To all my writer friends and book lovers out there: Every year the Rave Reviews Book Club holds a Writers’ Conference and Book Exposition. Lucky you: it starts tomorrow, August 9th. You can learn new skills, plus if you visit each author’s booth, you might just win a prize! Here’s the official notice:
Hello, followers and friends! Monday, August 9th, is the start of RRBC’s 6th Annual Writers’ Conference & Book Expo, and we’d like to invite you to drop by! There will be games, prizes, surprises and other goodies, so be sure to visit each Author Booth, take a look around, then leave a comment for your chance to win each Author Booth’s door prize! There is a Scavenger Hunt Game to play, a 2 Truths & a Lie Game to play and more! In each Author Booth, you will find a clue, and if you find the correct answer to all the clues and are the first to submit your answers, you could be the winner of an awesome prize! Of course, we’ll have our READING ROOM open and one of our members is going to blow you away showcasing their talent! If you’re into BINGO, purchase your BINGO cards and join us for a game or two! And what we all wait for every year – our RAFFLE! Yes, each year we raffle off (7) $100 Amazon gift cards and this is open to the public so go on and snag your tickets today! Raffle tickets are only $5! How awesome would that prize be? Some of them also include additional goodies like other gift certificates, ebooks, and more! Enter for your chance to win one or more of these $100 Amazon gift card gift baskets. The more tickets you buy, the greater your chances of winning. (Please do not purchase more than 7 tickets). This year for the first time ever, we’ve added our BEST BOOK COVER CONTEST! This contest is open to the general public so go ahead and enter your book cover(s) now! Share your comments with us and let us know which one you think is best! Click for a full ITINERARY OF EVENTS! The venue opens at 5 PM CT on Monday, 8/9/21. We hope to see you there! In the event of minor time delays, please check the sidebar of the RRBC website for updates.
What did I tell you? Sounds like a hoot and a holler if you ask me. If you stop by my booth, please say hello. Have a great week.
Blood stains her Celtic home and kingdom. The warrior Druid princess will do anything to retake her throne.
Although Catrin is the rightful heir to the Celtic throne in Britannia, she is lucky to be alive. After witnessing the slaughter of her family at the hands of her half-brother, who was aided by the Romans, she is enslaved by a Roman commander. He disguises her as a boy in the Roman Legion with the belief that she is an oracle of Apollo and can foretell his future. The sole bright spot in her miserable new life is her forbidden lover Marcellus, the great-grandson of the famed Roman general Mark Antony.
But Marcellus has been wounded and his memories of Catrin and their secret marriage were erased by a dark Druidess. Though Marcellus reunites with Catrin in Gaul and becomes her ally as she struggles to survive the brutality of her Roman master, he questions the legitimacy of their marriage and hesitates to help her escape and retake her kingdom. If their forbidden love and alliance are discovered, her dreams of returning to her Celtic home with Marcellus will be shattered.
About the Author
Award-winning author, Linnea Tanner, weaves Celtic tales of love, magical adventure, and political intrigue in Ancient Rome and Britannia. Since childhood, she has passionately read about ancient civilizations and mythology. Of particular interest are the enigmatic Celts, who were reputed as fierce warriors and mystical Druids. he has extensively researched ancient and medieval history, mythology, and archaeology and has traveled to sites described within each of her books in the Curse of Clansmen and Kings series.
A Colorado native, Linnea attended the University of Colorado and earned both her bachelor’s and master’s degrees in chemistry. She lives in Windsor with her husband and has two children and six grandchildren.
From the Author
Weaving Mythology Into Historical Fiction
Catrin, the primary heroine in Amulet’s Rapture, is based on the complex archetypes of Celtic goddesses. The Patheon of Celtic goddesses represent a wide spectrum of characteristics from healing to warfare, from creation to destruction, and from nourishment to death. Catrin must undergo trials to learn how to balance what seems like her contradictory nature as a female. She struggles with her dual nature to love her Roman husband, Marcellus, and to sustain her unborn child versus seeking to destroy her Roman masters who abuse her. Based on historical accounts of female gladiators, she is condemned to fight in Roman games at Lugdunum (modern day Lyon, France). Her weapon of choice is a spear that serves as a conduit for lightning which she can summon from storms. The ability to manipulate lightning to destroy her enemies is inspired by the Celtic myth of Lugh, a warrior king whose magical spear always hit its mark. His spear is a living weapon that thirsts for blood. Its tip must be immersed in a pot of water to keep it from igniting. When battle is near, it roars as fire flashes or lightning strikes from it. The fiery spear rips through the ranks of the enemy, never tired of slaying. Ultimately, Catrin must embrace the entire spectrum of the female persona, including her warlike rage, to take back and defend her kingdom in Britannia.
Thank you for supporting the books and authors along the RRBC ’20 WC&BE SPONSORS BLOG TOUR! These authors are generous in their support of others so we want to show our support of them in return. You may follow along each day of the tour by visiting the tour’s home page. Be sure to leave a comment below to ensure that you have a chance at winning a $20 Amazon Gift Card!
Welcome to day four of Robbie Cheadle’s RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB’S MARCH “SPOTLIGHT” Author Blog Tour. Take it away, Robbie:
Open a new door, a collection of poems
Youthful Infatuation is a humorous poem about young love; the excitement, the uncertainty, and the thrill.
About Youthful Infatuation
I wrote this poem for a youthful colleague of mine. I have been married for over seventeen years and she is still in the dating phase. Her intense joys, pleasures and disappointments with men and dating reminded me of the highs and lows of my own dating days.
Youthful Infatuation
Did he see me in the crowd?
Oh my goodness was I being too loud?
Does this dress make me look slim?
Is my hair in need of a trim?
Did I really catch his eye?
Or is my mind telling me a lie?
Will he ask me for my number?
What if he calls while I slumber?
Or worse, what if he doesn’t call at all?
That will make me feel hurt and small.
If he calls where will we go?
Will I be able to go with the flow?
Will I trip up over my tongue?
Make him wish he’d never rung?
It might also be loads of fun.
Maybe, just maybe, he’ll be the one.
[Insert Youtube Reading]
[Insert fondant girl on beach towel]
BOOK BLURB:
Open a New Door is a poetic peep into the life of poet, Robbie Cheadle, who lives in South Africa.
The book is divided into four categories: God bless Africa, God bless my family and friends, God bless me and God bless corporates and work. Each part is sub-divided into the good, the bad and the ugly of the two poets’ experiences, presented in rhyming verse, free-style, haiku and tanka, in each of these categories and include colourful depictions of the poet’s thoughts and emotions.
The purpose of this book of poetry is encapsulated in the following tanka and haiku poems:
Special congratulations to #RRBC Spotlight Author, Lisa Kirazian! Enjoy the spotlight, as it’s all about you and your stories. My blog is yours, Lisa
The Journey Concludes — or Does It?
Writing Cadenza
Lisa Kirazian
It’s an honor to write this guest post — and to be RRBC’s Spotlight Author for February!
My novel trilogy, The Music We Made, about three generations of the Driscoll family of musicians, concludes with the book Cadenza, recently released.
Anyone who has poured their heart and soul into a piece of writing know how much it takes out of you — and how much it gives you. Even more so when you reach the end of a series, where you’ve been with the same group of characters for years. It feels bittersweet, like you are saying farewell to them. Even though, our characters, our works, our own dear children like Jane Austen called them, are never really gone, are they?
Does it seem like I’m referring to my characters as real people? Absolutely. Does that seem strange? Not to an avid writer or reader.
The journey of creating the characters has perhaps finished, but the journey of experiencing them has not. Why? Because of the readers. Their experience of the characters becomes part of our continued journey with them, as we see the impact the characters have on others who come in contact with them. It encourages me to no end, when a reader tells me how much they enjoy my stories or relate to my characters. And in the case of this particular series, one of the best compliments I often get is when people say they don’t particular care for classical opera or music, or the “world” of these books — but they still love the books, because of the characters.
Some readers don’t like that style of music, or they can’t understand why someone would spend 12 hours a day practicing an instrument or rehearsing into the night. But they can relate to how these characters want to find love, make a difference in the world, or go after their dreams. They can relate to them trying to make ends meet or facing rejection or loss. In that regard, classical musicians or singers are just like everyone else. And thus, hopefully, these books are for anyone and everyone. And thankfully, the journey never ends!
Thank you for reading, and for all your support. Onward!
——–
Author Bio
Lisa Kirazian writes fiction, plays, screenplays, and also directs for stage and screen. Her writing has appeared in the Los Angeles Times, Performing Arts Magazine, San Diego Union Tribune and many other publications. She is in demand as a speaker and has been a guest on KPBS Public Radio and at various conferences. Lisa is a graduate of Stanford University.
Several of her screenplays have placed in major competitions and festivals. Twelve of her stage plays have been produced across the U.S. and have won numerous awards, including a few publications. She also directed and wrote the adapted screenplay of the short film, “Reflection Day.”
Her novels include BRAVURA, APPASSIONATO, and now CADENZA, the three books of “The Music We Made” series, following three generations in the Driscoll family of musicians and inspired by her experience as a violinist. The series is also being developed for television.
Lisa lives in San Diego with her husband and two daughters and is involved in the Armenian community locally, nationally and abroad.
Book Summary:
In CADENZA, the final book of “The Music We Made” series, the young tenor Brian Martin finds himself on the cusp of superstardom and marriage, until he is compelled to leave behind his distinguished musical family, and his fiancé, in London, to visit the U.S. to see where his famous late grandmother, Maggie Crawford, the only other opera singer in the family, grew up. His journey takes him to Marshall, Minnesota, and Maggie’s hometown high school, where he meets the music teacher, Laura Jones, who helps him with his family history in more ways than he could have imagined.
Today, I’m thrilled to offer this blog to the awesome #RRBC_Community authors, Breakfield and Burkey, who are showcasing their latest chapter in the Enigma Series. As well, they are offering the following incentives:
(1) $25 Amazon Gift card & (10) e-book copies of the “shorts” in the Enigma Series
In the new digital world, there is no tolerance for privately owned supercomputers. Globally, computers are hunted and destroyed for the greater good, by the new cyber police CESPOOL. The information this group receives is manipulated by subversive hidden machine learning devices, the MAG running on the dark net.
Judith and Xiamara are freebooters who steal machine time for their PaaS, porn as a service business. The machine they chose for delivery is the last untapped supercomputer not in the hands of a sovereign. Their activity is spotted by the MAG, but the renegade R-Group steps in to alter the outcome. Leroy teams up with Zara to help these opportunists escape prosecution. They are drafted as reluctant participants in the fight.
Jacob and Quip are trapped in the Chihuahuan Desert trying to reconstruct the base of ICABODs logic core. The stress of their isolation is taking a toll. Their wives and children are safe in Brazil for the time being, but Interpol is prowling for answers.
The R-Group has assembled a way to communicate with orphaned satellites. While the next R-Group plans the ultimate honey pot to trap their nemesis who is driving their corrupted agenda. The odds are against R-Groups success, but they have creative surprises on their side.
The stakes have never been higher. The R-Group young and old must rise to defeat the MAG.
BIO:
Breakfield is a 25+ year technology expert in security, networking, voice, and anything digital. He enjoys writing, studying World War II history, travel, and cultural exchanges. Hes also a fan of wine tastings, winemaking, Harley riding, cooking extravaganzas, and woodworking.
Burkey is a 25+ year applied technology professional who excels at optimizing technology and business investments. She works with customers all over the world focusing on optimized customer experiences. She writes white papers and documentation, but found she has a marked preference for writing fiction.
Together they create award-winning stories that resonate with males and females, as well as young and experienced adults. They bring a fresh new view to technology possibilities today.
We wanted to share the future plans for Breakfield & Burkeys writing endeavors near term and long term.
Breakfield and Burkey will keep writing the Enigma Series. We offer each story in ebook, paperback, and audible formats. The audibles are available on Amazon and iTunes. Derek Shoales, our award-winning narrator and voice actor, is the voice of the series. Book 1 was narrated by another great professional, Steven Jay Cohen.
Book 12, The Enigma Threat, is the focal point of this tour. It is ready for release in all formats on January 8th, 2021. The central theme, the next generation of our heroes in the R-Group against the rogue artificially intelligent supercomputers. The Enigma Beyond, book #11, is where we brought in the talents of the younger R-Group members.
Short stories as individual eBooks are an ongoing focus for us. We entered a few into contests and was awarded a spot in those collective anthologies. For lack of a better term, these are backstories of characters within the series. We have a couple of more planned for 2021. We were delighted to also be asked to contribute to another anthology for a new group. Proceeds for this are going toward an agreed charity. Our 4 new short stories offered in 2020 are listed in differing genres, specifically young adult, womens contemporary, and family. Having completed work on book 12 of the series, The Enigma Threat, which will release January 8th, 2021, we hit on the idea of crowdfunding to help drive the next phase.
We decided to launch a Kickstarter campaign for support for a screenplay for The Enigma Threat. This is gaining some additional exposure to new areas. Our goal is to continue to expand our brand into multiple global markets and to raise awareness of our stories.
For the last few books, we have done contests to gain support from readers and followers who want to become immortalized as characters in a story. For Books 13 through 18, currently in the planning stages, new characters are needed. The Kickstarter campaign is a unique way to earn that spot in our award-winning series.
We wanted some practice in screenplay writing mechanics. Breakfield is out shopping the screenplay for Out of Poland. It is currently registered and being shopped. This learning will help us collaborate on the script for The Enigma Threat.
For the ladies who want a book role, it is a toss-up between being an evil genius, femme fatale, or a geeky girl. Dr. Judith Briles earned the spot of a geeky girl in The Enigma Threat. On one of our Channel 8 Good Morning Texas interviews, we were asked how we came up with great characters. We did a short explanation, then Breakfield asked the hostess if she would be interested in the evil femme fatale role in our next book. After he petitioned her for a resume to get the part, one of the camera technicians actually chuckled loud enough to hear, for which Breakfield was awarded her blush.
But as a rule, we love telling stories and creating new ideas from the technology we know exists. We will continue to deliver our works in multiple formats. Next year we are revising a couple of the earlier books in the series, The Enigma Wraith and The Enigma Stolen, to make them tighter.
Also, we are working on some special RWISA training to elevate our skills. For us and our full-time work, 2020 has been a hectic year. We had hoped to complete the lessons but may require an extension.
To follow along with the rest of the tour, please visit theauthors’ tour pageon the 4WillsPublishing site. If you’d like to book your own blog tour and have your book promoted in similar grand fashion, please clickHERE. Thanks for supporting these authors and their work!
This is a second edition with updates on the state of this historic church. In the original publication files were lost then resurfaced with content altered along with missing photos during transition from one publisher to another. Such is the fate of an Independent Author. This book evolved out of years of frustration at the total disregard and lack of respect for the contributions of Black Catholics in the city of Detroit. The author says, “We are not mentioned in the pages of history along with the other Catholic churches that sprung up during the World War II era, and that needed to be corrected.” The author did fulfill one dream since publication … that this church can now be found on the web even though it has merged with another church. It is now called Presentation-Our Lady of Victory Catholic Church.
Join all of us in the #RRBC_Community in celebrating the second edition of Shirley’s historic tale.
Well, it is the end of the Watch RWISA Write Showcase, and we will go out with “the bomb”, our own special friend and leader, author Nonnie Jules. Take it away!
…IN THE WORLD OF WE
We often hear that music is the universal language. It is the avenue to bridge all divides –
racial divides
gender divides
political divides.
But, in the midst of all the division,
each party holding court in their respective corners of the ring,
ears lightly tickled by the sound of the simple “IMAGINE” by John Lennon,
wafting through the musky air of tear gas, rubber bullets and water cannons –
a mist of standstill calms the noise
…and in mere moments, the eyes of “independent” onlookers are pleasantly greeted by the most beautiful and welcoming sight –
…bodies slowly rocking
…hands collectively raised
…waving side to side
…all in unison
…chanting
“Imagine there’s no heaven. It’s easy if you try…”
The 2020 US election has ended. The people have spoken.
What’s left behind? A world of anxiety and angst – wrapped in feelings of wondering when the bombs will drop, or when the other shoe will fall. And although I’d like to point fingers here and maybe even call a few not-so-pretty names, my daughter sits beside me as I write this, an ear to measure the “nice” level in my words, the child guiding the parent. Roles reversed, she gently reminds me that the original goal of this message is unification – therefore, I will stay the course of peace.
In this moment, acknowledging that my conscience of decency is bigger than any emotion that might be stirring the embers of fires that have burned deep inside me for the past few years – neutrality is my cohort, and we will not take sides.
Instead, all that will be allowed to roll off my tongue is FACT…
one reign is ending
and another about to begin.
Some exultant…
others despondent
Yet, now is not the time for either.
Yesterday is gone,
today almost a memory,
but what awaits us in tomorrow
is what WE decide it will be.
This is not the land of us and them –
this is the world of WE.
WE decide what, who and how WE want to be.
Do you resemble love, or, are you wearing the likeness of hate?
What adorns your heart, a choice only you can make … for you.
So, I have made my choice – and it is firm and true!
I choose love.
To love,
to be loved,
to speak love,
to exude love,
to live love.
Because I know that what I send out into the world, will be exactly what the world returns to my doorstep.
It is for that reason that I shall…
remain steadfast in my vigilance –
cognizant of any negativity that might try to seep in or out of my pores –
Skillfully suppressing the desire to gloat in the face of the so-called “losing” side.
I’ve too much pride…to stoop so low.
The 2020 US election has ended. The people have spoken.
There were no losers.
WE are a world of winners.
Remember, WE decide
what
who
and how
WE will be
in this…
beautiful
colorful
everchanging
world of WE.
“Imagine there’s no country It isn’t hard to do Nothing to kill or die for And no religion too Imagine all the people living life in peace…
It’s all easy if WE try.”
https://youtu.be/T2hvkPyiAFE
Thank you for supporting this member along the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour today! We ask that if you have enjoyed this member’s writing, please visit their Author Profile on the RWISA site, where you can find more of their writing, along with their contact and social media links, if they’ve turned you into a fan.
We ask that you also check out their books in the RWISAcatalog. Thanks, again, for your support and we hope that you will follow along each day of this amazing tour of talent by visiting the tour home page! Don’t forget to click the link below to learn more about today’s profiled author:
We are nearing the end of this amazing author extravaganza. Today, I am honored to share my blog with writer, Joy Nwosu Lo-Bamijoko. Teach us something, Joy:
IROKO
In the past, nobody would have taken notice of Iroko, the biggest and tallest tree in the forest. But then, cities started to grow and to eat into the forests. Trees were cut to make way for the growing cities. But the Iroko tree resisted being cut down. Any time an axe cut the tree, the axe either broke or the cut bled, real blood., and cries, ear piercing cries, like human cries were heard coming from the tree.
In the forest, next to Iroko, lived an old woman in a tiny mud hut. Bent by age, she diligently cared for the tree. She was known as the eyes and the mouth of the tree. She listened to the tree, when the leaves rustled and interpreted the language of the tree to outsiders. She was called Nne Oji. Oji is the Igbo name for Iroko, and Nne Oji means Iroko’s mother. Iroko was as tall as a skyscraper, about one hundred and seventy feet high, and the width was as wide as fifty men surrounding the tree with outstretched hands, fingertips touching. Iroko was huge, towering and intimidating!
The stories surrounding Iroko were such that settlers decided to let it stand and the town grew all around and away from it. Things went on peacefully for a while, but soon it became clear that Iroko did not like the exposure it was getting from the people surrounding it. After all, this tree was the king of the forest, where both trees and animals revered it. Now, standing in the midst of humans,with no one paying it any heed, all of this would change very rapidly.
People, especially those living close to where Iroko stood, started reporting strange happenings around Iroko in the dead of night. Those who were bold enough to come out and watch these happenings, reported seeing dancing and merrymaking around Iroko by people they believed were spirit people. These spirit people went in and out of Iroko as if they were walking in and out of their homes. They sang and danced in merriment from twelve midnight until two in the morning, after which they packed up and walked back into the tree. Those who observed these goings-on, did so from afar and in hiding.
The story was told of a young boy who had the misfortune of being seen by these spirit people. He was taken and was never seen again. He had heard the stories of the happenings around Iroko, so that night he snuck out of his house and walked toward Iroko to take a closer look. Voices were heard warning him not to come closer, but he continued walking toward Iroko until he entered the sphere of the tree where everything turned grey. At that point, the boy lost control of himself and was pulled along until he disappeared in the mist and was seen no more.
The mother watched everything in hiding in paralyzed shock. The other people who watched in hiding were also mystified. They couldn’t believe their eyes, but they dared not allow themselves to be seen.
The next morning, the mother saw a huge striped cow tied to an orange tree in front of her house. The cow was chewing cud. The woman walked around the cow trying to understand how it came to be there. The town people also took notice and started gathering and questioning the presence of the cow. Out of nowhere, a young boy with only a loin cloth around his waist appeared and spoke to the onlookers.
“Mama, Iroko says you should take the cow in exchange for your son. Iroko says you should not kill the cow. You should sell it and use the money to take care of yourself.” With that, the boy turned and walked through the crowd and disappeared.
Everyone there was seized with shock and they quickly dispersed. The woman cut the cow loose and started shooing it off from the front of her house, but the cow would not budge.
The woman started to weep and pleaded with Iroko to return her son and take back the cow.
“Iroko give me back my son and take your cow!” she implored. “I don’t want your cow!”
The next day, the woman saw the cow at the back of her house, peacefully lying down near her hearth and chewing cud. She ran out toward Iroko.
“If you won’t give me back my son, Iroko, take me too!” she screamed at the top of her voice. Iroko’s leaves started to rustle. Suddenly, the old woman in the hut materialized and stood between the woman and Iroko.
“Go back, Mama!” the old woman said. “What you seek cannot be done. Your son is gone, dead and Iroko has paid you in exchange for him. Go back or you will meet the same fate!”
The woman refused to be stopped. She pushed the old woman down, walked over her and continued to approach Iroko. By this time, people had started to gatherand were watching. The woman threw herself at Iroko and just like magic, the onlookers saw sparks of light, like fireworks, all around the woman. They heard her screaming and shouting like someone roasting on a stake. When everything died down and the sparks were no more, the people saw that the woman had metamorphosed. The woman had changed into an animal, something that looked like a dog, or a goat. No one could really tell. The people dispersed but this time they all had one thought in their minds – that Iroko must go.
Iroko’s fame continued to grow even beyond the immediate town. The townspeople also became bolder. They consulted with diviner after divinerto find out how to get rid of Iroko. They tried everything, without any success … one attempt took the lives of twelve men. They tried to burn Iroko down, but the fire turned against them and burned them to death. One diviner suggested that the spirit of Iroko resided in the old woman who tended it, and that if the old woman was killed, Iroko would quietly and slowly die.
The townspeople burned the old woman’s hut down with the old woman in it. The next day, Iroko started taking souls. People started disappearing from their homes, both in broad daylight and at night while they slept.
Finally, an Iroko priest from a distant land told the people how to destroy Iroko.
“Humans should not fight Iroko,” he said. “They should appease Iroko. Iroko trees do not live amongst humans. Before you people started building your town, you should have appeased and pleaded with Iroko to leave your town. As you can see, Iroko was simply minding its own business, when you people decided to invade its privacy. Now you have to sacrifice to Iroko to appease it.”
The townspeople had to pay this priest to come to their town to perform all that was needed to appease Iroko. There is no need to list here all that Iroko demanded, which included the blood of virgins, before it was appeased. The morning after the ceremony by this priest was concluded, the people came out and watched as the inhabitants of Iroko exited one after the other and disappeared; the birds of various families, the giant ants, red and black, dark dangerous black snakes – all came out of Iroko hissing, grumbling, and then poof, like smoke disappeared. But the king of all the animals, a giant Eke python, refused to be dislodged. The people had to pump inflammatory liquid into Iroko and set the python on fire, to dislodge it. It came out rumbling, twisting,and floundering, until it, too, disappeared.
Finally, Iroko was cut down. Mystery upon mystery, not one single hole existed in the cut tree. It was intact with rings showing how many hundreds of years it had stood there.
Thank you for supporting this member along the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour today! We ask that if you have enjoyed this member’s writing, please visit their Author Profile on the RWISA site, where you can find more of their writing, along with their contact and social media links, if they’ve turned you into a fan.
We ask that you also check out their books in the RWISAcatalog. Thanks, again, for your support and we hope that you will follow along each day of this amazing tour of talent by visiting the tour home page! Don’t forget to click the link below to learn more about today’s profiled author:
We’re getting toward the end of this wonderful showcase of RWISA authors, and today, it’s my pleasure to share my blog with Wendy Jayne Scott.
The Crystal Tavern by Wendy Scott
This piece is in remembrance of my Creative Writing student, Gill Pontin, who suddenly passed away in October 2020. Gill was an artistic dynamo whose enthusiasm, creativity and laughter will be dearly missed. She was a key participant when our group developed a new world, Creedland, and this story is set in Vape Town.
“Whoa, boy.” Blade Driscoll tugged on the reins and pulled his destrier to a halt. He surveyed the outskirts of Vape Town, unsurprised by the ramshackle buildings and pock-marked roads. The air reeked of burnt sugar and the back of Blade’s throat tingled. Between his thighs, Stormbolt shifted, wrinkling his equine nose and shaking his head from side to side. The horse’s plated armour clinked together destroying any attempt at stealth. Blade nudged his mount towards the main street, the sooner he finished his business in this cesspit the better for his sanity.
Pink-eyed townsfolk slunk away from the war horse’s hoof spikes. Pastel smoke billowed from a series of chimney stacks and led him to the front steps of the Crystal Tavern. Scantily clad fairies with tattered wings slouched against the verandah railings. Out of habit, Blade scanned their faces but didn’t recognise any familiar features. He didn’t waste his breath asking after his friend as their vacant stares and pink-tinted irises indicated their minds were lost in a kaleidoscopic haze.
Crystal Pink was manufactured from bog flowers and utterly irresistible to fairies. Its euphoric buzz leached away their magic, attacked the delicate blood vessels in their wings, rendering them flightless, before their bodies swelled to human size. The only way to gain their fix was to enslave themselves to Gurezil Flintsunder, owner of the Crystal Tavern, the unofficial mayor of Vape Town, and the largest whore-master this side of the Despicables. Lowlifes flocked from every dark corner of Creedland to sample the unique fairy delights.
Blade dismounted and left Stormbolt’s reins dangling, ready for a speedy exit. Anyone foolhardy enough to try to steal the stallion would learn how hard the war horse could bite.
Blade checked his weapon inventory. If blood flowed today, he didn’t intend any of it to be his.
Before the saloon doors swung shut behind him Blade tugged a bandanna over his mouth and nose. Steam laced with cotton candy sweetness curled through the dimness. Chunks of crystals simmered in heated ceramic bowls, producing bubbles and sickly fumes. Each table featured glass paraphernalia plugged with multiple hoses. Tendrils of pink smoke escaped from the pipe tips.
Pain pulsed in Blade’s forehead and his eyes watered. He sipped shallow breaths as he scanned the front parlour, counting four patrons slumped in the booths. Their hands grasped the tubes as if they were lifelines. Fools; it was death they courted.
A month ago, he’d rescued Maie Quickthistle from Gurezil’s clutches, sneaking her away while the tavern slumbered. When she’d surfaced from the drug’s grip she’d attacked him like a demented harpy, begging for her next fix. He responded by locking her inside a rented room, but she’d broken out the window and hightailed it back to the Crystal Tavern. After that failure, he decided to change his tactics.
A bartender slumped across the bar and ignored Blade as he slid into an empty booth and shuffled into the shadows. From here he had an unobstructed view of Gurezil’s office door and a ringside seat to the drama he knew was about to unfold. The next bog flower shipment was due within the hour, and he wanted to witness Gurezil Flintsunder’s reaction when he learned his entire crop had been destroyed. The poison had cost Blade his life’s savings but the wizard assured him that this would taint the bog for generations. With one application he’d wiped out the only source of Crystal Pink.
Half an hour later, boots thundered along the passageway and a man hammered his fists on the office door. “Boss, there’s a problem with the latest shipment.”
Gurezil flung the door open and stomped into the hallway. “If those imbeciles have stolen as much as one flower I’ll strip the flesh from their hides and feed it to the fairies.”
“There are no flowers.” The man held out a limp vine. “Something’s wrong with the whole patch.”
Gurezil snatched the vegetation out of the man’s hand, lifted it above his nose, and sniffed it. The blood vessels on his cheeks blazed beetroot. “Stinks of spoiled magic. There’s no time to waste, saddle up the horses and the wagons, we need to salvage what’s left.”
Blade stayed in the shadows until they disappeared outside. Whistling, he ascended the stairs two at a time before gently opening every door along the top corridor. A rush of stale air tainted with the drug’s signature sweetness filtered into the passage. Fairies dozed on bunks, oblivious to his presence as their minds languished in a hypnotic blur. He didn’t desire to be anywhere near Vape Town when their mass withdrawal kicked in. Dealing with one psychotic fairy was enough to test a man’s mettle.
He counted his blessing when he found Maie Quickthistle out cold, making it easier to transfer her onto Stormbolt’s saddle. As a precaution, he bound her hands together and checked her pockets for hidden daggers. Earlier, he’d prepared a campsite in the surrounding woods as he understood the next two days were going to be tough on the both of them.
If he’d known how sharp fairy teeth were he might have reconsidered this rescue plan. Bloody bite marks and grazes marred his forearm and face, and he was sure he was missing a piece of his ear. His ears throbbed from Maie’s constant shrieking, and he hoped she’d have no memory of all the things she’d offered him in exchange for a fix.
After a sleepless 48 hours, his eyes were redder than an addict’s and his thoughts foggy. Maie’s limbs contorted into a fetal knot and whimpers escaped her throat. She was quieter than earlier, but he kept his distance as she’d lured him into striking range before. He yawned and struggled to keep awake. Perhaps he’d snatch a moment’s rest.
Something fluttered against his cheek and Blade wrenched his eyes open. Tiny fairy wings whirred close to his face. He held still as Maie planted a kiss on the tip of his nose. “You saved me.”
Lightness flooded Blade’s soul. “Of course, that’s what friends do.”
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We are into the second week of the amazing Watch RWISA Write Showcase. Today’s guest blogger is wonderful author PTL Perrin. Let’s see what she has to share:
SUNSET
By P.T.L. Perrin
Eden backed her Boston Whaler, Eden’s End, away from the dock, swung her nose into the current and gave the outboard a little gas. Still in the no-wake zone, her granddaughter hung over the side near the stern and trailed her hand in the water.
“Leigh, a shark’s gonna bite that thing right off.”
“No, it won’t. See the dolphins alongside?” She pointed her dripping finger at a pair of breeching dolphins. “Everyone knows they protect folks from sharks.”
Eden shook her head, grinned, and watched the sleek bodies leap through gray water until the pod outdistanced them. She’d never heard of a shark this far up the intracoastal, but she enjoyed teasing Leigh, even if the girl didn’t like it much. Besides, she wouldn’t have to put up with it after tonight. Her heart dropped at the thought.
Right now, they needed to get into the channel where she could open the throttle and let her fly. They’d need a bit of speed to get through the chop at the inlet’s mouth.
“Where’d you stash the drinks, baby girl? I’m thirsty.”
“Coke or ginger ale?” Leigh reached into the cooler behind the captain’s bench and waited for Eden’s answer.
“We have any bottled water?”
“Yuck.” Leigh wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out. At thirteen, she didn’t care for plain water. She grabbed a coke for herself and tossed the water toward the captain’s bench, where her grandma easily caught it.
“Come up here with me.” Eden scooted over, but Leigh grabbed the canopy support bar and stood next to her to wave to passing vessels.
They entered the main channel and accelerated. “Look at them all!” Leigh held tight to the support with one hand and with the other, pointed out small boats like theirs, yachts and excursion ships heading out to sea. “I’ve never seen so many in the channel all at once. Is all this for the sunset?”
Eden didn’t answer. She glanced at her granddaughter and wished she could keep this moment forever. Evening light bathed Leigh’s face in a gentle glow, the pink in her cheeks showing through the Florida tan she wore summer and winter. Her luminous eyes, the same amber as the natural streaks in her sun-bleached hair, crinkled at the corners as she squinted at the water. She’d be a beauty in a couple years and Eden had looked forward to scaring the sin out of any boys with the wrong idea. Just another thing she’d never get to do.
The chop demanded her attention, so she drove while Leigh held on and whooped every time their bow hit another wave. The sea calmed when they reached the Gulf of Mexico, and they found a spot to drift about a hundred yards out, away from other vessels. The current turned the stern toward the northwest, where they had a perfect view of the horizon to the west and the inlet to the east.
Eden moved to the cushioned top of the cooler in the aft cockpit. Leigh joined her, pretended to push her off with her hip, and settled close. She sipped her coke while her grandma threw an arm around her in a hug.
The ocean breeze played with Eden’s short hair and blew tendrils of Leigh’s long hair across her chest. Eden reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a hair tie.
“Turn around, baby girl. You don’t want hair in your eyes just as the sun sinks, do you?” Leigh leaned forward while her grandma caught her hair back in a tail. She reached for a blanket bunched on a corner seat.
“Here, Grandma. The breeze is a little cool.” Leigh pulled it over their laps.
A bank of cumulous clouds towered to the east, each layer a living painting, shifting through pink, purple, orange, and salmon in majestic slow motion. A low swell slapped against the hull, a rhythmic percussion to the visual symphony.
Eden took several deep breaths, enjoying the tang of salt air with a hint of seaweed. The scent of grilling fish tickled her nose. Her mouth watered and her stomach rumbled. They’d eat with Leigh’s parents later, at one of the seafood places on the main dock. A special treat.
Leigh snuggled close to Eden, who pulled the lightweight blanket up to cover her girl’s shoulders.
“Are all endings sad?”
Eden swallowed hard before she could answer. “Not all.”
“Like what? Name some happy endings.”
Eden dug past the lump in her heart to find one or two. “When the prince kisses the princess and they live happily ever after. When the hero escapes from the dungeon.”
Leigh slapped her arm. “I mean for real.” She turned her gaze toward the setting sun, now barely touching the horizon’s edge. “I can think of lots of sad endings. Like when we had to leave our friends in Minnesota. And when Scruffy ran away. And when…”
Eden interrupted. “Farmers are happy when a drought ends. And what about the end of an icy cold winter? You had those in Minnesota, remember.”
“Oh, yeah. But the end of snow wasn’t so happy.”
Eden grabbed her granddaughter’s hand and pointed toward the sun, now a half-circle sitting on a dark line.
“Every ending starts a new beginning.” Just saying it lifted her own spirits a tiny bit.
Leigh picked up on it. “School starts at the end of summer. I like school.”
“And cooler weather,” Eden reminded her.
“Morning comes when night ends. I’ll be fourteen when thirteen ends.”
“And we’ll meet in heaven when life ends.” Eden wanted to take back the words as soon as they left her mouth. She sucked air in thick gulps to keep from bursting into tears. She felt her granddaughter tremble.
Eden turned Leigh’s face toward her and kissed her forehead. She kissed each precious cheek and wiped her tears away with her thumbs. “You know I’ll always love you, don’t you? Everything I have is yours, and no matter what, we’ll see each other again.”
“Death is a sad ending, Grandma. I don’t care what the next beginning is. I don’t want you to go.” Leigh covered her face with her hands, bent over her grandma’s lap and sobbed, shudders racking her body and tearing the heart out of Eden.
“Watch, Leigh. Sunset isn’t over yet.”
Leigh sat up, wiped her eyes, and took a shuddering breath. Eden’s heart swelled with love and pride at her granddaughter’s courage as the ocean swallowed the last sliver of sun, leaving the eastern clouds a gray canvas. There should have been more drama.
Eden returned to the console and started the engine.
“Wait, Grandma. Can’t we wait for the stars to come out? I need more time.”
Eden turned the key off and wrapped her arms around Leigh’s slender body. They sank to the deck, neither trying to control the eruption of grief tearing at their cores.
When their sobs turned to hiccups and they let each other go, Eden lifted Leigh’s chin and pointed to the sky. “Look at that magnificence, baby girl. God’s story written in the stars. You’re there, and so am I.”
“What do you mean, Grandma?”
“Our last sunset is an ending, but tomorrow’s a new day for both of us. I’m going home very soon, and you have a long life ahead with happy endings and beautiful beginnings.
Leigh sighed and snuggled close. “And we’ll meet again. In heaven, right?”
“That’s right.” Eden returned to her bench and turned on the engine. “I’m hungry and your parents must be starving. How about you?”
Leigh nodded, stood, and held on to the support. “I love you, Grandma.”
*****
Leigh backed her whaler, Eden’s Dawn, from the dock and headed to the channel where she joined a smattering of fishing boats, her lights joining theirs on the way to the Gulf. Her daughter snored softly, asleep beside her on the bench. Leigh tapped her shoulder to wake her.
“Faith, we’re getting to the chop.”
The child stretched and yawned, jumped to the deck, held on to the support, and whooped at every wave they hit until they reached calm water.
“Now, Mommy?” Faith pointed at the pretty box on the console that held Grandma’s ashes.
“Soon.” Leigh headed out until land was a smudge to the east and cut the engine. “Now, Sweetie.”
Leigh and Faith held the box over the stern together. Leigh kissed it, and they dropped it into the ocean while the sun rose behind a cloud bank, its golden rays streaming out to paint the morning sky pink and orange.
Leigh hugged her daughter as the box sank beneath the waves. “Goodbye, Grandma. We love you.”
Faith reached up and held her mother’s face between her small hands. “Are you sad, Mommy?”
“A little. But every ending starts a new beginning.”
Leigh lifted Faith to the bench, kissed her, and turned Eden’s Dawn toward home.
Thank you for supporting this member along the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour today! We ask that if you have enjoyed this member’s writing, please visit their Author Profile on the RWISA site, where you can find more of their writing, along with their contact and social media links, if they’ve turned you into a fan.
We ask that you also check out their books in the RWISAcatalog. Thanks, again, for your support and we hope that you will follow along each day of this amazing tour of talent by visiting the tour home page! Don’t forget to click the link below to learn more about today’s profiled author:
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