My College Experience

I am attempting to start a game of Gotcha (also referred to as assassins) at the school where I work. Obviously, due to school violence issues we are taking a much less aggressive approach to the game. I remember playing this when I was in High School and the variety of stories that came out of the game live on in my memory like cobwebs in an unused attic. Yes, it is true, my head is empty. Anyway, I revisited the game several years after I graduated, while attending college, and here is a story recounting one of the experiences I had while playing the game. If you are interested in hosting or playing your own game of assassins here is a link to a website where you can set up your own game or search for possible games being played in your area.

Cheers,
Price

My College Story:

The day was warm, the sky blue, the air crisp. Fall had officially begun, but the season had not quite accepted the change from lazy summer evenings to busy autumn afternoons. Class had been in session for about two weeks, and assignments were passing hands daily—from student to staff and back again in an endless progression of grades and revisions. While attempting to fill the space between classes, a larger group of students gathered together and began a game of Gotcha—a version of elimination tag where each person playing has the name of another person in the group. The object of the game is to systematically eliminate each person until only one player remains.

Our game had been running for roughly a week, and I had personally eliminated three participants in that time. By entering and exiting my apartment through a ground floor window at the back of the apartment building, I felt fairly confident that I was safe from any attacker who was trying to monitor my movements. This game, if nothing else, had filled me with a very healthy sense of paranoia. There were a few safe zones, classrooms, work, church, and home, where elimination could not take place. I had plotted the best rout for getting to each location while maintaining the least amount of visibility possible. In some cases it meant that I had to leave for class 20-30 minutes early to make it there on time.

I plotted my eliminations meticulously, using the college’s student directory (aka the StalkerNet) to find their apartment address, class schedule, and in some rare cases pictures of the target. I would align their schedule and mine to make sure I knew the quickest rout to where they would be throughout the day. I moved through crowds like a breath of air, silent and imperceptible. There are, at times, advantages to being small in stature.

I was tailing my fourth target, intent on learning her “path of safety” before making an attempt at eliminating per prematurely. Always cautious, I would check my surroundings for anyone who looked suspicious of doing as I was—scouting for the best moment to make my move. In the corner of the room was a gentleman I had seen several times earlier in the day. Since this was a small college, it was not uncommon to run into the same people from time to time, but his presence seemed too calculated to be chance.

Perspiration began to bead on my forehead and the hairs on the back of my neck began to tingle a warning. This guy was going to try and make his move; in my gut I knew he was stalking me as I stalked my target. Two birds with one stone, this guy was good. In my mind I was wondered how long he had been watching my movements. Had he looked me up on the StalkerNet as well? Of course he had. As we passed, him sitting casually in a chair some forty feet from where I passed, our eyes met and he winked. The game was afoot and I knew it. My target would have to wait for another day; I needed to escape and time was not in my favor.

In a fraction of a second I needed to decide which of four possible exits would be my best option:
• Exit number one was a stairwell that would take me to the ground level where I could leave from the closest set of doors and race across the quad, hoping to loose my pursuer in the crowd. Unfortunately, this was not an exceptionally busy time of day and the typical throng of students was replaced by a few stragglers working their way home at the end of class.
• Exit number two required me to ascend the same set of stairs to the top floor, and either back track through the building to a service stairwell at the opposite end of the building or dodge into an unused classroom and hope to avoid detection while hiding under a desk or behind a podium. This option was the least desirable because it either left me trapped in a room where my only exit was blocked by my pursuer, or carelessly careening down halls and through doorways, making enough racket to raise the dead.
• Exit number three would require me to stay on the same level and quickly make my way to a service elevator located at the far end of the building which could only be accessed by cleaning crew employees (which I just happened to be)! While this option seemed to be the safest in theory because it placed me in a position where my tracker could not follow, even if he wanted to, it also left me exposed to attack far too long. The elevator was located in hall way locked off to anyone save building employees. I would have to unlock the door before I could make my way to safety, needlessly using up precious seconds that could be the difference between survival and elimination.
• Exit number four was by far the most risky, but potentially the safest. Because I worked on the late night cleaning crew, I was aware of a few rooms in the building that were never, if ever, used. One of these rooms just happened to be right off the entrance a women’s room located on the bottom floor of the building; it had a window, roughly three feet tall by four feet wide, set about six feet off the ground. If I could make it to that window, I could get away with relative ease. In order to make my way to this room undetected I would have to descend one of two stairwells, backtrack through a bowling alley/arcade, and enter the restrooms at the back of the food court. A race that would leave me exposed even longer than option number three as the distance to safety was much greater.

Typically this latter route might be thought of as an inescapable trap like the classroom, and under normal circumstances I would never have considered it as an option, but desperate times left me no choice. I knew option four, as risky as it was, served the best possibility for escape. There were no exits close enough to the window that my pursuer could catch me in time, even if he discovered immediately that I had exited through a window in an unused women’s restroom. The second door had a lock on it that would provide me time to make my escape and I could simply unlock it again that night as I cleaned. The plan was perfect despite its flaws.

No time to worry about the outcome, in two short strides I cleared the corner and the chase was on. If this kid was as good as I assumed he was, he would not simply jump up and start chasing me recklessly through the building. He would make sure I was aware of his presence first, and then the chase would begin. This knowledge bought me a few seconds of time to change aspects of my appearance. Fortunately, since I was not in class that day, I had left my backpack at home, opting instead to wear a light jacket and a stocking cap. I pulled the cap from my head, shoved it in my back pocket, stripped off my jacket, flipped it inside-out, and tied it around my waist. It wasn’t the perfect disguise, but hopefully it would buy me a few more precious seconds to lengthen my lead and make my escape.

Less than ten feet ahead of me sat the first stairwell, the second set of stairs situated around a corner roughly thirty feet ahead of me and on the opposite side of the room I was passing through. The first stairwell had the advantage of doors at both the top and bottom which were held open with simple wooden wedges. The second stairwell was much too exposed and the risk of early detection was much too great. Quickening my pace, I passed through the first doorway, kicking the doorstop out of the way as I passed. The door began to slowly close on its spring hinges. I could only hope that it would close fast enough to either obstruct my pursuer or alert me to his approach. Near the bottom of the stairs I heard the first door begin to catch and then stop before being thrust open again. Hurried feet began to slap against the stairs indicating that the chase had officially begun. I darted through the second door, again kicking the door stop free to hinder pursuit.

Had my actions been enough to slow this chase? The entrance to the bowling alley/arcade stood roughly one hundred feet away, hidden behind a large planter filled with tall green stalks of various silken plants and Ficus trees. I ran for the doorway, pushing my way past a few people who happened to move into my path unaware of my flight. Instead of making my way around the planter’s box, I threw caution ahead and leapt over the box and through the silken fauna, rough and exposed wires raking against my arms. Behind me I heard the sounds of my pursuer pushing his way past the same people; he was much closer than I would have preferred and I needed to make an adjustment to my escape plan. While the bathroom still held the best chance for escape, fleeing through the open food court and arcade would not be advisable. Instead, upon entering the bowling ally I made my way down the side of the lanes and into the service area where the machinery sits. Hydraulic arms shifted up and down, back and forth, across my path as I made my way to a door that would deposit me in the exact hallway I needed, roughly fifty feet from the women’s room and safety.

As luck would have it, the bowling ally attendant stopped the kid chasing me from entering the backroom as I had. Were he a little quicker, I would have been stopped too. His shouts and curses pushed the adrenaline coursing through my veins to surge even more violently. A sudden burst of speed overtook me and I crashed through the backdoor, barely getting it open in time to keep the door jam from exploding outward like in so many Hollywood films. I knew I was safe, the chase was over and I could casually make my way home to begin planning a new defensive strategy. I knew what my pursuer looked like now and I would be better prepared when next we met. I would need to change my routes, adjust my travel schedule, be less consistent in when I left my apartment and from which direction I went to and from class. I would blend in and become a shadow. If I could survive this, I could survive any attempt at elimination. My instincts were primed; I was as good or better than any secret agent employed by our government. For a moment I thought about changing my major to International Spy. How cool would that be! Think of all the dates I would get then!

Reaching for the door to the women’s room I took one last look down the hallway. At the far end stood the kid who had pursued me, perspiration beginning to leave marks below his collar and armpits. In his hand he held my jacket. Apparently I had lost it during my flight, maybe snagged on a branch as I hurdled carelessly through the planter’s box. I gave him a saucy “maybe next time” grin, winked, and tugged on the door to freedom.

Something hard and cool pressed against my chest; looking forward I found myself staring into the crystal blue eyes of Jody, my co-worker from the nighttime cleaning crew. I knew she was part of the game, and earlier we had discussed exit strategies for several of the buildings on campus, but I never suspected her of such nefarious deceit. I looked down at the spoon pressed against my sternum and in a soft voice, as if from a great distance, I heard her say …

… “Gotcha.”

Beginnings of a Magic System

I have been working on a magic system for what will hopefully be my first novel. The project is tentatively titled Haven, and it will take place in both the human world and the faerie realm. I have borrowed ideas from some of my favorite writers to build this (Thank you Brandon Sanderson for inspiration and your creativity) but I am hoping that my spin will be orinigal enough to distinguish it from others.
Anyway, here is what I have so far.

Magic Notes:

Magic in Haven derives from the manipulation and refinement of certain ores (10 to be precise) Through a long a trying process the smelter burns out all the imperfections in the mineral and once cooled the mineral is crushed into a powder to be used in a tattoo. Here is where the power form the mineral is manipulated. When combined with various mystical symbols engraved into the body through the use of a reed, needle, and tapping switch the minerals are rubbed over the raw and exposed skin where the body absorbs the colored powder and the body is strengthened or otherwise changed by the newly infused power. Certain people are more susceptible to certain minerals than others, and some minerals cannot be combined with others because theirs powers negate each other. The use of certain minerals is rare as some are rarer than others, hence the traditional phrase is used any time a person receives a new tattoo: “To you I have given the _______ (number) mineral, he who finds the 10^th mineral will truly be blessed.”

Minerals: Name: Power:

· [1] Red (Ruby): BloodStone Heal Wounds

· [4] Orange (Fire Opal): FireStone Manipulation of Fire

· [5] Yellow (Amber): SunStone Increase Physical Weight/ Density

· [3] Green (Emerald): EarthStone Manipulation over Earth/Water

· [9] Blue (Sapphire): PeasantStone Strengthens Mind against Manipulation

· [8]Indigo (Tanzanite): ShadeStone Conceal Self/Place from being seen

· [10] Violet (lolite): KingStone Manipulate actions (Power of Suggestion)

· [6]White (Pearl): MoonStone Lighten Physical Weight/Density

· [2] Black (Obsidian): DeathStone Draw Life Force

· [7]Clear (Diamond): SightStone See Other Places/People

BloodStone: (Ruby) Rarity Level 1 (Common)

BloodStone is a common mineral. Its power to heal wounds is crucial in battle and many armies will employ large groups of healers, folk tattooed in intricate patters along their hands and forearms, to treat the wounded and ailing in battle. Because healing powers come from personal contact, BloodStone markings must be located on the hands and arms of the person who desires to use this power. The most intricate patterns are located on the palms of the healer. As the power of the mineral is tapped the lines along the palm will begin to glow, extending up the forearm gradually diminishing in brightness and intensity. In order to focus the power, healers will wear special leather gloves that tap into the energies charged in the tattoo and direct the release into a polished crystal located in the palm of the glove. Brass bands encircle each wrist and interlace between the fingers, anchoring the crystal in place. Copper wires attach to each band, and end in small disks which are placed at the wrist and two places on the front and back of the forearm. A second disk is placed inside the glove, on the pack of the hand opposite the focusing crystal. These disks are the receptors that draw the energy from the healer’s body and direct its flow to the crystal. When used, the crystal will glow in varying degrees of red, dependent on the severity of the wound. The deeper, more serious the wound, the brighter the color of the stone. The more simple and commonplace, the more dull the color of the stone.

BloodStone can be used to heal any kind of injury, or malady—from a common cold to a gaping flesh wound. Though it is a healing power, there are limits for what BloodStone can and cannot do. A healer cannot reattach a severed limb simply using BloodStone magics. Because the power of the mineral is centered in the person’s own energies and powers, a healer can only help with as much as their body will allow. If casting a healing spell, a healer will use up some of their own energies to transfer the power to the receiver. So, while a small cut would have little to no impact on a healer’s personal strength, healing a severe wound received in battle would greatly weaken the healer for their next patient. Because of this adverse side effect, many healers will study other forms of healing arts, from medical science to holistic cures. Many battle healers will have an extensive understanding about how plants work and which are best for curing, relieving pain, or speeding death; also, healers will tend to work in groups when a larger project needs their attention. Three healers working on a patient will expend much less energy than a single healer working alone. Much like the apothecaries of old, the modern healer is as much a pharmacist as a doctor.

BloodStone, as its name suggests, is a made from refined rubies and is Red in color. Tattoos made from BloodStone are also red, and will vary in degrees of color based on longevity of the tattoo and purity of the refined mineral. BloodStone is a fairly common mineral and its markings are often found any of the Folk races, from trolls to faeries.

FireStone: (Fire Opal) Rarity Level 2 (Common)

· FireStone is a common mineral. Its powers are centered in the manipulation of outside forces, in this case fire. Because of its nature, it is referrer to as an elemental power. The core principle behind the FireStone is that it can be used to manipulate or create fire. It can also function as a heating source for the person using the power, but that heat cannot be created in another person. Those who use FireStone are often referred to as Incendiaries because they tend to have a characteristic much like fire—quick to start, growing in intensity, and smoldering for hours after resolutions have been reached.

The markings on an Incendiary are located on the center of the chest, where traditionally the heart lies. Like the Healers markings, FireStone uses an intricate pattern in interlacing lines in the shape of a circle. Around the outside edge of this circle is tattooed a large gear with blunt edged teeth. This secondary tattoo serves as a retainer which holds the energies summoned within its boundaries, much like a large cauldron is used to hold liquefied ore during the refining process. This second tattoo is made from Iron ore. Though the Iron holds no useful power that can be directed outward from the source, Iron can be used to help contain the power of some minerals that unchecked would consume the source and cause irreparable damage.

Like Healers, an Incendiaries power draws from the source, and unlike the Healer, Incendiaries draw from their personal body temperature to fuel their power. A small flame would have little impact on an Incendiaries core temperature, but a larger fire would draw substantially from the source, and could unchecked leave the source suffering from severe hypothermia. Novice magicians assume that Incendiaries would have an unlimited source of power since they can both create power and manipulate their own core temperature. This is not the case. While the power to manipulate fire does draw from their core temperature, the ability to increase core temperature draws from the sources energy and strength—somewhat like using a battery to power an electronic device; the more it is used the faster the battery will drain.

SunStone: (Amber) Rarity Level 5 (Common)

·

EarthStone: (Emerald) Rarity Level 3 (Common)

·

PeasantStone: (Blue Star Sapphire) Rarely Level 9 (Rare)

·

ShadeStone: (Tanzanite) Rarity Level 8 (Moderate)

·

KingStone: (Lolite) Rarity Level 10 (Rare)

·

MoonStone: (Pearl) Rarity Level 6 (Moderate)

·

DeathStone: (Obsidian) Rarity Level 2 (Common)

·

SightStone: (Diamond) Rarity Level 7 (Moderate)

Call Me Cueball

This is my gorgeous head of hair. I have been growing it out thinking that I would like to have it a little longer for a while now. Actually I have been going back and forth about cutting it and so begin s this adventure.

A side view so you can get the full effect of my beauty

This is Mr. Read. He is my administrator at AFHS. Honestly, you would be hard pressed to find a better friend and boss. He got the first few passes with the razor.

And so the process begins. Here is the story of all this. Back in December the freshman class came to me and asked if I would be their sponsor for an event called the penny wars. Basically its a class competition and the winning class gets to humiliate their sponsor in some nefariously devised way.

The freshman class decided that a public head shaving would be both fun and humiliating. This is Israel Uribe, the freshman class pres, contributing to the hair cut.

As a special bonus they raffled off the opportunity to get in on the action and here is Nick, on of the winners working on the top of my head.

I particularly like the fact that now my sideburns REALLY stand out!

Nearing completion on this first leg of the project

Here is the damage so far.

Part two of this process involved later and a razor.

This is Cassie going to work with the Razor as well. Her qualifications include shaving her legs regularly ... and that's about it.

The event took place at lunch, and quickly went into 5th hour, hence the fact that where there once was a croud of students there now is none.

What do you see in this picture. I see a horse!

DOes everything look equal? Gage looking to put the final touches on my new do!

The Back!

The Front!

In the classroom! Well, its done. I am officially bald and looking pretty darn sexy if i do sayso myself. I always hoped that if I ever went bald I would have a good looking head because I refused to to the comb over thing. Now I guess the truth is out. I need to do a little touch-up on the sideburns and goatee, but all in all I think I lo0ok pretty good.

Cheers,
Price