Animation Source Forums

Yeah . . . it's my favorite Shakespeare play (second goes to "A Midsummer Night's Dream" . . . and that would just be awkward in the Balto universe IMO.) and I've watched loads of different versions of it to get the right feel for the Balto world, that's all.

Glad you like it!

- Juuchan17

Har,har,aye Starcrossed be a jolly,jolly,good fanfic,har,har! *I raise me glass to the lass*

UPDATE: 10/23/08

ACT II of "Jadze: The Blessed Curse" is now up to read on BS! Please read and review it, but don't forget to read the first ACT to understand the events of this one!

- ACT II: CURSE -

Also, I may post a snippet from ACT III in a week or so! Look for it!

- "StarCrossed" is still a work in progress, but I may have the first Act done in a few weeks, once I tweak everything, that is! (I'm so glad you guys are liking it thus far! Thanks for the comments!)

- Also, my one-shot Aleu fic, "I Remember Keliah" is nearing completion! I got back to working on it the other day, so I may be posting it by the next month!

(Yay, I'm getting back to speed. Now, to get to my homework . . .)

- Juuchan17

UPDATE: 11/12/08

GAWD, I started writing some more crazy stuff, but I'm not sure how far to let it go . . .

Here, I'll share some snippets with you, and you can tell me what you think . . .

========================================

The gray creature was all alone in the darkness. The only light was a single ray above it, shining like a bright spotlight and sparkling with the particles of dust that passed through it. It was beautiful like moonlight, but the creature did not notice it amidst its tears.

"Why?" the creature whimpered sadly. "Why . . . why am I so lonely?"

It cried of sorrow, of pain, but why was it really full of sadness? Was it because it was alone in the dark? It was so young, no older than a three-moon old wolf pup - perhaps it was crying out for its mother? Still, one could think of many reasons why a child so young would be so sad, but somehow, a comforting voice filled the air, one that nearly surprised the weeping child.

"Hush now, you are not alone . . . No, you have never been alone . . ."

With a quick sniffle, the child looked up with confusion. "Huh?" Its head turned from side to side. "Is someone there? I cannot see you, but I sense that someone called me."

The voice chuckled softly, sounding as beautiful as a birdsong. "I have called you, child . . . Dry your tears, for I am here . . ."

"Who . . . who are you?" The blind child asked the voice, knowing that it could not see whoever it was. "You sound so sweet, so caring . . . Please tell me who you are!" Just the thought of such a nice person only made the child eager to learn the identity of this kind voice.

"I am who I am, child . . ." That was all the voice said to the youngling. Even still, the child smiled at the warmth of the response. It continued to speak, "I know you cannot see me, even if I filled the world with light . . . however, when you awaken, you will begin to walk down the path I've chosen for you . . ."

Again, the lupine pup was befuddled, but did not allow fully show it. "I do not understand, but I trust you . . ." The child shook its head, changing its mind. "No, I trust you with all my heart . . . I shall do your bidding . . ."

The voice chuckled once again. "That is good . . . it is your destiny to do so . . ."

"Huh?" The gray child said again. "What do you mean?"

"You have been chosen to do God's will, my child . . ." the voice explained briefly. "When you awaken, you will know exactly what only you can do . . ."

The child chose not to respond to the voice again, only gasping with awe at the parting words of the voice that had filled its soul with a warming peace.

"Follow your destiny . . . This is God's blessing . . ."

- from "Bright Sight"

==================================================

Down th' fiery path . . .
Where two rivers run even . . .
'Cross through th' golden gate . . .
There lies th' land called Eden . . .

There is a Legend, but no one remembers it much nowadays . . .

It is said that long ago - long, long ago - there was a magical place of sheer beauty and perfection. In this place, there was lush, green grass covering the ground and bright, azure sky above, no clouds in sight blocking the sun’s warmth. Life was fertile and plentiful in this place, where everyone lived in peace and harmony and flowers bloomed in all shades available in the spectrum. All animals that lived there, even the real, the extinct and the ones we consider as the mythical, roamed and spoke to each other in peace, never having to struggle to survive with all of their daily needs.

The main centerpiece of this beautiful haven was a sparkling fountain, said by scholars and researchers to be the legendary Fountain of Youth - one could sip a drink there and return to a time as if he were just a child again. For centuries, explorers and conquerors had searched for this said fountain, hoping for a single drink of this elixir in order to return their youthful vigor and vitality; however, all attempts to find it failed, usually leading to their own deaths.

But it is said that God's own heavenly touch, which had created such a place, was protecting this land, a sacred paradise far from the sinful eyes of mere mortals. No one has ever seen this world before, but the stories and legends written for many, many millennia speak of this place, causing teachers and researchers to ponder.

Over time, it is said that scholars had considered this place as the Garden of Eden, the same as the one in the book of Genesis in the Bible . . . others called it more of a Shangri-La, a perfect utopia . . . but one thing constantly baffled all that wondered about it . . .

Where is this place?

Where is this world of Eden and how could one get there?

Long ago, it is written that there is only one known species on Earth that could even detect the scent of the Garden's gate -- the canine.

Tame Dogs . . . Wolves . . . Coyotes . . . Dingoes . . . Foxes . . . Any creature generally belonging to the Dog family is naturally born with such a strong sense of smell, and Legends say that only they knew the way to this holy land . . .

However, it is nothing more than a mystery how they have suddenly disappeared from the planet about a hundred years ago, vanishing without a slight trace of where or why all dogs have become extinct.

Perhaps it was the will of God that caused such a tragedy . . . Maybe the plans of humans fueled by greed caused them to flee to some unknown location . . . but from what we know, all dogs are gone, taking the secret of Eden with them.

In today’s time, the world has changed so much . . . Everyday is a challenge just to survive, and everything is covered in never-ending cold and snow. People who were told to remember the old stories in their early-childhood have now long forgotten them, leaving them to fade away just like regular things that humans take for granted.

Even the speak of dogs is a rare thing, one that today’s generation knows nothing about except in a few books that recorded the demise of Man’s Best Friend. The world is lost and lonely without them, allowing cats and other proud felines to take domain of the Earth.

Of course, there’s always the Garden of Eden . . . it is just a Legend . . . right?

- the Prologue from "Eden's Secret"

==============================================

The sun was brightly shining across the late-spring sky as the young husky let out a bark of welcome to its human. The human, a young Inuit girl with medium-length sepia hair who looked to be about six or seven years of age, waved from the inside walls of her father’s wooden sled. The husky barked once again, wagging its two-toned tail of ivory and bright burgundy side to side as it remained slightly curled inward and hovering only less than a centimeter over its back.

As it stood there panting happily on the wooden porch that welcomed the owners into their home, the girl let out a friendly whistle, calling her dog to her side and shaking a dark leather harness in her tiny hands.

At once, the dog’s ears pricked up, its tail wagging even harder as the harness came into view from its striking blue eyes. Lifting its nose in the air, the dog could smell that the girl didn’t have a treat this time like she always did, but by the fact that the dog quickly jolted from the porch and sprinted to the girl and her sled, the husky didn’t need a treat – it wanted to pull that sled anyway.

When the dog reached the sled, the red blur slowed to a walk, stretching its elegant head out to the awaiting hand for a friendly pat on the head. Once it got closer, the husky kissed the human’s face, splashing its saliva on the cheek of the one that took care of it since the dog was about eight weeks old.

“Ha ha ha,” The girl laughed, trying to use her coat-covered arms to block the slobbering kisses. “All right, all right, girl! You can stop now; I’m here . . . ha ha ha!” At the sound of the owner’s command, the husky, revealed as a female, did as she was told and patiently waited for what she knew was coming up next.

“Rika!”

A voice called back from the house; it was a tall man with native skin and raven-black hair that nearly came to the base of his neck. His eyes were slightly squinted and thin as he saw the faces of the child and her dog look back at him.

“Yes, Papa?” the young Inuit girl replied back politely. It was truly apparent that this girl was being raised by very respectable guardians.

“Are you taking that dog out for a sled ride again?” He queried with a sigh of worry. “You know you can’t leave town on a sled by yourself.”

“Oh, it’s okay, Papa,” Rika said with a smile as she began to hitch her faithful companion into the harness. “Pepper and I are only going through the streets of town, that’s all. And besides, Pepper’s gonna need all the training she can get in order to make the sledding cut next week! I promised her that I’d make her into the next great lead dog . . . I promised!” The girl’s face now looked like a big-eyed chipmunk, begging and pleading with her father unit to go into town.

The dog, Pepper, was pleading too as she let out a slight whine, hoping that the larger human understood how much this training meant to her.

All my life, all I’ve ever wanted to be was a sled dog . . . no, a lead dog! Just like my father was months ago. She let out a smile deep down shine within the soul of her heart. Running is my passion . . . my life! If I couldn’t run, I’d . . . I’d die!

This is what my purpose of life is – to run!

Without thinking, the burgundy and white husky barked impatiently, hoping that this conversation between Father and Daughter would speed up so that she could finally run free atop the now-mushy tundra ground with the wind as her wings to fly.

- from "Yukon: Breaking the Barrier"

==================================

It wasn’t like it was an accident – it just . . . it felt so natural, so right.

This was all meant to be . . .

The two year-old husky stood atop a hill that overlooked the town that he lived in – Nome, Alaska. Tall pine trees lined behind him like a territorial fence, keeping him out of the place that he longed for deep inside.

Around his neck was a scarf, knitted in green and yellow stripes that were all in an organized pattern and a carefully-tied knot of the frayed ends draping his dark-red shoulders like wings. Other creatures and pets in town thought he looked completely ridiculous in the accessory, but the dog wore it proudly, enjoying its soft feel against his white chest as if it was helping to silence the beating of his pounding heart.

Oh, he was not nervous where he was . . . but this certain location was special to him.

The husky sat in front of a large rock, one that was slightly longer than his own body length but flat like a skipping stone. His dark eyes gazed at the rock as a sigh escaped from his white muzzled lips.

This is where everything started, . . . when I was young and curious . . .

No matter what others say, there are just some things I can never forget . . . and the memories will always remain . . .


===================================


He was a year old back then, being strapped into the dark leather harness that was attached to a wooden dog sled. The husky had never really wanted to be a sledding dog, but for most huskies, that ended up being their destinies whether they liked it or not. Actually, his father was a sled dog . . . a famous one at that – Balto, the half-wolf, half-husky of Nome. The young son had a lot to live up to – his father’s speed, endurance and strength as a leader – so often times, he felt pressured to perform harder than he ever had before.

Of course, being the son of a hometown hero made him a simple target for the affections of any available female. Day after day whenever he was being harnessed or released from his team, gaggles of eligible huskies would follow behind him trying to catch his eyes and appeal to him. The quarter-wolf learned to ignore their catcalls and just pretend to not show any interest to them. His mother always told him that girls liked popular and athletic sled-dogs, and since he was one of them, the right girl would come along.

But he wasn’t like that at all. He didn’t want to settle down with a mate yet . . . he was still young and full of life – without that feeling of having more responsibility, life just didn’t seem worth living in his opinion. Besides, he preferred exploring and lounging about around his hometown than working in the harness, and if he found a girl, he felt that his freedom would be cut severely, especially if the thought of having pups came along . . . then he wouldn’t have any freedom for what he wanted to do.

Sometimes he would escape from his home to roam the wilderness near the outskirts to the eastern section of Nome – typical, he was 25% wolf after all, so it was natural for him to want to follow his wild instincts every once in a while. He would run in the land of his ancestors, sometimes howl out at the moon above him, but usually the dark-red quarter-wolf would lounge about and maybe try to catch a rabbit or two for fun.

It was an autumn night when he escaped his leash once more. A couple of other dogs pricked up their ears, noticing their companion sneaking off.

“Hey,” a gray male with a white face stopped the yearling in his tracks. “Where’re you off to so late at night?”

“Just . . . just walking, that’s all,” the quarter-wolf replied. “You know how I like to follow my wild roots.”

“Yep,” a black and gray husky chuckled, also awakened by the noise of his teammate’s nightly movements. “That’s Denali, all right. Just like his papa, Balto – they got that whole ‘call o’ th’ wild’ thing in their blood.” He chuckled again, letting out a short mocking howl. “Aroooooo . . . heh-heh.”

“R-right – yeah, that’s right,” the yearling nervously chuckled with his friends. He had grown used to the huskies mocking his heritage, so it didn’t bother him like it had to his father. “Just cover for me, okay? I’ll be back before dawn; if I’m not . . . well, I’m just not.”

“Just be careful, all right?” The gray said with worry. “It’s dangerous out there.”

“I know of the danger, but I can handle it; don’t worry about me so much.” He gave them a grin before trotting through the doorway and into the streets of town. However, only he knew the real reason why he always left in the cloak of the night.

I want only to feel free as the wind combs through my fur . . . he thought as his gait switched to a run the closer he got to the outskirts and the town border. Maybe to hear the voice of nature’s song singing into my ears . . . to smell the organic aroma filling up my nostrils . . . to feel my claws digging into the fertile soil as I pass by tall trees and mountains . . .

But perhaps the strangest thing I want is to find companionship with someone who truly understands me . . . and likes me for who I really am – a wolf that happens to be stuck within a husky’s body . . .

Once he arrived past the bare tundra of the outskirts, he paused to catch his breath. Looking out behind him, he could see the tiny town from afar. The wooden buildings were all darkened, for mostly every human was sleeping in their nightclothes, comfortably tucked into their thick covers and blankets on their beds. He could easily spot the large building that his musher had kept him and the rest of the other teams in for the night, and he frowned at that thought.

I . . . I don’t think I want to go back now, he thought sadly. When I’m up here and looking down at the town, I feel like I was born to be out here . . . I don’t know why, but . . . but it just feels right . . . His dark-red ears lowered at the thought of what his absence would do to his family.

His father would understand – he was Balto, a half-wolf himself – but his mother, a purebred husky that had lived all her life pampered and completely in a human’s care, would be more worried. She was a protective mother nonetheless, but she knew that all of her children with Balto would be a quarter wolf. After all, his older sister Aleu ran away into the wild and never came back, but it was expected – she looked and acted wilder than any of the other five pups in the litter ever since they were little. However, none of the others had plans to follow their wild instincts, but after a while, howling became a family tradition among them.

Maybe . . . maybe if I can find a nice place to settle down for the night, I’ll be fine . . . The dark-red with a lowered tail walked into the brush of the wilderness, slightly rattling the small branches against his fur. He lifted his head up from the forest bush, hearing a sound of soft paw-prints . . . Huh – what’s that noise? Could it be a wolf? He felt his heart pound in excitement, danger, and a little bit of nervousness and curiosity – he had wandered in the woods many times and although he was merely part-wolf, he had never seen a purebred wolf up close.

That was when he first got a glimpse of her.

- from "When I First Felt A Fluttering Heart . . ."

==================================

Okay, now it's your turn - which ones do you like or dislike? Should I continue these or let them go?

Thanks, and I should have more tales to spin next time!

- Juuchan17

Awesome. I'm just leaving work now but I will read these when I get home and post again.

Is this a trick question or something?
Don't drop any of these! I'm most intrigued by the middle one, "Eden's Secret," though. What an interesting angle to take on the Garden of Eden...
Behind that, it's really a toss-up between the other two, because I like them both very much, but about the same.
As always, looking forward to you next fic(s)!

Cheers!
-LWf

Yeah, I'll second that. I like them all. My favorite is "When I First Felt A Fluttering Heart . . .", followed by Yukon and Eden. I'd like to see them all continued, and I think "fluttering heart" and "eden" start out particularly well. I like how Denali wants to explore his wolf side, I've always thought that was an attractive premise for these fics. That's also why I think Balto II: WQ could have been written so much better, and of course why I'm such a fan of "Here I Am".

Thanks - And yes, there will be some Balto characters in "Eden's Secret" . . . it may take a while to catch them though! *snicker*



You know, I like them all too. The only problem is how to finish them! (LOL)

Yeah, I like the concept for "Fluttering Heart" . . . I had been planning it for a lone while, but I couldn't figure out how to go through with it. Finally, I just wrote that beginning part . . . and the rest is beginning to unfold for it. Although I'm still up in the air for the ending and the middle of it . . . But I agree - if WQ had a style like my stories, it would have been so much better! (Although I kinda like it the way it is . . . the US cover remains my one major gripe. )

"Eden", however, is a more serious subject. It mentions God and has a "Wolf's Rain" feel to it (If you've ever watched or even heard of it, you'll get what I mean . . . Hopefully.) . . . but I'm working on it being like a "Save the World" type of tale, still with a sense of adventure, friendship and love atmosphere to it.

"Bright Sight" . . . that was a drabble-esque write. It was just an idea that I had, based a bit on the tale of Joan of Arc . . . or something like that (a child that has been commanded by God to do something . . . that sort of thing) . . . I really don't know where the idea came from, but if I write more and expand this, I'll let you know!

As for "Yukon" . . . It's a similar situation to Denali's story - I wanted her to become a sledding dog, but as a female, we all know she would have to deal with sexist males and other difficulties. The only problem is that I wasn't sure how to start it . . . this is it, of course . . . I plan to continue this and hopefully finish it, but I really need to stop getting other ideas. HAHAHA.

*sigh* All these ideas make me wish I did the NaNoWriMo contest this year . . . *shrugs* Oh, well . . . there's always next year!

Again, thank you both for your comments! I really appreciate it!

- Juuchan17

UPDATE: 11/24/08

Well, with Thanksgiving only a couple of days away, I thought that maybe a couple more snippets would be enough to whet your hungry appetite for my upcoming fictions!

Please enjoy and have a Happy Thanksgiving!

=================================================

(Here's a sneak peek to the Finale of "Sparkle in Your Eyes" - coming soon in February 2009! If you are not familiar with the story, check out the first two ACTS in my gallery . . . although basic knowledge of the story probably isn't necessary for this snippet! Still, check it out and enjoy!)

Once Boris, Muk and Luk returned by mid-evening, it wasn’t any surprise that Balto was still moping on the ground, almost to the point of drowning in his own tears. Luk let out a whimper as he sat his large body down beside the lamenting wolf-dog and patted his back carefully.

“Luk says that we went back to the mountain meadow,” Muk translated for all of them in a soft tone. He began to twiddle his ebony claws nervously in front of him as he began to speak again, listening to his brother’s cries and mumblings. “We . . . most of the flowers were wilted and dead though . . .”

Balto only sighed deeply as his jaw remained on the wooden deck, yet he refused to lift his head up to reply with any words. Boris muttered something under his breath as he shook his head slightly, but it was hard to understand exactly what the gander said.

I knew it . . . it’s all hopeless, Balto thought to himself, shutting his eyes as a splash of tears trickled down his cheeks. Now I’ve lost her forever . . .

“But that’s not all that we found, Uncle Balto,” Muk’s small face suddenly changed to a grin. Luk whined happily as the smaller brother continued; this time, the bear’s tone was cheerful and high-strung. “Luckily, one patch of flowers did survive . . . and they were untouched!”

Balto’s dark sepia ears pricked up once the words ‘survive’ and ‘untouched’ hit his ears. Honestly, he couldn’t believe what news he was given. “Really?” His hoarse voice stunned Boris and the bears – probably because the wolf-dog hadn’t drank any liquids that entire day due to his constant moping – but they seemed glad to hear him speak to them once again. “Are you sure . . . that no one touched them?”

Luk’s wide furry head rattled up and down with a large smile. “Mmm! Mmm . . . mmm! Yeah!” The mostly mute bear was able to mumble a little bit out, right before using his born strength to lift Balto’s front up into the air and against his chest as if to dance with him. He hummed a few bars of something as he happily swung the hybrid around, much to his brother’s joy.

“He says that he’s glad that you’re happy again, Uncle Balto!” Muk told him. Luk stopped once a small cough – coming from the beak of Boris – told him to place Balto back down on the deck before he got a case of motion sickness.

“Yes, yes,” the gander commented aloud as he waddled slowly towards his adopted canine son. “We’re all glad you’re speaking to us again, boychik. We –” Boris quickly let out a mixed muttering of words, realizing what he was about to admit, and changed his words. “I mean, it was the bears mostly . . . they were getting worried about your condition.” He crossed his arms gently, giving Balto a watchful glare.

Of course, the gander was actually quite worried about him, but he had a feeling Balto would begin to recover . . . eventually. He just didn’t want to know it as easily as the polar bears did, that was all.

“I’m . . . I’m fine, Boris,” Balto tried to get himself to stand on his own, but he collapsed back onto the wood floor of his grounded boat. He let out a groan of pain, which was just enough to call his friends over to his side.

“Careful, Balto! Don’t hurt yourself now!” Boris grabbed the mutt’s shoulder scruff, trying to keep him from falling again . . . or at least to keep him on the ground. Muk and Luk grasped the gray-brown hybrid as well, using whatever strength they could. “Keep him down, fellas . . .” With a grunt, Balto was back on the planked floor, with the polar bear brothers pinning him down carefully. “There, . . . that should do it for now.” Boris smiled as he began to walk away to get something from outside of the main deck.

Balto began to grumble, unable to understand what his companions were doing to him. “You guys, . . . what are you doing?” He grunted again, struggling to get up; of course, the bears were steadfast on him, completely following their guardian’s orders. “Muk, Luk,” Balto turned his head towards each of them, confused by what his friends were up to. “What’s going on? I told you I’m just fine! Let me go!”

“Nuh-uh,” Muk shook his head. “Uncle Boris told us to keep you down, and that’s what we’re gonna do.” Luk made an agreeable noise as he also nodded, keeping his claws on him.

Finally, Boris returned into the room, carrying a dog dish in each of his wings. He carefully placed them in front of Balto’s fallen face. “There,” the goose replied with a sigh of relief. “You could use this right now, Balto.”

Indeed, the wolf-dog could use the gifts that his friends had prepared for him, especially when he felt his strong sense of smell twitch and sniff the air. Food! Oh, and water! Balto recognized the scents and felt water emit from his mouth. He was famished . . . and thirsty too. Without a single word, he dove his muzzle into the dishes, rapidly gobbling up the food and drink that was in front of him.

“Let him go, boys,” Boris told the polar bears as Balto began to eat. “He should be fine now.” As told, Muk and Luk released him, allowing the hybrid to lean comfortably forward to finish his first meal since about twenty-four hours. The three of them smiled as they watched their friend enjoy his dinner for the next few minutes.

“He looks much happier now, doesn’t he, Uncle Boris?” A seated Muk turned his gaze from Balto to the white gander, asking his query.

“Of course he does,” Boris replied. “We just needed to give him some time alone, that’s all.” The gander easily understood Balto’s lamenting actions from earlier that day, thanks to the years that he had nurtured and cared for him ever since that fateful time . . .

- - - - - - - -

The year was 1922, . . . almost the winter season in Nome, Alaska. A young gander had begun to waddle across the snow near the outskirts of town, close to where the wild, untamed forest met the man-made entrance into the homey village. He was about a few years old, around the age of maturity for geese to find their own destiny, but one may wonder why he was not flying south like all other snow geese his age. That answer is quite odd to believe.

The white snow goose was attacked in mid-air by a hunter’s gunshot as he flew near the clouds with his mother, father and the rest of his flock. He wasn’t hit by the bullet – it had luckily missed his neck – but immediate shock took over his body as he began to pass out and drop towards the ground below. His parents and family tried to do something to keep him airborne, but there was nothing they could do – they left him, hoping that if he survived he would remember where his family would be waiting for him.

Strangely, the fallen goose landed lightly on a large polar bear’s back and was knocked back to his senses, but he began to fear flying once he was able to recover.

What if those bullets shoot at me again? He thought, shuttering at the idea of being killed while trying to catch up with his family. I don’t wanna die! I want to live and raise a family – just like how Mama and Papa have!

It was at that moment that a young Boris Goosenov swore to himself, walking away from the outskirts and towards a tundra beach by the sea: From this day on, I shall never soar in the skies again!

Within days, the male goose had begun to settle into his new home, choosing an abandoned boat that had been set aground at least some time ago to roost. It was spacious and roomy – perfect for him to make a temporary bachelor pad until he felt able to move on from his fears – but what he would encounter next would change his life forever.

He had been in Nome for about two weeks when he found the six-month old male pup lying by the side of a building inside the town. He was grayish-brown with light-tan markings on his body – it was a wolf pup – but he seemed to be all alone.

Where is his mother and father? Boris thought as he gazed carefully at the sleeping wolf, not fearing it for having the appearance of a wolf. A chilling breeze whipped through his feathers, causing him to clutch his wings across his chest. Oh my goodness, Winter! – she is quickly brewing a storm! Oy! The goose looked back at the pup, whose body did not react to the chill in the air. He wouldn’t stand a chance out here all alone! That poor boy – he will perish if I don’t do something!

I must help him!

Without another thought, the goose began to drag the large pup out of town and into the safety of his boat home. It was a hard job to do without being seen by any of the humans or the local dogs that were outside, but Boris felt that it was his duty to save this . . . wolf pup, whether it was an actual wolf or not. It took several hours for the job to be done, but he was satisfied once a blanket was laid over the pup and the gander himself entered a state of sleep for the night.

The pup wouldn’t awaken until the next morning when his red and gold gaze caught a glimpse of the goose that lay beside him. As the gander had predicted, a blanket of white now covered the ground and any surface underneath the soft gray clouds.

“Mmm . . . uh . . .” the male pup groaned, allowing himself to regain focus. Once he could notice that there was a gander, the pup stood to his paws and pounced on the fowl with a growl. “Hey! Who are you? Why are you here?”

The gander shook for a moment and gulped, but he soon replied, “I am Boris Goosenov, and I am here because this is where I’ve made my home just recently.” He chose not to mention the real reason of how he had gotten to inhabit the boat, but since this was a stranger, there was more important matter at hand. “Now, my question for you is ‘Why are you here?’ You’re a wolf, aren’t you not?” Boris pointed a thin feathered-finger at the pup’s wet nose. “Don’t you belong somewhere out there, past the outskirts?”

The pup shook his head, backing off from the gander and allowing Boris to rise to his feet. “Well, I’m only a half-wolf – my mom was a wolf but my dad was a husky.” He lowered his ears as he sat back down onto the wooden deck. “I was born out in the wilderness . . . and I don’t remember exactly why I’m here. I think my parents abandoned me for some unknown reason, leaving me here in that human town. When I realized where I was and couldn’t detect their scent anywhere, I must have collapsed and fallen asleep. That’s all I remember off-hand . . . Sorry if it doesn’t help you – my memory’s a bit blank at places.”

“Oh, it’s alright,” Boris patted the wolf-dog’s back for comfort. Poor thing, he’s completely traumatized by something . . . Maybe that’s why he doesn’t remember recent events very well . . . He observed the pup’s actions and words carefully before speaking again. “Well, since you have nowhere else to go, why not stay here with me? You’ve already been here for an entire night, so what’s wrong with staying a while longer?”

“Huh?” The pup was taken aback by the request, but he soon laughed humorously as he began to make his way to the nearest exit. “That’s crazy. You’re a . . . goose, and I’m a . . . wolf-dog . . . I mean, what would others say?”

“Well, boychik, where else can you go, eh?” Boris reminded him. “If I hadn’t dragged you from town to here, you probably would have been left for dead! Sure, you have a fur coat and all, but you would have frozen to death in that snowfall last night if I hadn’t covered you with one of these blankets. Be grateful that I gave you a second chance at life, young pup!”

This stopped the brown-gray pup in his tracks. The gander did have a point – he did have no other place to call home, and he probably would be dead if Boris hadn’t have saved his life. He felt foolish and ungrateful of Boris’s kindness to him, despite the fact that they really didn’t know much about each other.

“I’m sorry, Boris,” the pup whined, hoping the gander would forgive him. “Thanks for helping me, by the way. I should have thanked you for that much earlier.” He let out a sigh, looking away from the goose sadly. “You probably don’t want me around anymore, do you?”

“Of course I still want you around!” the gander retorted with a slight chuckle. “Besides, I . . . I’m actually starting to feel less lonely with you here.” He sighed lightly with a smile. “You know, when I first came here, I didn’t know why I landed in this place . . . but now I know I was meant to save you.”

The pup smiled, gratefully bowing to the gander. “I really am glad that you were there. Thanks.” He lifted a tan-marked paw to the goose. “My name’s Balto.”

Boris couldn’t do anything else but return the gesture and grin back. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Balto.” They shook wing and paw, officially making each other’s acquaintance. “Welcome to Nome . . .” Once they broke the gesture, Boris placed his wing on the wolf-dog’s scruffy shoulder, leading him to back to the blanket and covering him up in it. “and don’t you worry about a thing from now on – I’ll take care of you.”

Once the pup had laid down onto the wooden floor wrapped carefully in the blanket, Boris sat down by his stomach and they both let out relieved sighs in unison.

“Thanks again, Boris,” Balto murmured as the warmth and comforting feeling began to sink into him, causing him to enter into the light embraces of sleep.

“Boychik,” Boris replied right before falling asleep himself. “For now, just call me Uncle.”

- - - - - - - -

. . . and I’ve been caring for him ever since, Boris completed his thought with a smile. He glanced a dark eye at the one that he had befriended over five years ago on that fateful evening. If that hunter hadn’t have shot at me, . . . He didn’t even need to complete that thought, for he didn’t want to think about what his life would have been if fate hadn’t led him to that young pup lying near a building.



=================================================

(Here's a little bit of ACT I of "StarCrossed", my Balto version of "Romeo & Juliet" - Here, we learn a bit about some of the characters as the story begins to unfold . . .)



BONG! BONG! BONG!

The noon toll rang across Main Street. No more brawls, no more bloodshed to be found anywhere on the streets or alleyways at this hour. The men of each Clan were all present at the Old Mill, a meetinghouse where the law resided and stood like a beacon, shining its authority throughout the entire town.

“What is this?” The smallest dog in the room, a cream bulldog with a patch-marked eye and a large jaw, stood up on the highest box overlooking the players of the morning’s fray. “How dare you cause a brawl on the streets yet again! This is the third time this week!”

On the left side sat the Capulets, proud with their heads held high. Tundra was in front, followed by Nikki, Kaltag, Star and Togo, who still growled under his breath angrily of not being able to finish off his enemy. Togo was more proud of his lineage than even the head Capulet himself, but even in the presence of the law, he knew his grudge would have to wait for later, especially since the Montagues were in there as well.

The wolves were also proud, but seemed to take responsibility for their actions in the fight. Although the Montagues and the Capulets despised each other for the longest time – so long that not even the current families knew the exact reasons why – now was not the time to show it. Monty was in front of his clansmen, listening to what the law-dog was saying to his Clan and his enemy’s.

“But Morse, they–” Sumac stood up, hoping to speak his mind to the dog in charge, as well as place the blame on the huskies; however, Morse interrupted him with a bark.

“‘But they,’ nothing!” The bulldog silenced them all. He was the telegraph operator’s pet, so he knew all things about the families in and close to town. For years, Morse’s family had watched over Nome and kept their eyes on the Montague-Capulet feud, hoping that one day it would be resolved; however, brawls and attacks only got even worse amongst the two families. “Both sides are equally responsible for their actions . . . and this time, I shall not tolerate this any longer!”

“Perhaps those wolves’ll finally get what they deserve!” Togo snorted under his breath angrily.

“Hush, cousin,” Tundra shushed the proud husky with his voice as they awaited the judge’s ruling.

“Capulet and Montague . . . Both families have been a threat to the common dogs of our fair town with your fighting and public shows of arms, but no more!” Every pair of ears pricked up, knowing well that the bulldog, despite his small stature, meant every word he uttered. “Next time a fight starts within our humble streets between your families, I shall make sure that punishment is set and justice will prevail, no matter who starts it!” Morse’s word echoed through every set of ears present, causing all to remain quiet. “Now, depart from here and return to your respective homes – I pray that you take my words to heart.”

With the dismissal, the huskies and wolves looked at each other, some of them growled under their breath (Togo was one of the louder and more obvious ones), but hearing Morse’s ruling seemed to make them understand that he was serious about his judgment. After a final glance, the Capulets returned to their homes and human owners as the Montagues began their long trek back to their territory.

Loralei, Monty’s newest mate, met the Clan halfway for the journey home. She was relieved that he was okay, but gasped at the sight of Niju and a couple of others, hobbling slowly behind the others that were not hurt. “How bad was it, dear?”

“Just a few injuries, but our pride remains steadfast,” the brown-gray replied, licking his own wounds using his tongue and his paws. “These are merely battle scars, signs of our eternal loyalty to our Clan.”

“I am just glad that your son was not there to fight,” the white-gray breathed a sigh of relief at the thought. She had raised the child since he was just a newly-born pup, almost to the point of considering him as one of her own children. “He is so young . . . such an innocence to the world . . .” As they walked, she turned back to Monty with a worried gaze. “Speaking of which, have you seen Balto today?”

Monty shook his head. “No, I have not. Whenever I wake up for the morning hunt, his scent lingers around but is quite stale.” Even he let out a sigh with that memory. “I wonder where he wanders off to . . . I pray he doesn’t make any trouble.”

Boris, who was waddling nearby and eavesdropping to the Alphas’ conversation, happened to let out a light squawk and cleared his throat to get their attention. “I think I can offer an answer for you, Monty. I know where your son should be at right about now.”

The dark Alpha let out a grin, stopping to hear what the snow goose had to say. However, he did tell the others to continue on without him and his mate. “Ah, you have been quite a caring playmate and friend for my dear son, Boris. I don’t know what I would do without you for him.”

“Yes, well . . .” The gander continued to speak, although he was quite embarrassed by the Alpha’s comment. Boris had befriended the Montague Clan on a misguided flight through the Alaskan wilderness over a year ago; after the Alpha’s son, Balto, offered to care for the gander and nurse him back to health, Boris felt loyal to the Clan of wolves – most especially to Balto – and chose to pledge his services to them for the rest of his life. He could fly, after all, and this proved to be quite an advantage against the town-raised Capulets; however, Boris usually chose to waddle on the ground with his adopted kin – he was now one of them and felt it was necessary to do so. “It was not I who spotted him – the bears, Muk and Luk, saw him walking early this morning towards the beached shipyard near the borders of Nome.”

The two white bear cubs happened to pass by at that moment and made some mumbling noises together with their mouths. Finally, the smaller of the two, the one with the black nose, spoke up to translate for the others. “Luk says that Balto just seems to hang out near the seashore and the beach, only sitting around and moping about . . .” Muk let out a sigh. “Actually, I’ve seen it myself . . . He seems rather sad and lonesome, almost as if he’s reflecting on something as he watches the sea and the town . . . I don’t know what’s going on with him, Monty.”

The two wolves looked at each other, almost puzzled by the ursine brothers’ tale. “Can you take us to him?” Monty asked. “Perhaps if we see him for ourselves, we might be help to cure his lament.”

Luk nodded with whimpers, smiling eagerly as Boris leapt onto his back. “I think he knows the way,” the gander spoke, trying hard to keep his balance on the bear’s back. “Waaaaaaa!” A shout slipped from him as he looked almost like a cowboy riding a bucking bronco. “Keep still and stop fidgeting, Luk! How can I ride if you will not be still? Ack!” He had hurt his leg and wing in the scuffle, but the bears were both quite young – separated from their mother by a blinding blizzard of snow and ice, only to be taken in by Balto and the gander – they still didn’t know any better.

At nearly a year old themselves, one would think that Muk and Luk would soon return to the wilderness on their own, but they enjoyed the wolves’ company and being welcomed into their world – why would the brothers want to return to such a vicious and cruel place without any protection and shelter, not to mention that they had no real skills as polar bears, the white killers of the Arctic North. Them being on their own in the wild was nothing more than a death sentence – the bears probably wouldn’t last a day alone. Nonetheless, Muk and Luk were a playful twosome, an ursine pair that did not fight or dare to even harm a tiny fly; their warmth in the Montague Clan managed to offer a sense of peace to the wolves after a rough day of tangling with the Capulets.

“Let’s go follow them, dear,” Loralei chuckled softly at the sight as she began to step forward, wagging her tail slightly as she watched the two bears and the goose start ahead. “Balto’s like a son to me – I am just as worried about him as you are.”

After a deep breath, Monty trotted with his mate beside him. “All right,” he said to her. “He is my son, after all, and the next in line to carry on the Montague Clan name. I want him to be happy, that’s all.”

The white she-wolf chuckled softly, nuzzling him gently. “Every parent wants only the best for their child. I’m sure Balto will understand your worry once you see him.”

The male knew his new mate was correct – Loralei was a parent many times over, but Balto was his first and only child as Alpha. Monty was still a new parent, despite the fact that the child was now two years old, old enough to take care of himself.

“Yeah, I probably will,” Monty returned the gesture to his mate as they continued to follow their companions. “He’s growing up, and I seem to be forgetting that he isn’t a pup anymore.” He let out a sigh, allowing his head to fall. “I hope we can figure out what’s troubling my son.”

Loralei did nothing else but smile at what she heard from the brown-gray Alpha. This was a different Monty that everyone else outside of the wolves rarely saw, mainly because he feared ridicule and total humiliation from their enemy, the Capulets. She knew that the “sensitive” Monty that accepted her as his new mate was only a side that the Montagues knew about.

It took them around ten minutes before the sound of quietly rushing waves lapping against the sandy shoreline in between Nome and the wilderness entered clearly into their ears. It was a quiet, tranquil place – even in this frigid wonderland of Alaska one couldn’t believe that such an area could exist during a time of ancestral war. The beach was a graveyard for small, wooden barges, where the wicked sea grew wild and drew its claws through the skin of boats that got too close to shore. Their hulls were all that got left behind, dragged further inland as the golden sand engulfed them in their tight embrace.

They finally spotted the gray-brown youngling sitting high atop one of the dead trawlers, looking out at the town of Nome quite forlornly. The wind ruffled his fur, and he was high enough to feel the full force of the breeze from the captain’s cabin. However, not even the chilled air seemed to faze the male pup, who just sighed with silent angst, not taking notice of his family watching him from a distance.


=================================================

(And since you guys liked the Prologue for "Eden's Secret," here's some of the first chapter!)



It was cold where the mousy-haired girl slept that night. She was an orphan, a girl with no family, no home, and apparently, no real future. She was meant to die out there in the frigid weather of the midnight winter, underneath the moon and the stars.

Her hair could barely reach past her pale elbows, but it wasn't enough to warm her bare feet. The clothes on her back was a dress of a thin fabric, but it was all she had. Being homeless and on the street, the girl didn't have much in her possession, yet she treasured the little things that were important to her – she had to in order to protect her things from the cats that always lurked and stalked in the darkest times of night for anything out of the ordinary . . . although she didn’t know why cats did such things in the first place.

Why do those felines always hang around here? She thought to herself constantly as the girl tried to fall asleep. Oh, stupid cats! For some reason, I . . . I don’t like them near me . . . They smell horrid, they do . . . She let out a quiet hiss of discontent as she curled up in a fetal position against a blanket-covered box and the wall of a nearby building near the snowy ground. The girl didn’t know why she could smell those stray alley cats so easily – I guess I was just born with a really good sense of smell, she thought – but thanks to it, she knew how far any group of cats were from her present location. Of course, the girl never told anyone about this . . . mainly because no one ever spoke to her.

Finally, her eyelids fell, covering her pale gold and blue eyes – it was those eyes that cursed her from other people in the town.

She was cute to look at though, barely older than age twelve by her lean build and lanky arms and legs, but to think that such a girl was considered an outcast from her own people just because of her eyes . . . Once people took notice to them, they would just start murmuring things like "Oh, poor thing" or "Such a pitiful sight" just to find a chance to walk away . . .

She didn’t know why she had those eyes anyway . . . or even why after twelve years that she had lived, she had never seen anyone else that had eyes like hers. All thin like topaz diamonds . . . they sometimes frightened her whenever she saw her reflection in a melted puddle . . . But at least I can scare away the cats with them, the orphan only had that positive thought about her blue and gold stare.

But it was because of who she was . . . because of her eyes . . . because she was a homeless orphan . . . No one ever held a hand out towards her in the name of kindness . . . at least until this fateful night . . .

It was to be a night when souls would collide . . . and destiny’s quest would finally begin . . .

There was a scent in the air as she drifted into a freezing and almost restless sleep. It was unlike any smell that she had ever smelt before . . . one of a fresh, new creature . . . one similar to herself . . . but what was it . . . and why was it beginning to grow stronger?

"Hey . . . hey . . ." It was another girl's voice, one about the same age . . . no, a little older than her. But oh, her voice was so kind! "Please wake up . . ."

The mousy-haired girl's eyes fluttered open, her vision blurred for a moment before her blue and gold eyes met a pair of amber-brown pupils looking back at her. Could this be the source of the same angelic voice that was speaking to her?

"Huh . . ." the orphan aroused from her cold sleep with a questioning yawn. "Wha . . ."

"Oh, thank goodness you're okay," The other girl sighed in relief, placing a hand to her chest. "I thought you were lying dead. It's freezing out here, you know."

"No kidding," the orphan chuckled back sarcastically, slightly shivering as she sat up and took a good look at the girl that had been so kind to even speak directly to her. She was a bit taller than the orphan, and she looked a couple of years older as well. Her hair was almost like auburn flames, a bright burgundy-brown that hung a little past her shoulders. By the fancy way she dressed and her polite way of speaking, this girl had to be some sort of upper-class royal or something. Her nose twitched at the faint scent of something amidst the constant smell of street feline . . . Expensive French perfume, perhaps? It nearly made her sneeze, but it was strange how she could catch or even recognize it amidst the frigid winds and the stench of cat.

"Oh, here," the polite Samaritan fumbled with the red-orange cloth that draped over her shoulders. After undoing the shawl, she placed it over the shoulders of the girl. "It's not much, but I think it'll help keep you warm."

"Thanks," the girl replied, still confused by the rich girl's actions. After a pause, she couldn't help but to ask. "Why are you being so kind to me? No one has ever stopped to speak to me for as long as I can remember."

The rich girl was at a loss for words, for not even she knew why she stopped. All I remember was catching a scent of something familiar . . . and I just followed it . . . Of course, there was no way that she could tell this homeless girl something as far-fetched as that - She probably wouldn't believe me if I told her, she feared to herself. Still, she found a way to respond back.

"I . . . I suppose I was destined to stop and help you," the rich girl stammered, making it obvious to the orphan that there must have been some other reason. "I had been watching you and I wanted to do something."

"Are you sure that's the only reason?" The orphan couldn't help but to retaliate. "I appreciate your concern for me, but I can tell by the scent of perfume that lingers on you and your shawl that you're nothing but a spoiled, rich girl . . . just like all the others.” However strong her anger was, the girl tied the shawl around her neck, feeling the softness of the fabric against her cold skin. It was a gentle touch, and she thought it was a nice gesture nonetheless.

“The scent of perfume?” The rich girl was taken aback by the comment – not because the orphan clearly insulted her, but actually by the fact that she dared to notice such a scent. “Why, I haven’t worn perfume for over a month!” After a quick pause, her auburn eyebrows lowered angrily. “Despite my astonishment, I can’t believe you would dare to insult me so rashly!” She growled a bit and huffed, stomping her foot to help control her rage. “To think I was going to help you get warm . . .” The rich girl quickly curtsied, huffed again and began to walk away. “Good night!”

Realizing her mistake in bad judgment, the orphan stood up and lunged forward, grabbing the end of her dress. “Wait! Please . . .” Noticing the orphan clinging onto her, the rich girl stopped to hear what the other had to say. “I . . . I’m sorry for saying such things . . . I misjudged you, ma’am . . .” She let go, sitting in the lightly-snowed ground with nearly frozen legs dusted in the cold. Her head was low, but as she spoke, her eyes opened wide at her savior. “Please, I beg for forgiveness . . . I . . . I . . . Please . . .”

Just looking into her bright eyes softened the rich girl’s already kind heart. “Stand up – you’ll catch hypothermia that way.” Her hand reached out for the orphan’s, and once their palms met, she was lifted off of the chilly ground. “There,” the girl smiled at her, helping to get rid of snow and dirt that clung onto her raggedy dress. “Now, let’s go get your things – I’m taking you to my house.”

The orphan gasped. “I don’t deserve your kindness, not after what I said to you . . .” It seemed that the mousy-haired child was about to refuse her generous offer, but the girl returned the smile back as they headed back to the alleyway where her home was, sounding cheerful and grateful. “. . . but I feel that I can trust you. You’re the nicest person that I’ve ever met.”

The girl only giggled. “It’s nothing, really. I just wanted to help.” Once they arrived at the orphan’s corner, she just was in awe at the conditions that the barefoot girl had lived in for most of her life. “Is . . . is this where you live?”

“Yep – welcome to my home sweet home,” the orphan continued to smile as she showed her around. “It’s not much and it’s not very warm, but it’s enough.”

The alley was thin, bricks surrounding on three sides. A couple of trash cylinders offered some potpourri, but it was more stench than fragrant for the dingy air of the surroundings. However, there was something that caught the attention of the rich girl, and it easily stood out in the dank darkness – a wooden box hidden under the cover of a dull blanket.

“Hey, what’s that?” the auburn child pointed at the blanket-covered box.

“Oh, this?” the orphan smirked a bit at the girl’s notice. “Well, it’s something that I have held onto for as long as I can remember. You wanna see?”

Curious, the rich girl nodded excitedly. “I hope you don’t mind me being so nosy.”

“Of course not,” the orphan uncovered the box, opening the top of her treasured possession. “My grandfather said that one day I would have to share it with someone special.”

“Your grandfather?” the rich girl repeated. “I thought you were homeless and had no family!”

“I had a family and a home, but not anymore,” the orphan reached her arms into the hay and straw littering the insides of the parcel, almost as if it was protecting something. “When I was five years old, my grandfather passed this down to me before he passed away.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the rich girl apologized. “I . . . I didn’t know.”

“Aw, it’s all right,” the orphan laughed it off. “He wouldn’t want me worrying over his death anyway. Still, he said this was a family heirloom and it had to be protected; why – he never told me the answer to that, but I’ve hidden it in here ever since I was unable to find a home.”

“How horrible,” the rich girl spoke with empathy. “What happened to your home or the rest of your family?”

“After my Grandpa died, I lost my only connection to anyone,” the orphan explained, still digging through the box and the litter within. “Without a family guardian, I couldn’t live in the care-house anymore. They kicked me out into the streets, into the bitter cold, and I was all alone – just me and what I had left of my grandfather.” She gasped with a bit of glee, despite the somber mood of her brief life story. “Ah! I got it!” With a quick, cautious glance around the street and alley, the mousy-haired girl carefully lifted up a small, cloth-covered package with her hands. “This is it,” she whispered to her newfound friend. “This is my treasure.”

The rich girl was speechless yet again, only smiling to cover her confusion. A cloth package is her treasure?? She pondered silently to herself. Why would she remain out here all alone when she has something of value in her grasp? Such an odd child indeed, but . . . it’s strange how she would show this to me after just meeting me . . . Somehow, she shook the thought from her mind, remembering something important.

“Before you reveal your treasure, I’ve just remembered,” the rich girl cleared her throat politely. “We have forgotten to exchange our names. It’s only proper for me to introduce my guest once I take you to my house.”

The orphan chuckled. “That’s true, I guess.” With one hand clutching the cloth package, she extended the other out towards the rich girl. “My grandfather always called me Alyss, so I guess you can call me that too. Never had to use my name out here anyway.” She laughed again. "Especially since the cats can't seem to understand me that well!"

“What a pretty name,” the rich girl praised, allowing their hands to join in a shake once again. “My name is Jennifer Rosalind Laskin, but you can call me Jennie for short.” Their hands warmly caused a surge of silence between them as they walked together out of the alleyway.

“Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Jennie,” Alyss beamed, lowering her head in respect. “I like your name too.” A small sneeze escaped her, making the rich child realize that time was of the essence. “Oh, excuse me.”

“Let’s get you inside, okay?” Jennie advised her new friend with a tone of concern. “You can show me your treasure after you get some hot soup in you and take a nice, warm bath.”

“That sounds good,” The thought of something warm in her belly just got her eager to arrive to this place, wherever this was. As they walked side-by-side through the snowy town, there was only one other thing on the orphan’s thoughts as she continued to grip her treasured possession against her chest.

You were right, Grandpa . . . Alyss smiled softly, feeling a small tear gently slide down her cheek from her lowered eyes. I found someone special to share this with . . . and for the first time since you gave this to me, I sensed someone . . . That’s how I knew I could trust her with our family treasure . . .

Maybe together we can figure out your secret . . . and learn what you meant on your death-bed . . .


=================================================

That's all for now - more to come soon (probably mid-December when my classes and exams are done!).

- Juuchan17

YAY AT THESE. I think I mentioned I was a fan of your "Sparkle in your eyes" series, so I'm anxiously awaiting the finale for that one. These are all good, and I like the Eden story so far. Can't wait to read them!

-X

Oooooh! We finally met one of the star-crossed lovers! Poor Balto... I'd forgotten how Romeo started out.
I like "Eden's Secret" very much so far. I'm anxious to see where it goes from here!
And, as always, patiently awaiting the finale of Sparkle in Your Eyes. Just hoping everything turns out alright for Balto.

Perhaps I'll have enough written to update on my own writings soon...

Keep writing!
-LWf

Yeah, I made Balto go emo for the rest of the ACT. XD He's a tortured young wolf right now, but he's fun to write as once he meets Jenna for the first time in the second ACT, so don't worry so much about him, ok? Jenna's not as angsty, but she gets that way later on . . . to the point of killing herself. O__o

I like how "Eden's Secret is going too. Did anyone figure out my connections with the two girls thus far? And yes, I'll add a boy later on . . . as well as the mystery of Alyss's treasure . . . Ooh, suspense.

As for the "Sparkle" finale, I'm still stuck on the last day, but it'll be an interesting take on the Day of Love for these two. (But then again, what is ordinary for them?) And I think some of emo!Balto rubbed off when I worked on the beginning of the finale (it's gonna be loooooooooooong!), so prepare for it.

Thanks for your comments, you guys!

- Juuchan17

UPDATE: 1/14/09

Gosh, I'm still getting used to writing "09" now . . . although it's very hard to do when you're so used to "08"!

Anywho, I'm having a brain-fart when it comes to the finale of "Sparkle" . . . however, I will try to have a snippet ready in case I do not complete by Valentine's Day. But I still want to at least finish it before then.

Other than that, I've been working on some . . . other types of fics . . . some that are so controversial, I cannot post even snippets or publicly speak about them. (*nudge-nudge*) But . . . I do have a couple of snippets for you of my big RTW-based fic, "Jadze: The Blessed Curse" . . . from ACT III.

Note: Things in this ACT are getting very dark . . . this is so unlike me, but it's the only way to allow things to happen by the end of the entire story. Sacrifices will be made . . . and family stuff may go as far as . . . well, just read it to find out!







Ooh, suspense. TO BE CONTINUED! Tell me what you think!

- Juuchan17

Oooooooh,these very suspenseful snippets are killing me!

Keep up the good work -C.K.

...Can't...take...more...suspense...


Snippet III was amazing! Please post more! (Amazing in that I can't stand not being able to read more! XD)