January's Over (Basically), Snow Just Swamped Everyone, and My Brain Went POOF

Summer is coming! If you ignore the fact that spring isn’t even here yet, everything is perfect. February, March, April… and then MAY 7TH IS THE END OF SCHOOL! HA! I do need to start planning my classes for next year, though. I know for sure I’m taking Sports Medicine and Athletic Training—at least until they decide to get rid of the class. Which, with my luck, is entirely possible.

For English, I’m thinking about taking either Creative Writing or Banned Books. They both sound interesting. At least I’ve still got two more years. I haven’t decided which history class I’m going to take yet. Our school has a new history teacher, and I haven’t heard great reviews about him—and he teaches basically all the history classes now.

Anyway, snow is falling again. I’m sure most people reading this are aware of the huge storm that dumped a foot of snow on us. Some places got two feet. That’s way too much for me. And apparently it’s supposed to snow again this weekend. Yay. We definitely need more snow. It’s totally not cold enough already. 🦗🦗🦗🦗

AS I WAS SAYING. Cold, sickness, complaining children. Oh—wait, the kids don’t complain about the cold. They complain about getting iN tHE pOOL. I became a genius and started shoving them into the pool. Is it fun for them? Yes. Is it fun for me? Absolutely. I love shoving kids into pools. Does that make me a horrible person? EH, DOESN’T MATTER. IT MAKES ME HAPPY.

I started binging Pretty Little Liars. Bubbles started watching it too. We have a bunch of wild theories, and I’m pretttyyy sure we’re going to get several of them right. We’re just smart like that, fr nods. It’s a good show—highly recommend it for older viewers. It’s intriguing and hooks you fast.

Anyway, enough of that. I’m going to give you guys a little sneak peek! This is from book three, the one I’m currently working on. Enjoy! Under the Surface of Writing

“You may take your coat off, Lieutenant,” Aanya murmured, distracted as she fed more logs into the fire. “It’s freezing outside, yes—but it’s warm enough in here.”

“Thank you,” he replied, bowing again before removing his coat. Mason and Hanna quickly followed.

“Did you send the guards out?” Aanya asked, glancing briefly at Hanna.

“Yes, Mistress Aanya,” Hanna said, handing her a stack of reports. She swept her black hair into a bun before continuing. “The East side reported nothing. The others are still searching their assigned sectors.”

Aanya flipped through the papers, sighed, and tossed them back onto the table. “What am I supposed to do with these?” she growled, slamming her fists down. “We cannot risk anyone getting in.”

“That’s exactly what we’re preventing,” John said, nodding thoughtfully. “The maps help us identify where the rebels might infiltrate. You’re wondering whether Christian actually saw something—or fabricated it.”

Ryder tapped the dungeon blueprint. “We haven’t sent anyone down there yet. Should we be concerned, or will Axel likely check it within the next hour or two?”

“He’ll be down there soon,” Mason said. He adjusted his gloves, eyes fixed on the papers as if trying to solve a riddle. “But we need to pull all soldiers back from their current posts.”

“Why?” Aanya snapped. “If we leave, they could break in.”

Mason pinched the bridge of his nose and glanced at John. “If Alexia is attempting to break in, she won’t use the main entrance. She’s far too clever for that, Madam. Any weakened section of the wall would be a far better target.”

He pointed to three maps, each marked with circled notes—old annotations none of them had taken seriously until now. “These are the weak points. The ones that were bombed.”

Aanya strode to her desk, snatched up the radio, and spoke into it. “All guards, retreat from your current positions and inspect the weak points along the wall.”

Static crackled before a voice finally answered. “Copy that.”

Minutes later, the radio crackled again. “General Okto, Madam Poplar,” a guard said, his voice strained. “We’ve reached one of the vulnerable spots. And… we’ve found something unusual.”

Aanya froze, staring at the radio. “What is it?”

“A broken vent, Madam,” he said. A muffled exchange followed on his end. “We think… a bunny did it.”

Hanna and Ryder exchanged a look, both fighting the urge to laugh. Mason leaned toward John.

“Is he serious?” he whispered. “This place has seen some strange things, but… a bunny?”

John, however, was connecting dots. Ella—she was obsessed with Alice in Wonderland. She kept talking about rabbits and fairytales.

Understanding flickered across Mason’s face. He straightened and turned toward Aanya, who was gripping the table so tightly her knuckles had gone white.

“Madam Poplar,” Mason said carefully, “are we truly prepared to believe this was done by a bunny?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she seized the radio again. “What makes you think it was a bunny?”

“The mud from last night’s rain hasn’t dried,” the guard replied. “There are rabbit tracks leading straight to the vent.”

Aanya’s nostrils flared, as though the universe itself had chosen to mock her.

“A bunny,” she repeated, flat and cold.

Ryder pressed his lips together, shoulders trembling with suppressed laughter. Hanna stared hard at the floor. Mason cleared his throat, trying to maintain composure.

Aanya slammed the radio onto the table and hissed under her breath. She gripped the side button so tightly her hand shook. “All units, proceed with a full search. Do not—” Her voice cracked. “Do not assume this is an animal.”

“Copy that,” the guard said quickly, relieved to end the transmission.

The end... until next time.