrounded by all the beauty nature could ever hope to offer.
This tale not only takes a child on a wondrous adventure but it also offers life lessons of friendship, teamwork and a strong message about the power of love. These characters serve as positive role models that children everywhere can learn from.For those of us who still believe in magic, this story offers a very real promise of a brighter tomorrow. Others who find it difficult to see past the struggles of daily life, this story will give them that tiny spark of hope that maybe tomorrow will offer a bit more joy than what life has given them.
Synopsis of “Finding Home.”
© 2010, 2012 – Heather Gibbon – Didymus Prime Corporation – All rights reserved.
nne, it’s about whether you believe in yourself… There were lots of times in my life when have I told myself that I wasn’t beautiful enough to have what I wanted, or thin enough, or loveable enough, or smart enough,” Irene paused a moment before continuing. “Frankly I might add just plain Not Enough.”
“Until finally one day I realized Not Enough was (and is) a lie. I looked around at my family and friends, people that I loved whole heartedly, and realized that sometimes they felt like they weren’t enough either. But I loved them just the way they were, and still do. And if I could love them ‘warts and all’, then they could love me with all of my supposed flaws. So I must be okay just the way I was. The way I am really,” Irene shrugged.
“I realized that I Am Enough, and that the phrase I’m Not Enough is a lie.” Irene stated firmly. “I started making lists of everything that showed that I Am Enough. Everything that was good about me. Everything I liked or somebody else liked,” Irene pulled Anne’s spiral across the table and flipped it open to a new blank page and wrote I Am Enough across the top. She then began scribbling down things Anne’s best characteristics.
By the time Irene stopped writing, she had filled an entire page. Sliding the spiral across the table to her young friend, Irene continued.
“Then I started asking my friends to help me with a list just like this one, and pretty soon it was really long,” tears in her eyes, she smiled across the table. “And it made me feel great. In fact it was overwhelming, but I needed to hear these things. So here you are. Here is the start of things that tell you that You Are Enough, just the way you are. Add to this list when ever you think of anything. You’ll feel better. Because honey, You Are Enough !”
Excerpt from “What If… A Woman, A Pen, and Life Again.”
© 2009, 2012 – Gayle McCain – Didymus Prime Corporation – All rights reserved.
he night grew near, and she was alone. Streetlights reflected off her window panes as Mozart played in the background. Her large bay window looked out over Manhattan providing her with an amazing view. Her apartment was painted with soft earth tones that blended nicely with the carpets. Art work hung from her walls at several different angles; women at garden parties, flowers in a vase, squares with lines of bold colour striking through the center.
A tall slim glass half full of white wine sat on her cherry word coffee table. She had it placed carefully on a coaster. Her soft, gentle, hands rummaged through her sketches, looking for her cordless phone. She finds it and presses two on her speed dial; the local Chinese Restaurant.
Heading over to her mannequins, she stroked the top of her wineglass. She swirled the liquid and took a sip, while pondering for a moment. Her eyes gazed at the tall plastic figures, visualizing her next design, while she nibbled on her manicured thumbnail. They stood there with drapes of fabric wrapped around them; most of the material dragging on the floor.
As she walked down the front steps of her apartment, her hair blew in the wind; all tangled in knots. It was chilly outside and her shawl was draped loosely around her shoulders. Looking up she noticed an older man staring. He stared her down as if they had met before. Something deep inside her knew he was right. His bright blue eyes, long ratty blonde hair that sat flat over his shoulders, and a ripped jacket; it was all so familiar.
His cigarette was glowing in the early darkness as he carelessly flicked the bud into a pile of snow; the smoke escaping from his unclean mouth. He smirked at her, his front left tooth was chipped, and she knew exactly who he was. He slowly moved in her direction as she quickly turned her head and extended her arm for a taxi, pulling her shawl closer around her at the same time.
My mother laid there helpless, unable to move; petrified for her life. The tall blonde man had his way with her, and there was no denying it. She tried to get away, it clearly showed. Her face was beaten and her clothes were torn. His tooth was chipped, blood was dripping and his jacked was ripped.
“8th Avenue,” she said, her heart racing like a thousand horses. “Please hurry.” The cab driver nodded as she slammed the door shut. Glancing back, she noticed the man watching her as her taxi pulled away.
Snowflakes formed in the sky, falling gracefully to the ground. The streets around her were quiet and bare. Streetlights stood changing colours in the wind.
As the cab pulled up to Central Park, she opened the door and stepped out onto the glistening sidewalk. She entered the pub slightly aware of her surroundings. The lights inside were dim. The people were crowded around tables with bowls full of Tostitos chips, mugs overflowing with beer, and peanut shells scattered all over the floor.
“Smirnoff Ice, please.” She asked while sitting down on the stool in front of her. The bartender popped off the cap and handed her the bottle. She took a sip of her drink and casually glanced around the place. The people there seemed to be having a good time. Some looked as if they were meeting friends from a long time ago, reminiscing about old times. Others looked as if they were regulars.
Suddenly someone caught her eye. He was sitting in the back of the bar, alone. His oversized chair was lost behind tables, beer bottles, cigarette smoke, and excessive noise. He stared at her with desire in his eyes. She couldn’t make out his face, it was too dark. She watched as people would pass by him. He wouldn’t look up, he wouldn’t even budge. His eyes were focused on her and only her. That’s when she noticed he had a drink in his hand; a blue bottle.
As the man walked away, I was too scared to move. He looked at me differently. No one ever looked at me that way before. It seemed dirty and cold. Wiping the blood away from his mouth he smiled, winking at me as he slowly turned around to head out our door. Before leaving he grabbed his drink from our cherry wood coffee table; a blue bottle.
She panicked and looked away; breaking the tension. Her heart started to race as she broke into a sweat. Frantically stirring in her seat she tried to stay calm; another sip from her Smirnoff Ice. Taking her last quick glance back toward his dark and mysterious corner she casually stood while leaving the bartender a tip. His steady glare gripped her sides; sending shivers up her backside.
Stumbling onto the sidewalk, she quickly blinked back her tears. The wind stung her face as she wrapped her shawl around her, tightening her grip. The snow continued to fall, causing the roads to be empty and silent. She headed to the nearest bus stop waiting anxiously for the next bus to pass; each noise she heard made her body flinch.
Headlights suddenly lit up the streets. Her face glowed in relief. She stood, caressing her arms as the city bus came to a complete stop; turning the snow to slush.
She stumbled to the back of the bus trying to stay warm. Another passenger had the window open as he sat near the front. He was an older man with white hair. His face was sunken in and he had a lump on his back. His eyes were full of wisdom, while his smile was crooked and raw. She watched him sitting here, yearning for someone to talk to.
Finally, the bus brought them back to civilization. People were getting into taxis, their hands full of bags; Christmas shopping. Others were closing their stores for the night. Some were running across the street to meet their loved ones on the other side.
She stood in front of her apartment building, admiring the bright lights. She turned to see the old man smiling at her from his warm seat on the bus. Unexpectedly someone bumped into her from behind. She jumped and quickly turned around, there was no one there, only a woman who had kept walking and didn’t bother to stop, She watched her turn a corner, her blonde hair thrashing back and forth.
Unlocking her door, she stomped the snow from her shoes. She quickly entered and relocked the door behind her. She flicked a switch and smiled, everything was just like she left it. She walked into her kitchen and placed her keys onto a hook. She glanced over to see if there were any messages on her machine, there wasn’t.
Hot water filled her tub as she hung her nightgown on the back of the bathroom door. She sunk into the bubbles and closed her eyes. The fragrance of lilacs filled the room as she relaxed. Her stress slowly escaped her body as she lost herself in the warm sensation. Time slowly ticked away as she let herself soak. She gently washed her hair, letting it foam in her hands.
Shortly after, she climbed into her single sized bed and turned off her lamp. She pulled her brown satin sheets to her face and gently stroked her pillow, she was glad to be home. Her eyes became heavy as she watched shadows on her wall appear and disappear.
It was late in the night when she began to stir. Her body began to sweat, her arms were being thrown around carelessly, and she kicked at thin air. She awoke out of a dead sleep, sitting straight up in bed. She noticed a strange figure in her doorway, and that’s when her nightmare became reality.
I laid there helpless, unable to move; petrified for my life. The tall blonde man had his way with me, and there was no denying it. I tried to get way, it clearly showed. My face was beaten and my clothes were torn. His tooth was chipped, blood was dripping and his jacket was ripped. As the man walked away, I was too scared to move. He looked at me differently. No one ever looked at me that way before. It seemed dirty and cold. Wiping the blood away from his mouth he smiled, winking at me as he slowly turned around to head out my door. Before leaving he grabbed his drink from my cherry wood coffee table; a blue bottle.
Excerpt from “Untold Thoughts.”
© 2008, 2012 – Kerrie Meloche – Didymus Prime Corporation – All rights reserved.
onight’s story begins with a legend. But the history books say that it is a true legend. And the Bardic Guild’s records prove it. In any case, our story began eons ago,” he said, alert eyes gauging his audience. “The Forest that begins outside this inn is large, hundreds of miles long, more than two hundred miles wide with a ridge of mountains running the length of it, right down the middle, cutting the forest in two. Our Kingdom, Anastar runs eastward from the slope of those mountains for nearly two thousand miles, and Keldar does the same on the western slopes. Though the Forest is only a small portion of the country, it is causing big problems.” His voice had the deep, resonate tones that encourage a listener to fall into the story. He was a pleasure to listen to, as well as to look at, sound rolling out of his chest, so that even the farthest corner of the room could hear him speak. “In the beginning traders used to go around the mountains and around the Forest, but that way is long, and tedious. Over time merchants from the two kingdoms built trade routes through the Forest and over the mountain passes. Every few years, when times were prosperous, the Kingdoms would build or repair the trade roads through the wilderness. But traveling was still dangerous.”
“The Forest was wild, overgrown and savage. At the time the mists that we used to see weren’t there. It was just a normal very wild forest. Even though going through was faster than traveling around, no one traveled alone, or without guards. Giants, thieves, highwaymen and, legend has it, even a few trolls, attacked anyone they found, terrorizing travelers, and even raiding villages that surrounded the Forest. Theft and murder were fairly common in those days. Life was uncertain and dangerous for travelers.”
“There was a group of four that decided to put a stop to the reign of terror. Together they cast a spell that has woven magic and mists throughout the Forest for five hundred years. Magic that protected honest travelers. History tells us that this was an interesting group of individuals. They each possessed different skills that they brought to the weaving of the enchantment. Unique characteristics that made the magic strong. Strong enough to last for five hundred years. Magic that should have lasted five hundred more.”
“There was a gold smith who, it is said, fashioned a set of four rings. A tailor that made certain that the various parts of the spell were stitched together. How he did that I don’t know, but that’s the legend. The mid-wife gave birth to the idea of the spell and helped bring the magic into this world. And the singer gave voice to the enchantment. She wrote down what little we know of the spell. Thus they each brought different skills to the weaving of the energy, creating an enchantment that has caused the mist to rise, every night, spreading magic throughout the Forest for the last five centuries.”
“No one knows how the magic worked exactly, but somehow this magic affected only dishonest, cruel or evil people. They either simply left the forest; if they fell under the spell of the mist they would follow it to their death. I have wondered about this for years. I think it was much like when someone follows a will-o-the-wisp over a cliff edge or deep into a swamp. Whenever someone of bad character fell under its spell, if they tried to stay within the Forest, they didn’t come out. Ever. We think they ended up dead, though the records don’t say. It is certainly possible that the criminals had a change of heart after wandering around lost.”
“Anyway, the mists of magic have protected honest travelers within the Forest since that time. Roads were built. Trade flourished, merchants were eager to shorten their journey due to higher profits, so they encouraged the kings of both our kingdoms to improve the trade routes,” he grinned. “Villagers were able to hunt without the concern of being waylaid. Healers went safely into the Forest to gather their herbs. Children could play and explore without fear. The magic didn’t keep them from getting lost, stepping in bogs, or meeting wild animals, but all-in-all the Forest became a safe place. And has been for the last five centuries,” he paused a moment to wet his dry throat.
All eyes were on the dark haired man, and though everyone had heard various versions of this tale before, they waited eagerly for him to continue. The only children present were Amber and Garrett, the rest had been taken home and put to bed by their mothers, leaving their father’s behind. The pub was nearly full, farmers mostly, drinking ale with their friends. The Bard silently surveyed his audience. Taking one more swallow, he set his drink down abruptly causing several members of his audience to flinch, Nia among them.
“The years have gone by and the mists have woven their magic through the Forest unfailingly for five hundred years. However ten years ago, right after the Summer Solstice, all that changed. The mist disappeared, and the safety it brought did too,” he became even more serious as he continued. “Fog – that had come every night for five hundred years – gone overnight! Though I must admit it reappears occasionally, as if to mock us. And when the mist is there, the old enchantment holds, but as the mist disappears something twists, something new. Well, not ‘new’ now since we’ve been living with it for ten years. Obviously there’s some sort of connection between the mists and the safety of the Forest.”
“It seems as if the spell of safety was really a spell of remembering that we’re connected and to be respected because of it. And that has been replaced with a spell that has us forget everything. And if caught in it long enough, one forgets to breathe.” Brows furrowed, he continued.
“It seems that the enchantment woven so many years ago has a hole in it,” the seriousness of the matter clouding his face. “We don’t know what caused it, but it isn’t going away. It doesn’t seem to be getting any larger, spreading across the countryside, but it is still there. And we must have an answer.” Pausing to take another drink, he looked around the room and pushed his hair from his eyes. “Even Keldar across the mountains is affected, for the Keldarian side of the Forest used to have the protective magic too. Everywhere that the mists brought safety, now their absence brings danger.”
“Soldiers stand ready for a quick foray into the Forest if the mists appear, just the fringes mind you, to try to find some of the missing people. It is a grim duty, because most of those they find have been dead for years, looking as though they had simply sat down and died. But the soldiers aren’t willing to risk their lives to look very deeply into the forest, so the majority of the lost ones are still missing. Leaving behind their grieving families here in Anastar, as well as over in Keldar. Farmers of both kingdoms have stopped plowing fields at the Forest’s edge out of fear, because no one knows exactly where the line between safety and danger is.”
“None of this is news to you. We all know that in the beginning you all know farmers that were too stubborn to see the danger and refused not abandon the fields closest to the trees. Plowing too near the Forest, many of these farmers got caught in the twisted spell, and just wandered off. If their wanderings led into the trees, most were never seen again. If they were one of the lucky ones, they wandered away from the woods, and after a good night’s sleep came back to themselves. Wizardry is involved, though we’ve been unable to find out what spells were used. We’ve searched the records for the original spells used, and wherever they are recorded, it is not in the Bardic Guild’s Library. So after five hundred years of safety, the Forest has again become a dangerous place. Actually there is more danger than before the first spell was cast so very long ago, because this has an element of evil in it.”
“Rewards have been offered for answers. Large Rewards,” he took a breath and looked around again. “Knights, soldiers, and even a couple of the King’s wizards have gone into the Forest to try to find a solution – never to return. Interestingly enough, animals appear to be unaffected by this enchantment. They come and go from the Forest, just as they have for eons, perhaps because they do not rely on memory for most of their daily living. Hunters must now find their prey in the meadows and surrounding pastures.” He took a drink of his ale and continued.
“We know the mists are related somehow to this unseen danger, or perhaps more accurately, the absence of mist. Other than that we don’t know much. Well, there is one other thing that we know… the village with the greatest danger seems to be… this one,” he swept the room with a puzzled look in his deep blue eyes.
“Villages all along the fringe of the Forest occasionally have nights where the mists appear. Except this one. The mists are not seen here at all. The records show that the first people missing came from this village and, I’m sorry to say, you have lost the most loved ones. Because of that, and the fact that this village was the first one to have noticed that the mists disappeared, I have come here to start my investigation.”
“Our King has commanded that we try to understand what is happening so that we have a chance at finding a solution. Why now? Why not? We have tried hit or miss questioning of family members, villagers, survivors. That’s how we know the little I have told you. We have stacks of paper filled with testimony by all these people. And I have read every single one. Tedious work. Much of it done by candlelight in the dead of winter.”
“The Bardic and Wizarding Guilds have joined together again, setting aside some of their petty rivalries to find answers. The king’s wizards are seeking answers strictly in the magic realm, while most of the Bards are seeking more earthly answers. However, I suspect that the answer will lie somewhere in between the magic and the mundane. Unlike the others, I have not been given instructions. Well, except to find out how it got broken and fix it if I am able. My journey begins here, because this is/was the beginning.”
“So, if you have any news of the Forest, please tell me your story. By listening to every tale I hope to be able to fill in the missing pieces and solve this puzzle.” With that he settled back into his chair and took another drink, steeling himself against hours of listening to every person present tell him a tale of woe. He only hoped that by sifting though the details of each story he would find the key that would unlock the mystery before him.
Excerpt from “Forest of Mists.”
© 2012 – Gayle McCain – Didymus Prime Corporation – All rights reserved.