Tag Archives: magic

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Fairies, Myths, & Magic II, Book 2: A Winter Celebration

Greetings, Readers, One and All.

Welcome to the launch of Colleen Chesebro’s new book, a celebration of the winter season’s Fairies, Myths, & Magic. She’s the head poetess over at Word Craft Poetry (her blog), and she’s put me in the mood for a mug of eggnog, a sprig of mistletoe, and a warm fire. I have a review of her book below, but first, I’m turning the post over to Colleen.

Day One: 12/1/22 Yule Blessings Book Tour

Thank you, Diana, for the opportunity to share the news of my new book, just in time for the winter solstice and Yule.

In Fairies, Myths, & Magic II, I researched the mythologies of Yule and the winter solstice. I was surprised to learn how almost all cultures featured a myth about Yule and the winter solstice.

In the northern hemisphere, the date falls on December 21st or 22nd. In the southern hemisphere, the dates are June 20th or 21st. The winter solstice in the northern hemisphere is the day with the least amount of daylight, giving us the longest and darkest night of the year on December 21st.

In the Pagan tradition, the winter solstice represented the figurative death and rebirth of the sun. Yule became a time of great celebration because the people realized spring would bring warmth back to the land.

Did you know there were many female figures of Yule and winter? Many of these women are long forgotten. There’s the Irish Goddess of Winter – The Cailleach Béara, The Night of the Mothers, Frau Holle, and many others. I share their stories through short stories and poetry.

Here’s one of my favorite myths featuring Frau Holle. The wild hunt was a way to explain the wicked storms of winter. Odin bears a resemblance to our Santa Claus and could have been the inspiration for the jolly old soul.

The Wild Hunt

Call down the huntsmen,

upon black horses they ride

with hounds as black as pitch

and staring hideous eyes

their screams and howls

resound against the algid night.

*

Odin’s phantoms—the cult of the dead

glide through the ebony sky

a spectral, nocturnal horde

howling on the wind,

Frau Holle riding high.

*

When the baying winds blow,

and Yule fires are lit

stay away from nightfall

lest you manifest the restless dead.

*

Beware the berserkers…

for the host of wild souls will sweep down

and drag you to your death!

___

Prepare to embrace the darkness and the light in Fairies, Myths, & Magic II.

Colleen’s Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Colleen-M-Chesebro/e/B01N9MV2RX

Amazon Universal Link: https://mybook.to/FairiesMythsMagicII

About the Book

In this second book in the Fairies, Myths, & Magic series, step into a world where dark fairies and other magical beings converge in a collection of poetry and short stories inspired by winter and the celebration of the winter solstice.

From autumn’s scary fairies to the forgotten female characters of Yule, prepare to embrace the magical winter solstice myths from around the world. Meet Frau Holle in the Wild Hunt, Befana—the Christmas Witch of Italy, and the Japanese goddess Ameratasu who controls the springtime. Prepare to embrace the Scottish trows, the Irish Goddess of Winter—the Cailleach Béara, and Snegurochka—the Snow Girl.

Learn how to make Yuletide rituals part of your celebration by embracing the symbols of Yule by decorating with evergreens and crystals.

My Review:

A celebration of winter is a great description of this highly recommended collection of poetry and short fiction. It’s the companion to the first book “Fairies, Myths, & Magic: A Summer Celebration,” which I thoroughly enjoyed.

Chesebro explores winter legends from around the world, from pagan creatures who steal naughty children in the night to mischievous house elves. From the wild hunt to the origins of traditions such as yule logs, holly, and Father Christmas. The book offers explanatory introductions to winter’s fairies and myths and brings them to life with syllabic poetry and flash fiction.

A few of the legends that struck my fancy were “Ameratasu” from Japan, “Gryla, the Christmas Troll” from Iceland, and “Snegurochka – Snow Girl” from Russia. Some of my favorite stories were “Tomte, the House Elf” and “The Long Walk.”

Chesebro’s syllabic poetry shines, full of beauty, humor, nature, and magic both delightful and haunting. Written in multiple forms and replete with beautiful imagery, it was the highlight of the book for me. A few favorite poems were “Lady Autumn,” “The Wild Hunt,” “Happy Dongzhi Festival,” “Swift Passage,” and “Dreaming.”

Dreaming

rosy morn, winter kissed—

fields incandescent

bursting with the glory of a brand-new day

the wheel of the year turns

another month gone

from the sun’s fiery glow

lilac shadows fade

while frost browned grasses

sing anthems to the wind

wild black-headed geese soar

far away from home

beneath the frosty rime

roots tremble with growth,

awaiting the thaw and the

warm rains to come

seeds loiter in the depths

dreaming of the spring

About the Author:

An avid reader, Colleen M. Chesebro rekindled her love of writing poetry after years spent working in the accounting industry. These days, she loves crafting syllabic poetry, flash fiction, and creative fiction and nonfiction.

In addition to poetry books, Chesebro’s publishing career includes participation in various anthologies featuring short stories, flash fiction, and poetry. She’s an avid supporter of her writing community on Word Craft Poetry.com by organizing and sponsoring a weekly syllabic poetry challenge, called #TankaTuesday, where participants experiment with traditional and current forms of Japanese and American syllabic poetry.

Chesebro is an assistant editor of The Congress of the Rough Writers Flash Fiction Anthology & Gitty Up Press, a micro-press founded by Charli Mills and Carrot Ranch.

In January 2022, Colleen founded Unicorn Cats Publishing Services to assist poets and authors in creating eBooks and print books for publication. In addition, she creates affordable book covers for Kindle and print books.

Chesebro lives in the house of her dreams in mid-Michigan surrounded by the Great Lakes with her husband and two (unicorn) cats, Chloe & Sophie.

Find Colleen here:

Blog: Word Craft Poetry: https://wordcraftpoetry.com

Author Blog: Colleen M. Chesebro, Author, Poet & Unicorn Cats Publishing Services: https://colleenmchesebro.com

Facebook Page: Colleen M. Chesebro, Poet & Author: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100085941528913

LinkedIn: https://linkedin.com/in/colleen-m-chesebro-6b856b237

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The Necromancer’s Daughter Book Tour: Day 12

Welcome to Day 12 of The Necromancer’s Daughter’s Book Tour!

I hope you enjoy:

~ A lovely community of bloggers.

~ My favorite book from my host’s list, along with my review.

~ Something to make you smile. 

~ Something from or about The Necromancer’s Daughter (follow the link below).

~ Leave a comment on my hosts’ sites, and your name will be entered in an end-of-tour drawing for a $50 Amazon gift certificate. The more tour sites, the more entries!

Day 12, here we go!

Steven Baird’s Blog: Ordinary Handsome

There’s nothing ordinary about Steven’s blog. He doesn’t post often, but when he does, I’m soaking it up. Steven is a writer who shares stunning pieces of prose and poetry as well as peeks into his work in progress. He’s one of the authors I try to emulate. I drool a little over his lush imagery and the exquisite emotional depth of his work. His glimpses into character are breathtaking.

See what I mean… drooling again. Lol.

I’ve read everything Steven writes, and I hear there’s a new book floating around out there on the horizon. I can’t wait. Here’s my review of one of my all-time favorite books:

Ordinary Handsome by Steven Baird

Amazon Global Link

My Review: I just finished this book and sit here collecting my thoughts. From the first page, I knew I had happened upon something special, something that would sweep me into the otherworld offered by a talented author and his beautifully written book.

The story is grim, about the dying lives that labor on in the dying town of Handsome, Oklahoma. Ghosts in a ghost town. The book follows ordinary men dealing with the epic struggles that shape human experience: love and death, failure, fathering, poverty, murder, and lost hope. It revolves around a young man, Euart Monroe Wasson, and the men who participate in the tragedy made of his life.

The narrative isn’t one to speed through. Baird writes with a style that requires one to pay attention. He slowly draws aside the veils that reveal the interconnection of each man’s story. I had the impression that I was piecing together a mosaic, the tale assembled from the shards of shattered lives, memories, impressions, and illusions.

The narrative is informal and appropriate to the rural landscape. At the same time, the writing is textured, rife with precise detail, stunning imagery, and raw emotion. Baird is a master at finding the perfect word and painting a picture that shifts and clears with each new perspective.

I highly recommend Ordinary Handsome to any reader who wants to get lost in an exquisitely written tale. This book will stick to your heart.

***

If you have a chance, head on over to join The Necromancer’s Daughter tour at Steven’s blog: Ordinary Handsome.

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The Necromancer’s Daughter Book Tour: Day 9

Welcome to Day 9 of The Necromancer’s Daughter’s Book Tour!

I hope you enjoy:

~ A lovely community of bloggers.

~ My favorite book from my host’s list, along with my review.

~ Something to make you smile. 

~ Something short and different about The Necromancer’s Daughter (follow the link below).

~ Leave a comment on my hosts’ sites, and your name will be entered in an end-of-tour drawing for a $50 Amazon gift certificate. The more tour sites, the more entries!

Day 9, here we go!

Harmony Kent’s Blog: Dissonance

Harmony has a fascinating backstory as a person, and very active blog with book reviews, new releases, short stories, and poems. She’s also an award-winning author and a member of the team at Story Empire, a place where she shares her writing knowledge for the benefit of other writers.

She writes in multiple genres from fantasy to post-apocalyptic sci-fi, thrillers, mysteries, and erotica (to name a few). She also has a couple of anthologies of poetry that I highly recommend: Slices of Soul and Life & Soul. I haven’t read all the books in her long list yet, but I’m working on it.

Here’s my review of her first poetry collection:

Slices of Soul by Harmony Kent

Amazon Global Link

My Review: I picked up this book after learning that the author spent 13 years in a Zen Buddhist Temple. I was curious about how her experiences influenced her poetry. The poems are divided into seven sections beginning with Shaved Head, Short Hair, and Long Hair, representing the journey from the monastery back into modern life.

“The Path”

The ten directions all merge into one
this winding road leads nowhere
and goes straight there

Many of the poems read like koans, statements used for meditation. The poems are simply written and it’s easy to appreciate how they reflect of the author’s journey of change and discovery. Several favorites are Rebirth, Diamonds, Waterfall, and The Alchemist. A lovely collection that I read in less than an hour.

***

If you have a chance, head on over to join The Necromancer’s Daughter tour at Harmony’s blog: Dissonance

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The Necromancer’s Daughter: Aster

With a book launch on the horizon, I’ve started introducing my three main characters. This is Aster, a young woman who was born dead and resurrected by Barus, the necromancer. He’s raised her as his own, and though he’s warned her away from dragons… she can’t find it in herself to be afraid.

I hope you enjoy this (slightly modified) snippet introducing Aster.

***

As it always did, the tide of emotion started as a trickle of anticipation at the base of Aster’s spine. The swelling excitement flowed into her chest, and her fingers tingled. It spread over her skin and rushed into her face. The feelings belonged to the dragon, not to her, but she’d become accustomed to the foreign sensations thrumming through her bones.

The dragon whooshed up the cliff into the ether, nearly knocking her from her feet. Whipped-up wind thrust her grandmother’s blue shawl open, and it flapped from her shoulders like a fledgling’s untested wings. Her fine white hair whirled with the blowing snow. Though she’d expected the creature’s striking entrance, she laughed in surprise.

The beast’s leathery wings angled for a spiraling descent far above her head. Sunlight shone through the webbing, enhancing the mottle of silver and black. She’d encountered this one many times before and raised an arm to wave. “Come down. I’m not afraid.” Would it finally heed her call? A gift for her eighteenth awakening day?

A scar striped the dragon’s snout, jagged as a thunderbolt. Its long neck arched, ruby eyes gleaming as its head dipped toward her, jaws agape. Curved incisors glinted in the raw light, and the serpentine tail snapped at the frozen stalks of asters quivering in the wind.

Barus had told her, long ago, to hide behind a tree and make herself small, and for years, she’d obeyed his wishes. But no more. If the dragon meant to terrify her, it had failed every time. She trusted her instincts, knew to her core that the creature wouldn’t shred her to pieces or whisk her away in its teeth.

But what about an apple?

She reached for the armor of scales as the massive body undulated above her, its back bristling with spikes, clawed feet sweeping the air just beyond her fingertips as she held an apple aloft. The beast circled, rising higher.

“Come down,” she teased, giving the wrinkled fruit a toss. “I brought an apple for you.”

The dragon’s wings swept back, and it dove from the cornflower sky. Aster shrieked and flung the apple. The toothsome jaws snapped the fruit from the air, and she laughed with delight.

As though in answer, the beast bellowed a cry and plummeted beyond the cliff’s wall. Aster darted to the edge as the dragon’s wings unfurled, capturing the wind with the ripple and snap of a galleon’s sails. The colossal beast skimmed the gray sea, flying for the Isles of White Sands glimmering like a mirage on the horizon.

As the drumming of wings surrendered to the waves’ roar, another sound assumed its place. The voices of men.

***

Thanks for reading!

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Cover Reveal: The Necromancer’s Daughter

I’m not exactly sure what happened.

You see, I wrote this book and didn’t tell anyone.

I mean, what was the hurry? I planned to release it on September 1st, which seemed

so

far

away…

Then I looked my calendar and almost fainted. September is right around the corner!

With that in mind, I’m delighted to share the cover to my latest story:

A healer and dabbler in the dark arts of life and death, Barus is as gnarled as an ancient tree. Forgotten in the chaos of the dying queen’s chamber, he spirits away her stillborn infant, and in a hovel at the meadow’s edge, he breathes life into the wisp of a child. He names her Aster for the lea’s white flowers. Raised as his daughter, she learns to heal death.

Then the day arrives when the widowed king, his own life nearing its end, defies the Red Order’s warning. He summons the necromancer’s daughter, his only heir, and for his boldness, he falls to an assassin’s blade.

While Barus hides from the Order’s soldiers, Aster leads their masters beyond the wall into the Forest of Silvern Cats, a land of dragons and barbarian tribes. She seeks her mother’s people, the powerful rulers of Blackrock, uncertain whether she will find sanctuary or face a gallows’ noose.

Unprepared for a world rife with danger, a world divided by those who practice magic and those who hunt them, she must choose whether to trust the one man offering her aid, the one man most likely to betray her—her enemy’s son.

A healer with the talent to unravel death, a child reborn, a father lusting for vengeance, and a son torn between justice, faith, and love. Caught in a chase spanning kingdoms, each must decide the nature of good and evil, the lengths they will go to survive, and what they are willing to lose.

~***~

Thanks so much for taking a peek at the cover. And thank you to all the kind bloggers who offered to help with my tour. The schedule will be quite full for which I’m delighted and grateful! ❤

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September Book Reviews

Another month of reviews

including some from my Autumn Reading Challenge
(which I’m already behind on – yeesh).

This month, my offering of  4 and 5 star reviews includes thrillers, humor, sci-fi, horror, short stories, and YA fantasy. I hope you enjoy the browse.

Click on the covers for Amazon global links.

*****

You Beneath Your Skin by Damyanti Biswas

This debut novel by Biswas travels at breakneck speed. Set in India, it deals with the atrocious and criminal practice of throwing acid in women’s faces. But that’s only one theme in this complex and engaging plot that kept me riveted from page one. I’m not surprised that this book is receiving so much acclaim.

A police investigation headed by Jitan Bhatt into the mutilations and murders of several women intersects with an acid attack on Anjali Morgan, his lover. Everything goes totally crazy, and I mean Totally Crazy, as characters get tangled up in a web of power, secrets, confessions, and extremely hard choices.

Though I sympathized with Anjali, Jitan was the character that captured my attention. He’s the one who’s pulled in every possible direction as his marriage and career teeters on the brink of destruction, his son forces impossible choices, and his sense of morality is challenged in the face of a system riddled with corruption.

The story is a thriller indeed, but it’s also about inner strength and survival, identity and love, truth and justice, and what one is willing to do for family. An excellent read that I found difficult to put down.

*****

The Stones (Astral Conspiracy #2) by D. L. Cross

Book two of the Astral Conspiracy series starts off at a thrilling pace that doesn’t let up right to the last page. At the same time, somehow, the narrative managed to catch me up on what happened in The Gate, so if it’s been awhile since reading book one, no worries.

In this book, the aliens have landed. Professor Landon Thorne is front and center again. But the story tracks a number of contingents with separate agendas – from a paramilitary “resistance” unit to a brutal agency called CORE to a fanatical priest who believes the aliens are the spawn of the Devil. There’s a lot going on.

Thorne’s focus is on following several ancient clues that might explain the aliens’ objectives and how to defeat them. Thorne’s knowledge is interesting, entangled with well-researched speculation into the akashic records, Atlantean firestones, and the Georgia Guidestones. He and his team are at risk as the factions attempt to protect, control, or kill them.

The aliens are still a mystery in this book. They come in several variations and can be incredibly violent. Cross doesn’t hold back on the human violence either, which raises the stakes for all the characters. The world-building is great and full of details that add authenticity.

It’s clear that the series is one long and complex story, and therefore should be read in order. This book doesn’t wrap up neatly but ends with a big cliffhanger. The good news is that the series will be complete at the end of September 2020 so readers can keep going without a hitch. A highly recommended series for sci-fi fans.

*****

In Search of McDoogal by Mae Clair

In this lighthearted novella (about a 90-minute read), Brady and his friend Declan go in search of a painting of an ugly cat named McDoogal. Brady accidently sold his artist-girlfriend’s creation when filling in for her at an art sale, and he’s got one day to hunt it down and buy it back.

A road trip ensues and finding the painting isn’t as simple as it seems. Several colorful characters come into play, and there’s plenty of witty dialog about the feline subject of the artwork. Brady’s deadline keeps the pace moving.

This is a purely feel-good read, fine for the whole family. Definitely check out the author’s Afterword about the real McDoogal – it’s a touching treat for anyone who’s ever loved a cat.

*****

Tales from the Thrift by Kim Laettner

Francine gets a job working at a thrift store, but this is no ordinary shop. The customers who come in usually find exactly what they’re looking for—sometimes a memory, sometimes healing, sometimes kindness, and perhaps even romance. It’s a magical place where I’d love to work!

The story is told from Francine’s third-person POV with some minor tangents into the POVs of other characters. The pace is steady and the book is an engaging read with well-rounded, genuine characters through and through. Francine is a strong female protagonist, and I liked that she was able to take care of herself without needing a man to manage or rescue her. The dialog is fabulous, though some speaker confusion interrupted the story’s flow. Otherwise, I was swept right in.

This is primarily a sweet romance, but about halfway through, a second plot enters the story as women in the area start showing up dead. There are a number of red herrings and until the reveal I wasn’t sure who the murderer was. I’d recommend this book to readers of romance who enjoy a dose of magic and murder to spice things up.

*****

Malice and Foresight: Short Stories of Malice and Murder

This collection of 4 short stories kept me entertained for an hour on a rainy afternoon. Each story reads like a vignette, with vivid characters and a quick pace. The central theme is murder with a bit of malevolence and planning, and the stories are quite different from each other. A favorite was hard to choose, but I probably enjoyed “The Marshall Sisters” most of all. Recommended for short story readers who enjoy a good murder and quality writing.

*****

Diaballein by Cage Dunn

This is an unusual read. The writing style is distinct with short sentences and fragments that almost give it a staccato quality. The narrative is highly “present” with minimal backstory or internal reflection. I felt as though I experienced the story the very instant it happened, each sight, action, and thought recorded with precise detail. My only challenge was that I noticed the fascinating writing more than the tale.

That said, this is an engaging story. It alternates between two characters, Kano and Eyza, both struggling with what is real and what is madness. I liked the uncertainty while it lasted, and it was during this time of disorientation that I most connected with the characters. I felt their panic, as well as the power of their choices and the risks they took. The staccato quality of the writing added to the disjointed feel of the characters’ thoughts, which I thought was effective.

The story takes place in the Australian bush and an amazing sense of place grounds the narrative. Both characters are researchers, one a metallurgist, the other a naturalist. Their research brings them to the outback where a dark force is at play. The quick pace becomes quicker for the second half of the read when the couple battles the Diaballein. The battle feels both epic and surreal as science overlaps with ancient lore and Earth magic. I recommend this novella to readers looking for something different. It’s worth exploring.

*****

Maya and the Book of Everything by Laurie Graves

I love magical books, and the Book of Everything that a desperate woman slips into Maya’s pocket is magical indeed. And apparently, it’s no accident that Maya and the book find each other. The book has many talents, including the ability to transport her to other times and planets.

With her friend from the past, Andy, Maya travels to a medieval world, Ilyria where she encounters two dukes, rival brothers vying for control of the dukedom. And the Book of Everything in Maya’s pocket isn’t the only magical book in play. If both books come into the possession of those who wish to exert control over knowledge, all will be lost.

The world-building is engaging including the wondrous Great Library and the Toad Queen who “peels” Maya’s eyes. Maya was my favorite character, a brave 15-year-old with a strong sense of duty. She always chooses well, which is something that can’t be said of everyone in these pages.

The story starts off at a brisk pace, though there’s a significant portion of the second half that proceeds without Maya and the pace slows. There are bad guys and poor choices but no gory violence and little death. For that reason, I think this book is well-suited for young teens on up to adults who enjoy YA tales. I’m curious to see where the Book of Everything takes Maya next!

*****

I Wouldn’t Be Surprised: A Short Story by D. L. Finn

This thriller of a short story starts with an evening of laughter between Janice and her husband, Dale. Her supposed lack of surprise at some hypothetical scenarios sets the couple up for trouble when a ghost tests their bravado. The scary-factor ramps up quickly without much backstory or foreshadowing. Go with the flow, and enjoy the build-up of creepy tension; the ghost will provide backstory near the end.

I’ve read other books by DL Flinn and think this would make a great prequel to her world of ghosts, red-eyed evildwels, and angels. Janice and Dale’s story continues beyond this short read, and I liked learning how it all began. A quick tale for readers of paranormal thrillers and for fans of Finn’s evildwel-based fiction..

*****

Happy Reading!

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Alue, an Elf

The first book of my Unraveling the Veil trilogy is with beta readers. Woot woot. So, if all goes well, I’m on target for… um… August?  Gulp. That date makes my stomach hurt.

I introduced Naj’ar, my goblin, with a little snippet – Here.

Well, here’s a little peek at Alue, my elf.

***

The Devil’s Owl occupied a basement in the Ten’s Thrift District known for its tanneries and crude smelting operations, poisonous reek and lung-killing smoke. She paused in the gloom at the top of the littered stairs leading down below the street. The night had cooled. Stars pricked holes in the obsidian sky, and crickets chirped in a forsaken lot of tumbled walls.

The canteen’s whispered reputation suggested it was a place frequented by goblin smugglers, collared changelings, and elves with nothing to lose. It was a place to purchase stolen crystals.

She chewed on a lip and weighed the risks of entering. Even more so, her chances of getting out. She’d dressed in dark gray dahn, a long black shirt, and open vest, her hair tightly braided and tucked into a scarf. A light smudge of kohl hollowed her cheeks, lending her the starved appearance of an addict, and she’d drawn dull bruises around her eyes.

Teeth gritted, she adjusted the knife at her hip and descended the steps. A rap on the weathered door cracked it open, and a goblin’s charcoal face filled the slit. A lemon-yellow eye appraised her.

“I need to make a purchase,” she said.

“What of?”

“None of your business.”

“We haven’t seen you here before.”

“Because I’ve never been here. I usually don’t patronize dumps.” The goblin reached through the gap. She jerked back, and his sharp claws missed her scarf. “And if you touch me, I’ll cut off your fingers.”

The goblin bared a row of serrated teeth, returning the threat.

“Let her in, Tak,” someone said from the murky cave within. Tak stepped aside, and the dim room beckoned. The dank and ripe stink of unwashed bodies and spilled keva wrinkled her nose, and she sucked in a breath through her mouth.

“You coming in?” The goblin grabbed her arm and yanked her inside, closing the door behind her. She twisted out of his grip with an agility that caught him off guard, her knife tip pointed up under his scarred chin. He loomed over her, one long ear swept back and twitching, the other missing. Muscles bunched in his shoulders.

She growled into his surprised face, “I wasn’t kidding about the fingers.”

“Fast for an addict.”

“Who said I was an addict?” She lowered her knife and her voice. “I’m looking for crystals.”

The goblin’s nocturnal eyes reflected the muted light. He pointed with his chin to a corner. “Over there.” He bent down, his long nose almost pressed to her ear. “You’re not fooling anyone, elf. Get what you need and get out.”

Alue stepped back, nodded, and headed for the threesome. A bearded changeling with a collar delivered mugs of keva to his companions—a pale goblin and dark-haired elf. They leaned over their table while a glowing sphere twirled on the elf’s fingertips. He was photokinetic, like her, but with a trickster’s talent, and handsome compared to the other lowlifes that drank and gambled in the canteen’s alcoves. He rolled the sphere over the back of his hand, into his palm, back up to his fingertips, never losing contact. The movement seemed effortless, without thought, his attention focused on his companions and their conversation. She strolled up to the table and plucked the light from its perch. The orb remained bright in her palm.

The elf’s companions stiffened, but he cupped a hand and formed another sphere that popped to his fingertips. “Beware who you rob.”

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Daybreak #Writephoto

Photo copyright Sue Vincent

The chirping alarm clock wakes us at an ungodly hour, and I quickly prepare a thermos of hot chocolate. Muffins packed. Sweaters donned. Flashlights? Check. Blankets? Check. Keys? I pat my pocket, running through my mental checklist. We load up and drive the winding lane to the knoll.

It’s my 60th birthday, and I want to watch the sunrise. My ten-year-old granddaughter indulges my desire.

We spread a blanket on the smooth ledge, cupfuls of cocoa in hand, another blanket warming our laps. The stars behind us glimmer like luminescence in the sky’s black sea. To the east, they fade as dawn breaks. Clouds stream in heaven’s wind, a sheer sail unfurling over the slumbering land.

A light catches the corner of my eye. An iphone! “Gah!  Turn that thing off.”

“I have to check one thing.”

My instruction is ignored. I emit a series of annoyed and exasperated groans, mutterings, and sighs.

“One minute,” she giggles, unswayed by my performance. “I’m looking something up.”

I wait.

She leans into my shoulder and shares. “Did you know that light is actually all colors, and each color has a different wavelength. Blue is the shortest and red the longest.

“Hm.”

“Different length lightwaves travel through space, and when they reach the atmosphere, they bounce off particles in the air. Like dust, water, and ice crystals, and tiny gas molecules. They scatter in lots of different directions.”

“Interesting.”

My subtle hints are failing to have an impact. She scrolls down. “When sunlight travels a short path through the atmosphere, tiny gas molecules scatter blue sunlight in all directions, making the sky blue. At sunrise and sunset, when light travels a long path, it’s mostly red and yellow.”

I sling an arm around her and sigh. “And I thought it was magic.”

She slides her phone into her pocket, and we “ooh” and “aah” as the sun bathes tiny gas molecules with gloriously long light waves.

“You know what else it said?” Apparently, my little scientist isn’t finished.

“What?”

“That the clouds are a canvas on which nature paints her colors.”

“I like that,” I say.

“I thought you would. You see? It’s magic after all.”

***

In response to Sue Vincent’s Thursday #Writephoto prompt.

This is a work of fiction.

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Perception #Tanka Tuesday

Pixabay image by Michael Seibt

Perception

“Cross the bridge.” The crone points her staff to a log spanning a luminous pool.

I squint at the strange collection of creatures impeding my way. I’ve been lost for days in the swamp’s wet greenness, breathing the emerald dew. So many moons that knobby horns sprout from my skull. Vines weave through the fibers of my clothes, and my skin grows iridescent scales in myriad hues of moss. I am hungry despite a bellyful of beetles.

Upon the bridge, a naiad plays her flute, the sound hypnotic though the melody unfurls backward. “Wayward magic,” mutter I, one wary soul who’s encountered these tricksters before. Does this one revel in opposites, mirrored reflections? Which is real, the opposite of whom? Is there any way to know what’s true? My ears droop at the bothersome riddle.

The pipe’s dulcet sound charms a viper, its crescent fangs smiling. Safeguarding or warning? Did the sprite awaken the snake, or does she lull it to sleep? Beneficent or Mischievous? I wrinkle my snout in study. And which of the two covet the poppy? All three could be lethal to me. Beautiful peril, perilous beauty. Or simply a flower?

“How am I to cross?” ask I, my jade whiskers twitching.

The faceless hag shrugs.

choose your poison, child
life implies no guarantees
forsake illusive
dreams of immortality
perception decides the truth

**

I had the privilege in September of choosing October’s mid-month photo image for Colleen’s #Tanka Tuesday. What fun to finally write for this fairytale image. If you enjoy syllabic poetry, visit her site and check out her fun prompts. Thanks, Colleen.

by

Clarifying Shampoo

pixabay image combo

Betsy over at Parenting is Funny was recently musing over a bottle of clarifying shampoo (yes, it’s a real thing). Her blog is a hoot, and I encourage you to visit. Her post popped a story into my head. I hope you enjoy.

Clarifying Shampoo

Clara was born a Libra. Not the normal kind of Libra with a smattering of other signs in her chart to balance her scales. She was an anomaly, an astrological case study, solid Libra from her Sun all the way across the galaxy to Pluto. She vacillated like a seesaw and simple decisions were intolerable with all the second-guessing.

Worst of all, she was the epitome of annoying. Potential friends stopped calling after a week, and romantic relationships unraveled before they had a chance to knit. She frustrated counselors. Even her mother had stopped answering the phone.

Clara had to do something, and the only thing she hadn’t tried was consulting a psychic.

Madam Bea’s Fabulous Fortunes occupied the basement below a hair salon. She specialized in Tarot, but the handmade poster on her sandwich-board advertised results, and that was exactly what Clara needed. Results.

At the bottom of the concrete steps, a peeling door led into a tight space cordoned off by red sheets tacked to the ceiling. A disorienting combination of odors—garlic, mildew, and sandalwood—assaulted Clara’s nose. A card table separated two folding chairs, complete with a sparkly glass ball on a plastic stand.

Madam Bea, a beak-nosed woman with painted eyebrows, sat at the table finishing off a pizza. She waved to the unoccupied chair while munching on the crust, and then tossed the pizza box behind the makeshift curtains.

Clearly, Clara had made another mistake, but she accepted the seat and laid out the saga of her peculiar horoscope complete with runny mascara—another miscalculation. She should have applied the waterproof variety.

The fortune teller listened intently while picking her teeth with a ruby fingernail. “I have joost the thing,” she said and disappeared behind the sheets. When she returned, she placed a half-empty bottle of shampoo on the table.

“Shampoo?” Clara frowned.

“Clarifying champoo.” Madam Bea’s eyebrows arched higher than already arched. “Trust me. I give you discount. That be fifty dollars.”

Clara forked over the cash with a sigh and drove home. Before dropping into bed, she washed her hair.

In the morning, she shuffled to her closet and ruminated over what to wear. Slacks or a skirt? Maybe a dress. Or slacks in case the office is cold. But what if it’s warm? A dress with a sweater? Although a skirt…

The lavender suit.

Clara froze. The whispered voice seemed to originate from somewhere above her head. She glanced up and then peeked over her shoulder. Alone. Was the voice real? Inside her head? She backed up and sat on the edge of her bed. Should she make another counseling appointment?

Ivory blouse and low pumps. Pearl studs but skip the necklace.

Clara jolted up with a yelp. She rifled through her closet and wriggled into the lavender suit. Studs in her ears, she dashed from her apartment to the sidewalk, the low heels a wise choice with all the running.

She inhaled a lungful of sunshine to calm her racing heart, shoved the morning’s weirdness from her thoughts, and wavered over whether to walk to work or take the bus. Or drive. Or walk. What if she got blisters? And then there was city parking…

Walk. It’s a nice day. You need the exercise.

Clara frowned and casually swept a hand over the top of her head. Was her hair giving her instructions?

I’m clarifying.

“Clarifying?” She wrinkled her nose. “Why? But what if—”

Clarity never hurt anyone. Now, no time for waffling or you’ll be late.

Still suspicious of her hair, Clara set off for work, and for the first time in three years, she arrived on time, a fact noticed by Harry, the tall, dark, and hunky cubical-occupant across the aisle. Her hair urged her to have tea instead of coffee and to check her emails before returning calls, decisions that would have taken an hour.

By the time the clock struck noon, her lips curved into a relaxed smile, the day’s decision-making handled entirely by her hair.

Harry cleared his throat. “Clara, would you like to join me for a quick lunch?”

“Oh, er, hm.” Clara didn’t know. Should she? What would she order? Maybe she shouldn’t. But then he might not ask again. So, she should. But what if she did, and he ended up being a creep, and then he’d ask her every day? She might have to quit her job. Or he could be nice. “Um, I…”

Gah! Just say yes!

“Yes,” she blurted.

Eighteen years later, while Clara unpacked her shopping bags, her daughter, Elizabeth, sauntered into the kitchen, phone in hand. “Mom, there’s a bonfire at the park tonight. Chantelle and I were planning to go, but her mom needs their car. Can I take ours? I’ll be home by nine.”

Clara wanted to say yes, but driving after dark… And what if there was beer? And boys? There would be boys. Was Elizabeth old enough? Should she say no? Eventually, she’d have to trust her daughter’s choices. She could drive the two of them. But that might be humiliating. Was it worth a fight?

She’s a responsible kid. She said she’ll be home by nine.

Clara sighed. “All right, you can go. I trust you to make good choices.”

“Awesome, mom. I have to hurry and hop in the shower.”

“Oh!” Clara perked up and searched through her bags. “I bought you some shampoo.”