Sage-Destroyer: Witch Hunter and daughter of the Great King Arthur. Powers and abilities include: hell travel, telepathy; telekinesis; able to harness the supernatural powers of the moon and supernatural strength; immunity to witches spells; ability to deflect and use a witch’s spell against them
Author: missjenkinsbooks
Meet Kitara From the Nubia Rising Series…
Kitara– Destroyer: god slayer. The first of the Destroyers to be awakened; and the last living descendant of Atlantis. Her powers and abilities include: Telepathy; able to see through the spiritual veil; supernatural physical strength; Hell travel (the ability to open and walk through hell portals unscathed); immune to all forces of darkness; telekinesis; control of all of the elements; shape shifting; summoning of angels, light bending and tapping into the mysterious powers of Atlantis.
I Refuse to Wait for Someone to Tell me I am Good Enough
No more queries. No more submissions. No more early mornings and hopeful nights of waiting for an agent or a publisher to say, “Yes, I love your work!” No more. There is room for more than one at the top. You don’t have to follow trends when you know you can create them. You don’t believe in my dream, well fine. I do. And if you are not a believer now, you will be later. I could have easily given up; thrown in the towel…discarded my dreams into the dumpster of deserted goals and fleeting passions. But, that is how you know you are destined to do something. It is when you don’t give up. It is when, you find away over, around and through an obstacle. Maybe it is better to have the agents chasing you because you hold the ball. Now, you can say how it’s going to…
View original post 59 more words
I Refuse to Wait for Someone to Tell me I am Good Enough
No more queries. No more submissions. No more early mornings and hopeful nights of waiting for an agent or a publisher to say, “Yes, I love your work!” No more. There is room for more than one at the top. You don’t have to follow trends when you know you can create them. You don’t believe in my dream, well fine. I do. And if you are not a believer now, you will be later. I could have easily given up; thrown in the towel…discarded my dreams into the dumpster of deserted goals and fleeting passions. But, that is how you know you are destined to do something. It is when you don’t give up. It is when, you find away over, around and through an obstacle. Maybe it is better to have the agents chasing you because you hold the ball. Now, you can say how it’s going to go. So, with that being said it’s your dream: believe in it. That is my motto. It is my dream and I believe in it. And you will too.
Find me on Twitter @authordelizhia
I am now on Amazon so check out my author page:http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00OWX108W
And last but not least check out my Facebook page entitled: The D Code.
Let’s Talk-Where Does This Leave me?
So, after submitting my query to dozens of agencies and a couple of publishers the answer is always the same: “No, and good luck with your publishing endeavors.” A slap in the face right? The only reason why I keep going is because once I get something planted in my mind, that is what I am going to do. When God gives you a vision then that is where your journey will ultimately lead you-unless you quit. Ever since I picked up the pen (well it was a pencil first) and figured out that I possessed the power of creation or better yet the gift of story telling, teachers, family and friends have encouraged me to write. And I don’t do it just to say,”hey, I’m a writer”, I do it because the characters refuse to leave me alone…I do it because I find solace in the imaginary world I bring to life. Am I the best at grammar? Nope. If anything I am fair to say the least. I understand the importance of a comma here, and a period there or if my character is an emotional wreck then of course an exclamation point. But isn’t that the purpose of an editor? To clean up the grammatical mess that authors leave behind in their quest to finish a story?
One publisher told me that my writing was passive. Well that stung…and she told me that on a scale of 1-10 my writing was a 7. Then she went on about her company worshipping the One True God and that they couldn’t support a story telling of gods and goddess? Uh, ok… I am not atheist-one. Two, she totally missed the entire truth of the story because she was looking at the wrong elements. And three, she said I used too many bad words. A few of my characters curse, so what? She totally had me all wrong. I have read many successful books where words such as “bitch, pussy (I hate that word just so we are clear and I do not use it ever), ass, fuck, shit” and of course the N-word are used. Repeatedly. It just depends on the nature of the story itself and how the usage of the words define the characters. For instance, if you have a character who just so happens to be a rapper then what do rappers do? They are misogynistic, expletive, aggressive, hood (for those of you who do not understand what hood means, think urban), etc…
As tough as all of this has been I keep my head up. I understand that agents and publishers are looking for authors who can make them money. They are not looking for someone whose words can heal the world one reader at a time or challenge society’s morals and whatnot, no. They are looking to make money. It is really kind of sad because it becomes less about the art itself or the author. So, where does that leave me? Well I am up early on a Saturday morning blogging about my troubles just ro avoid working on my latest story because I am suffering from writer’s block. That is where all of this leaves me… Stuck.
Spoiler: Love At Last…Meet Danielle.
Chapter One
Danielle
Monday Is a Bitch
I hate early mornings, but I especially hate MONDAY mornings. But hey, I know that I am not alone in my hatred for the first day of the work week. You see, Monday mornings are incredibly hectic in my household; they are constant reminders as to why I should be single. My boyfriend of five years live together in a small one bedroom apartment in Los Angeles, and before I go any further, rent ain’t cheap ok? Which means that we BOTH have to work. Unfortunately, I am the only one who does (and has been since the first of last year when he lost his job as an account manager for a mid-sized security company) and I will most assuredly get to that later. So, for over a year I have found myself having to go in TWO hours early just to…
View original post 1,479 more words
Spoiler: Love At Last….#Him
Chapter 6
Him
It had been two weeks since me and King’s fall out. I only went back to the apartment once and that was when I knew for sure he was not there. My brother had come with me to collect the rest of my things: my clothes, personal paper work such as my car insurance policy, and that was basically it. He could have it ALL. I am just so ready to move on with my life and to start anew. I mean, don’t get me wrong, in the two weeks that King and I have been apart, I did miss him-terribly. The night that I left, King called me so much that I had to turn my phone off just to get some peace. The first twenty voicemail messages he left were basically him begging for me to come home. “Baby I’m sorry”, “So when are you…
View original post 2,895 more words
Spoiler: Love At Last….#Him
Chapter 6
Him
It had been two weeks since me and King’s fall out. I only went back to the apartment once and that was when I knew for sure he was not there. My brother had come with me to collect the rest of my things: my clothes, personal paper work such as my car insurance policy, and that was basically it. He could have it ALL. I am just so ready to move on with my life and to start anew. I mean, don’t get me wrong, in the two weeks that King and I have been apart, I did miss him-terribly. The night that I left, King called me so much that I had to turn my phone off just to get some peace. The first twenty voicemail messages he left were basically him begging for me to come home. “Baby I’m sorry”, “So when are you going to come home”, and “I miss you”, you know the usual. The same thing went with the fifty plus text messages he sent and all of them went ignored. I did not speak to him until three days later, after I had cried and vented to my mom and my brother so much that I was beyond exhausted. I even called out of work for a couple of days because I just could not pull it together. Kendra had even called, and like King’s her calls went unanswered. I will deal with her in due time. My mom did tell me that Kendra did come by, but since I was finally sleeping so peacefully, she did not want to disturb me. But, like I said, I will deal with her in due time. Patience has always been my virtue.
So here I am back at work and trying to get back into the full swing of things; but as a single woman. I no longer feel like I have to work for two people. I do not have to come in super early to squeeze in some overtime. I can sleep at night, peacefully without having to deal with King and his insomnia issues. I do not have to deal with King at all…Sitting in front of my computer screen struggling to concentrate on imputing the client’s information into the system, it is hard to digest the fact that I am…free. Free from King and all of his drama. Free from tears and burrowed resentment. Free to be who I am. Free to…just then my line rings. “Lender’s Disability, this is Danielle speaking. How may I help you?” I say clearly and confident into the receiver. Damn, even my confidence has went up. “Danielle, this is King”. My heart drops. Of course King would call me at work. “What is it?” I say. God this man just refuses to leave me alone. “So you are just not coming home, huh?” That was not really a question. It was more of a demand. “And why should I King?” “Look I was wrong. We can work this out. We have been together for five years, Danni” (now he is using my nickname…typical but not going to work). I roll my eyes wishing that I could be somewhere else doing something else-anything but being in this moment, having this conversation. “And what does that mean?” I ask. “There is nothing to work out.” “So what after one little fight you’re just willing to throw everything away?” King replied. By the way he sounded, he seemed a little…hurt. “You threw everything away every time you lied to me…every time you” (I whispered into the receiver so that no one could hear what I had to say next) “slept with other bitches and especially when you put your hands on me King. You blamed me for everything that went wrong in your selfish little world and-““Baby I’m sorry…” He croaked. “Yes King you are sorry. And I bet the only reason why you are even putting this much effort into bringing me back is because you have no idea how you are going to pay the rent on your own this month.” There was a pause. “Man fuck you then Danielle. I don’t need your stupid ass anyways-“There was something in those words fuck you that made me see pure red. This was the last time he was going to utter those words to me ever again. “Good. Because after tomorrow I am removing my name from the cable, the lights, the gas AND that lease. Have a nice life King.” And, with that I disconnected the call. Suddenly, I felt a massive headache coming on so I reach into my bottom drawer and pull out a bottle of Advil that I keep on hand for moments like these. I get up and walk a few steps over to the communal water cooler, grab one those itsy-bitsy Dixie cups and fill the cup with water. Just as I pop my pill and take a seat, Martha, the firm’s receptionist who was also a charmingly vibrant older woman with an infectious Colgate smile, tanned skin and blue eyes approaches my desk. She had to be in her fifties but had such a youthful spirit, her age was the last thing anyone ever thought about. She wore her hair cut short in one of those Bob type styles and she recently died her hair this reddish brown color. Today she wore a yellow cardigan with matching wedge shoes and grey slacks. She wore a look of deep concern on her face. I force myself to smile. “Hey Martha. How are you?” She smiles back. “I’m ok Danielle, but the question is are you?” I raise an eyebrow, please don’t tell me King called and is harassing everyone in the building. “I’m fine. What’s going on?” She clears her throat before speaking. “There is a young man who keeps calling here looking for you. He told me his name was King. I think you should get back to him as soon as possible.” All I could do was shake my head. “Either that or file a restraining order against him.” “Thank you Martha, will do.” I turn and face the computer screen and pretend to be preoccupied with something of importance so that I won’t have to respond to the probing questions she has written all over her face. “Seriously Danielle, you should get a restraining order or at least tell that young man of yours to leave you the hell alone.” With that, Martha turned to go back to her desk. All I could do is rub my temples and pray that the day went on without any more King issues. But, like most things that have happened to me in my life, the thought alone was too good to be true.
The day went on without a hitch. King did not call me at all since and that was great. I just want to be done with the situation. After I punched out for the day and slipped my favorite bubble gum pink flip flops on, I begin my walk to the train station. I pull out my phone and my headphones so I would not have to be entertained by my thoughts that could easily turn depressing, and I guess I wasn’t paying much attention because I accidentally walk right into a young man who was exiting a tattoo shop. I dropped my phone while my headphones went flying in another direction. He and I both bend down at the same time to pick up my phone only to make a clumsy situation even clumsier. We bumped heads. “I am so sorry!” I shout, immediately straightening myself out. He hands me my phone. “It’s all good ma’. Are you alright?” I accept my phone and nod, “I’m ok. How about yourself?” Just then, our eyes meet and I do not want to sound cliché but there was a very strong connection. It was as if I knew him from somewhere, but where? I immediately brush off the feeling and scold myself for being so silly. Clearly we are not two star-crossed lovers. What I am is an emotional wreck and incredibly vulnerable and…those eyes, those slanted almond shaped eyes…”I’m good ma’. Hey you look real familiar do I know you from somewhere?” He asked. Couldn’t be…or could it? Stuff like this only happens to white people in movies. Maybe I’m trippin’…”No, don’t think so,” I say. I put my phone in my bag. I gotta get out of here, I think to myself. I think I am going crazy. “You seem like a nice person,” Mr. Slanted eyes says. “I am, or at least I try to be,” I reply. I check my watch. “Are you in a hurry? Where are you coming from?” “I uh, ummm I am coming from work…” “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be in your biz or nothing it’s just-“No, no it’s fine. You’re good.” I hate myself. I’m such a lame. “Oh ok cool.” My mind is telling me to leave and that I have enough issues (namely King) but my feet refuse to listen. “So, you were getting a tattoo?” I ask, wishing that I could think of something else more charming or witty to say just to keep us trapped in this moment for just a few minutes longer. “Oh no ma’ I was here earlier with one of my homeboys while he was getting tatted up and I lost my brand new IPhone 5 so I came all the way back here to see if anyone found it. I’m pissed off man.” He looked around and then back at me. “That sucks. Those phones are super expensive…you had insurance on it though, right?” “Yeah, but they was like, it’s gonna take 7-14 business days, so I am basically without a phone until then. Plus all of my contacts and pictures of my son…” In the dimming light I could see his frustration. “Well, again I am sorry about your phone. But, I really have to get going now. I still have a train to catch.” “Oh you’re catching the Redline?” he asked. “Uh yes…” “Oh, well would you mind if I walked you?” I was not sure what to do at that moment other than say, “I don’t mind”. And there it was. We walked a steady, even pace and during the first few minutes of silence I snuck peeks at him. He wasn’t very tall. As a matter of fact he was shorter than King. He was maybe 2 inches taller than me and I am 5’7”. He had a slim build and a medium brown complexion. His lips weren’t full, but they were nice, he was clean shaven even though his moustache and beard looked more like peach fuzz. But I just couldn’t get over his eyes. He must have caught me looking at him because then he said,” You look good too ma’”. I never blushed before, and black people (unless they are very light) do not blush, but I felt the blood rush to my face. I couldn’t help but respond with a cheeky grin. “I forgot to ask,” he goes on, “but do you have a man? I got so caught up in not letting you get away that I-““NO!” I did not mean for it to come out that way but it did. “I mean, no, no I don’t”. Then he and I just burst out laughing for seemingly no reason at all. We continue on with our walk. “So what’s your name?” I ask. Good Lord, I am actually nervous. I thought all sense of shame went out the window with King, but I guess not. “Trey,” he says. “And yours ma’?” “Danielle.” I don’t really understand the whole “ma’” thing, but whatever. He could call me “ma’” all he wants. “Danielle…” he breathes, “so what do you do Miss Danielle. You look real professional,” his eyes gloss over me as if he taking me in and storing me away in a mental rolodex…and then he sees my feet. Mind you I keep my feet pedicured so there is never any crust I need to be ashamed of but my bubble gum colored flip flops did look out of place with my grey slacks and black my black blazer with white tank. “Please don’t judge me,” I giggle, “But my shoes were killing me and I keep a pair of flip flops on me for after work.” He cracks a smile. “It’s all good. I get it. I have five sisters so I know how it is.” In that instance, the walls came tumbling down on both parts. We both opened up about our lives and what we had to deal with and what we wanted in the future. I briefly talked about King and I informed him that our relationship was over for good. He talked a little about his sons mother and what she was putting him through, and to me, she sounded like a piece of work. Of course, you can’t believe everything a person tells you because folks lie and because you typically hear only one side of the story. But, the woman did sound like she had a couple of screws loose. By the time we made it to the platform, I felt like I had known him forever. “So where do you get off at?” he asked. I told him the name of the stop and that I also have to transfer trains. “Damn ma’ you live that far?” I nod. It was strange. I didn’t want him to leave. I could have stayed on that platform all night just to be in his presence for a while longer. He must have read my mind because he says, “I will ride with you, and don’t worry about me being a stalker it’s just that it is late and a woman such as yourself has no business riding a train alone.” I thought I had died and went to Heaven. I have a hard enough time trying to get a man to open a door for me let alone ride a couple of trains with me just to see me safe. I didn’t know what to do or how to even react. “Thank you but you don’t have to do that. I’m a big girl, I do this daily.” “You need a car ma’.” He said. If it was not for the fact that he had already earned 1000 points in my book, I might have been offended. “I have a car. It’s parked at my last stop in the parking lot. I just hate driving the freeway.” If his jaws could have fallen to the floor, I am quite sure they would have. He seemed stunned. It was obvious he wasn’t expecting that. “Well I’ll be damned. Alright then,” he said. “But I am still going to ride with you and I will even walk you to your car.” Would it have been too much if I had kissed him right then and there? I feel like I am in a dream. “Sounds good…I could use the company”, was my reply.
The train ride, well to be specific, all three train rides had me in a bliss. On each train he sat on the seat nearest the edge, like he was protecting me from everything and everyone-and I never felt safer. He wore a black hooded sweater over some khakis, and black and white Nikes. The day had finally gave way for night and the air was borderline freezing. The evening rush was near its end and I found myself wishing that I had a time machine just so I could start the day over again and relive this magical encounter. Our conversation never ceased, even when we changed trains, it was like we were in our own world…truly an enchanted moment. By the time we had exited my last train and he escorted me to my car, I felt bad that he had traveled so far with me. I started to ask him if he needed a ride but as soon as my mouth moved to say a word he says,” Don’t worry about me ma’. My car is parked right over there at that tattoo shop.” “But I feel so bad that you traveled all this way with me and now you have go all the way back.” He shook his head. “It was worth it, believe that.” “At least let me drive you…” “I thought you hate driving the freeway?” He smirked “I do but-““No buts,” he said. “Unlock your car.” I hesitated for a moment. Fear began to creep in. Was this a set up? I do so against my better judgment and he walks along to the driver side and opens the door. “Get in.” I do as instructed and once I am inside, I say, “You forgot to ask for my number.” His smile is big…and beautiful. “I surely did. Damn ma’, you got a nigga all discombobulated. You got a pen and some paper? You know what happened to my phone”. I reach over into my glove compartment and find a pen and a pad. I write my number down. “Don’t lose this.” I tell him. Then I scold myself for sounding desperate. He laughs. “Trust me I won’t. Now, start your car. I’m not leaving until I see you drive off.” This man unknowingly scoured another two million points in my book. King who? I fasten my seatbelt and start my car. “I feel like I am saying goodbye to my best friend or something,” he chuckles. “Me too,” I say a little sad. “But look ma’ I’m going to call you. I never met a woman like you before…let alone ride three trains with her to her car. Be safe ma’.” “Goodnight Trey. I look forward to that call.” And with that I rolled up my window, reversed, and honked my horn as a final goodnight and I pulled away. And as I drove off I felt like I had just left that missing piece of me right there in the parking lot.
Spoiler: Love At Last…Meet Danielle.
Chapter One
Danielle
Monday Is a Bitch
I hate early mornings, but I especially hate MONDAY mornings. But hey, I know that I am not alone in my hatred for the first day of the work week. You see, Monday mornings are incredibly hectic in my household; they are constant reminders as to why I should be single. My boyfriend of five years live together in a small one bedroom apartment in Los Angeles, and before I go any further, rent ain’t cheap ok? Which means that we BOTH have to work. Unfortunately, I am the only one who does (and has been since the first of last year when he lost his job as an account manager for a mid-sized security company) and I will most assuredly get to that later. So, for over a year I have found myself having to go in TWO hours early just to squeeze in some overtime. As a matter of fact last week I had to beg, plead and borrow just to scrape up the money to turn our lights back on AND buy some food for the house. Any who, back to the reason why Mondays are a bitch: I have to get up at four, attempt to do some housekeeping before I leave (even though I will have to do it again when I come home) and then beat feet out the door before “his majesty” wakes up and asks me a million questions which when dealing with him has the potential to make me late. And God forbid he rolls over and decides that he wants some early morning “cookie”. But thankfully, today is the day that period has decided to grace me with its presence, so just as I am grabbing my bag and my jacket, I hear nothing but loud snoring coming from the bedroom.
I hate driving, especially downtown Los Angeles so I usually just park my car (a 2000 all white Honda Accord) in the Green-line parking structure and ride the train to work and today is no exception. I park my car between a beat up forest green Sudan and a 1995 funny colored BMW, slip on my flip-flops (yes I wear them on my way to work. You try walking in five inch heels all day riding public transportation and walking to and fro and you will quickly find out that before the end of the day, your feet will hate you.), load my “work shoes” and my lunch in my favorite tote bag, do a once over in my mirror to make sure I at least do not have any food stuck in my teeth and make my way to the train. I say a little prayer that even at 5:15 in the morning, my ride to work is uneventful and that instead of laying in the bed all day and eating us out of house and home, the man with the title “boyfriend” is in front of the computer screen and making use of the resume I put together for him. I hate Mondays. I really do.
I work for a small law firm on 5th and Wilshire as a legal assistant. The pay is ok, all things considered but being the go-getter that I am I am working on my paralegal certification. And before you say anything Paralegals make good money, at least in my case good enough for me to move on from my living situation. Don’t get me wrong, I am sure somewhere in the pit of my stomach I do love King (again don’t. say. Anything. I am not the one who named him) BUUUUUUUUUUT he has done quite a bit of damage not only to me but to our relationship and as I have gotten older and much more mature I have realized that I don’t have to take that shit. Excuse the ghetto that just came out of me but it is the truth.
Moving on, I already have my Bachelors of Arts in Liberal Studies from Cal-State Dominguez but what the hell am I going to do with that? Now that the job market is messed up I need to do something that is practical and that I will not have to worry about the field coming to an end. And it is painstakingly clear that people with legal problems are never going to go away and there is such a wide range of law to work around in, I figured why not? I did at one time want to be a lawyer, which is still a dream that I may pursue, and I already work at a law firm so again, why not?
So, where was I? Oh yes, so I work as a legal assistant at a Disability law firm. I have been there for a little over two years and I feel that it is time for some advancement. Between being the sole provider for my household AND paying off my student loans, I most definitely need to upgrade. It is unfortunate that I am the only African American, black person, Negro, whatever the politically correct term for a person of African descent is that works at the firm. Everyone else is either Mexican, or white and there is that lone Asian that ironically works in accounting. I have good report with everyone, or in laymen’s terms, it is pretty chill. I actually enjoy working in a professional environment. My pay is salary based and not hourly; I know that everyone here has some formal degree of education or training and my benefits package is nothing to complain about: full medical and dental coverage, 401K, a free gym membership to 24 Hour Fitness (which I have yet to use) and access to a company owned time share in Lake Tahoe.
Stepping off of my last train, it is now almost six in the morning and my REAL shift does not begin until 9, but I have to do what I have to do so I guess I should not complain. The walk is a long 15 minutes and I say long because each block is a stretch. The sun has yet to fully peek over the horizon; the early shades of blue are barely breaking through the still darkened sky. The air is crisp, clean and ridiculously chilly. Granted, it is still in the middle of winter (early January) and I do prefer the cold but as I expressed earlier, it is Monday and I would have still loved to lay in the bed for an extra hour. My toes have lost all feeling due to the freezing temperature, but once I am inside the building and can relax and enjoy the warmth and comfort of the heater, my toes will be just fine.
Throughout the course of my walk, I realized nothing has changed in this area. I see the same old abandoned buildings that squatters have taken control of; the streets are littered with trash and last night’s festivities; I see the same drunkard passed out on his favorite bus bench snoring peacefully; and the same homeless woman who has been on the streets for so long she has forgotten who she is. She reeks of a combination of smells; smells that are from her lack of care in her personal hygiene and just from living in the streets. She holds what appears to be meaningful conversations with herself as there is no one who is physically there to entertain her. There have been days where it was quite clear that whoever she was talking to had pissed her all the way off and as I am a couple of blocks away from her I could still hear her voice ranting and shouting at the top of her lungs at this invisible manifestation of her outrage. My heart goes out to her, and today is not any different.
As I finally approach the building where I work I quicken my pace because it is a little after six and I need as much overtime as I can get, but just as I open the door to enter the five story building my phone buzzes. It’s a text message from King. It read, “What time are u off?” It takes everything in me to not reply with something nasty but instead I swallow my anger and reply,” 6. Why?” He does not answer me back and at this point I could care less. It is a damn shame that at six in the morning I already have an attitude so I turn my Samsung Galaxy III off and toss it back in my bag. I acknowledge the overweight security guard who sits at his desk in the lobby with a quick,” Good morning” and make my way over to the ladies room to put on the black pumps that I purchased from Target. The shoes add an additional four inches to my already 5’7” height. My black slacks are slimming and my favorite white gold buttoned blouse makes me feel a bit better about myself. Here at work, I keep my black shoulder length black hair pulled back in a neat little bun and since I wear no make-up I take pride in keeping my cocoa brown skin healthy looking. I do one last once over in the mirror, apply some Chap stick and even though by no stretch of the imagination am I fat, I remind myself that maybe it is time that I use that free gym membership. Then I make my way to the elevator, press the button for the fifth floor and prepare to start my day. Monday mornings are truly a bitch. Let’s hope that the rest of the day is not.


