OK, I've been too lazy for too long. I'm bored to tears, and want to touch base with my friends, fans, and dear, devoted readers. here's a glimpse into what I've been working on:

First, Smoky Corners. I plan to, EVENTUALLY, finish "Third Time's A Charm". Unfortunately, though, my muse for all things SC has fled to parts unknown, and I'm having significant trouble finding her again. when I do, I will post updates.

Second, I'm working on THREE new stories. One involves a new concept and possibly a new universe. The other two will be SOLO stories.

The first story is titled "No Good Deed". It is going to be a stand alone. here's a short teaser for your enjoyment:
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No Good Deed

(c) 2017 Haylee V

It is often said, and highly misquoted, that no good deed ever goes unpunished. Yet I never thought I'd find out how true that adage rang...
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I don't know how it started, really. Kelly and I were just goofing around one day, and she got this funny notion in her head to dress me up in her Sunday finest. It didn't help matters that, at 13, I had yet to begin puberty. Or that I was horribly short. And thin. Or that my straight auburn hair reached all the way down my back, almost to my bum. (I hated haircuts with a passion.)

I had all the traits one would associate with most pre-pubescent girls- a cute button nose, pouty, full lips, and pencil-thin eyebrows that had their own natural arch. My lashes were long and full, and my face was eerily symmetrical. I guess I had Mom to thank for my good genes...

Anyway, we were just listening to her iPod and singing- quite loudly, I might add- when her Mom yelled up at us, "Can't you girls keep it down in there? I've got a splitting headache, and all that racket is only making it worse!"

"OK, Mom!" Kelly yelled back, as she turned down the speakers attached to her docking station. She then closed her door- quietly, and fell onto the bed, giggling uncontrollably.

"What's so funny?" I asked, completely missing the joke- and her mom's faux pas.

"Didn't you just hear?" Kelly choked out breathlessly. "She said 'you girls'. She KNOWS the only person up here with me is you, Evan, yet she still made the same mistake she always makes whenever we sing or carry on. I think she sees you as a GIRL. Hmm... I wonder..."

"No!" I screamed. "I don't know what you're hatching in that deviant little head of yours, Kelly, but whatever it is, the answer's a resounding NO. Capital 'N', capital 'O'. Period. I won't do it, no matter what IT is. So wipe the smirk off your face. Now."

"Oh, come on, Evan," Kelly whined. "How can yo so emphatically say no, when you don't even know what I'm thinking?"

"I've seen that look in your eyes WAY TOO MANY times, Kel," I stated, matter-of-fact. "And every time you get THAT LOOK, I get caught up in one of your twisted, sadistic schemes, and end up catching hell. THIS TIME, however, I'm shooting you down BEFORE you can cook something demented up at my expense. So, I'll repeat: 'N-O' NO!"

Kelly, unfazed, was now standing, inching closer to me. "But THIS TIME, it might be fun. TRUST ME..."

"Yeah," I said, "About as much as I trust a gazelle in the middle of a pride of hungry lions. I'm LEAVING!"

Kelly quickly turned and locked the bedroom door, and my only safe means of escape from her evil clutches. She slowly eased her way towards me, forcing me to back up to her closet- and he vanity. I had never before felt so trapped.

"You know, with the long hair- and your feminine facial structue, I bet you'd make a BEAUTIFUL girl," Kelly whispered, seductively, all the while licking her lips. "A little make-up, the right dress and shoes. When I'm done, YOU won't even recognise the new you..."
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Terror shot through me like an electric current. "Does she know?" I questioned. "And if she does, just how much? And how? I've always tried to be very careful..."

As if reading my thoughts, Kelly replied, "I know more about you than you think I do, dear Evan. How you secretly watch me put on my make-up, how you finger the fabrics of the dresses when we're shopping at the mall, how you tend to end every sentence with an upward, sing-song inflection, even how you sit and cross your legs. Face it. You ARE a girl. You just can't, for some reason, bring yourself to accept THE TRUTH."

I slumped down on the floor, defeated and deflated. My greatest fear had just come to light, and I didn't know what to do about it. It was then that my mind decided to act upon my pent-up frustrations and do the only thing any normal teen girl would do if faced with a similar situation- cry. And not just any old crying jag, either, but long, wailing, body-wracking sobs.
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At the sudden- and totally unexpected- onset of my melt-down, Kelly turned pale, and eerily quiet. I'm so sorry, Evan," she whispered. "I didn't mean to upset you so. It's alright. Really. You know you've always been like the younger sister I've never had. I never meant to hurt you. I just want you to be happy. And be the person- the WOMAN- you truly are, deep inside."

She held me close in her embrace for what seemed like hours as all the frustrations and shame of what I was- and what I wanted- surfaced. Finally, when I felt I could shed no more tears, she released me from her gentle, yet vice-like grip.

"All I want is to be NORMAL!" I wailed. "Why is that so difficult? My body is male, yet my actions- my thoughts, desires, mannerisms, every fiber of my being, in fact- screams FEMALE. I love how they look- sensual, soft, delicate. How they smell, how they act, how they carry themselves. Why was I cursed with THIS?" I questioned, pointing to my body, and its one major defect.

"Being a girl is more than just what you have on the outside, Evan," Kelly explained. "It's all-encompassing. A meld of your thoughts- your heart and actions- that define who you really are. You've always been there for me- to laugh and share my triumphs, to gently comfort me when I was down. You're compassionate, kind, gentle, and loving. All VERY FEMININE traits you have in spades, dear. You've NEVER had the rough-and-tumble, me first, last, and only attitude that most boys your age have. You try to put yourself in other's shoes, to really FEEL their pain. You try- perhaps a little too hard at times- to understand their pain, and then aid them to work through it, together. Empathy like yours is a gift- and not something the majority of the male population is born with."

As my sobs slowly ebbed, I tried to drink in what Kelly was saying. I couldn't help but agree with her assessment. I WAS self-effacing, and actually DID try, on a conscious level, to always put others' needs before my own.

"I-I guess you're right, Kels," I stammered. "But I don't know if I can do what you have in mind. I have," I blushed sheepishly, "experimented with some of Mom's things before. Several times, in fact. Even though it somehow felt 'right', I could never quite pull off a decent look. I always managed, somehow, to just look like a 'boy in a dress'. I'm worried that if I actually let you do this to me, I'll suffer the same disappointment. Again."

"I WON'T let that happen to you, Evan," Kelly stated emphatically. "You deserve to be the best YOU you can be. If you'll let me, I think you'll be surprised at the wonder- the magick and power- of a good makeover. You've already got so much going for you. Bringing out your best side should be EASY. A snip here, a tuck there, some padding, a little concealer and blush... You're going to be SIMPLY DARLING!" Kelly gushed.

I don't know why I said what I said next. Perhaps because she was so damn convincing. Perhaps it was due to a deep inner longing on my part. Hell, it could have been out of sheer bordom or fascination. But in that one brief moment, everything just seemed to click in my mind. If I was ever going to become the ME I truly wanted to be, then I had to act. And this may be my only chance to do so.

"Let's do this!" I nearly shouted, shocking both myself and Kelly at the forcefulness of my words.
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Next, is the new "Universe" story, "Zanthe". It will be a "Crayola Chronicles: Tales from the Crayon Box" story. Enjoy.

Crayola Chronicles: Tales from the Crayon Box

Zanthe's Story (Zanthe - Greek - a GOLDEN YELLOW color)

(c) 2017 Haylee V

It had been a pretty uneventful pregnancy, and I was now fully dilated. I was in my second hour of labor with my first child. We had wanted to wait until we both had established our careers- Jakob now owned his own construction firm, and had just landed a major contract with the city of Silver Creek to build a housing community on the ever-expanding east side. I had just published my first novel, a semi-autobiographical romance. The timing was finally right for us to start a family.

I remember the intense pain of delivery, then hearing my daughter's cries. My daughter! And she was beautiful! The doctor handed Jakob the scalpel to cut the umbilical cord, then he took Stephanie Anne for a cleansing bath and to determine her APGARs. It was at this time that he noticed the problems. Stephanie's skin was beginning to turn cyanotic, and her heart rate was dropping fast. Wasting no time, the doctor quickly placed her in an incubator, and immediately whisked her to the neonatal intensive care unit.

I couldn't deal with the pain of the delivery, or the shock of having my baby taken so quickly from me. I passed out. When I came to, hours later, I was in the intensive care unit. I had hemorrhaged during the ejection of the afterbirth, and had very nearly bled out. Fortunately, Jakob shared my all-too-rare blood type, O negative. He had volunteered to give me the plasma that saved my life. Although he was weak from the ordeal, he still managed to be by my side when I awoke. I saw the deep sadness in his eyes- a sadness I had only seen once before.

"Where's Stephanie?" I asked. "I want to see my baby. Now!" I almost screamed.

"She's very sick, 'Lice. She needs surgery. She has a heart defect," Jakob said quietly, squeezing my hand as he did so. "Cyanotic congenital heart disease. It's pretty serious, and the doctors don't know if she'll make it."

I lost it then. Why was I being cursed, yet again? I had lost my first love, Steven (Jakob's older brother), about ten years ago. I wasn't there when he really needed me, and arrived back in town too late to save him. Now, I felt I was being punished all over again for not being there in his hour of need. "Please, God," I prayed silently. "You took Steven away. Must you take Stephanie, too?"

The nurse came in then, and saw me wracked with sobs. "I'm sorry, Mr. Goulde," she said, "but we will need to sedate your wife. She's been through quite an ordeal, and the shock may be too much for her to bear right now. You'll have to leave now."

For only the second time in my life, I saw my soulmate cry as he slowly released his grip on my arm. I felt the fluid going into my IV, then nothing. They kept me semi-comatose for two weeks.

When I awoke from the induced coma, Jakob was by my side, the reddened streaks of many tears quite evident on his now sallow face. "No!" I screamed, my body wracked in sobs. The last words I heard was a whispered "I'm sorry" as the sedative once again took effect.

When I awoke the next morning, the doctor cleared me to leave the hospital. "But first," he stated, "I want you to meet with Ms. Sanchez, our grief counselor. She can help you deal with your tragic loss, and plan the funeral."

I was numb. I heard what the doctor said, but my mind just couldn't fathom the horrific loss. I absently went through the motions with Ms. Sanchez, and we picked out a darling golden yellow sundress for the burial. Zanthe, I think they called it.

Stephanie was buried the following day, in a small plot next to her uncle and namesake, Steven. It was the second time my heart broke...
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It took me almost a year, but I eventually recovered enough from the loss to write again. I had done a fair amount of research on Stephanie's disease, and had begun attending a support group, first with Jakob, then on my own, as his business had picked up tremendously. I was caught up in my own little world, trying everything I could to fill the void left by Stephanie's loss. It came as no surprise that I had completely forgotten our anniversary.

Jakob had decked out the dining room with all of our finery- the silk tablecloth, the Swarovski crystal wine goblets, the Princess Gold china, and the silver candlesticks. He had even spread saffron crocus blossoms from the front door to the dining room. I must say, I was impressed. Dinner that night was exquisite, as Jakob was a real gourmand when it came to food preparation. I was determined to make desert just as special, as I slipped into my slinkiest black satin teddy to lay beside my wonderful husband.
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It wasn't too much longer after that (about eight weeks) that I discovered, much to my surprise and delight, that I was once again expecting.
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The third story is TOP SECRET, and I've revealed it to just one other person, Valerie Preston.

It is still deep in the development phase, and I will only post it once both she and I have determined the time is right.

Suffice to say, one should be VERY CAREFUL when browsing the internet, especially when drunk. And, one should ALWAYS read the FINE PRINT...
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Well, that's it for now. Feel free to leave comments, and any CONSTRUCTIVE criticism you deem appropriate. If you have a rude remark, please do me a favor and either PM me, or keep it to yourself.

Thank you for your time, support, prayers, and continued well wishes. I love you all.

*kisses*

Haylee V