Icy Sedgwick's Blog, page 102

Friday Flash - A Christmas Ghost in the Old West

There can't be many things more welcoming than a roaring fire in the middle of winter. Snow lay heaped in piles outside, but we warmed ourselves in front of the small parlour's hearth. A grandfather clock in the corner ticked away the minutes, and dull chatter floated through from the main bar of the saloon next door.



"My momma always brought a fir tree into the house for Christmas," said Billy. His eyes shone with whisky's fire, and he smiled. "My daddy thought it was dumb but my momma insisted. Said if it was good enough for Queen Victoria, it was good enough for her."



"Mine too. Said that's what everyone did back in the old country," I replied. My mother was mighty keen on keeping that English tradition going, even in the middle of Arizona. I spent hours trekking through the woods up in the hills looking for the right tree.



"Christmas was the only time the whole family got together. Christmas, and funerals," said Billy. "My uncle used to get us round the fire, and tell ghost stories. Say, do you know any?"



"I'm not sure I do," I replied.



"You must know one! Come on, boss, it'd be just like my ol' family Christmas."



Billy stared at me with that wide-eyed smile of his, and what can I say? I couldn't refuse.



"I can't tell you stories, but I sure could tell you somethin' strange as happened to me one year."



"You seen a ghost?"



"I do believe I did. See, my grandma came over to America with my folks, and she always used to tell me stories. I never knew what was real and what she made up, but she always said the dead carry lanterns. Big ol' heavy lanterns, with a flickering green light inside, so they can light their way to the other side."



"That's creepy." Billy's smile faltered, and he swirled the dregs of his coffee around his mug.



"That's what she said. I never paid it no mind, she said all kinds of crazy things, y'know? Anyway. A few years back, I must've been about fifteen, I went up to the Apache lands to do some tradin' for the town. I did my business, and headed back to town just after it got dark."



I knocked back the last of my own coffee, feeling the warm gritty liquid slide down my throat. Billy stared at me, those whisky fire eyes eager for more of the story.



"I remember ridin' back, the snow reflectin' the moonlight so it was clear as day, when I saw someone by the side of the trail. When I got up close, it was a young woman, just standin' there in the snow. Pretty little gal, though not a real beauty like Peggy Marsden. The little lady was just a shade too pale, her big eyes dark in that white face of hers."



"What was she doin' out there?"



"I asked her. She didn't hear me at first, just looked at me like she'd never seen a man before. I asked her if she needed help, and eventually she said she was lost. She didn't know her name or where she lived, so I offered to take her into town. She wouldn't get on the horse, but just walked alongside, holdin' on to the bridle."



I shivered. I hadn't thought about this in thirteen years, and come to think of it, Billy was the first person I'd told.



"We got down the trail, right to where it forks in two, and she just stopped. One road went to town, the other led to the river. A few folks had farms along the river road, and when she pointed to the signpost, I figured maybe she belonged to one of them, and she'd realised where she was.



"It took me a couple of minutes to realise she was pointing at the bottom of the signpost. Somethin' lay in a heap, covered in snow. She kept starin' at me, and jabbin' her finger, so I got off the horse and looked. I think my heart stopped for a minute when I brushed the snow off a cold, dead face. The same face that belonged to the girl I found by the side of the trail."



Billy gasped. I nodded, staring into the fire. The warmth of those flames did nothing to banish the chill I felt just thinking about that poor little lady.



"I turned to look at her, and she just stood there, starin' down at me. She was finally lookin' at me, instead of through me, and my heart just broke to see her lookin' so sad. But afore I could say anythin' she brought an old lantern from behind her back. A green flame flickered behind the glass, and she walked away from me. I kept watchin' that flame until it disappeared into the night."



"What did you do?" asked Billy.



"I dug her body out of the snow and rode into town. Told the marshall I came across her as I was ridin' home. Turns out she'd been out lookin' for a Christmas tree for her momma when a passin' gang came across her. They dumped her body after they killed her."



"That's awful, boss," said Billy. He stared into the fire. "Do you think she ever got to the other side?"



"I hope she did, otherwise that poor little gal's still wanderin' around out there."



"I guess at least someone found her."



"True. If I hadn't found her then, she might've been there 'til spring. As it was, a posse caught up with the gang. Some hung, some went to Yuma."



Billy picked up his whisky.



"Little miss, if you're listenin', merry Christmas." He raised a glass to the lost soul of Retribution. We toasted her journey to the other side, and drank in silence. I thought of her, and Peggy, and everyone else I'd known, and wished them all a merry Christmas too.



* * *

Merry Christmas from me and my bounty hunter, Grey O'Donnell! If you enjoyed this story, then his book, The Guns of Retribution, is available in Kindle format from Amazon US and Amazon UK, as well as in paperback.

Photo Prompt 64

New prompt available!



If you want to use the prompt, all I ask is that you include a link to this entry and a credit to me for the photograph, and that you post a link to your story in the comments box below so I can see what you've come up with! If you don't comment on this entry, then I can't comment on your story.



The 64th prompt is Christmas Fairground.





All photo prompts are my own photography - you can find more of it on Flickr. You can also buy my prints from Deviantart. 20% of all proceeds go to charity - the other 80% go towards my PhD fees!

The Beauty of the Barter

I've often lamented that I find it somewhat difficult to patronise actual bricks-and-mortar bookshops, something I'd dearly love to do if only it were possible. Newcastle City Centre boasts only two bookshops nowadays, both of which belong to chains and neither of which stock the books I require for my PhD, so I have little choice but to head to Amazon and buy online.



Of course, as much as I think it's important to spend money in actual shops, sometimes it's nice just to find somewhere to go to discover new books. Sure, libraries offer a vast array of books and it costs nothing to borrow, but what about those times when you don't want to have time constraints put on your reading, for fear of incurring overdue fines? Enter the second-hand bookshop.



I used to be a big fan of the Book and Comic Exchange in Notting Hill when I lived in London. You'd take in your old books, get 50p cash (or £1 credit, although that seemed to go down to 50p) and find new books. Obviously it's a bit far to go there these days, but living in the North East has a distinct advantage - the famous Barter Books is in Alnwick, home of Alnwick Castle (which stood in for Hogwarts' exterior in the first two Harry Potter movies).



Barter Books began way back in 1991 when Mary Manley opened a secondhand bookshop in the front room of Alnwick's old Victorian railway station. These days it occupies the whole building, and offers a range of books, both fiction and non-fiction alike, while a growing CD and DVD section has been added to meet demand. Some of the books are extremely old, some outdated, and others almost brand new, but the whole system works upon the idea of the "barter" - you take in a pile of your old books, and the shop issues you with a valuation receipt, which can be redeemed against new purchases. Anything they don't want they'll return to you. So today, I took in two huge carrier bags of books and got almost £20 of credit, which I spent immediately on books about film theory.



I can't actually recommend a visit enough. The fact it's in an old Victorian railway station is cool enough, and the trading principle is even better, but the choice available is by far its biggest selling point. The fiction covers most genres, sporting both well-known names and unknowns, and the non-fiction variety is brilliant. Sure, a lot of the books are massively out-of-date (don't expect any recent photography texts) and some of them are so old they probably need restoration, but you can find some real gems among the titles on offer. Indeed, the two film books I bought were cheaper to buy second-hand in Barter Books than they would be to buy second-hand through Amazon - and that was before I even cashed in the credit from the books I put in to barter.



Barter Books is a beautiful building, and it's got a wonderfully welcoming atmosphere, and I feel rather lucky to live in the same county as a shop dedicated to sharing books.

Friday Flash - Incommunicado

This is the last in my superhero series - for the time being, at least. I know everyone's been enjoying them but if I'm honest, I'm getting bored writing them, and you have to love what you write. Don't worry though, I'm sure I'll go back to the saga at some point. In the meantime, I give you...

Incommunicado

From: Icy Von DoomTo: Dr OnlineSubject: CAI note CA took the bait. Expect a postcard from Vegas soon.

From: Dr OnlineTo: Icy Von DoomSubject: RE: CACA touched base yesterday with Miranda Sparkles. Has announced intention to switch his crime-fighting efforts to Monaco. News breaks tomorrow. Suggest WIN?

From: Icy Von DoomTo: Chief Superintendent Barry BeckersSubject: Crime preventionGood morning Barry,We have received a communication that Captain Astounding is safe and well, but has decided that the Mediterranean community of Monaco could better use his expertise than our fair city. In the wake of his absence, please consider my Armed Response Division as being entirely at your disposal, should the need arise.Ever your servant,Icy

From: Chief Superintendent Barry BeckersTo: Mayor ParkerSubject: CA's disappearanceHad an email from Von Doom. Has offered us her armed response people now CA has gone. Suggest we take her up on her offer - better to have her on side.BB

From: Mayor ParkerTo: Chief Superintendent Barry BeckersSubject: RE: CA's disappearanceAgreed.P

From: Chief Superintendent Barry BeckersTo: Icy Von DoomSubject: RE: Crime preventionIcy,Many thanks for your offer, have spoken to Mayor and he agrees with me, we would like to accept. Look forward to working with you.All the best,BB

From: Icy Von DoomTo: Dr Online Subject: RE: CAStupid fools took the bait. Espionage team to be briefed and re-fitted as Armed Response Division asap.Also, grant bonuses to PR team. Genius.

Guest Story - Cause for Complaint

I've got a bit of a treat for you today - instead of some insane rambling from me, I've got a very special guest story by Emma Newman! She's on a mission to release a year and a day of weekly short stories set in her Split Worlds universe, and this is the seventh story.



If you would prefer to listen to an audio version, you can find it here, and you can find links to all the other stories as they are released here. Or do what I did and sign up to the newsletter! You can contact Emma through the Split Worlds site or in the comments section if you'd like to host a story too.



Cause for Complaint

The clock mounted above the door chimed four, indicating an impending customer from the city of Oxenford.



"At least it's not one of the Londinium lot," the shopkeeper muttered, slipping his bookmark into place as the clock hands returned to marking one minute after nine o'clock.



The bell jangled as the door was thrust open. "Good morning sir," he smiled at the young man who strode up to the counter, face pink with anger. It happened to match the dandy's waistcoat beautifully, but the shopkeeper didn't remark upon it.



"I wish to make a complaint!" The young man punctuated his statement with a slap on the counter top.



The Shopkeeper removed his glasses to better peer down his nose. "I beg your pardon?"



"You heard me shopkeeper, I want to complain about that potion. It didn't work."



"That's impossible," the shopkeeper replied. "You must be mistaken."



The young man's rage made his sideburns quiver. "Mistaken! Don't you know who I am?"



"Of course I do sir. You are Xavier Rubiginosa-Rosa, third and youngest son of the esteemed Oxenford family, recognised by the Collegiate and held in high regard by the Chancellor. I've had the pleasure of serving your family and the residents of the Great Cities for several hundred years and I can assure you, in all that time I have never once had a complaint."



The Rosa spluttered. As a member of the Great Families he had superior status, but it was hard to recall when faced with the age and confidence of the owner of the Emporium of Things in Between and Besides.



The shopkeeper remained calm. "Perhaps you could explain why you perceive a problem, and I will endeavour to resolve the issue."



"So you admit there may be cause for complaint? Ha!"



"Not at all sir. Since the founding of this establishment, there have been five occasions upon which a customer came with the intention of complaining. Every time, the problem lay with either the interpretation or execution of instructions, or simply a poor choice of product for a certain set of circumstances, stemming from a lack of sufficient information at the point of sale. I can and will assure you, once again, the potion will have worked perfectly."



The Rosa blinked as he struggled to process the monologue. Over the centuries, the shopkeeper had perfected his delivery; providing just enough detail to make sense to the customer and delivered in just the right tone to lull them into a state of mild confusion. It usually resulted in a sale as the customer avoided the embarrassment of having to ask for something to be repeated. There had only ever been one person it hadn't worked on. The shopkeeper forced the thought of her to the back of his mind and listened to the young man.



"I followed the instructions perfectly and the girl it was intended for drank it all. It was mixed with orange juice, nothing else, as you said."



"I see. Go on."



The customer lowered his voice even though there wasn't another soul in the shop. "And it did the opposite to what I wanted. She started questioning my motives… realised I wanted to…" he cleared his throat, moving on, "and then she listed, with remarkable eloquence, all the reasons she would never want to spend another moment in my company. She said she'd never had such clarity and then she left."



Towards the end of the account the shopkeeper plucked out a spotless white handkerchief and polished his glasses. It was impossible for dust to land on the enchanted lenses, he simply wanted something to do as he realised something had gone horribly wrong.



"Does that sound like pliability to you?" The Rosa demanded, the memory of failure reigniting his anger.



The shopkeeper had no doubt the expensive potion would work. Either the Rosa had used it incorrectly, or had not used the correct potion. Then he remembered the other order he'd sent out yesterday afternoon. "Did you personally take delivery?"



"Yes, and I checked your delivery boy's marque. When will you admit you're at fault?"



"When there is no doubt," the shopkeeper replied. "Would you give me a moment to double-check the properties of the potion?"



The Rosa nodded, taking to pacing as the shopkeeper hurried to his back office. He pulled the cord that struck the hammer against the lamp, the clang waking the sleeping sprites trapped inside the glass globe. The tiny creatures flitted in panic, emitting their pure white light once more. The ledger confirmed the new delivery boy had been given two packages, one containing a pliability potion, the other an elixir of eloquence. As both orders were considered sensitive, the bottles had not been labelled, as requested.



"Bloody fool!" he hissed into the pages. He'd asked the Agency if he was fully trained, how could they let such an idiot enter his employ? He could feel a stern letter brewing.



The shopkeeper slammed the ledger shut, he'd have to placate not only the angry youth, but also the Lilium who'd received the pliability potion in error. Hopefully he hadn't needed that eloquence for anything important.



He went back into the shop, considering all he knew about the Rubiginosa-Rosa family and how best to exploit it. "I believe I have an explanation sir. I recall you describing the young lady as having red hair."



"Yes," he said. "Is that important?"



"And that she is of mundane descent, and indeed the potion was used in Mundanus?"



"Yes."



"Ahhh," the shopkeeper nodded. "I see what's happened. One of the reagents used in the potion is very sensitive, and can have extraordinary side-effects in a particular set of circumstances. The young lady must have dyed her hair, I understand it's very common in Mundanus these days, and should she be a natural blonde or brunette, well, the effects of the potion can be quite unexpected."



"Why didn't you make that clear when I ordered it?" The Rosa shouted.



"How could I do anything but assume you knew her hair colour sir, would you not have been offended if I'd asked?"



"I suppose so… gosh… you're telling me she isn't a natural redhead?"



The shopkeeper put on a mask of sympathy and appropriate embarrassment. "A most unfortunate way to discover such a thing sir, but yes, that's the only explanation. The side-effect may have inadvertently saved you from investing too much time in one unworthy of your attention."



"Gosh," he repeated, tugging at his cravat as he considered the horror.



"Perhaps a soothing bath in restorative salts would be in order. I'm happy to sell you these," he lifted a box down from the shelf near the counter, "at half price, as a gesture of goodwill so we can put this unpleasantness behind us. These are infused with delicate new hope and a soupçon of optimism. Just the ticket I feel. Yours for the reduced price of a sigh of disappointment."



The Rosa nodded, no doubt he had plenty of them. The shopkeeper caught the sigh in a silk bag insulated with eider down and apple tree shavings, tying it quickly.



"Thank you shopkeeper," he said, watching him wrap the box in brown paper and tie it with string. "I'm terribly sorry about the shouting earlier."



"All forgotten," the shopkeeper smiled. "Do come again."



Shortly after the Rosa left, the clock chimed four. He wondered if it was an angry Lilium with the expected complaint, but a lady entered instead. Upon seeing the empty shop, she rushed to the counter, tears streaming down her cheeks. He recognised her as the Lilium's betrothed.



"Shopkeeper," she sniffed. "I need something for a broken heart."



"Oh?"



"My love has been sent to India for twenty years! He was certain he'd be able to talk his father round but… but the words failed him, he said."



"Oh dear," he said as sympathetically as he could whilst filled with relief. Even if he'd realised what happened, the Lilium was unable to do anything about it. "I'm sure I have something that will help. And please, do stop crying. Time and reasonably priced magic heal all wounds."

Photo Prompt 63

New prompt available!



If you want to use the prompt, all I ask is that you include a link to this entry and a credit to me for the photograph, and that you post a link to your story in the comments box below so I can see what you've come up with! If you don't comment on this entry, then I can't comment on your story.



The 63rd prompt is Christmas Tree.





All photo prompts are my own photography - you can find more of it on Flickr. You can also buy my prints from Deviantart. 20% of all proceeds go to charity - the other 80% go towards my PhD fees!

Why I Suck At Marketing

I've been posting regularly to my Blunt Pencil for a while now, and after much thought, I've decided I don't want my blog to be nothing but flash fiction or posts about writing. I'd like to start sharing more about my experiences as a writer - you never know, maybe you'll be feeling the same way and we can all offer each other support. Plus, I think it's about time I starting admitting to a little vulnerability, don't you?



Well, I was at an event on Saturday night where I had an opportunity to try and sell a few copies of my pulp Western, The Guns of Retribution. A grand total of two were sold, and it's really made me examine just why I'm so appalling at self-promotion. I mean, who better to sell my story than me? The only person who knows it better than I do is the main character, and unless I get a ouija board out, Grey isn't going to be talking to anyone any time soon. I should be able to walk up to someone and start talking about my book...but it's not that easy, is it?



The first stumbling block is the fact that I'm abysmal at engaging strangers in conversation. I was never the most gregarious of folk to start with but seven years of living in London have conditioned me not to speak to those I don't know. I don't find myself to be in the best position to recommend myself, and the idea of randomly walking up to someone fills me with a small degree of alarm. Of course, it's all about context. Were I to be walk into a knitting group, and find myself among a group of film scholars, things would be different, but to walk up to someone with the intention of trying to sell something? Well, that just brings us onto the second stumbling block.



I'm not the type of person who likes to harrass people about what I do. I see some people in my Twitter stream who seemingly post nothing but tweets reminding us of the availability of their book, and after a while it becomes white noise. Sure, I'll post occasional links to my own stuff but I don't want my Twitter account to become the cyber equivalent of the incessant TV ads that go from "mildly annoying" to "downright abhorrent" due to the frequency with which they are aired. I like to talk to new people on Twitter because I like the conversational side of it, and if they happen to buy a book after chatting to me, then great. But to start talking to someone with the sole intention of selling something? Eek.



The problem is, I know it has to be done. The Guns of Retribution won't sell itself. I can tell you that it's a story about a young man named Grey O'Donnell, who flees his native Arizona after a run-in with the local heavies, only to return six years later as a fully-fledged bounty hunter on the trail of a murderer. His path crosses that of Jasper Roberts, his former adversary, who is now the crooked sheriff of his hometown, Retribution. Roberts has no intention of letting Grey get away from him for a second time, and a collision course is set between the two. I can tell you that it's got train robberies, shoot outs, hangings, fist fights and a femme fatale. I can ask you not to be put off by the fact it's a Western, and rather to view it as an action tale set in the Old West.



Or I can point you towards what others have said. Paul D Brazill described it as "a joy, containing all the action and adventure of an old school western", while Heath Lowrance called it "a strong Western full of action, honor, betrayal, and fast guns". Old West maestro Edward A. Grainger even said "If you buy one book today, make it The Guns of Retribution". Pulp Serenade gave me this wonderful review, the highlight being "The Guns of Retribution is at its best when the excitement runs high. There's a visceral, tangible element to Sedgwick's writing that gives the story added punch."



So why can't I market my own book? Obviously it's something I'll be working on in the New Year, particularly as I work on the sequel, but how about the rest of you? Anyone got any hints or tricks they use when promoting their work?

Friday Flash - Where is Captain Astounding?

City superhero, Captain Astounding, has gone missing just days after we published his opinion piece, beseeching the good people of this City not to fall for Icy Von Doom's recent recruitment drive. The alarm was raised yesterday evening after two separate incidents saw the use of the A Signal, with no response from the Captain. Police were forced to contain an armed robbery at the City Bank and a riot at the City Prison with no assistance from Captain Astounding. Two scheduled appearances, at the City Library and City General Hospital, were also cancelled after the Captain failed to arrive.



"It is a matter of some concern, yes. We had the signal lit on two separate occasions and there was no sign of him. We have no other way of contacting him. We didn't even want to make it public knowledge due to the security risks involved but we hope that someone may have information," said Chief Superintendent Barry Beckers. "If anyone has seen anything, or knows anything, then we ask they come forward."



Gossip columnist Miranda Sparkles has suggested that Icy Von Doom may have had a hand to play in Captain Astounding's disappearance, describing the villain's alarming animal squads as being "the perfect disposal method". However, the supervillain has been away from the city on a research trip in the south Pacific for several days, and her Corporation strenuously deny her involvement.



"We can categorically state that Ms Von Doom has had no involvement with the disappearance of Captain Astounding, and she wishes his speedy and safe return along with the rest of the City's population," said Von Doom's righthand woman, Dr Online. "Though personally, I think it's a shame that Captain Astounding is incommunicado. After all, the winner of the £136million lottery jackpot has also disappeared and the City needs the Captain's expertise in locating the missing man."



We will bring you more on this story as it develops, but any citizens with any information on the disappearance of the Captain are to contact the police immediately.

12 Days of Christmas

Illustration - Copyright Icy Sedgwick
I'm a big fan of Writer's Digest, and I got an email yesterday summing up their latest posts. This one in particular caught my eye - a 12 day plan of simple writing exercises! A kind of "Twelve Days of Christmas" for writers, if you will.



I'll post them in full below if you don't want to follow the link, but I think I'm going to try doing each one. The Twelve Days of Christmas actually begin on Christmas Day, and lead to 5 January (also known as Twelfth Night, the day on which your decorations should come down) but I'm going to work the other day, and start on December 13, with an exercise per day to end on Christmas Eve! I might post them, I might not, but at least it should get me writing.



Who's with me?!



The 12-Day Plan of Simple Writing Exercises



Day 1: Write 10 potential book titles of books you'd like to write.



Day 2: Create a character with personality traits of someone you love, but the physical characteristics of someone you don't care for.



Day 3: Write a setting based on the most beautiful place you've ever seen.



Day 4: Write a letter to an agent telling her how wonderful you are.



Day 5: Write a 20-line poem about a memorable moment in your life.



Day 6: Select a book on your shelf and pick two chapters at random. Take the first line of one chapter and the last line of the other chapter and write a short story (no more than 1000 words) using those as bookends to your story.



Day 7: Write a letter to yourself telling you what you need to improve in the coming 6 months.



Day 8: Rewrite a fairy tale from the bad guy's point of view.



Day 9: Turn on your TV. Write down the first line that you hear and write a story based on it.



Day 10: Go sit in a public place and eavesdrop on a conversation. Turn what you hear into a short love story (no matter how much you have to twist what they say).



Day 11: Write the acknowledgments page that will be placed in your first (next?) published book, thanking all the people who have helped you along the way.



Day 12: Gather everything you've written over the previous 11 days. Pick your favorite. Edit it, polish it and either try to get it published or post it on the Web to share with the world. Be proud of yourself and your work.

Photo Prompt 62

New prompt available!



If you want to use the prompt, all I ask is that you include a link to this entry and a credit to me for the photograph, and that you post a link to your story in the comments box below so I can see what you've come up with! If you don't comment on this entry, then I can't comment on your story.



The 62nd prompt is Sunrise.





All photo prompts are my own photography - you can find more of it on Flickr. You can also buy my prints from Deviantart. 20% of all proceeds go to charity - the other 80% go towards my PhD fees!