07 11 / 2013
that “autumnal” is one of the greatest words ever.
i <3 fall.
25 10 / 2013
I’ve been wanting to post this FOREVER.
So I am in LOVE with the Since You’ve Been Gone cover. But that’s NOT the full cover.
On the underside of the jacket is another image of Sloane and Emily - and one I love so much, it’s been my computer and phone background for months.
Here is is!!
20 10 / 2013
Want to see how the whole thing ends?
16 10 / 2013
Welcome to The Traveling Story Season 2!
What is the Traveling Story?
5 Authors. 5 Days. 1 Story.
Each season of The Traveling Story will feature 5 well-known authors collaborating on one original, kick-ass story, with each author writing one of five episodes.
Follow the story as it’s revealed on each author’s blog over the course of a week!
How Does it Work?
There are only three rules for The Traveling Story:
1) No brainstorming, outlining, or discussion of plot ahead of time. The first author writes the first episode of ANY kind of story they want and the next author takes the story WHEREVER they want to go! The last author ends the story however they see fit!
2) An author cannot make changes to any previous episode. Each author has total creative control over their OWN episode only, but it has to continue where the last episode leaves off.
3) HAVE FUN! The Traveling Story is meant to be fun for the writers but especially for the readers!
Season 2 Authors:
*Don’t forget to LIKE The Traveling Story on Facebook and Follow us on Twitter so you never miss an episode!
And for some extra visual fun, follow our boards on Pinterest!
And now…my chapter of The Traveling Story….
By Morgan Matson
“Hey. Chess. You awake?”
I am, I have been for hours, but I lie still on my bunk, waiting for Logan to move on, which he does, after a moment. I told him, when I first got here, that my mother sometimes called me Chess – a nickname for Francesca. I regret it now, even though he’s the only one who uses it. When I’m certain he’s gone, I open my eyes and roll onto my back, thinking.
Today’s the day. The one we’ve all been preparing for. I know, even as I lie there in what has become my home, that I won’t sleep in this bed again. That tonight, the world will look different.
Just perhaps not the way everyone expects.
I was welcomed into the community that lives in this abandoned warehouse. Aberrent, fraction, and even a few common who, disgusted with the behavior of their brethren, have turned their backs and embraced what they see as the winning side. I’ve been here three months now, helping to plot the overthrow. It was invaluable to have Rabbit leading the way and making the introductions. Everyone agrees on Rabbit; everyone likes him. That he claimed me as his sister did much more for me from the outset than I ever would have been able to do on my own. He won me friends and allies. He served his part.
I push myself off my bunk, stretching my arms above my head, flexing my muscles. Everything will begin soon, in three hours, just as dawn is breaking. Logan, who has a poetic streak a mile wide, gets excited whenever he talks about that detail of the plan – the perfect timing of it, the new day and the new world order, all beginning at once.
I tie back my hair as I walk to what we’ve dubbed the “stand room.” It started as a joke from Rabbit, of course – back before the martial law, before the leaders could just do what they wanted, the President and his advisors would meet in the “sit room” – short for situation. So he started calling ours the “stand room,” mostly because we only have about three unbroken chairs. But it began to take on its own significance and now, some of the newer members don’t even know the origin, the flimsy joke. They just assume it’s called that because it’s where we’re planning our offensive. Our Stand. And they’re not wrong.
I go through the plans as I walk, both of them. One that we’ve all agreed on, the one that everyone else is counting on. And mine. The one only I know about. I don’t think there’s going to be a problem, nothing I can foresee, except maybe Logan –
Logan. I catch my reflection in a cracked mirror on the wall and look away quickly. I knew he was going to be a wild card right from the beginning, when he brushed my hair back in the train station. I can tell how he feels from the way he looks at me, the nervous energy that surrounds him when we’re together, the over-rehearsed sentences he only ever seems to get halfway through before he runs out of breath and nerve. I ignore it, pretend it’s not happening, and never ask myself if I feel the same way. It’s a pointless question with a useless answer.
He’s the only one I can see being a problem when my plan gets going. I’ve practiced on everyone here – just for tiny moments, so that nobody would realize anything was amiss. But Logan didn’t respond the way the others did. I don’t think he knew what was happening, but he would look at me for just a moment longer, like he was puzzling something out.
But hopefully, when everything begins, there will be too much confusion for him to make trouble. It’s what I’m counting on, after all.
Everyone else is in the stand room when I get there, thirty of us in all. There will be some remaining behind; only the thirty strongest are going this morning.
And by strongest, I mean most dangerous.
Rabbit gives me a wide, goofy grin – even on a morning as significant as this, he refuses to take anything seriously. “Glad you could join us, your majesty.”
I shake my head, giving him only the briefest of smiles, and then we all begin preparations. Twenty minutes later, we walk upstairs and outside, making our way toward the Headquarters. When the capital was relocated here, to Philadelphia, the media tried to spin it as intentional – a return to our roots, to the place where our government took shape. As though the real reason wasn’t because D.C. was in flames.
Logan falls into step next to me. “Ready?” he asks. His voice is low, excited, and I know he’s been waiting for – dreaming of – this moment for years.
I make myself smile at him, then look away immediately, not letting our gaze hold. “Are you?” I ask instead, rather than answering him.
“Yes,” he says, his voice serious. “But Chess – before this begins. I wanted to – ”
I sense him about to reach for my hand and turn away so that his fingers brush empty air. I don’t have time for this right now. I can’t let myself get distracted. “We’re almost there,” I say instead, looking straight ahead, not meeting his eye.
Nobody has noticed us yet; it’s part of what we’ve been practicing. We blend in, we’ve worked hard at it. And even though it’s not yet light out, the streets are thronged with people, and we walk among them, unnoticed.
But when we begin to gather in front of the Headquarters, people start to notice us. You aren’t supposed to stop in front of this building, the most protected and heavily armed in the country. You’re supposed to duck your head and move on quickly, not draw attention to yourself. Which, now that thirty of us have stopped in front of the massive, hulking structure, is exactly what’s happened. Attention has been drawn.
I can feel the nervous excitement of everyone else around me. Rabbit is practically bouncing up and down. The guards outside the Headquarters just look annoyed, like we’re a nuisance. They don’t know that we’re a powder keg. That we’re dozens of powder kegs, next to a silo of explosives. That we have the power to level everything as far as the eye can see.
I let everyone enjoy the moment, then I close my eyes, gather my strength, and take them over.
When I got to the warehouse, I began to realize for the first time just how much I could do. I soon realized that all my mother’s protectiveness was to prevent me from finding out the depth of my true abilities. And that I had some that even she had no idea about. Like this one.
Once I realized what I could do, I understood my mother’s old nickname for me was appropriate. And I was going to play everyone, all these people who just assumed I was their friend, like the biggest game ever. And now here we are.
Their heads turn to me, one by one, and the look in thirty pairs of eyes is identical. It’s the look of trapped animals who can’t understand how they’ve ended up constrained, when just moments before, they were running free.
All their power is mine. I can make every single one of them do whatever I like, and I just let myself feel it wash over me for a moment. I don’t let myself look at Logan. I have to do this.
“Change of plans,” I say with a smile. I can see the fury, the confusion in their eyes, but nobody is speaking, because I haven’t allowed them to. I can’t help thinking how Rabbit called me “your majesty” only hours before. He meant it as a joke, of course. But perhaps it was prescient.
I watch the armed guards approaching me slowly, weapons not drawn, but wary. All our plans had involved an attack, an assault, a wave of destruction. But this is my plan now. And it’s going to be a bit more like a hostile takeover.
I feel myself smile.
After all – why burn down the castle when you can sit on the throne?
to be continued….
To find out what happens in the epic conclusion, check out Jessica’s blog tomorrow!
FOLLOW THE STORY AS IT TRAVELS:
Episode 1 – October 14 - Claudia Gray
Episode 2 – October 15 - Ann Aguirre
Episode 3 – October 16 - Victoria Scott
Episode 4 – October 17 - Morgan Matson
Episode 5 – October 18 - Jessica Brody