Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene's Blog, page 60
April 21, 2020
Wednesday Book Reviews — Twofer, #RRBC
Wednesday, April 22, 2020
I’m continuing my break, but I still wanted to share something good! We all need positive things — and great things to read. So here are a couple of quick book reviews. Both of these are for the “Rave Reviews Book Club” (RRBC).
[image error]pradasgarcia at Pixabay
Karen Black, A Candle in the Darkness
From the blurb
Is there life after death? Not according to Valerie. Following the accidental death of her husband, Valerie was distraught. In spite of severe storm warnings, and against her in-laws’ advice, Valerie set out for Maryland, where she and Randy had been planning to live. It took a tornado, and the words of a stranger to show Valerie exactly how to move on without Randy; or was it with him?
My Review
It was a dark and stormy night – for sure! A short paranormal story, yet it is a full story. The author manages to engage all the senses during this brief read. Black’s candle lights the way for those who “want to believe,” it’s a perfect heartwarming stormy night. (This story is one of the RRBC Book of the Month selections.)
Next
John W. Howell, My GRL
[image error]
I had already purchased this book (and the rest of the series) before I bought into the book club. This is not the first time I’ve read “My GRL” – it’s well worth multiple reads. That applies to all of John’s books.
John’s Amazon Author Page Purchase My GRL
From the blurb
John J. Cannon, a successful San Francisco lawyer, needs some well-deserved time off. He takes a leave of absence from the firm and buys a boat he names My GRL. His short-term plan is to become a charter fishing boat captain. John is unaware his craft has been targeted by a terrorist group to be used to destroy a class of Annapolis Midshipmen on their summer cruise. John’s first inkling of trouble is when he wakes up in the hospital and learns he was unconscious next to the body of the young woman who sold him the boat in the first place. To further complicate the situation, he was lying on the gun that killed her
My Review
The beginning of an exciting series. I had reviewed this book previously on Amazon, but I see the writeup has vanished – as is often the case. It’s a book you’ll want to read more than once. Murder, spies, espionage, and a relatable hero – what’s not to like? I was immediately drawn to the hero. His situation made him even more compelling. One suggestion – don’t use this book as something to help you relax and go to sleep. It’s far too exciting for that. I didn’t want it to end – and happily there are more books in the series, each just as captivating as this one.
I need to continue my break for awhile longer. So comments are closed. Hugs on the wing!
I made a commitment to do four reviews this year, of books in the Rave Reviews Book Club (RRBC) catalog. One had to be of one of their books of the month. That is “A Candle in the Darkness,” my third review. The fourth is of John W. Howell’s “My GRL.” Also, I previously posted reviews for Robbie Cheadle’s “Through the Nethergate,” and Fiza Pathan’s “The Reclusive Writer and Reader of Bandra.” There was an April fools “joke” from the book club. I’ve done my reviews now, but these are lovely books — no joke!
April 18, 2020
#Bookreview – Fiona Finch and the Pink Valentine: A steampunk novella by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene — Robbie’s inspiration
Yes, I meant to take a break this weekend. However, when Chris Graham told me there was a new review of Fiona Finch & the Pink Valentine, I had to come back. Robbie Cheadle’s review tickled me pink!
Oops, I think I deleted the link. Please click here.
I’m afraid to commit to next weekend, but I hope to be back with another chapter of The Delta Pearl then. Meanwhile, I hope you’ll visit Robbie for this review. Hugs on the wing!
[image error]
What Amazon says Put your feet up and enjoy a whimsical break with this quick, lighthearted story. There’s some romance, and a lot of silliness. It’s a steampunk/Victorian setting. You might call it a long-short story or a novelette. This is a tale of an old lost valentine and the shenanigans that ensue when it […]
April 15, 2020
Sanctuary & Another Break
Wednesday, April 15, 2020
[image error]John Hain at Pixabay
Most people have limitations. Nobody is really Super Man or Wonder Woman. Some of us have more limiting limitations than others. A lot of you know that I have my “issues” that get in the way of a normal life.
I try to make this blog a sanctuary for everyone — a place to feel safe, where there will be positive things. Well, more than that, it is my sanctuary. If you’ve been following for awhile, then you’ve seen that every now and then I do a post, reminding everyone of that fact. Some of you also know that means someone has managed to violate the sanctuary. When bullies come into my sanctuary, they get black listed. Bullying comes in many forms, and I don’t put up with any of them.
Like I said, I’m dealing with a lot of “issues,” so the ability to cope with negativity or self-serving people is pretty much beyond me right now. Okay, the truth is, I wouldn’t put up with it under any circumstance at any time. This is my sanctuary, not a forum for arguments.
Earlier this week negative behavior prompted me to put a notice on Facebook that I’m taking a break from that site, despite how much we all need the “connections” during this difficult time of social isolation or lock-down. Then that kind of behavior came to my blog.
[image error]Gerd Altmann at Pixabay
If you only show up to say something hateful, then shut the fork up.
All that said, this weekend there will not be an episode of The Delta Pearl. When I’m able, I will continue the series. That won’t be long, because I will miss you too much to stay away. But right now I can’t deal…
April 14, 2020
Wednesday Writing with the Senses — Hearing
Wednesday, April 15, 2020
[image error]Alexas Fotos at Pixabay
Traditionally those are the five senses. I suddenly decided to rerun this mini-series on The Senses. I originally did this series five years ago, so maybe it’s fitting.
In novel writing I try to involve all your (the reader’s) senses. Today I want all of us to begin building a story together. One by one, we’ll use all the senses. More about that in a minute…
With each of these posts I’m asking you to please leave a comment with one or two words that my image-prompt for the featured sense brings to your mind. Use either the “three Kermits” pictured above or use the beautiful foggy cemetery by Dan Antion below.
To begin this mini-series, I will select the sense of — hearing.
Part 1 — Hearing
All the senses can work together. Descriptions of sounds can help readers see your story. For example, here’s a snippet from Atonement, Tennessee. I’ve shared it before. I told this from Ralda Lawton’s point of view. She was in a position where she could not see what was happening, but she could hear. This happens early in the novel, before Ralda knows about any of the “supernaturals” in the town. She’s just moved, and her cat gets outside. Of course she follows the calico — to the cemetery.
I was sheltered by a big clump of tall bushes of some sort. I thought they might be mountain laurel. I could see the broad side of the mausoleum from there. Shadows lurched violently against the stone crypt. Big shadows. Reflexively I drew back into the concealing vegetation causing it to rustle. Then I heard a loud avian-like screech and realized that the shadow shapes might have been wings. My heart hammered.
[image error]Foggy Cemetery, Dan Antion
The noise escalated. It definitely sounded like more than one creature was causing that ruckus. Then I heard the cat hiss.
I dropped the box of food I had brought to lure Lilith back, and ran toward the sounds; ready to use the flashlight as a club, and wishing I had something more effective.
“Lilith!” I called. Oh, let’s face it — I screamed!
As I ran out form the concealing mountain laurel a gust of wind buffeted me. I tripped and fell on the uneven pavers of the path, just as the wind blew my hair, along with some dirt, into my eyes. I couldn’t see at all for a moment, but I heard a lot of heavy rustling, scraping, shifting sounds.
Every time I thought I had half way cleared my eyes, the wind blew something into them again. I struggled to my feet, desperately wiping my stinging eyes. I heard soft footsteps coming toward me.
Your Turn!
Now it’s your turn. Focus on one of the images above. Really look at it. Imagine yourself inside that image. Look at the details of the subject and the background. Now, with only a few words, leave a comment and tell me what you hear.
What did you hear?
Open Invitation: Maybe a few words aren’t enough — and that’s great! If this inspired you to just write something or otherwise create anything according to the sense featured today, that’s even better! If you want, you can use the comments to leave a link to your story or blog post. Kindly link back to this post if you blog about what you wrote, cooked, painted, or photographed.
Your blog doesn’t have to be about writing. Think about how you can make “hearing” part of your photograph, painting, or meditation. Yes, meditation. Focus, one at a time, on each of the things you hear. Think about all the details of the sound and how it makes you feel. If that’s a bad feeling, move on to the next sound. I should probably make a distinction between “sound” and “noise” so that we keep this positive.
Hugs on the wing!
The Atonement, TN universe of urban fantasies
Atonement, Tennessee
Kindle: rxe.me/HGSVA8A
The Glowing Pigs, Snort Stories of Atonement, Tennessee
Atonement in Bloom
Kindle: rxe.me/5RRBLH
Paperback: relinks.me/1726882128
Copyright © 2012 through 2020 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene
All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless stated otherwise.
April 10, 2020
The Delta Pearl 30 — Observe
Saturday, April 11, 2020
Welcome my chuckaboos. In the Victorian Era “chuckaboo” was the term for a dear friend, and that’s what all of you are to me. Because of you, I’m here with the steampunk riverboat, The Delta Pearl!
I was able to use two “random reader things” for this episode. First, from John W. Howell we have a petite poule dish.
The next thing prompted me to provide a link to a free book. Pat (e-Quips) mentioned David Copperfield, so here’s a link where you can get the book free, in a variety of formats, at Project Gutenberg.
This time we go back to Émeraude and Victor. Will a romance ever result? It’s hard to tell at this point, but we learn more about our young inventor.
All aboard!
The Delta Pearl
Chapter 30 — Observe
[image error]Composite Wikipedia & Pixabay images by Teagan
Candlelight played upon the facets of a crystal decanter, causing the carafe of chenin blanc to become luminous. Beside the decanter was a petite poule casserole dish. I recognized the chicken-shaped pottery ― it belonged to the Cook. Agate had her matchmaking hands in things again.
Dr. Victor T. Elam took a pocket watch from his vest and checked the time. However, I knew his date wasn’t late yet. By all appearances the young doctor was nervous. A small smile came to my lips.
I wasn’t eavesdropping on him. Actually, I was the one for whom he waited. Perhaps I picked up the habit from Amethyst, loved to spy on passengers. However, I was most emphatically not spying. Quite simply, it could be greatly beneficial to observe a person unawares. It often gave a measure of their character. I wanted to learn all I could about Victor Elam so that I could make sure what my heart wanted was in balance with what my head knew.
A filament of silver suspended what, at a glance, one would have thought was a large purple cabochon. The silvery strand swung and Amethyst, the clockwork spider, landed on my shoulder. She stretched toward my ear.
“War medal,” the spider whispered.
[image error]Victorian woman Eavesdropping, by Knut Ekwall-Frieriet, Wikipedia
“Amethyst, have you been prowling through Dr. Elam’s things?” I asked her, in a chiding tone.
My spider was unrepentant. She straightened her legs then bent them again to make a bobbing motion. That answered as an excited yes.
“Why would Victor have such a medal? He is too young to have fought in the war,” I speculated aloud, not expecting any reply from my clockwork pet.
“Automaton,” she whispered, as if that explained anything or even went with the same topic.
“Do you mean there is a connection? He showed me the drawings, the plans for his automaton. I’m not sure what you mean, dear heart.”
Amethyst straightened then bent the legs on her left side, then did the same on her right side. It caused a waggling motion. That was a no. Moreover, it was a negative reply that also meant she was frustrated by her limited ability to speak.
The clockwork spider put the tiny hooks at the ends of her little legs into the fabric of my gown. I knew she planned to hang on tightly because she had been listening from one of her many hiding places when the doctor asked me to join him for dinner. I expected that I would have to tear the gown to get her to let go of it. So, I let her stay.
“You behave,” I whispered to Amethyst as I moved toward Dr. Victor T. Elam.
He rose politely at my approach ― and nearly pulled the white cloth from the table when he stood. Amethyst chirped a trio of high-pitched clicks, which was her way of laughing. I tried to shush the spider without Victor noticing. Fortunately, he was preoccupied with preventing the crystal wine goblets from overturning. I sat down graciously as though nothing had happened — with the tablecloth or the clockwork spider.
[image error]The Fan, James Tissot, 1875 Wikipedia
Yes, it was silly of me, but I found his awkwardness quite endearing. In my life I had seen so much pretense. The riverboat seemed to host an endless stream of self-important people, most of whom had no right whatsoever to think so highly of themselves.
Then here was this unassuming young man whose brilliance outshone the best of them. Yet his intelligence was equaled by his kindness and humility. I shook my head in amazement.
In some ways he reminded me of the David Copperfield character created by Charles Dickens, a difficult childhood, yet trusting and kind. However, my thoughts rolled like the river. Was Victor also capable of the moments of cruelty the Dickens character displayed?
Maybe Copperfield had justifiable reasons for his meanness. After he grew up, he showed such tenderness for the Agnes character later in the book. I wondered whether Victor might be like the younger Copperfield, or the older.
Émeraude, you’re being even sillier than Coral. He’s a real person ― and one you barely know, not a character in a book. Get ahold of yourself,” I silently chided myself. Now if I can only manage to get him to relax, I might have a better idea of what to think about him.
[image error]Also at Amazon (click)
Words from the Dealer, when I first came aboard the Delta Pearl, came back to me. He said the quickest way to put most people at ease was to get them to talk about themselves. So, I did precisely that with my genius inventor.
Amethyst gave a little prick to my shoulder with her hooked foot. I knew she wanted to know about the medal she found among Victor’s things. Since the doctor was too young to have been in that horrid war, I asked a general question about his father.
“Your engineering drawings truly did amaze me, Doctor Elam. Do you come from a long line of inventors? Your father perhaps?”
The instant the word “father” left my lips, I felt I had stuck my foot in my big bazoo. Victor’s parents had been lost at sea. Worse, the tragedy was not so many years before.
“Please, Miss Émeraude, it would make me happy if you called me Victor,” he reminded me of his prior request, so I nodded with a smile. “I remember a toy my father made for me when I was a boy, but he was more of a tinkerer than an inventor. Of course, he was busy making a living — until the war, that is. Like so many men of that generation, he was conscripted. Then he took a Minié ball that left him paralyzed.”
The Minié ball didn’t simply pierce internal organs and tissue — it shredded them. The little lead balls did not merely break bones — bones were shattered. When a Minié ball had enough force to slice completely through a soldier’s body, it ripped out an exit wound several times the size of the entrance wound. Surgeons had been overwhelmed by the traumatic wounds, by the mangled and mutilated bodies they had to repair. Yet casualties only mounted faster and faster.
I murmured my apologies. I felt terrible for having manipulated the conversation to such a painful subject. Victor gave me a sad smile, but continued without prompting.
“He inspired my inventions,” Victor continued. “When I was still too young for the law to call me a man, I made my first automaton. It was meant to assist my crippled father.”
“He must have been very proud of you,” I commented.
Victor nodded but his mouth turned to a wry expression.
[image error]The Battle of Smolensk by Jean-Charles Langlois 1839 Wikipedia
“The local newspaper published a story about it. Then a man from some obscure government agency came asking a lot of questions,” Victor began and his eyes took on a faraway expression.
“The man wanted to know if I would like to visit the capital city with him. This upset my father greatly. I’d never seen him so angry. He made comments and threats that I didn’t understand at all. In hindsight I think he believed the government would Shanghai me in much the same way that he was conscripted for the war. Of course, as an adult I now realize there were other undercurrents in that conversation, not to mention more discussions to which I was not privy,” Victor described the scene in tense tones.
“So, you think the man from the government had some malicious intent?” I confirmed as my eyes widened. “He meant to kidnap you! Put you to work for him, inventing more automatons?”
Victor nodded and his expression became even more sardonic.
“So it would seem. At any rate when the man left town, my automaton and all my drawings and notes mysteriously disappeared,” he explained and I gasped.
“Worse, my father forbade me to make another. I suppose he was protecting me in the only way he could. But I was young and he didn’t explain his purpose. Plus, his health began to spiral around that time, and with it his disposition. It seemed that he was always in an ill temper. At any rate, his ban on my inventions caused a rift between us that never completely healed. We made amends somewhat before he and my mother were both lost, but the damage was done.”
Of course, by that point I was utterly mortified that I had brought up such an excruciating part of his life. I supposed it also explained his awkwardness.
“Do you get leave from your duties when this lovely vessel stops at port?” he asked abruptly.
I blushed, thankful that he changed the subject. While I hoped for some kind of invitation from the inventor, I had plans for the next port of call. I explained my intentions for my shore leave.
“There is a library as well as a number of antique shops near the river in Cairo, Illinois. I don’t suppose you’ve noticed it, but there is a certain very old portrait here that I want to try and research. Also, I want to try and learn more about my cameo. I bought it in Cairo. Louisiana some years ago,” I said, unconsciously putting my hand to the necklace.
“Ha! That explains the unexpected combination of library and antique shops,” he replied. “I’m afraid I haven’t noticed any portrait, but that kind of painting doesn’t tend to attract my attention. I take it this one is special.”
“I don’t know that it’s particularly special, but I’ve been intrigued by the painting for as long as I’ve been with the Delta Pearl. It is, however, extraordinarily detailed, both in the person and the background,” I told him.
I did not mention the strange movements I had witnessed on the canvas. It also seemed like a bad idea to tell him about the fact that once I thought the woman in the portrait seemed to breathe. Nor did I mention the tiny figure in the background that jumped off a cliff…
***
End Chapter 30
***
Life seems to be getting complicated for Émeraude… Feel free to leave a random Steam Era thing to fuel this riverboat. Or just leave a comment to say hello, before you leave. Be well, be happy, my chuckaboos.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 and 2020 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene
All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.
April 7, 2020
Wednesday — Draw a Bird Day
Wednesday, April 8, 2020
I got such a kick out of the concept the first time I heard of “Draw a Bird Day.” I found the whimsy irresistible. Jinx of Brother Love — a Crossroad would approve. You can read the sweetly sentimental story behind the day by clicking Draw a Bird Day.
The website says “You can also celebrate Draw A Bird Day by drawing a picture of a bird. The picture shouldn’t be professional, especially, if you’re not so talented. Share this picture with anyone, who is important to you.”
All of you are important to me, so I’m sharing my silly bird. My skills as an artist are less than mediocre, but I participate just to enjoy the flight of fancy. I didn’t try to draw Jinx from Brother Love or Cracker the parrot from Murder at the Bijou. I couldn’t have done either of them justice. Instead, here’s my quick sketch drawn with markers, of a funky flamingo.
[image error]Draw a Bird Day 2020, my flamingo
I invite everyone to come out to play and post your drawing on Facebook or in a blog post. Just be sure to tag me so that I don’t miss it.
Purely by coincidence, Kirt Tisdale recently did a post of an Inspirational Flamingo Family. Click over and check out his lovely work.
I’ll see you at the river again next Saturday, for another chapter of The Delta Pearl! Hugs on the wing.
***
[image error]Jinx on rotary phone next to “Brother Love – a Crossroad” on my Kindle.
Kindle: relinks.me/B07V25SXFR
Paperback: relinks.me/107952309X
This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene
All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.
April 3, 2020
The Delta Pearl 29 — Search
Saturday, April 4, 2020
[image error]Yvonne et Christine Lerolle au piano Pierre Auguste Renoir 1897 Wikipedia
Welcome back, my chuckaboos. I’m here with the steampunk riverboat, The Delta Pearl! This chapter is short, but it’s completely new — it was not part of the original version.
Even though it’s brief, I managed to use one “random reader thing.” Deborah Zajac gave us Renoir. It just happens to show a lady with a pair of long gloves, that G. P. Cox mentioned, but I’ll save those as a “thing” for later. (Winks)
Shall we?
All aboard!
The Delta Pearl
Chapter 29 — Search
[image error]Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Dance in the City, 1883 Wikipedia
Porters and maids secretly searched every cabin on the Delta Pearl. Deck hands riffled through each article of stowed baggage or cargo. The crates included a valuable Renoir painting, which Randal Needleman was transporting.
Yet the Pharaoh Diamond was not found.
I had been worried about the reaction Randle Needleman might have when we weren’t able to find the diamond. I expected the big bug to be furious. However, rather than threatening to give someone an anointing, he had a gleam in his eyes.
The Captain Cecil pointed out that the diamond could have been switched with the fake stone before the Needlemans came onboard. The wealthy couple reluctantly agreed that was possible.
“I’m a reasonable man, Captain,” Needleman began. “I’ll call it even if you give me this riverboat, even though I’d be taking a huge loss.”
My mouth dropped open in shock. Eliza had suggested that her husband wanted to buy the Delta Pearl, but I couldn’t believe he would actually try. Especially not in a way that seemed underhanded.
“The Captain made Needleman sign a waiver,” the Chief Porter whispered in my ear. “Cecil Perlog always thinks ahead.”
[image error]Alfred Sisley and Wife, Pierre Auguste Renoir 1868 Wikipedia
The existence of a legal document was not reassuring to me. Though he was a huge, platinum haired bear of a man, I knew Cecil Perlog had a soft heart. Randal Needleman was polite and refined, but I had never trusted the man. I was worried he might be able to use guilt to take the riverboat.
“I’m sure there was a great sentimental attachment to the gem,” the Captain started in a soft tone that made me afraid I was right. “But at least your insurance policy with Lloyds of London covers twice the value of the diamond.”
The Captain followed the statement with a loud snort.
Needleman shrugged and spread his hands. Then he grinned.
“You can’t blame a man for trying,” he said.
Despite his glib words, Randal Needleman looked positively crestfallen. He had lost any leverage he might have had to manipulate the Captain into giving up the Delta Pearl.
***
End Chapter 29
***
Feel free to leave a random Steam Era thing to fuel this riverboat. I’m running low and it helps to have several on hand. Or just leave a comment to say hello, before you leave. Be well, be happy, my chuckaboos.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 and 2020 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene
All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.
Review of A Ghost In The Kitchen, Three Ingredients – 2, by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene — Mark Bierman
April 3, 2020
You know it’s unusual for me to do more than two posts in a week. However, when I learned the amazing Mark Bierman had posted a review for A Ghost in the Kitchen – Three Ingredients II, I had to share. I think Granny Phanny just did a back-flip. I hope you’ll visit Mark to check out his review.
You’re the cat’s pajamas!
[image error]A Ghost in the Kitchen — Three Ingredients 2. Image by Teagan R. Geneviene
The Blurb: A Ghost in the Kitchen, Three Ingredients-2 continues the flapper adventures of Paisley Idelle Peabody, aka Pip. It’s a 1920s “pantser” story and a culinary mystery. This time Pip’s pal Andy (from The Three Things Serial Story) returns. Granny Phanny is there too. She’s still trying to teach Pip to cook. […]
via Review of A Ghost In The Kitchen, Three Ingredients – 2, by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene — Mark Bierman
March 31, 2020
Wednesday Writing — Characters & Social Isolation
Wednesday, April 1, 2020
Antranias at PixabyHappy hump day, everyone! In keeping with the current, surreal version of “normal,” I wondered what my characters might think about social isolation. I’ve had a lot of characters. The one who “spoke” loudest about the topic is Birdie Devovo, heroine of Brother Love — a Crossroad.
You see, Birdie experienced more than her share of social isolation. However, for her, it wasn’t voluntary — she is a social outcast, shunned by all the various groups within her community. Thank goodness she has Jinx.
Birdie Devovo is not a kid, but she is young and healthy. She had to become self sufficient at a younger age than most people. Since her neighbors didn’t want anything to do with her in the first place, she might wonder what all the fuss is about. At the same time, she would be worried about a little girl she had met — Tammy, who is a “free bleeder,” a hemophiliac.
Dan Antion collaborated with me on that story. He provided photos to inspire me and illustrate the posts for the blog serial version. Brother Love — a Crossroad was written in my “three things” style of story-telling, and Dan also provided many of the random things that fueled each chapter.
Since Birdie popped into my head this morning, I’m going to share the prologue and first chapter. Many of you are already familiar with the story, and I’m sorry to give you a repeat. Anyhow, here it is…
Brother Love 1
Prologue — A Sinnerman
[image error]Foggy Cemetery, Dan Antion
On a moonlit night, a dark figure sat on the corpse of a fallen tree. He touched the narrow brim of his Trilby style hat, pushing it back from his brow. Patiently he tuned a guitar. Long fingers deftly twisted the tuning knobs. Wooden pegs would have been typical. These were made of ivory.
No, they’re not just ivory, they’re made of bones, Jinx silently reminded himself. I wonder if they came from one of the old graves here?
Any grave stones were long gone, if there ever were any in the first place. Only the town’s oldest residents knew the clearing near the crossroads had been a graveyard. Even they wouldn’t have been able to say whether it was a potter’s field or an old Choctaw burial ground.
[image error]African Methodist Episcopal Cemetery, by Dan Antion
With head tilted, Jinx waited eagerly for the music he hoped to hear. For a moment he thought he should give some encouragement, ask for a song. Yet discretion seemed the better course. Jinx remained quietly hidden in shadow.
Those graceful long fingers caressed the guitar’s neck, and then tested the sound at each fret, every chord. Casually a thumb strummed across the strings.
Excited, Jinx leaned forward toward the vibration of the music that emanated from the guitar’s sound hole.
Jinx had positioned his hiding place so he could also see the crossroads. Yet he didn’t notice the approach of the powerfully built man. Jinx was too intent in his anticipation of the music. His heart skipped a beat with surprise, but he didn’t move a muscle.
Foolish! Jinx mentally chided himself. This is no place to let your guard down.
He watched the approach of the big man in fascination. Sweat soaked the armpits of the white shirt. The heat and humidity of an August night in Mississippi didn’t bother Jinx, but Doug Armstrong had never gotten used to the climate.
[image error]Photo by Dan Antion
Long strides slowed as Doug approached the figure who sat in a relaxed pose on the fallen tree. Though his manner was reluctant, it seemed clear that the encounter was not by chance. Even so, Doug stopped well out of arm’s reach.
Doug Armstrong mutely watched the man as he finished tuning the guitar. The sweat of the big man’s brow glittered in the moonlight.
Jinx thought Doug perspired more than most men. Although he had good reason to be in a nervous sweat. That place, the crossroads, the dark figure ― Doug would have been stupid to relax.
Abruptly, those dark, graceful fingers stopped strumming the guitar. He held it out to Doug, offering the instrument. Armstrong took a step backward. His arms remained stiffly at his sides.
The other gave him a kind smile. He chuckled softly. Then mischief glinted in his coal black eyes and he played the guitar and sang.
With the first words of the song, Doug’s face blanched. He turned to walk away. He moved faster and faster until he ran through the night, away from the crossroads.
[image error]Simone at Pixaby
“What about you, magpie?” the musician called up toward the trees. “Care to come down here and sing with me?”
The figure went back to the song that seemed to frighten Doug Armstrong away.
“Oh, sinnerman, where you gonna run to? Sinnerman where you gonna run to? All on that day!” he sang and played.
Jinx burst from his hiding place and flew home as fast as his wings would carry him.
https://teagansbooks.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/sinnerman-and-jinx-2.m4a
***
1 — A House
Baseball, Excited, and Pickles
[image error]Antranias at Pixaby
In the summer, leaves hung down so far, they almost reached the sweet-smelling grass on the ground. Moths clung to the screen, attracted to the kitchen light.
Earlier that day, sitting in my little house at the crossroads, I listened to the sharp crack of a bat hitting a baseball from the ballgame that had started up in the field next to the African Methodist Episcopal Church. People cheered their teams and made happy sounds.
From the other side of the tracks, I heard the bell of the First Methodist Church up in the town. When the breeze was right, I could hear the Wurlitzer organ as the choir practiced. Folks were excited about that organ. I preferred the sound of their old piano.
The two churches were on either side of the town. The crossroads lay between the two. Nobody from either of them ever came to the house at the crossroads. Neither group wanted anything to do with Birdie Devovo. By the way, that would be me.
[image error]Church reflected in the river, by Dan Antion
When the sun finally hid behind the horizon, the heat remained. I fanned myself futilely with a mimeographed flyer. It did nothing to alleviate the heat of the night, and the cloying odor of the ink turned my stomach.
I stared at the wet circles on the Formica tabletop as the ice melted in my glass of sweet tea. Absently I wondered if some pickle juice would remove the rings.
At last a breeze! I thought with a sigh.
It rustled the pages of the Pan Am calendar hanging on the wall. August exclaimed “Back to Hawaii!” and boasted a man and woman disembarking a plane while greeted by hula dancers and musicians. That scene was too far-fetched for my imagination.
I liked July better. It showed a couple, suitcases in hand, laughing and walking fast. Yes, I liked that one best. They could be anyone, going anywhere… maybe the girl could even me.
[image error]Pan Am ad 1960s
The mimeographed flyer floated on the breeze from the table down to the cracked and faded linoleum floor.
For the umpteenth time I wondered who came all the way to the outside of town to leave it, but I was glad I missed them. They left the ad on the front door. Brother Love’s Traveling Salvation Show, it read.
Thunder rumbled faintly, very far away. Maybe there would be rain.
Or maybe not, I thought as I put the damp glass to my forehead.
It had been hot and humid for so long that the heavenly rumble seemed like an empty threat.
I crawled half-under the table to pick up the flyer. The kitchen light flickered and popped, causing me to bump my head. Then all the lights went out.
The screen door creaked open. Normally it would bang shut, but it closed softly.
At the sound of footsteps, I scrunched the rest of the way under the table.
***
Well, of course I had to leave you hanging — that’s what I do. (winks) If you missed the serial, you can get the Kindle version for 99 cents.
You can find more information about all of my books, including Brother Love — a Crossroad at my Author Page. Or click the “About Teagan’s Books” link just under the steampunk banner at the top of the page.
I’ll meet you at the river again next Saturday, for another chapter of The Delta Pearl! Hugs on the wing.
***
[image error]Crystal with Brother Love – a Crossroad
Kindle: relinks.me/B07V25SXFR
Paperback: relinks.me/107952309X
This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 & 2019 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene
All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.
March 27, 2020
The Delta Pearl 28 — Shatter
Saturday, March 28, 2020
[image error]Photo by Dan Antion
Welcome one and all, to the steampunk riverboat, The Delta Pearl! It’s wonderful to see you, my chuckaboos. Thanks to Dan Antion at No Facilities, for letting me use some of his photos in this series.
In this chapter of my serialized re-write of the novel, I’ve added two “random reader things.” Valentina Criasola gave us cul de crin. She also has a post about the item at her blog. Sometimes I enjoy a comment so much that I use it as a thing. That happened with Mary J Melange and What?
Are you ready to get back on the riverboat?
All aboard!
Last time
“Amethyst, you don’t mean Eliza Needleman’s big yellow diamond has been stolen, do you? The Pharaoh Diamond?” I asked incredulous.
The mechanical spider bobbed her entire body up and down by straightening and then relaxing her legs. That was her equivalent of a nod. ..
The Delta Pearl
Chapter 28 — Shatter
[image error]Kellepics at Pixabay
My thoughts spun. The Needlemans probably didn’t realize anything was wrong, else there would have been a commotion.
How would I broach the subject of the Pharaoh Diamond to Mrs. Needleman? What could I possibly say? My pet clockwork spider told me your diamond had been stolen? Even if that didn’t sound ludicrous, the passengers weren’t supposed to know about the clockwork creatures.
By the time I got up the stairs to the first-class deck, I was panting. The Delta Pearl was a very large riverboat and when Amethyst came to me, I was as far away from the Needleman suite as I possibly could be. As I rounded the corner into the proper corridor, I glimpsed the back of Randal Needleman. He had the fuzzy little dog on a leash, taking it for a walk. He turned the corner at the far end of the hallway.
I held up my hand, intent on calling out to him, but I couldn’t gather enough breath to do more than groan. He was already out of earshot, particularly since I wasn’t able to yell loudly.
A moment later, I reached the wealthy couple’s suite. I tried to knock on the door without collapsing against it. Eliza Needleman answered it right away.
“My dear, why did you knock? What have you forgotten this time?” was her good-natured question as she opened the cabin door.
[image error]Morning dress from Ackermann’s Repository catalog 1820, Wikimedia Commons
It was obvious that I was not the person she expected to see. Her husband had left only minutes before.
Mrs. Needleman seemed relaxed and pleasant. She wore her dressing gown, during her preparations to get properly attired. That garment, to me, was as great a statement of wealth as her huge yellow diamond.
Her dressing gown was a breathtaking creation of lavender silk charmeuse and chiffon. It included one of the newly fashionable cul de crin, bustles ― a shaped, padded cushion rather than a hard frame. The elaborate housecoat boasted yards and yards of handmade lace. A broad satin ribbon tied it together in front at her waist. Why it even had a train! I’d never considered a dressing gown having a train.
I still didn’t know how to ask about the diamond. She wasn’t wearing the priceless gem, although she was not attired to go out anywhere.
“Émeraude,” she corrected herself with perfect poise. “This is a surprise. Won’t you come in?” Eliza Needleman offered with a wave for me to enter the cabin. “Is something wrong?” she asked, looking at me curiously as she closed the door.
A glance in the mirror that hung above the marble fireplace mantle showed me that it was easy for her to guess that I was not there on a social call. My face was flushed and my hair was in disarray from running the entire length of the riverboat, including several staircases.
As I entered the suite, the slim heels of my lace-up boots clicked on the broad area of marble tile that surrounded the hearth. However, they made not a sound on the plush carpet that covered the rest of the floor.
“There is a rumor,” between breaths I blurted out the half-truth, since I couldn’t tell her the information came from Amethyst. “They say your Pharaoh Diamond has been stolen.”
[image error]Bird on a Rock Tiffany Yellow Diamond Wikipedia
A shocked expression came to her face. Eliza Needleman put her hand near her collar bone where the diamond often rested.
“Surely that is impossible!” she exclaimed. “The diamond is safely in its jewel box. No one other than my husband and myself has been in our cabin. I’ve even seen the jewel after your maid came in to clean,” she added as she walked to a desk that had a locking drawer.
She inserted a key and brought out a box made of enamel and inlaid with mother of pearl. The top of the box bore a mosaic depicting a scene of Egypt. Despite her assurances that the diamond was still in her possession, she looked relieved when she opened the box.
Inside was a huge glittering yellow diamond. I tensed at the impossible sight. Amethyst was not able to lie.
Perhaps I misinterpreted what she meant, I thought. After all, she was quite excited.
“There,” Eliza said with a smile. “It is right where I put it last evening.”
The clockwork spider moved ever so slightly where she sat crouched on my shoulder. Foolish though I knew it to be, I tried to will Amethyst to be still. Whether the minute movement drew Eliza’s eye, or if it was her apparent distaste for what she previously assumed was a broach, I did not know.
One soft click was my only warning. Amethyst leapt from my shoulder and into the jewelry box. Eliza Needleman gasped and dropped the enameled box onto the desktop.
“What?” I muttered, surprised.
The clockwork spider held the diamond tightly. I had the fleeting thought that she looked almost possessive. Then Amethyst raised one spindly leg and hit the diamond hard with her tiny sharp foot.
“No!” I cried mortified. “I think she’s scratched it. I’m so sorry. Somehow I’ll make this right.”
“My dear, whatever is that thing?” Eliza asked calmly enough, though she looked stunned at the sight of the clockwork spider.
[image error]Steampunk Clockwork Spider Brass and Copper Wire Sculpture made by Daniel Proulx, Wikimedia
Then Amethyst, still clutching the big diamond, scampered across the desk and up the draperies. As she ran, the gold chain fell through the bail in the diamond’s setting and slithered to the floor.
From a silver filament Amethyst swung over to the tall marble fireplace mantle where she alighted with the diamond. She seemed to wait for me to make eye contact with her. Having achieved that, she began to tap the jewel forcefully against the marble mantle.
“Amethyst, stop!” I called.
I was answered with a series of clicks. It may be difficult to believe that clicking and whirring sounds can indicate a mood, but I recognized that my purple spider was quite annoyed.
“Amethyst, what has gotten into you?” I demanded as I took a step toward her.
The clockwork spider abruptly used another silvery strand and quickly shot up to the ceiling. She clicked and whirred again. Then to my astonishment, with all her strength she threw the Pharaoh Diamond at the marble hearth.
The gem shattered into a thousand pieces! I knelt amid the shards on the verge of tears, shaking my head.
“This is horrible. I’m so sorry!” I heard myself repeating.
Eliza knelt beside me mutely. After a second we turned to one another is astonishment. Amethyst scampered down from the ceiling and perched on my arm, bobbing her little body up and down ecstatically.
“It would take much more than that to break a diamond, wouldn’t it?” I commented as Eliza’s stunned gaze locked onto mine.
“Indeed, it would. It seems your rumor was correct,” Eliza said.
She walked over to pick up the gold chain that had fallen when Amethyst scampered up the drapes.
“That’s the same chain. There’s a tiny kink in it near the clasp,” she continued but shook her head. “Some sneaky, skilmalink fiend has managed to switch the diamond for an imitation! I can’t even be sure when it was done.”
Speculations ran riot through my mind. Did Amethyst take the diamond? She loved shinny things. Yet that would not explain the fake diamond. My spider was clever, but she could not create an imitation gemstone.
[image error]Allison Scagliotti as Émeraude. Composite of Pixabay & public domain images by Teagan
Perhaps someone had paid overt interest in the gem. Thinking that might give us a clue, I asked Mrs. Needleman. However, her response was the same thing I had noticed myself. Everyone looked at the diamond. It was rather difficult to avoid noticing it.
Since we didn’t know when the real diamond was taken, my first thought was the Harveys. Hyacinth Harvey was covetous and commented to me that it would be worth the entirety of her husband’s inheritance. Hershel Harvey bluntly asked for the stone, if only to play with it as a marble. Could one of the Harveys have stolen the diamond? I had a sinking feeling in my stomach, remembering that the Harveys had already been put off the ship and the Delta Pearl had left that port.
When the passengers first boarded, one porter and a deckhand both reacted strongly to the sight of it. I remembered their exchange on deck as they speculated about its worth.
I stepped into the corridor to flag down a passing porter. I asked him to have Garnet Redford, Chief Porter, come to the Needleman suite. I didn’t really suspect either of the young men, but it was important to make the Chief Porter aware of the situation. The porters and maids would be invaluable in a search if that was what the Captain required.
What about the other passengers? Of course, they were more likely suspects than any of the crew. Benjamin Dundas looked at the yellow diamond only briefly, but his gaze seemed covert. Even so, I believed he was more interested in Victor Elam than in the diamond. However, the reason for his interest in the inventor was a mystery.
It occurred to me that I hadn’t noticed Dundas with the other passengers lately. We would have to make sure he was still on the boat. He might well have sneaked ashore when the Harveys disembarked, possibly taking the Pharaoh Diamond with him.
I realized my thinking was biased, but I could not imagine Dr. Victor T. Elam stealing the diamond. Regardless, there was one thing that must be done first.
“Amethyst, my sweet, would you please fetch the Captain?” I asked, and the spider skittered away.
***
End Chapter 28
***
Yes, Amethyst is finally back! I wonder if she’s leading Émeraude to another red herring… I suppose we’ll know next time! Thanks for visiting. I hope you’ll leave a comment to say hello, before you leave, my chuckaboos.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 and 2020 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene
All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.
