MeiLin Miranda's Blog, page 69
February 22, 2010
Scryer's Gulch, Episode 13 is up!
Messages:
In related news, one of my readers got her paperback copy of episodes 1-10 and says: "You're right, it is handsome." Entertaining and beautiful, folks, just like every one of you. ;)
The wretched Rabbit woke up at dawn inside the wire cage, naked and shivering. "John?" he called weakly.
"Sheriff's asleepin," said Aloysius. "Hey! Runnels! Wake up! Yer brother's lost his fur!"
John scrambled up from his cot, instantly awake. "Sorry, Rab, sorry! I'm coming." He opened the latch on the cage and helped Rabbit to stand; he wrapped his brother in the still-warm blanket from the cot. "Are you all right?"
"Did I scratch or bite?" said Rabbit. "I'm so afraid I'm going to bite you some day, Johnny--if I ever brought this on you, I'd throw myself in the river!"
"Don't talk about that now," said John. "Are you hungry?"
"Starving!" said Rabbit, sucking on a tooth. "Dang it, I always get clover stuck between my teeth."
In related news, one of my readers got her paperback copy of episodes 1-10 and says: "You're right, it is handsome." Entertaining and beautiful, folks, just like every one of you. ;)
February 21, 2010
Still time to vote for me in the Rose & Bay's
This is the last week to vote in the Rose and Bay Fiction category. Right now, it looks like I'm tied for second with CE Murphy's "Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight" with 32 votes; in first is Cecilia Tan's "Daron's Guitar Chronicles" with 34 votes.
You do NOT have to have an LJ account to vote. Just leave your vote in the comments. Thank you!
You do NOT have to have an LJ account to vote. Just leave your vote in the comments. Thank you!
February 15, 2010
Episode 12, "Scryer's Gulch"
Creature of the Night, Pistol on the Right:
John rushed to his brother's side, whipping off the bandanna around his neck. To Annabelle's astonishment, he stuffed it in the deputy's mouth and guided the gagged and sobbing man gently to the floor. "It hurts, Miss Duniway, and he screams a lot," said John. "I'm here, Rab, I won't let go, I promise!"
"'M srry!" whimpered Rabbit around the bandanna.
"Not your fault!" said John.
"What's happening, Sheriff Runnels?" demanded Annabelle. "Should I be going for the doctor?"
"Don't open that door!" said John savagely. "I told you to go and now you can't, you have to stay here! If he gets out--"
February 11, 2010
Stories, a new serial--tons of news! *dusting and coughing*
Boy, I haven't been by here in way too long. TONS of content you've probably missed over at MeiLinMiranda.com--bonus stories in the History universe, and a brand new serial called Scryer's Gulch:
We're already up to episode 11! If you prefer reading all in one place rather than web page by web page, the first ten episodes are gathered into a chapbook available for $1 in Kindle format and soon to be an inexpensive paperback via CreateSpace.
In book news, I'm almost done with book one of the History. It's been a much more arduous process than I ever expected, and having my kitchen flood in August certainly didn't help!
I'm going to try to keep you better updated here. Thanks as always for reading.
Treasury Agent Annabelle Duniway and her cat, Misi, are on the trail of a brilliant, twisted spellcaster in a 19th century mining town full of demons, ghosts and werecritters in this weekly fantasy western series.
We're already up to episode 11! If you prefer reading all in one place rather than web page by web page, the first ten episodes are gathered into a chapbook available for $1 in Kindle format and soon to be an inexpensive paperback via CreateSpace.
In book news, I'm almost done with book one of the History. It's been a much more arduous process than I ever expected, and having my kitchen flood in August certainly didn't help!
I'm going to try to keep you better updated here. Thanks as always for reading.
August 8, 2009
The Ferret's points story is live: Three Princesses: Finnia, part one
On the day she was caught, all but one of the band had gone early into town to trade and entertain, all crowded onto three caravans. One man was left to mind the fire and the remaining horses, the rusty-haired one named Connin. Finnia thought him quite the best-looking of the Traveler men, handsomer than the nobles at court who’d begun to make noises about marrying her. Odd, though, that he’d be the one left alone; Finnia knew he was the son of the Travelers’ leader--how strange, to be ruled by a woman!
When he seemed sure he was alone, Connin snagged a pottery jug cooling in the nearby creek; Finna had to crane to see what he was doing. To her surprise, he didn’t go back into the camp, but laid himself out in the clearing near her tree, lying in the dappled sun on a bed of grass with a cushion under his head. He took a swig from the small jug, let out a long, contented sigh, and then did the last thing she ever expected. He unfastened his leggings, and took out his cock.
She knew that’s what it was, because she had six brothers. When the younger ones had still been small, they had all played together naked in a dammed-up bit of the creek that ran closer to the Keep. She’d never seen a grown man’s before.
Once she got over her initial shock, she leaned forward, wondering what on earth he was about; as she watched, he pulled at it, again and again, until it stuck straight out. I had no idea they did that, she thought. She’d always wondered how it all went; her mother had told her somewhat how it went, and that she shouldn’t have anything to do with it until she was married or else she wouldn’t pass her Sister’s Temple examination, and that when the time came she wouldn’t find it unpleasant, and that in the end she’d have a baby from it. She reflected that her mother had twelve babies, so she must have liked it at least that much.
Connin gave it a long, easy stroke, playing with the loose skin around its tip, and groaned--almost a growl. The tip was quite red. “You’d have an easier time looking at it, Princess, if you’d just come down from that tree,” he said. “I’ll let you look your fill. You can even touch it if you’d like.”
Keep reading -->
When he seemed sure he was alone, Connin snagged a pottery jug cooling in the nearby creek; Finna had to crane to see what he was doing. To her surprise, he didn’t go back into the camp, but laid himself out in the clearing near her tree, lying in the dappled sun on a bed of grass with a cushion under his head. He took a swig from the small jug, let out a long, contented sigh, and then did the last thing she ever expected. He unfastened his leggings, and took out his cock.
She knew that’s what it was, because she had six brothers. When the younger ones had still been small, they had all played together naked in a dammed-up bit of the creek that ran closer to the Keep. She’d never seen a grown man’s before.
Once she got over her initial shock, she leaned forward, wondering what on earth he was about; as she watched, he pulled at it, again and again, until it stuck straight out. I had no idea they did that, she thought. She’d always wondered how it all went; her mother had told her somewhat how it went, and that she shouldn’t have anything to do with it until she was married or else she wouldn’t pass her Sister’s Temple examination, and that when the time came she wouldn’t find it unpleasant, and that in the end she’d have a baby from it. She reflected that her mother had twelve babies, so she must have liked it at least that much.
Connin gave it a long, easy stroke, playing with the loose skin around its tip, and groaned--almost a growl. The tip was quite red. “You’d have an easier time looking at it, Princess, if you’d just come down from that tree,” he said. “I’ll let you look your fill. You can even touch it if you’d like.”
Keep reading -->
June 30, 2009
Willow's Points Story Is Live: Two Brothers
Willow’s story: I've been wondering about Brinnid a lot and his formative years. I would like a story from his childhood, preferably an interaction with his mother. This is what came out. I know it's short and raises more questions than it answers, but this is the best ending for it for now.
Cordeneen, Sairland, 968 KY
Keep reading -->
Cordeneen, Sairland, 968 KY
“I told you to stay away from the old cistern!” said Queen Arricta. She scrubbed algae from her young son’s ears, harder than she needed to.
“I’m sorry, Mama!” wailed Brinnid.
“You know no one goes down there! You could have drowned! If your brother hadn’t been with you, you would have! And you!” she said, turning on Bannig. “You’re the elder, you should know better!”
“I didn’t fall in,” grumbled Bannig.
Keep reading -->
June 27, 2009
Katie's Points Story Is Live
A Settling of Accounts:
Mistress Polls slept lightly; there were always threats to guard against--for instance, the Strange Gentleman who’d appeared from nowhere, lit her study on fire, and stolen the Obby children. That handsome Traveler, Mr Connin, warned her against the Gentleman’s return. On his last visit, Mr Connin came with a handful of golds and an apology for his behavior of the spoke previous. “I’d hate for you to harbor ill will toward me but really, Mistress Maleen, I did nothing more than pinch a few bottoms and steal a few kisses.”
“Pinches or kisses or fucking, Mr Connin, they’re stolen unless they’re paid for. Dashing into my house and rummaging through it is most unappreciated. But since you’ve made good with me,” she smiled, putting the coins in her pocket, “I forgive you. There have been Connins patronizing this House since its founding, and I should hate for our families to part on such bad terms.”
“Indeed, my father and my grandfather always spoke of how much they appreciated your hospitality, especially toward Travelers,” he grinned.
“I shall speak frankly, dear Mr Connin. Gold always buys hospitality, for Duke or Traveler--and at a Temple as much as a brothel,” said Maleen, patting the sofa beside her.
Mr Connin shook his head. “I fear I cannot stay. I came only to seek your forgiveness, and warn you. You face a serious foe.”
“Really,” laughed Maleen. “And who would that be?”
“Were you not visited not long after my little indiscretion by a certain person dressed in black?”
“The child-lover?” said Maleen. “How did you know about him?”
“Ah, Travelers learn many things in our wanderings. Watch out for the--the ‘child-lover,’ as you say, but I can say with fair certainty that’s not why the twins were taken. You will be visited again, and this time with violence.”
Mistress Polls slept lightly; there were always threats to guard against--for instance, the Strange Gentleman who’d appeared from nowhere, lit her study on fire, and stolen the Obby children. That handsome Traveler, Mr Connin, warned her against the Gentleman’s return. On his last visit, Mr Connin came with a handful of golds and an apology for his behavior of the spoke previous. “I’d hate for you to harbor ill will toward me but really, Mistress Maleen, I did nothing more than pinch a few bottoms and steal a few kisses.”
“Pinches or kisses or fucking, Mr Connin, they’re stolen unless they’re paid for. Dashing into my house and rummaging through it is most unappreciated. But since you’ve made good with me,” she smiled, putting the coins in her pocket, “I forgive you. There have been Connins patronizing this House since its founding, and I should hate for our families to part on such bad terms.”
“Indeed, my father and my grandfather always spoke of how much they appreciated your hospitality, especially toward Travelers,” he grinned.
“I shall speak frankly, dear Mr Connin. Gold always buys hospitality, for Duke or Traveler--and at a Temple as much as a brothel,” said Maleen, patting the sofa beside her.
Mr Connin shook his head. “I fear I cannot stay. I came only to seek your forgiveness, and warn you. You face a serious foe.”
“Really,” laughed Maleen. “And who would that be?”
“Were you not visited not long after my little indiscretion by a certain person dressed in black?”
“The child-lover?” said Maleen. “How did you know about him?”
“Ah, Travelers learn many things in our wanderings. Watch out for the--the ‘child-lover,’ as you say, but I can say with fair certainty that’s not why the twins were taken. You will be visited again, and this time with violence.”
June 25, 2009
Northwoodsman/Davik's points story is live
[Note: I'm on hiatus, but I'll be continuing to post points stories on Tuesdays, with another points story on Saturday if the goal is met. Thursdays are devoted to a re-print of my waaay old Dr Who fanfic, "Valiant." Why not. Who's it gonna hurt.]
The Cavalry's Pride:
Patrin’s batman came in with hot water for them both. Washed and dressed, Patrin shaved the gold stubble off his chin as Jenks blew on his first cup of coffee. “I’ll never understand why you keep clean-shaven,” said Jenks. “It’s a chore.”
Patrin paused, straight razor in hand. “I find it a good example for the rank-and-file. It shows I take care of myself every day, as they must if they are to be of use to the King’s Army.”
“You talk about them as if they’d never washed a day in their lives.”
“Have you seen some of the pikesmen?” said Patrin.
“Point taken.”
“It’s also for the cavalry’s pride, you know,” said Patrin, folding his razor. “And the cavalry’s pride--”
“--is the pride of the nation,” Jenks finished with him. He frowned at his cup and added a second spoonful of sugar. “Yes. The pride of the nation is very important to me.”
Patrin sat down. “Jenks, I know this has not been an easy transition for you. I wish with all my heart it hadn’t happened like this.”
Jenks shook his head. “It was bound to. I looked far, far above my station.” He grimaced. “Forgive me for speaking so plainly.”
The Cavalry's Pride:
Patrin’s batman came in with hot water for them both. Washed and dressed, Patrin shaved the gold stubble off his chin as Jenks blew on his first cup of coffee. “I’ll never understand why you keep clean-shaven,” said Jenks. “It’s a chore.”
Patrin paused, straight razor in hand. “I find it a good example for the rank-and-file. It shows I take care of myself every day, as they must if they are to be of use to the King’s Army.”
“You talk about them as if they’d never washed a day in their lives.”
“Have you seen some of the pikesmen?” said Patrin.
“Point taken.”
“It’s also for the cavalry’s pride, you know,” said Patrin, folding his razor. “And the cavalry’s pride--”
“--is the pride of the nation,” Jenks finished with him. He frowned at his cup and added a second spoonful of sugar. “Yes. The pride of the nation is very important to me.”
Patrin sat down. “Jenks, I know this has not been an easy transition for you. I wish with all my heart it hadn’t happened like this.”
Jenks shook his head. “It was bound to. I looked far, far above my station.” He grimaced. “Forgive me for speaking so plainly.”
June 21, 2009
Chapter 37 book 3 is live--and book 3 is finished!
What It Means to Be King:
He called for Jenks, to no reply; it was late, and he’d probably gotten sick of waiting, thought Temmin. The windows were open. The music had begun again, no longer merry but slow and wistful--the last dance. The faint tune blended with the song of the crickets as it flickered in and out of hearing.
Temmin stretched. He took off his coat and laid it over the back of the green velvet couch. Tomorrow was an official day off from his work at the Temple, but he hadn’t been back since Nerr’s Day. His accepted excuse was the Queen’s illness. But in truth, he couldn’t face his duties, or Issak. Issak is not Nerr, he reminded himself; even at a distance it was easy to see when Issak was himself or when the God had taken him. Even so. He unbuttoned his waistcoat, pulled his shirttails out, and shambled into his oddly dark bedchamber.
He caught a toe on a chair leg, and cursed as he stumbled. The lamps were irritatingly low; how could anyone see anything, let alone the furniture? He turned up the lamp on the console table. Off came his pocket watch and waistcoat. His cufflinks were following when a soft sigh from his bed startled him. The bed’s curtains were drawn, another oddity that raised the hair on his forearms. This is ridiculous, why am I afraid of my own bed? He stepped up and gingerly pushed a curtain aside.
On his bed lay a faint, slight figure, sound asleep.
He called for Jenks, to no reply; it was late, and he’d probably gotten sick of waiting, thought Temmin. The windows were open. The music had begun again, no longer merry but slow and wistful--the last dance. The faint tune blended with the song of the crickets as it flickered in and out of hearing.
Temmin stretched. He took off his coat and laid it over the back of the green velvet couch. Tomorrow was an official day off from his work at the Temple, but he hadn’t been back since Nerr’s Day. His accepted excuse was the Queen’s illness. But in truth, he couldn’t face his duties, or Issak. Issak is not Nerr, he reminded himself; even at a distance it was easy to see when Issak was himself or when the God had taken him. Even so. He unbuttoned his waistcoat, pulled his shirttails out, and shambled into his oddly dark bedchamber.
He caught a toe on a chair leg, and cursed as he stumbled. The lamps were irritatingly low; how could anyone see anything, let alone the furniture? He turned up the lamp on the console table. Off came his pocket watch and waistcoat. His cufflinks were following when a soft sigh from his bed startled him. The bed’s curtains were drawn, another oddity that raised the hair on his forearms. This is ridiculous, why am I afraid of my own bed? He stepped up and gingerly pushed a curtain aside.
On his bed lay a faint, slight figure, sound asleep.
June 16, 2009
Chapter 36 book 3 is live
[And so are chapters 33-35. Got sidetracked and forgot to post the excerpts here!--MLM:]
Wedding Rings for a Wedding Night :
He looked up at the freshly-tonsured Father behind the lectern, calmly paging through the Law. Was he old enough to be a Father? What if they found out years later they weren’t really married? What then! He wouldn’t have that shame on Arta for the world.
Worry got the better of him. “Excuse me,” said Fen, “how long have you been a Father?”
“I beg your pardon?” said the Father--down his nose, Fen thought. Then again, the Father was quite tall.
“You’re not a Postulant still, is all I’m wondering.”
The Father raised his eyebrows. “And what makes you think the Temple of Pagg would send a Postulant to perform a wedding?”
“I don’t know!” said Fen. “You’re just a little--young.”
“I assure you I am a Father. I admit it’s recent, but I am a Father.”
“How many weddings have you performed, Father...?”
“Father Nino. Actually,” said the Father, “this is my first.”
Wonderful, thought Fen. “You do know the right words and everything, don’t you?”
“Strangely,” said Father Nino, “they’re written down in this enormous book in front of me. Are you having second thoughts about this?”
Wedding Rings for a Wedding Night :
He looked up at the freshly-tonsured Father behind the lectern, calmly paging through the Law. Was he old enough to be a Father? What if they found out years later they weren’t really married? What then! He wouldn’t have that shame on Arta for the world.
Worry got the better of him. “Excuse me,” said Fen, “how long have you been a Father?”
“I beg your pardon?” said the Father--down his nose, Fen thought. Then again, the Father was quite tall.
“You’re not a Postulant still, is all I’m wondering.”
The Father raised his eyebrows. “And what makes you think the Temple of Pagg would send a Postulant to perform a wedding?”
“I don’t know!” said Fen. “You’re just a little--young.”
“I assure you I am a Father. I admit it’s recent, but I am a Father.”
“How many weddings have you performed, Father...?”
“Father Nino. Actually,” said the Father, “this is my first.”
Wonderful, thought Fen. “You do know the right words and everything, don’t you?”
“Strangely,” said Father Nino, “they’re written down in this enormous book in front of me. Are you having second thoughts about this?”
