Fairy Sight

As we approach the last curtain call, not all of us go out with fond farewells. Some seek that mystical fountain of youth; some live in denial; others speak of freezing their heads for eventual attachment to a cyborg body.

A centenarian named George is about to discover those aren't the only options. Fear of the grave can be a powerful motivator, and George has had plenty of time to plan his escape from the Grim Reaper.

Enter  now an assisted living facility called the Paxton. Its oldest resident is about to enter. . . .well, you know the rest.






On the last day of his life, George set out on his motorized chair to see the witch. His Sunday paper lay ignored like others on this wing of the Paxton; it was all lies anyway. He took the elevator to the third floor, knowing Bruna was up at this early hour. He tooted his horn outside room 312, and motored inside when she called the invite.

Bruna occupied a recliner in the dim space, a silhouette against green drapes until his eyes adjusted. She turned down the TV volume. "Happy one hundred, birthday boy. I suppose you want a youth potion. As if I could--I can't even cure these swollen ankles." She rubbed at them above ruby-sequined slippers.

"I know how you got named Bruna," he began with a slick grin. "Your dad was hoping for a Bruno. Surprise!"

"Droll, George. You came all the way up here to remind me half the population is female?"

"No, no." George offered up a cottony old-man laugh. "I need a potion."

"Ah yes." Bruna kicked down the foot rest and hobbled to the bedroom.

George followed, careful of the Christmas tree she never took down. I'd only have to put it up again, she reasoned.

She bent with a groan and pulled a shoe box out from under the sofa bed. The view outside was all sunshine and birdsong at this early hour.

George inspected the contents when she plopped down beside the box. Oval stones called "magic eggs" supposedly warded off magic. A parchment healing spell worked by placing it on the affected body part. "The translocation spell," he decided. "How does that work? I keep forgetting."

"You make it like this." Bruna closed eyes in concentration. "Boil snow and oil with two different woods for the fire. Marinate in a sheep bladder for six weeks. Add charcoal until it dries out. Grind it to a powder and pour into a pouch. Lay it on an object that comes from your destination--a place you've been to before. Picture that place while you say the incant beneath the pouch." She studied him. "What did you have in mind?"

"I thought maybe the old homestead where I grew up."

"Doesn't work that way. You'll be there, all right, and see yourself as a kid. But you'll still be old, and nobody knows you from Adam."

"Well then, how about the fairy sight?"

She recited again. "Add rose water and marigold to oil, and mix until it clears. Add buds of hollyhock, marigold, thyme, hazel, and some grass from a fairy ring. Steep it in the sun for three days." She studied him again, more closely this time. "Same deal, George--if you go into the fairy plane, you'll still be old."

"But immortal--am I right?"

"Of course. Nobody ever dies there. But why do you think fairies are invisible? If they think you can see them, they'll take you into the fairy plane, and nobody ever comes back."

"Maybe I'll see you there some day, Bruna. Gonna miss ya."

Bruna made a wan smile as she opened a tin of yellow cream. "I can't make any promises about that, not unless you find a way back and tell me what it's like. Come here." She applied the eye salve.

"Say, this is soothing. But things are a tad blurry."

"It'll pass. Go down to the park. If I was a fairy, I'd be all over it, what with the squirrels, pools, fairy houses, flowers, and whatnot."

"I'll do that. Thanks a mil, Bruna!" He turned and motored out.

Minutes passed. "Aw heck." Bruna got behind her walker and prepared to follow, tucking the tin into a pocket. "I always wondered what fairies look like."

Sheldon's Cooper's Pithy Sayings

"Sheldon Cooper here, along with my talented associate Amy. Today I want to change our format to pithy sayings. Share with us your nuggets of hometown wisdom."

"And we have a bite." Amy pushed a button. "What's your name and what's your game?"




"I'm Ed, a Hollywood producer, but I used to work in a lab. If you tell Jane Doe not to operate a centrifuge with an unbalanced load, make sure she knows you're talking about the machine."

Sheldon grinned. "Do you see what he did there? The conditional statement has been re-assigned to. . . ."

"Yes, Sheldon. I really don't think we need to dumb these down. Who's on the line next?"

"My talent," said a matronly voice, "is comparatives. I'm good at it because I'm deeper than cemetery infrastructure."

"Clever," Sheldon mused. "A cemetery necessarily has deeper infrastructure than the norm. Can we all guess why?"

Amy placed a hand on her forehead. "Sorry about that, folks. One of us is subtlety challenged. Got any more comparatives?"

"Sneakier than an elbow biter."

"Statistically valid," Amy decided. "It's like the suckers know to sneak up from behind. I get ten bites on the elbow for one everywhere else."

Sheldon frowned. "I'd love to see your source data, Amy. Anywho, next we have Gene with his 'why' game."

"Why do we never have the same  number of hot dots and buns? Why don't cowboys duck that obvious punch? Why does your pal Leonard nervously twiddle his fingers?"

"Why am I listening to this?" Sheldon pressed the next button.

A younger man. "If your last name is Chocstraw, don't name your kid Van."

"I wouldn't do that anyway," Sheldon insisted. "Van is so pedestrian. Amy and I have compiled a list of prospective names against the time that we. . . ." Both hosts went red-faced. The new caller sounded like a teenage girl.

"If you dream you're two inches tall, watch out for the cat."

"Or a mouse," Sheldon added. "A dog. A spider of sufficient size."

"There was only a cat in the video game."

"And. . . .next?" Sheldon hit another button.

An older guy. "How do you make a stuck grocery line start moving? Get in a different line. Now that one's stuck, and the first one moves right along."

"Good old Murphy's Law," Amy said. "One day we'll pin down the calculus behind it."

"Here's a cartoon caper," said a gravely voice. "How does Charlie Brown cure Lucy of yanking away the ball before he kicks it: kick the crap outta Lucy instead."

"Now that's curious logic," Sheldon said. "It would only make Lucy all the crabbier. She'd devise an even more devilish stratagem against Charlie."

"Is this guy for real. . . ."

"Subtlety," Amy reminded. "I don't know what to say, other than we're out of time."

Sheldon did the honors. "One cannot literally be out of time, as it implies being outside the time/space continuum. This is Sheldon Cooper signing off, although one cannot literally 'sign' a broadcast. . . ."

Punctuating Dialogue Correctly

https://thinkwritten.com/punctuating-dialogue/

Whatever your techniques, I'm sure I will need to review this too in every manuscript.

Learning how to punctuate dialogue is important when writing the conversations between your characters.

Punctuating dialogue might not sound like a very exciting topic or a lot of fun as a writer to study – but it is very important in making sure your dialogue exchanges between characters make sense to your readers!

Good punctuation will help your readers connect to your characters and help you write a stronger book.

If you’ve done all of the work of planning an outline for your novel and worked on developing your characters, the last thing you want to do is lose readers by making common grammar mistakes!

Most dialogue sentences are made of two parts: the dialogue, which is the spoken portion of the sentence, and then the dialogue tag, which identifies the speaker.

In this example, we have the following sentence, spoken by Martha.

“I am going to the zoo,” said Martha.

The sentence which Martha speaks is the dialogue. This is the part that ends with a comma. The second part is the dialogue tag. The dialogue tag is what identifies Martha as the speaker.

Avoid Run-On Sentences – Use Multiple Sentences if Necessary

It’s easy to want to create run-on sentences. Fortunately, it is also easy to avoid them.

Below is an example of a run-on sentence in dialogue with way too much punctuation.

“I love this dress,” said Sally, “I’m going to wear it everywhere, not just to the wedding, but also to the grocery store, the library, and the pancake dinner.”

This above example has several mistakes in it. First of all, you should not put a comma after a dialogue tag. It’s best to use two separate sentences.

“I love this dress,” said Sally. “I’m going to wear it everywhere. I’m not just going to wear it to the wedding. I’m going to wear it to the grocery store, the library, and the pancake dinner.”

Do Use a Comma for Action Within the Dialogue

“I love this dress,” said Sally, carefully taking it out of the closet.

“I think it’s hideous,” said Mark, wondering why on earth she would want to wear something that reminded him of pea soup. “You do realize it’s the same color as pea soup, don’t you?”

In this instance, we DO use a comma, because it separates the dialogue tag from the action. In this case, Sally is doing a physical action as she takes the dress from the closet. Mark’s action is not a physical action. However, it still counts as a verb and an action all the same.

---

Rule #6: Know How to Punctuate Dialogue in Reverse

In all of our examples so far, we’ve put the dialogue tag at the end. However, both the dialogue tag and the action can come before the dialogue. In this case, you simply end the dialogue with a period and use a comma after the dialogue tag.

Mark whispered, “I love you even if you are wearing an ugly dress.”

Looking into his eyes, Sally said, “Thank you for understanding.”

Basically, when the dialogue tag or the action comes first, you simply reverse the dialogue punctuation marks for the comma and the period.

---

Rule #7: Multiple Paragraphs of Same Speaker

When you have a character who is speaking a lot, it is okay if you need to use multiple paragraphs. Simply omit the end quotation mark at the end of the first paragraph and begin the second paragraph with a quote mark.

This can sometimes be confusing to readers, but there are times when it is appropriate.

“Listen, I have a lot to say about why I love this dress.” Sally straightened her posture. “This dress was my grandmother’s dress. She wore it when she first came to this country in 1936. She had nothing – no money, no food – but she had this dress.

“That’s where I am today. I have nothing. Nothing! No job, no money, no car. I have this dress. It worked for my grandmother, maybe it will work for me, too.

“I’m wearing this dress, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

Again, sometimes it is better to break up your dialogue with different speakers or to add action – but it’s not always necessary. Largely a lot of this will depend on your own unique type of writing style, type of work you are

Additional Dialogue Punctuation Resources

Many writers can find the task of correctly punctuating their character’s dialogue to be overwhelming. Hopefully these punctuation rules for dialogue will help you improve as a writer.

Need more dialogue writing tips? Check out our article on 6 Tips for Writing Dialogue.

You may also find that a good style manual can be a great resource to have on hand as a desk reference as a writer.

Writing dialogue punctuation does not have to be difficult. With practice and a basic understanding of these rules for when to use commas, quotation marks, and periods, you can easily add dialogue to your stories confidently.

writing and what your goals are as a writer.

For my dialogue, I have a notebook.  When I hear something said, or read phrases, I put them in for future stories etc.   I also think a character sketch is good, and write out phrases that you think your character would say or react to a situation and so on.   What is your method?  I have a "lab" that happens to be social media.  Some of the most nastiest comments have made my characters stronger...haha.  Seeing various viewpoints have also enabled me to strengthen plots and so on.    Happy writing!

Crisis at Six Forks

What was this, a sporting goods emporium or a theme park? Bud Randolph, CEO of Six Forks Palladium, didn't like what he saw. Country tunes  set the theme elsewhere, but this corner basked in some kind of new age fairy music. An overhead bar read "Now playing: Aldebaran by Enya".

While it was true this had once been an aquatics park, no one had expected the mermaid gig to catch on like it did. The original skylight illumined a new waterfall that churned up a sparkling mist. Crowds thronged the plexiglass barrier that arced around a deep, curved lake. White paint brightened the depths, including semicircular steps emerging onto a fanciful island, where a treasure chest rested beneath a fake palm.

As Bud watched, a green mermaid with red hair surfaced to empty a bucket of coins into the chest. He caught the name "Ellie". He drew closer, noting a man with a scuba tank filming at the bottom. How much was that costing him?--not to mention all the toys. A blonde in white sailed a submarine across the lake to a waiting brunette in blue. Two pirate ships bobbed at anchor next to a pile of cannon balls. This was the "battleship" game in which two players lobbed balls to sink the opponent. Was that a turtle? No, just a realistic copy flippering along in the current.

He'd already decided to pull the plug when things got even worse. A custodian collected money for a lively video trade. Two dollars bought your phone a tour in a waterproof case. Bud edged close to a pair of black ladies who delighted at the results. Their name cards said Joyce, about seventy, and Rachel, maybe fifty.

Rachel's video followed a sedate course along waterways branching from the lake. The view flowed beneath pedestrian bridges, looked up at watery faces peering down, then passed close to a blue mermaid passing the opposite way. A funny one, this one, as her hand briefly blocked the camera.

The music changed tempo to feature "In the Amber Room by Faith and the Muse". Now the mood was somber and medieval.

Joyce's video cruised along the surface toward the waterfall, suddenly dived beneath to look straight up into a maelstrom of bubbles. A neutral-buoyancy octopus whirled past. The view skated along submerged steps toward the green mermaid, who scooped coins with a shovel. A hand reached out to smack the green rump. When the redhead turned round eyes about, blue flukes waggled in her face.

Joyce and Rachel laughed like kids, when they should be checking out grills or fishing gear.

The view next wound into a curved tunnel, surfaced inside the Mermaid Palace. Food machines and lockers lined either side of brick tiles the ladies sat on when taking a break. Until now, no one had seen this inner sanctum. The journey passed an undulating sea horse out in the lake, then surfaced in a sheeting of water. Joyce's smiling face beamed above her arm reaching down for the phone.

"Use the blue mermaid next time," Joyce advised. "That girl crazy!"

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

Binia, the blonde in white, made it her business to know all the bigwigs, and wasn't fooled by the CEO's casual Friday spiel. Seated next to the other two, she divided attention between him and a whimsical card game (2.95 at the gift shop). She didn't even notice when a small frog man with paddling legs bumped against her fin.

Sirtis, aka the blue mermaid, tossed down a pair of starfish cards. "All I needed was that other starfish, Ellie. I think you skanked me out of it."

"Whoa, missy, wash your mouth out!" Ellie retorted.

Hardly paying attention, Binia motioned to the visiting cameraman. His obscure cable channel planned a series on promotional themes like theirs. He surfaced and raised his goggles. "Al, check out the guy in jeans and sweatshirt. Did you know he's our CEO?"

"No fooling?"

"I don't like the vibes," Sirtis said. "He's not a happy caballero."

Binia conferred briefly with Al, who rose dripping, his camera still shouldered.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

Al maneuvered through self conscious folks who didn't feel up to being filmed, confronting a surprised Randolph. Now if he could remember what Binia told him to say. "Mr Randolph, isn't it? I understand you have two stores here on the east coast, and have an eye on the midwest."

"We're kicking it around," Randolph said in careful politician mode.

"My cable channel is based out there. We're doing a series on store themes. So far, yours is the best, even if your other one doesn't yet have a theme. Think of it--a different theme for each store. You could become known for it."

Randolph looked like a man with gears spinning upstairs. "Tell you what--how'd you like to interview some of my customers?"

Like Binia said, the free advertising angle never failed. Al returned her salute. Since the skylight admitted the noon sun straight down, it was time for the trio's water dance, this time set to the pulsing Goth of Collide's "Lucky Thirteen". Apparently it was Sirtis' turn to pick a tune.

Desert Twilight

This desert scene is a little fuzzy due to scanning the whole picture. At least it softens the sky somewhat, and darkens the mood overall. What drew me to the subject were the hard lines, ala Cezanne. He'd have painted this one for sure, if they had deserts in England or France. Believe it or not, that's snow out there.

Splash One

Compared to the Six Forks Palladium, the Southern Sports Emporium was tinsel and mirrors. So went the consensus of three performers invited as special advisors. There was no mermaid palace behind the scenes, a private dressing area complete with food machines, fridge and microwave. Its pool was a modest affair with only a curtain that raised and lowered over the rear stage. A concealed door admitted the guests.

Lori, the resident star, cavorted in a suit of red scales, long brown hair flowing in her wake. Shoppers grew ever more vocal in anticipation of having four  of them to gawk at. The visitors were said to put on a top-rate act. 

Struggling into their suits behind the curtain, the trio lacked top-rate enthusiasm: blonde Binia in white, redhead Ellie in green, and the brunette Sirtis in blue. When they signaled readiness, the curtain raised to lively applause. Lori also joined in the welcome, standing in the neck-deep water.

Binia motioned her over. The suit had a sort of lobster paddle in lieu of elegant flukes. "Lori, we don't have feet. When you push off, use the crowns instead of the heels."

The store manager, Mr Stark, addressed the crowd with a mike. "Direct from our neighbor to the north, we're delighted to host Binia, Ellie, and Sirtis!" It was their clue to jump in.

The water's coldness was in contrast to the heated concourse at Six Forks. The pool itself, rather than being recessed, was a slapdash affair of plexiglass, and the concrete floor remained unpainted.

Ellie took a turn tossing the beach ball, having partnered with Lori. "I definitely like the glass. We only use it as a crowd barrier. But anyway, is this the only toy you have?"

"Well, so far." Lori batted the ball to Binia. "What do you guys have?" 

"A submarine, Frisbees, sea horses, flying fish. . . ." Ellie had the impression Lori wasn't all that interested. 

Sirtis as usual went her own way, zooming along the bottom, drumming on the glass to the thrill of kids--and a manically chasing, yapping terrier. 

During the break, all four sat with fins dangling in the water. Stark kept up a tempo of special "today only" deals. Fortunately it was too noisy for anyone to engage them in converse. Back home, the trio upheld the mermaid mystique by remaining silent in public. Lori suggested that wasn't very friendly to paying customers. 

That brought up Binia's next tip. "You need to do shows, like water dance or a coin toss, and that takes at least two of you. We have these pails and shovels for scooping coins, and a treasure chest to dump them in. What else. . . .no gum or hard candy. When you surface and take a breath, you might suck it into a lung." 

"Try some theme music," Ellie added. "We like Enya and Constance Demby. And it's a good idea to pin your hair. It looks good billowing under water, but when you surface, you look like a drowned sheep dog." 

Binia took a hard look at the home attraction. "Aren't you writing this down?"

"I don't know; Mr Stark isn't gonna lay out that much money."

"You mean--" Ellie traded looks with the others. "You're the only one here for the duration?"

Lori sloshed water with her fin. "Oh sure, I guess so. He'll probably hire somebody else by month's end, if the suit fits. Keep it fresh, he likes to say. I'm just an inventory checker who got 'volunteered' for this." 

"So, ladies." Sirtis contemplated her raised and dripping flukes. "We thought we were helping a sister. And all the time, this guy just wants free advertising. We've been punked!"

Stark emerged behind them with a grandiose bow. "Folks, don't forget our sale on outboard motors. But be careful out there, and watch out for the mermaids!"

"Oh yes." Sirtis balanced on her hands, did a powerful sweep of the tail, aimed at Stark's back. 

WHOP!

Stark made an ungainly splash, floundered and thrashed, struggled to keep head above water. Thinking it staged, the crowd roared appreciation. Stark had no choice but to affect a strained grin as he struggled onto the stage. "Are you nuts? Now the suit will shrink. It's ruined!"

Sirtis made as if to bite his nose, forcing him to lean away. "Watch out for the mermaids." 

Judgment of the Clueless

Gators U hosted its culture seminar at a convenient time for vampires: seven in the evening. Not that they believed in this escapee from a Lugosi film; Cambris had been discovered as a disembodied voice on the Wicca Horror Show, in keeping with the fact she could no more be filmed than reflect in a mirror. The college staff good-naturedly toed the line about no cell phones or cameras.

Professor Turkel let his glasses dangle on a sport coat with elbow patches as he took the podium. "We're pleased to have three members of a TV show. For those of you in journalism, writing or acting, their life experience should be insightful."

Seated behind the podium, Ed tried not to laugh. Neither Cambris nor Wicca were alive in the technical sense. Station management, also ignorant about that, had him in a real pickle.

"Let's introduce our guests," Turkel resumed. "Cambris you know by her stage name. With her are Ed and Wicca, producer and host respectively."

"Hostess," Wicca said with tired resolve. "I'm a hostess." Ed tried to pry her out of the seat. "Who, me? What do I say to these mask-wearing, TP-hoarding sheep?"

"Life experience," Ed insisted. "Try to keep it this side of the Twilight Zone."

With an eyeroll, Wicca sallied forth to more applause from the tiered spectators. "Umm. . . .why are soap bubbles green and purple?" It reminded Ed of the Munsters episode where Herman wowed the beatniks. "What else. . . .ladies! When you do floor exercise, put Fido out. He won't pass up an opportunity like that." Subdued tittering broke out. "If you're an older guy out jogging, and get passed by a girl pushing a carriage, hang up your shoes. And your cape!"

Ed, pushing fifty, didn't agree with the cape part. And Wicca didn't know the difference between life experience and crackpot philosophy.

"Who should we send to Mars? Weirdos who clog the grocery line because they crave the clerk's sole attention." That actually drew cheers and claps. "And drivers who hang their arm out the window." She made a smiling hand gesture in conclusion.

An alarmed Ed sprang up to seize her wrist. "I keep telling you--it's a thumbs up!"

"And I say this one is longer, so it makes more of a friendly greeting!"

The crowd laughed. Ah--it was a comedy warmup for the main speaker. Cambris, though, was equally at a loss for what this bunch needed to hear, and required some coaxing.

Wicca pulled her up. "They think you're a playwright, girlfriend. Get out there!"

Pads and notebooks whispered out of satchels when Cambris came forth. "Shall you fain find joyance in the judgment? How so in a shadow time of changeling twaddle, polemics e'er relumed, and a script ripped unread?"

A girl whose mask sported bunnies raised a gloved hand. "It was effective to put 'ripped' after 'script', since that changes it from an adjective to a verb." The professor nodded approval, but it didn't sit well with a former village matron who brooked no sass from pre-medieval serfs.

Cambris turned pinpoint grackle eyes on Ed. "This mortal dares to intermeddle, pitting piffle jellified against the dissonance of eons."

Ed bowed his way forward, making a self-conscious wave to the crowd. "They're supposed to do that. It's a teaching seminar." He scurried back to his seat.

"I see the problem," Wicca said. "These people don't know when they're being insulted. I always thought the backpacks make them look like little parachuters."

"Chill," Ed muttered.

The audience seemed to enjoy the byplay, so much gimmickry in their estimation.

"Whence your course," Cambris posited, " 'neath doomed skies? Mine own path wends 'tween worlds and words insentient. Naught to our gatherage lends empyreal tryst; none but solace of nocturne and moonmist."

"Hrrmmm." Ed squirmed, but the students were busy writing it down. What else would a "vampire" talk about?

"You said life experience," Wicca pointed out. "In our case, undead experience. Ha ha ha!"

A goateed youth in a logger's cap raised a hand. "Did you get your skills through an MFA?"

Again Ed had to ease on stage to translate for her. "Master of Fine Arts. It's just another degree you go way in debt for, and can't find a job."

It didn't improve Cambris' opinion of today's society. She swept a fluted arm to encompass it all. "Yon commonage is enrapt in a turpitude less loved in my day, and the more avidly they do evanesce."

Prophetic sentiment notwithstanding, the crowd applauded the display of wordsmithing. Professor Turkel, still clapping, replaced Cambris at the podium. "Marvelous. We can almost believe she's a creature of the night. Am I right? I picked up on some unusual word pairs. I think we'll call the style 'Cambrience'." Both laughter and clapping signaled the group's agreement.

The trio headed backstage, ostensibly having garnered a few fans for the horror show. Ed hoped he hadn't soured Cambris' worldview. "Cambris--I tend to talk out the side of my mouth. What's the rush getting back to the Outworld?"

"Pish! These people have a foul taste."

Like Wicca, who used a "soul drain" to recharge her magic--limited to the criminal element at Ed's request--Cambris stalked the same hunting ground.

"Oh that," Wicca said. "This is the most medicated place I've ever seen. You can't find anybody who isn't flying on something."

"Hey," Ed objected. "I'm a regular nature boy. Skip my chapter."