The Writings of Timothy Rea

Timothy Rea

Some Background on the Writer:

I got my first taste of writing in a local Livingston County English Olympiad, which was an elementary school reading, writing, grammar and spelling competition. Back then I didn't care much for writing, I saw it as a boring process of putting down words that would be much easier to just say to someone. That thought continued in my head through elementary school and all kinds of spelling bees I was in, right up into junior high school (middle school as we called it.) I attended more spelling bees and grammar competitions there, and in the seventh grade actually read my first novel by choice. That was Nightfall by Shirley Rosseau Murphy, to whom I will be eternally grateful to. After that, I got hooked on reading and decided that I would like to try my hand at sharing all the adventures in my own head. That's where I started, with an enthusiastic dream.

The first real story I ever wrote was in the fifth grade for an assignment, and I wasn't interested in doing it. It was called The Rabbit and the Kidney and was a real cannabalistic treat. *wink* I didn't write anything else that was memorable until middle school, where I had struggled with bullies and wild, crazy dreams swimming around in my head. I was an adolescent, starting to grow up and realize my place in life, not to mention all the hormones causing their own brand of craziness. It was there that one extremely kindhearted woman, Ms. Lucas, introduced me to the power of the pen, most importantly, MY pen.

She had a writing exercise she used for her students, of which I was in a special placement class, not for being gifted so much, but because no other teachers would have me in their classrooms (I was a real problem child.) The exercise consisted of her playing a 3 to 5 minute long record with a track of sounds along a particular theme. The very first one she played was of jungle sounds, and it flared an idea in my mind almost instantly to write a heroic story of Indiana Jones proportions. I still wasn't comfortable writing yet, and certainly didn't enjoy it, but this time I had an idea and a little more motivation from Ms. Lucas. The story I wrote was called Monkey Cult and was the first piece of short-short fiction I ever wrote that amounted to anything. I thought it was a miserable piece, but she liked it enough to send it in to the Detroit Free Press writing awards for my age division. That was fortunate, because that story took first runner-up in my age division for originality and detail. It was also published in The Writer and the Young American Writing Journal. I didn't believe it and let Ms. Lucas keep the award, and that's how I got my start in writing. Thanks Ms. Lucas and Shirley Rosseau Murphy, for inspiring the writer's touch in my heart.

Since my flame in writing was ignited, I've written several pieces of work ranging from poetry and prose to short stories and novellas. I've won a few minor awards here and there along the way, and have been published in The Writer on occasion. In college I wrote many essays for a research and report writing class, which landed me a short stint writing technical columns for the Pinckney Journal in Livingston county where I lived. Most of the work here is from my days in hich school where they were used as assignments in my creative writing and other English classes. I have a strong interest and background in the Science Fiction and Fantasy genre, and most of my work is based in those styles of writing.

What's Here:

Few of my short stories and novellas are in electronic format yet, but I'm getting more and more of my poetry typed-in. As soon as I get more converted or find the ones that already are, they will be posted here. The longer pieces will reside on seperate pages while the shorter entries will be displayed here. Though not all of these are available yet, I've included a partial index of my works. Those pieces that are available will have a link to them, those not will remain dark.

I've written my first poem after nearly a year of not writing any poetry, it's titled Manimalia and is down below on the page. It has some sensative material in it that you may not wish to view if you are zoo-sensative. Although webpages and my work on MU*s are the majority of the work I've done recently and continue to work on, more and more ideas keep running through my head, including a great idea fur a furry novel... Keep up to date, more is on the way. If you have any ideas for an experienced writer to try to run with, please let me know, I appreciate ANY kind of input! =)


Partial Index


The Dream Princess
Mixed Managerie
The Third Shadow

Short Stories

Upon the Misfortune of a Nightengale
Conan the Conquered
Monkey Cult
Walk Through a Mountain Forest


O' Wicked Battleground
The Wise Fool
I Know Who You Are
Forces of War
Boundlessly Unbound
A Room with No View
Will the Man
Sicksth Scents
Dream to Soar
Manimalia (Mature Content)
This Sea of Life


The Benefits of Knowledge
Hurry Warts
The Flight and the Fever


None Available at Present.

Short Stories

None Available at Present.


O' Wicked Battleground

And I would venture there at end of day,
'Tis reserved place of blood and fray.
Through wood and arbor twisting tight-
On trail that leads to forseen fight.
And 'ere it led I do not know,
But to a lost and misty meadow.
As I sat upon my barded steed,
There I pondered might and deed.
'Twixt meadow and moonlight, I saw him there,
Upon that night so sullen and fair;
No sound of night from wood emerged,
On thickened veins my fear had surged.
And 'twixt the forms of night and me,
There fair maiden did I see:
Her figure entranced, so fair a sight,
I knew I fought for life this night.
It's mount did stamper and mists did clear,
And now his form conveyed my fear.
On shined black armor moonlight reflect-
Nor smallest detail dare I neglect:
From wicked armor to barded horse,
The great black fein gave no discourse.
Soon a greater fear my mind ensued,
A hightened rythem my heart persued;
For from his visor a glow did pierce,
Deep and crimson with evil fierce,
And from the black form of ferocity,
I witnessed terrible atrocity:
From metal side his arm outward wrought
Some evil magic toward maiden sought.
To ground she fell, and maiden wailed;
Shortly after, evil laughter trailed.
With that I slammed my visor tight,
'Twas time to start the woeful fight.

(Work in progress)

--- Timothy Rea

The Wise Fool

In the world, there are fools and there are wise,
But have you ever heard of the Wise Fool or the Fool Wise?
The Fools keep to themselves, in the herd, and respect the Wise.
The Wise are independant, like shepherds, and help the Fool to understand.
But the Wise Fool or Fool Wise is wise and foolish, or foolish and wise.
Though he gains no respect and fails when he tries,
And what herd would accept a Fool who is wise?
The Wise Fool: smart and complex;
The Fool Wise: simple and caring:
Usually lives a life not worth sharing, at least to outsiders.
I am Wise... And I am a Fool... And I am Alone...
Or are you a Wise Fool, too?

--- Timothy Rea

I Know Who You Are...

I can recognize your voice;
I can recognize your voice;
I know your name,
You leave me no choice,
Now end this game.

This is getting quite foolish;
You're really messed-up,
Your presence right ghoulish,
Just give it up.

The secrets are broken;
You make wrongful claim,
Now take my token,
You know you're to blame.

Our relations are over;
Not like before,
You've blown my cover,
I know you no more!

--- Timothy Rea

Forces of War

The magics well, the stallions wheel;
Shards of bright explosions fill the gaps between what is real.
No rythem nor rhyme keeps except the battle rock back and forth-
There is no time.
Welling, weeping, killing, seeping,
The lands contort to the dark nature reaping.
Blood, flesh, bone and steel clash with awesoem power-
Feel, the sick unnatural motion,
The stomach belches a bitter potion.
Clang and clash and color flash,
The backdrop grey and soiled in crimson;
The echoes ring, and harlots sing their dry song of opression.
The ceaseless world through eternity is hurled;
Time changes the way we live and our posessions,
But the heart of man is filled with transgression.
From rock to sword, cannon, gun, laser, machine:
Their bright, shiny teeth with evil gleam.
The Art of War a fearful estate,
This 'art' determine's the madman's fate;
The power forgot lies in our minds,
The power this artist has left behind...
A peaceful heart within all lies,
And if you can't tell, this wounded heart cries.

--- Timothy Rea

Boundlessly Unbound

Steadily and speedily like formless quicksilver,
Driving hard and fast,
A nightmare of metal and incomprehendable gleaming objects;
At the sub-light speed,
Faster and higher and endless energy unbound,
A spray of metal lightning and the smell of ozone fills the air,
Bounding invariably off of every straight-edged structure,
Speeding by like an instant immeasurable by any increment of time,
Undetectable to man or machine:
Known only to eternity and unseeming energies,
Unrestricted by any physics of matter,
Contained by many, but contains nothing,
Unleashed by the spirit of non-existance,
Forced by unknowable workings,
Impossible and potent,
Beyond our universal capabilities;
Moved by motions both inexplicable and insane,
Harried by nothing,
An unending and unyielding entity
Propelled by nothingness at incredible velocities
Toward what is an end and a new beginning for nothing,
It is and shall never cease in the millenia...

--- Timothy Rea

A Room with No View

She sits alone in her chair,
Looking out her large blackboard window.
For countless hours sits and stares,
Without moving, looking out at all the people.
The people moving by, unaware of her condition,
She watches and thinks about them.
Her eyes follow their movement,
But she never turns her head.
She shakes her finger at a child
And says, "Mind your manners, young man!"
She just sits there staring at oblivion,
And tries to make the world a better place,
But no one sees her there in a lonely room,
A room with no view.

--- Timothy Rea

Sicksth Scents

The smell in the air on a warm summer's day,
Fresh cut grass, and the soft breezes of May;
Cedar and pine wafting from the forest yields,
To the sweet fragrant bouquet of the fields.
Buttercup, phlox, lilac, and bluebells,
Are only a few of the aromatic smells.
Along the shore of the brook that runs so wild,
Blossoms of jasmine and trillium smell soft and mild.
Upon a rock by the lake, a soft, watery breeze
Combs it's fingers through your hair,
You find peace and security from just lying there.

The air suddenly grows heavy and dampened,
You feel deep inside that something has happened;
Tension mounts wings, and fear burns anew,
At the fleeting fact that something's askew.
You flee by the stream and back to the fields,
And stand there in awe at the power that wields;
A cloud of light burning bright like a star,
Bursts in the sky above the Metropolis far.
Only moments and ions blast through your nose,
Splitting the hairs and melting your skin,
The reign of destruction you thought would never begin.

--- Timothy Rea


Frosty blue eyes almost human gaze upon me,
Animal hunger stares deep piercing my soul;
I make attempts to resist if only for sanity,
Your desire and fears slowly changing my goal...

Breath so fiery, scorching my tender skin -
I wonder most aimless where lies the trust,
To unleash on you the ravenous beast within
And give way in passion to an urgent lust.

Holding you in my pale white human arms,
Feeling the touch of your soft furred pelt -
Hoping my desires can bring you no harm,
The heat so damn high I feel I could melt.

I search inside - I've been trying to find,
But there's no room to run, nowhere to hide;
Guess I finally realize I really don't mind
Being left to deal with your animal side.

Nature unnatural takes hold and gives way
Mutual pleasures shared in fierce bliss;
Body language enough: no words need say
Together are we in love, joy and happiness.

Time turns us around so hard and profound,
Shows us new things and makes hearts feathers;
Hold on tight now to the ground you've found -
To live this storm we've gotta stick together...

--- Jurann (Timothy Rea)


None Available at Present.

Suggested Readings

No great writer climbs the rungs of the ladder without being a great reader. These are some of the books I've read over the years that have swept me away to foreign lands both mystical and wondrous. None of these authors are without credit as they have each sacrificed a part of their souls to explain to us the quests and journeys of their minds. Thank you all for caring enough to share with us.

This is a list of the books I have read and/or own in my slightly cramped library. It's not the greatest collection out there, but it's very well-kept and given great care to make sure it is complete to my desires. They are ordered in approximately the way I'd personally rank each author, series and book in that order, series being internally ordered chronologically by release. Where applicable, I'll add links to the author's pages.

Janny Wurts

Janny Wurts, married to award-winning writer Don Maitz, is unauthoritively one of the greatest fantasy writers of all time. Her work encompasses a complete depth of emotions and vivid detail that can absolutely force you to see and feel the worlds she presents. This detail comes at the price of thousands of pages of work, so be prepared to get involved in a long, grueling mental workout as she puts you in the middle of epic, almost real, worlds. She also does the cover art for most of her own novels, and is an award-winning fantasy artist. Most of her artwork is available freely on the internet.

The Wars of Light and Shadow

The Cycle of Fire

Terry Brooks

A retired attorney and ex-member of the Bar Association, Terry Brooks is a powerful writer with a long and impressive writing history. Nearly all of his works of fiction, over a dozen now, have been NYT Bestsellers, including his first book, The Sword of Shannara, which was the first ever work of fiction to make the NYT Bestseller list. His characters are well-rounded and dramatic, showing a wide range of emotions and deep internal conflicts as well as incredible external conflicts with the world around them. Terry Brooks is an author who makes his worlds and characters come alive with sincerity, though they tend to sometimes be larger than life. Definitely a must-read for avid fantasy readers and writers, especially his Shannara series.


Scions of Shannara

Magic Kingdom of Landover

Brian Jacques

His last name pronounced "Jakes", Brian is an incredible storyteller in our time. His books mainly deal with the concept of anthropomorphic animals (mainly rodents and mustelids.) His books are targeted to younger audiences, though they are quite well-written and compelling as adult fantasy, with many hidden jokes and deep plots. The lands he weave in his stories are homely and wild at once, creating epic effects as his young adventurers explore perilous places and slowly uncover the secrets of their continuing history. Highly recommended, especially to younger audiences and those who like to explore a complex lineage of characters.


Christopher Rowley

Little is known about this guy, who appears to keep a rather low profile in the writing world. He's been at sci-fi and fantasy writing for several years now, and was one of the writers for the Galaxy Rangers cartoon series. He has written many books, but the most recently noticable and exquisite have been about the sword-wielding dragon Baz and his dragonboy Relkin and their battles for the 109th Marneri dragon squad. Great reading for absolutely epic and detailed fantasy military combat.

Bazil Broketail (The Battledragon series)

Patricia C. Wrede

Patricia Wrede is an upcoming fantasy author that shines a new light on the old fashioned storybook themes, giving them an exciting and sometimes outrageous new twist. She blends the lighthearted and humorous aspects of her work with serious emotional conflicts and deep plots very effectively. She has a style that is fresh and new with a hint of something familiar. Recommended reading for the lighthearted or carefree fantasy lover, or lover of dragonkind.

Dealing with Dragons

Anne McCaffrey

A tough Irish lass, Anne McCaffrey doesn't shy away from laying things out realistically and in-depth. I personally am not crazy about her style since it is so in-depth and complex, pulling you into side-shoots and flashbacks not always productive to the continuity of the story. But something must be said of her popularity and very human style of explaining things in it's own right. She is the winner of several fantasy and sci-fi writing awards, and graduated from Radcliffe with a high degree in fictional writing. Sometimes I think her real life is more interesting than any of the stories she writes, but if you like dragons and an intersting blend of sci-fi with fantasy, check her out, but be warned, she's written thousands of pages of text in over 30 books!

The Dragonriders of Pern

Other Pern Books

Shirley Rosseau Murphy

The Dragonbard trilogy

Gavin Maxwell




Other Suggested Readings/Authors

The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle

Watership Down by Richard Adams

Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert C. O'Brien

The Cold Moons by Aeron Clement

A Dragon-Lovers Treasury of the Fantastic by Multiple Authors

Dragon Fantastic by Multiple Authors

Book Title by Author's Name

Back to Jurann's Main Page

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Last update: March 10, 1997 - Contact Jurann at: