Follow the Siren {Silver Sky Tales #8}

Disclaimer: some of these photos are really good and some are really awful.


As I watch the car drive away, I try to calm myself down by going over what had happened in the past week.

“Let’s see,” I said aloud. “I left SFO on Monday, layed over in Denver for three hours, and finally reached DFW Monday night. Well, I actually guess it was Tuesday morning. I rode a bus from there to here. And then this morning I caught an Uber car ride to where I am now. Which is a mile away from where I’m supposed to be right now until everything blows over.”

I sigh. Dad never said when that would be. But it isn’t like it’s clear. The media is fickle. Sometimes, they leave something behind in a week, and sometimes they obsess over it for half a year.

I hope it’ll be more of the first kind and I can go home in two weeks.


I start to walk, not really wanting to, but knowing that I’ve got to. My mind wanders back home as my boots squeak on the drying pavement.


My phone interrupts my thoughts.


I whip it out. Usually, I’m not this tech-crazy, but for the past few days, anything from my family is read in about 3.5 seconds.


I already miss Akio, my cousin. I miss my mom and dad. I miss everyone I knew.

I start to text-walk. It’s not a good idea, and I know it, but I’m a bit desperate. Suddenly, I trip over something. I look down.


There’s this weird little bag on the pavement. It’s got kind of an alligator texture and is the most gaudy pattern I’ve ever seen.


I stumble, catch myself, and glare at it. Is it a bomb?


Then I feel someone watching me. I turn around.


There’s a little girl looking at me. She looks almost like some kind of siren in alluring shades of green and blue. I make a mental note to borrow her fashion choices for my comics. Yakisoba might look good in that.


We stare at eachother for a couple of minutes.


Then I call, “Is this yours?”


She skips over. Her little rainboots have goofy frog faces on them. Or are they fish?


“Yeah,” she says. Her voice has a tinge of mischief in it. “Thanks for finding it.”

“You’re welcome. What are you doing here?”

“Well…” She rocks back on her rubber heels. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Sure,” I reply with a shrug.

She leans in and whispers, “I had a babysitter, but I got rid of her.”

Wow. That was…interesting. “Where are you going then?”

“I’m going to visit my older sister, Issa. Do you wanna come?”

Even more interesting. “Um.”


“She’d like you.”

I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s her big blue eyes with that adorable little freckle underneath the left one. Maybe it’s that I need a place to stay tonight.

“Alright,” I say. “Lead the way?”

She giggles. “But I don’t even know your name!”

“Well, I don’t know yours, either.”

“My name’s Camille Fauncewater. Now will you tell me what your name is?”


“Kaori. Kaori Sasaki.”

“Ka – what?”

I laugh. “It’s Japanese. Ka-or-i Sa-sa-ki.”

“Kal-or-ee Sa-sa-kee.”

I decide not to push it. “Aren’t we going somewhere?”

“Yup!” she says. “My sister is really going to like you.”

“I hope so,” I mutter. “I don’t play well with others, usually.”

She doesn’t hear me. Maybe that’s a good thing.

Yes, I received a Wellie Wisher as a gift! Camille is so adorable and I can’t wait to take more photos of her.

IMHO, the last photo is one of the best photos I’ve ever taken. Period.

Let me know what you think – are you excited to see how things will pan out for Kaori and Camille?



Letters to Sri {Silver Sky Tales #7}

In case you haven’t been snooping into the comments, I decided to revoke my judgment upon the first six Silver Sky Tales. Instead of disregarding them (their stories are actually decent), I just decided to progress a year, and finalize everyone in that year. Enjoy.

Also, this post doesn’t have very many actual pictures. It was supposed to have several, but my camera ran out of battery, so I found another way to do it. Enjoy and remember – this is FINAL now!


The morning sun poured into the bedroom as I opened the laptop we all shared. I glanced at the time. Apparently Autumn had set the clock back again to scare her into staying on task. I never understood that method – I find it impossible to trick myself. Minimizing Autumn’s dance video and clicking off Issa’s random sticky note (I hope ‘the orange leaf isn’t so great’ wasn’t an important memo), I opened my email. It had been ages since my sister had gotten anything from me.


The little cursor blinked menacingly as I fought the writer’s block building up within me. How do you tell someone you love a lot that you have been trying to find time to talk to them? Especially when she asked you something over six months ago?


Dear, dear Sri. She’s much older than me, but still my best friend. Our bond had really begun when I was six and taking the Tot Ballet classes at our local arts center. She was already into Level Seven, an accomplished dancer, and auditioning for a supporting role in Swan Lake. But instead of staying detached from her embarrassing protege, she took time to teach me what she knew. I remember her laboring over teaching me to arabesque. It was about the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me. Since that commitment, we’ve been friends for life, and the thing that always connected us was ballet.

Around fourth grade, I got into writing, though. And I think that was the downhill slide on my ballet career. But I kept dancing, for Sri and Sri only. When I moved here, to Alverton, my dancing became less and less enjoyable. I started to dread classes and eventually lost my momentum. And when I’d told Sri, she had been completely silent. Eventually, after what seemed like an hour, she told me, “Keep stretching. You never know when you might want to go back.”

Inevidably, Sri was still sore about my desertion. But I stretched my pointes every morning, just for her. Every now and then, I’d break into a jete or a pirouette, just for the fun of it. But no more ballet for me, not without her. So now I was attempting a novel about ballet, to justify it.


Sweet, extrovertive Sri. So different than me. I border on anti-social in my closeness with those I love. But not Sri. She’s an instant friend everyone wants to know.


Kala. I whispered the name as I pressed the keys. No one has called me my Indian name in ages, and I miss it. It sounds so melodious in comparison to the harsh, sharp So-FEE-ah. But alas, that’s the name on the placard, and my middle name is reserved for family and close friends only. Still, as I sat there, I wished someone would come in and yell, “Kala! Come here, please!”

I don’t necessarily miss home, but I do miss Sri and everyone.

As I hit the ‘send’ button, I wondered whether I could make it to her wedding. How much do plane tickets to Boston cost?


Sri replied to me the very next day.


I smiled, breathing in, and desperately wishing I were in Boston.

Alas, things aren’t working out for me.

Plane tickets to Boston cost $616, not counting fees and tax. And that’s $616 that I don’t have.

Dear, dear Sri.

This took a lot of work. But I think you can see that. 🙂

If anything isn’t clear about Sophia’s new backstory, all you need to do is ask for clarity and I will reply.

Next up: Her Esteemed Excellence, Autumn Adair {Silver Sky Tales #8}


Taiso Senshu {Silver Sky Tales #5}

In this brand-new episode, I’m building up to something exciting. And an update on the series I said I was going to make – I may hold off on that and just focus on the dolls backstage. Because everyone has serieses (?), but no one has stories that happen backstage. Don’t beat me to the idea!

Without further adieu, here’s the next tale.

“Issa, could you come to the Junk Room for a minute?”

Issa hated going to The Junk Room, as the dumping ground was affectionately called. There was always a flurry of stuff in there, and most of it was Autumn’s. Autumn was out at a friend’s for the day, so if Sophia called her to The Junk Room, that meant she was going to have to pick up Autumn’s stuff for her.

Reluctantly cracking open the door, she was about to plead for mercy with Sophia (couldn’t they clean it up when Autumn got home?) when she stopped short.

DSCN2354.JPG“Ta-da!” said Sophia with a port-de-bra-like flourish. “The Junk Room is junky no longer.”

DSCN2359.JPG“Sophia…!” said Issa excitedly. She couldn’t think why, but she started a little dance.

DSCN2362.JPGFirst a basic tendu, just like the one she’d seen Sophia do so many times;

DSCN2366.JPGthen a port-de-bra;

DSCN2367.JPGthen a step forward, to prepare for the jete,

DSCN2369.JPGwhich she landed in a perfect, arms-up split.

DSCN2370.JPGSophia’s eyes nearly bugged out. “Why, Issa,” she said, splitting down next to her, “that was beautiful!”

“Thanks,” said Issa sheepishly. “I’ve just been -”


“Not really.”

“Issa,” said Sophia, “you know that both your parents were dancers. You ought to be one, too. It’s what you were born to do.”

DSCN2371.JPG“Two corrections,” Issa said, standing up like she was about to do something. Sophia got out of the way. “First off, my dad was an accountant who danced with my mom as a hobby. Secondly, I wasn’t born to dance.”

DSCN2372.JPGShe hunched her shoulders forward, bent her knees, and

backflip.pngflipped backward into the air like an esteemed gymnast. What she didn’t realise about her trick was that the ceiling was too short, so when her feet clobbered on it, and nearly busted a light,

DSCN2375.JPGher backflip collapsed, and she landed on the gorund, knocking the breath clean out of her.

“Are you okay?” asked Sophia, knowing somehow that she would be.

DSCN2376.JPG“I’m fine,” she gasped, trying to regain air.

“So you want to be a gymnast?”

“No,” she answered. “A taiso senshu.”


“It’s Japanese,” Issa laughed. “It literally means a gymnast, but that’s not really what it is.”


“Sure. Taiso is a form of free-running. Kind of like what you need to be able to do if you want to be a ninja.”

Sophia’s eyebrows went up. “You want to be a ninja?”

“No, but I really, really want to learn it nonetheless.”


Issa laughed. “Why not?”

“And where have you been learning this?”

“I’ve been reading a lot about it.”

Sophia laughed. “I didn’t get good at dance just by reading, Issa.”

“Well, I want a teacher, but there aren’t any here. I have, however, been talking to someone through the ‘Net who’s been giving me pointers.”


“Yes. Her name’s Hanoka Norman. She’s been teaching taiso for five years now. I really want to learn from her, but she lives in Saskatchewan.”

“No good there.”

“Yeah. No good.”

“Well, Issa, I’m sure something will come your way. You’ll just have to be patient.”

Issa smiled. “Sure.”

“And Issa, why is your hair wet?”

She covered her hand with her mouth. “I forgot to tell you – I finally got the fruit punch out of my hair!”

Disclaimer: taiso senshu is NOT actually real. I made it up for the purpose. You’ll find out more about it in tales to come.

Disclaimer: Do not backflip in the house. It will mess you up.

Disclaimer: I did a horrible job editing the backflip photo. Forgive me!

Disclaimer: This is the last disclaimer.

Hope you enjoyed!



The Road to Stardom, Part II {Silver Sky Tales #4}

I experimented with a different room in this post – unfortunately my backdrop was not big enough in some places. Enjoy anyways.


“Look, Autumn, I don’t care what you say about your glasses, you need to take them,” Sophia said for the eighty millionth time.


“No,” Autumn replied, tossing her head saucily. “I won’t wear them, I won’t even bring them. They’re ugly and they ruin my natural beauty.”

“I don’t care. You need to wear them.”

“No, I don’t! I won’t ever make it in the acting world wearing eyeglasses!”


“Look, Tum,” said Issa, who was tired of hearing Autumn whine. “Sophia knows what she’s doing. If she says you’re going to wear those glasses then by golly you’re going to wear them.”

“That was sort of American,” Autumn remarked huffily.

“I don’t care; it should convince you to do right.”


Autumn seized the bag from Sophia. Her glasses within made an annoying click as she swung it angrily.

“Are we ready, then?” Sophia asked.

Issa jumped off the chair. “I am.”

And so they departed for Parker Brothers Coffee.



Mrs. Lei Pei Miau was a staunch, businesslike woman in her mid-thirties.

“Look,” Autumn whispered to Issa. “Your hair fits right in.”

Issa giggled and whispered, “I think mine’s better.”


There was, unfortunately, but one seat at the table, so Issa and Autumn stood behind Sophia encouragingly.


“You are Miss Montoya, no?”

“Yes, I’m she.”

“Very good, I hear from my talent scouts that you and your friends Issa Palmer and…” She looked at Autumn. “What’s your name?”


“Autumn Adair, ma’am.”

“Hmm. Tell me, are you Irish?”


Issa yawned. Whenever Autumn was asked that, she went into a long speech about how it was unfair that she had not inherited the accent. Anything, she thought, to make this interesting…

Then, she saw something awful. Biting her tongue to keep from blurting it out in front of Miss Miau, she whipped out her phone.


Issa watched nervously. PING! went Autumn’s phone.

“Excuse me,” she said, and stepped away. Issa tried not to make eye contact.







Autumn read. Then she looked.


There on her thigh was a hole in her tights the size of a young watermelon. The bare skin stared out from behind its nylon cage.

She heard Miss Miau say, “You told me, Miss Montoya, that Autumn faints on cue?”


“Yes,” said Sophia nervously, looking at the genuine performance. “She does.”


The phone screens were made on a very easy, free, online tool called Fake iPhone Text Messages. I had a ton of fun making this one. Next stop? The Road to Stardom, Part III.

Tell me what you thought!


The Road to Stardom, Part I {Silver Sky Tales #3}

I apologize that this has taken so long to get up, but here it is, in its full glory (or lack thereof) – Silver Sky Tales #3. And notice that my photography has improved a little – I’ve been working on it. 🙂


Issa sat, on that windy January morning, comfortably ensconced in the large pink beanbag known affectionately as The Gumball. It did rather resemble one, she thought, and as she flipped through the magazine she was reading wondering whose idea Valentine’s Day was, Autumn skipped in, red-faced and breathless.


“Look!” she commanded before Issa could say anything. But then she snatched the letter away before Issa could acknowledge it and swirled into a chair.


Issa glanced at the address.


Brighton, Illinois, she wondered. What could somebody in the States want from Misses Montoya, Palmer and Adair?


Autumn, holding the letter much too close to her face, pretending like she was reading it. Issa watched with a grinchish smile.


“Don’t think I don’t know you wear reading glasses,” Issa smirked.


Autumn sighed, felt around in the drawer for the dreaded spectacles, and reluctantly put them on. Autumn had a “thing” about glasses. She thought they made her look old and ugly, which, of course, wasn’t the case, because there are few things in this world that make Miss Adair unattractive. Chances are that everyone would have thought they were cute if she wore them more often.


With quavering lips and pouding heart, Autumn read the letter. She gave a little gasp, rather like a bewigged duchess who had just heard something traitorous, and


collapsed on the floor!


Issa, who was very much alarmed, rose from the clutches of The Gumball and put her Guide training to work.


Flipping her over, and trying to ignore every story she’d heard of bad news coming in a letter and making the reader have a heart attack and die, she checked to see if she was still breathing. She was.


“Great pumpkin spice!” came a familiar voice. Apparently Sophia was back from ballet. “What’s she done to herself now?”


“She’s in a dead faint,” came Issa’s nonchalant reply, like having your friends keel over on the floor was a part of everyday life.

“I can see that,” Sophia replied with a cocked eyebrow. “But why?”

Issa was about to answer something along the lines of “beats me”, but for one, that sounded sort of American, and secondly, there was one clue as to why Autumn had fainted.


She picked up the letter that was nestled in the woolly carpet and read it.

“Don’t you go keeling over, too,” Sophia warned.

“Do I usually?” Issa answered, not really heeding. Then, she blinked. “Good heavens,” she sighed.



“It appears,” Issa said, shaking her head, “that we’re actors now.”

“First off, since we’re girls, we’ll be actresses. And secondly, what in thunder does that mean?

“Just let me read it,” Issa said, and put on her best Illinois accent.

“Dear Misses Montoya, Palmer and Adair,

My name is Elmore Whittaker. I am the director of Whittaker Productions, Inc. My talent scouts have spotted the three of you and would like to have you in a new production we have deemed Enigma On Eighteenth Street. If you are interested in taking the roles we offer, please meet my casting agent Lei Pei Miau (pronounced like the cat noise, by the way) at Parker Brothers Coffee at nine o’clock on the morning of the twelfth of January.


Mr. Elmore Whittaker

(P.S: The parts are a lot of fun. It’s a detective story, see, so naturally there’s a lot of mystery to it. And your natural accents will be just stellar to the production. – E. W.)

“Wow,” said Sophia. “So are we going to meet him next Thursday?”


Autumn slowly sat up. “Of course we are! I’ve always wanted to be a movie star!”


Well, what do you think? Yes, this will mean that I will be starting a new series in addition to the Silver Sky Tales. AG is an excellent way to express those little stories that need to be told but aren’t worth writing.

I hope you’ll look forward to more!

Signing off,


An Accident {Silver Sky Tales #1}

I have decided to number these little strange stories that I make up and call them Silver Sky Tales.

Enjoy! This one’s called An Accident.


“Gee,” Autumn complained. “For all the busyness that was supposed to happen after Thanksgiving break, it sure is dull around here.”

Just then, the door slammed downstairs.


“Huh. I wonder what that was.” She listened intently.

“Sophia!” came Issa’s voice in a harried whisper. “My life is over! I can’t go anywhere ever again!”

“You’re a little blonde to be Anne of Green Gables,” Sophia said wryly. “What’s wrong?”


Autumn crept downstairs, just as curious as Sophia was.


Issa and Sophia were standing there. The former was in an evident state of distress. Her hair was rumpled wildly instead of out of the way like usual. Autumn listened.

“It’s awful!” Issa warned. “And it won’t come out!”

Sophia took things methodically. “Have you tried shampoo?”

“Every kind there is! Even the horse shampoo! And it won’t!”


They saw her a little late.

“What’s going on?” Autumn asked, raising her eyebrows.


“Issa’s had a little accident,” Sophia ventured.

Autumn looked at Issa. She was mouthing “don’t tell her please!” to Sophia.

“With what?”

“Her hair.”


Issa bit her lip.

“Well,” Autumn said, “let’s inspect the damage.”


They looked at the blond tresses.


“Great pumpkin spice!” Sophia exclaimed. “Issa Belle Sterling! Your hair’s pink!”


“I know,” said Issa. “I was trying this thing that I read online on how to make your hair strawberry blonde.”

Autumn was confused. “Why would you want to be strawberry blonde?”

“You know that girl in the catalogues? Maryellen? I think she’s about the prettiest in the world. And I already had the hazel eyes, so…”

“What exactly were you trying to use?” Sophia asked, scratching her head.


“Issa,” she laughed. “You use the Kool-Aid dip-dye method when you’re trying to give yourself highlights. Crazy coloured highlights.”

“Oh.” She twirled a bit of magenta hair around her finger. “It’s so obnoxiously pink.”


Sophia snapped her fingers.”You know, Autumn, that gives me an idea.”


Sophia brushed and styled. Issa fidgeted and Autumn stayed quietly out of the way. Then, it was ready.


“Ta-da!” Sophia announced, like she was revealing a rare animal.

“Sophia! You covered up the pink!” Autumn exclaimed.

“But that isn’t the best part,” she grinned. “Issa, do a handstand.”

Issa did.


“Oh. Wow!” Autumn was enraptured. “It’s like regular on top…”

“But crazy when you are!” Issa laughed between breaths.


“Okay, Issa, hold still.”


“Here we go!”


She showed a little bit dazed Issa the photo.

“That’s awesome! What do you call it, Sophia?”


“I call it,” she replied, ” ‘Peek-a-boo Pigtails’.”

“I love it! Thanks, Sophia.”

“You’re welcome, Issa. Isn’t that what friends are for?”


I hope you enjoyed! I am still practicing taking photos in the new dollhouse, so the lighting in these is a bit wonky. I hope you’ll forgive me and I will get better! I should probably make a reflector. Does anyone have any experience with those? If you do, please let me know. I would appreciate it!

Have a great day, and God bless as always!