Prophecy Six Blog

Sharing My Unedited Writing Experiences & Life Experiences.


November 2015

I wish… (Short Story)

I stared into my black coffee.

The black tar tasting liquid rippled to the same beat my foot tapped against the center leg of the table while my iPod blasted upbeat techno into the cheap dollarstore buds that rested in my ears. After all these years living on this rock with humans nothing compared to the buzz of energy that radiated from hearing a favorite jam shuffle onto my playlist.

Okay, maybe there were two things…

Across from my table at the small bistro off of Main and Queen, a young man sat hunched over tapping away on his cellular contraption. Never had much interest in getting one of those devices – never saw the point. I understood the benefits sure, but I didn’t have friends or family to really justify the outrageous amount of mullah needed to have one of those things. Then again, I’m a different breed… an older breed that remembers a time when these finger tapping screen junkies were working themselves to the bone to survive.

It wasn’t his obsessed typing that caught my attention, though.

In the big city watching the crowds of people – just like you – sucked into their 300 dollar mini-computer was a common sight. It was how he was typing… what he was typing that intrigued me.

While humans searched for answers in words written on a tiny glass screen I found my answers in their body language.

He was too busy to notice the young waitress deliver his latte, not because he had to get to the next level of Candy Crush but for a more personal reason.

The wincing of his brows, the sniffling of his nose… the slight glistening of tears that he held inside as to not make a scene in public were what I saw. The biting of his tongue, the frustrated pulling of his hair and the panicked look around the bistro before forcing himself to take a sip of the latte to try and calm himself – were all I needed to know.

I knew what the kid was going through. I had seen the same painful expression on hundreds of human faces. Although I could hear him screaming out in his head for help, there was no need to listen to the details.

     Mom. Sick. Hospital. Not much time.

     Humans make connections with each other. They depend on one another and strive to impress each other. That’s something my kind never cared for. My kind were independent beings; some stuck in crappy jobs, while others – like myself – had the luck to go out on their own.

A freelancer, some could say.

I listened to the boy. He was like a broken recorded with his thoughts, and although I loved to have helped him right then and there, there are some rules a freelancer like myself needs to follow.

     Accident. Life support. Oh God!

The big bearded guy in the sky had nothing to do with it. He gave humans free will. With that free will gave the big guy some overdue time off. Of course that’s my own assumption. Never met the being humans called God, Allah… whatever. I didn’t follow their mythology… heck I didn’t follow anything really.

     What can I do? How can I help her?

“Come on, kid.” I grumbled into my coffee before taking a sip. My bright blue bang fell in front of my face before I combed it back with one hand, while the other set the chipped mug onto the table top. My black fingernails tapped on the sides of the mug, contrasting against the white porcelain.

He only had to say one word.

One word all humans said constantly like it was some kind of greedy prayer.

I looked through the metal grated table at my rolled down combats. They were practical enough with the amount of travelling my job required and with this no-shits-given, free-style appearance I had going with my half shaved head and thick framed ‘hipster’ glasses no one really paid much attention to me. I liked the glasses ‘cause they reminded me of the pair I busted in the 80s, not ‘cause they were hipster.

Whatever the hell a hipster was anyway?


     I sat up in my chair, leaning on my elbows along the edge of the unbalanced metal bistro table. From the years of experience that one word ‘I’ usually had the one word I needed to complete this boy’s request.


     Come on! I wanted to scream, grinding my teeth in anticipation.

     I want her to be okay. I wish she’d live through this.

     I stood after hearing the magic word.

Walking behind the boy, I rested my hand on his shoulder. He didn’t notice me, and didn’t see me. I was but a shadow standing behind him. With knowing that I leaned down close, moving aside his brunette hair and whisper: “You got your wish.”

He didn’t turn around, as I gave him a pat on the shoulder. He reached to take another sip of his latte before his phone rang.

Hopping down into the crowded street I heard him stand abruptly from his place at the table. His voice filled with joy at hearing the news.

Awake? Pull-through? Live? She’ll live!

I’ve been around long enough to know that everyone has a wish.

Some wish for money, fame, or fortune.

Some wish for vanity, luck, and love.

Those are all things humans’ desire but over the centuries of working with them the one thing I found most commonly wished for was time.

You want time with loved ones. You want time with pets. You want time for school work. You want time with special projects. Everywhere I went, I would hear the same damn thing.

I wish I had more time…

Sure, there are those of my kind who live off of materialistic desires.

I was one of them once…

Now that I’m a freelancer, though, I can give my time to ensure they have the time they desire.

Old Word Friday: Chasmophile


Here’s a fun word that I didn’t have until I came across it the other day trying to explain the habit one of my character’s have. They are a young child that loves to hid in the tightest spaces possible. They love nooks and crannies, sometimes getting stuck where they need my main character or one of their parents to get them out.

People like this character is easily described as a chasmophile, which literally means what I put above. Sure it isn’t one of those fun words to say, but when I believe there is a word for everything I’m right.

An example of this would be:

Druce – a troublesome boy as he was – loved hiding in the tight nooks within the castle. Sometimes hours would pass and no one would know where he was hiding until a servant or possibly his mother would hear him calling out for help. No one knew why he had such a fascination for small, tight, awkward spaces, but Liora knew one thing. The boy was a chasmophile, that’s for sure.

Wondrous Word Sunday: Woebegone


Since people have enjoyed my old word friday posts so much, I thought I’d start something new. On Sunday I will try and post a word I like, or believe we should use more of in writing because of how beautiful is sounds.

I consider myself a word collectors in the fact that words can be used to express emotion, transport a person to another world, convience someone of your ideas, and even motivate people to do the right/ wrong thing. Knowing words and knowing how to use them can be a greater weapon than any sword.

So, without further delay I’ll give you the first Wondrous Word Sunday.


This word is means to be sorrowful, downcast, sad or miserable in appearance.

For Example:

Beth has always had a woebegone look across her face.


My parents made it clear through their woebegone expressions that I had done something wrong.

Update: Regarding Book 1 and Book 2


Hello lovelies,

Just wanted to update you on what is going on.

I am in the process of having book one edited since editing is very important. This will likely take a couple of weeks, and changes will probably take another week… then there will be a final edit session.

I am hoping to still have this out by Christmas, but we shall have to wait and see.

Now, as the title to this post has suggested, I will be talking about book 2 of the P6 series.

As I have completed book one, and I am waiting for the editor to be finished making changes/ suggestions, I am left being bored out of my mind. So, since I’ve been writing book one for 6 months straight, I decided I would start book 2.

Progress on this book will be slower since I am still working on editing/ publishing book one… but I will let you know that I have completed the first two chapters.

I will hopefully have book 2 out by the summer or fall of next year. We shall have to wait and see. (Depends on how obsessed I get with it.)

That’s all I have for updates right now. If you have any questions leave them in the comments and I’ll be sure to answer them.

Toodles for now,

Classy (Deanna) Canuck 🙂

Writing is hard…


Writing is hard.

It’s having a mix of personalities fighting in your head for your attention. It’s hearing voices in the middle of the night feeding you ideas. It’s rewriting a scene fifty times because there is something about it that just doesn’t sound/feel right.

Writing is editing. Writing is editing everything over and over again. Writing is editing every little word, sentence, punctuation. Writing is editing your story to make sure it makes sense, it flows, the characters work, there’s enough description… enough emotion… enough connection… enough story……… *eye twitch*

Did I mention writing is editing…?


Writing is a passion that can put you into the happiest mood one moment to the saddest mood the next. It’s creating pain, feeling pain, and learning how to overcome that pain. Is creating the adventure, going on that adventure, and seeing it to its conclusion.

Writing is insanity with all the ups and downs. The places you imagine in your mind that feel so real to you, more-so sometimes than actual reality.

Writing is an escape from life, from the world.

Writing is life.

Writing will make you hate ever picking up a pen and starting the journey but once you’re done… there is no word to describe how incredible it feels.

Yes, writing is hard but the best things in life usually are. 🙂

Old Word Friday: Empurple


Do you like the colour purple? Do you want a word that explains your obsession with making things purple? Well, empurple is the word you’re looking for.

Empurple literally means making things purple.

For example:

Sally really loves the colour purple so she empurples her room, cellphone case, and clothing.


The colour specialist empurpled the wheel of cotton fabric.

Hope you enjoy this word, and don’t forget to empurple something in your life. XD

What habits lead to you writing?

Never thought how my habits effected how I write until checking out this picture. 🙂


This covers the habits of famous writers from what time of day they found themselves writing to if they were a cat person. This made me want to share my writing habits with you, and maybe help you think about where you fall in this picture chart. 🙂

Night owl or Daylight Dove?

I’m a night writer. I write more during the dark hours of evening than I could ever during the light of day. Daytime is distracting, and makes me wish I was doing something else. The other point of this, most of my life I was in school or at work during the day… leaving night the only time for me to write.

So, as a night writer I join writers like T.S. Elliot, Danielle Steel, and Robert Frost.

Coffee or Tea?

I will have a coffee if I must stay awake or need that extra boost, but if I have a choice I would go with a sweet tea. I like the taste of tea, and find it enjoyable to drink even when it’s cold (a bonus if you forget about making it).

With this, I join other tea drinkers like Stephen King, Jane Austin, and C.S. Lewis.

Type like the wind or like a snail?

When starting a project I normally type fast. I find myself doing at least 2000-4000 words in one sitting (or more). My mind races through ideas fast, and if my hands don’t keep up I will lose that idea.

I edit like a snail though… but that isn’t the point of this section.

Other fast writers are Stephen King, J.R.R Tolkien, and Charles Dickens.

Cat or Dog?

I grew up with dogs and love man’s best friend to the end. I don’t mind cats, but I’ll take a dog any day.

Other dog loving writers consist of Emily Bronte, Virginia Woolf, and Dorothy Parker.

Writing while laying down or moving:

If I’m not laying in my bed or laying on the couch I am not writing. I have to sit to focus on my work. Ideas come to me when I walk about, but they flow easier when I’m stuck in one place. My goal is to have a basket chair so I can make that my writing nest. 😛

Other laying down writers include William Wordsworth, George Orwell, and Edith Sitwell.

Now it is your turn. What habits do you have to follow to write? Comment below. XD

This best describes Caldor…


Caldor has become the type of person best describe as having a stick up his arse. He’s a great character, set in his ways… and has little time for those of little intelligence. He has very few friends, and those friend’s he does have can put up with his belittling.

Caldor everyone! XD

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