Jane Jago's Blog, page 471
September 16, 2017
The Thinking Quill
Dear Reader Who Writes,
One somehow cannot bring oneself to address you as ‘Dear RWW’. Mummy has always insisted that one should be punctiliously polite (a skill she herself was taught by the nuns at a frightfully expensive Swiss Finishing School). Thus such a contraction of the words feels too informal for a budding relationship, although please know that is how one thinks of you, one’s little chums, since we have become so much better acquainted. I shall, however, make free use of that redu...
September 15, 2017
Friday Friend from Raonal by K. Caffee
“Are you Raonal?”
I looked over my shoulder at a hulking brute leading a bevy of other brutes. “Who asks?”
“I am Immanhov, the estate’s sineigs. I am to escort you to your quarters, where you will have the peace required to finish your commission.”
I quirked an eyebrow at that statement. “I was unaware that boarding came with the bargain. I have already made arrangements for -“
“Tell me where, and arrangements will be made for your rent to be canceled and your coin returned.”
“Why would I...
A Bite of… K. Caffee
The short answer for “what is a pukah” is that they are mischievous little faerie cross breeds who enjoy inspiring others, bringing laughter, love, and humor into the lives of all who cross their paths. They also are wonderful little helpers, so long as you remember to tell them when to quit – otherwise, they don’t realize when enough is enough. The long answer can be found here.
As for how they affect my world?...
September 14, 2017
Coffee Break Read – Desert
“The hell is your problem?” A snarl leaves Jacob’s lips as he takes a sharp step forward. The searing heat of the day washes over him in waves. His shirt clings to his sweat-soaked skin. It begins to dry almost immediately and the man flexes his hands, feeling his palms both cracked and slick all at once.
The other man does not back down, however. He merely raises his head, pale grey eyes narrowed in protest. He refuses to speak, though, intent on keeping his eyes locked on the other m...
September 13, 2017
Wednesday Writer – The Seeds of Dissolution by William C Tracy
In the Dissolutionverse, maji can alter the Symphony of the universe with their notes to create physical changes. Only rarely do they fight this way…
Rilan plunged her fist down, but it hit nothing. She blinked, realizing she was tumbling to the ground. Her notes came back with a snap that almost made her eyes cross. The edge of a dark cloak brushed past her vision.
She rolled, coming up on her heels, hands out. Vethis was on the ground, cradli...
A Bite of… William C Tracy
Q1: The world is about to end but you can be sent back in time to live out your life in any era before the 20th Century. When and why?
Hard question. My first choice would be somewhere I didn’t get killed too quickly! But pre-20th century, your chances were pretty bad wherever you were, dying from disease, infection, or war. That said, I’d love to meet the great minds of the Renaissance, when a person could actually know everything there was to know about a subject of study. One of my “have...
September 12, 2017
Coffee Break Read – The Letter Bomb
Friday morning came rather too soon for me. Charlie went to work whistling his tuneless whistle, and I rather hoped for a quiet day. I went into work for an hour then sloped off home. Feeling a bit bruised and blue, I called Mum, who was only too easily persuaded into a girlie lunch and a spot of therapeutic shopping. Spending far too much money had its usual calming effect, and by the time we got back to my place, Mum was so flustered that I couldn’t help giggling.
“Look Mum” I said in my mo...
Game of Thrones
The King now old and paper thin
With marching wrinkles in his skin
Who on his deathbed silent lies
With failing breath and fading eyes
His son, the prince, is pink and smug
And quite as charming as a slug
Inside he smiles, but hides his eyes
While outwardly he cries and sighs
The tall princess in silence stands
And carefully regards her hands
The doctor looks and shakes his head
Then baldly states ‘the King is dead’
The prince looks up with gladsome face
At last he gets to rule the place
Hi...
September 11, 2017
Monday Meme – Time in a Bottle
Father brought Alib to the Temple, where the boy sat cross-legged on the floor and watched a procession of sweet-faced young nuns making their obeisance to the Idol. As each passed she dropped something into a huge glass jar.
Alib felt the torment of the girls as they dropped their offerings into the shining vessel. Each gift made a high, sweet note as it passed the neck of the glass.
He touched Father’s sleeve.
“What do they offer?”
“Time, my son, each offers a moment of her life.”
“And why...
