V.L. Locey's Blog, page 118

Tuesday Tales - Picture Prompt

Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales again. This week I`ll be sharing an excerpt from my WIP (Work In Progress) All I Want for Christmas, a holiday themed M/M romantic comedy that was born from a previous picture prompt here on Tuesday Tales. This novella is completed and is now in the first round of editing.


We have a picture prompt this week so the excerpt is written to reflect the image and must be under 300 words. Since this is a rough draft there may be some mistakes. I do apologize for any boo-boo you may find.

Please do check out the other wonderful writers after you`re done reading by clicking on the Tuesday Tales link at the bottom. Thanks for stopping in!

*~*~*







“You`ve been shuffling? Mister I-Don`t-Do-Emotions has been shuffling?” I asked incredulously. The heater came on and blew down on us. A dark lock dangling above his eye flittered in the heated wind. He tried to scowl but it was a weak attempt at best.

“I thought – Well, I thought I`d give you this,” he said, pulling a small red box from within his dapper coat. He extended it out to me cradled in his hands. I looked at the white bow then at Cooper then at the white bow again. “Just take it, okay Alex? Take it and when you get home open it - I mean - before your date open it. What happens after that is up to you.”

“This is crazy, I didn`t get you anything,” I fidgeted.

“Just take it, please?” he shoved the box at me. It settled in my palm with a sparrow’s weight. His fingers moved over my jaw as I tried to decide what to say next. “I really didn`t want this to be over, I just couldn`t see past the fear. Every time I walked past those stupid snow sentinels I had to face the fact that I was scared shitless of what you were making me feel,” he smiled rather quirkily then pressed a kiss to my lips. A short, gentle brush of mouth across mouth before he exited the men`s room silently.

There I stood, holding a red box in the middle of the senior center`s men`s room like a boob. Should I run after him? Should I throw the box away? Should I do the Macarena? I didn`t know what the hell to do or think or feel at the moment, so I did what seemed natural to do.



I lifted the top off the box.


*~*~*



For more great free reads by talented writers just click the link below-

Tuesday Tales

See you next week with more from Alex and Cooper!

Storytime Trysts - Wind in White Birch # 6

It`s time once again for another issue in my free comtemporary romance Wind in White Birch.

I hope you`re enjoying reading this romance as much as I`m enjoying writing it for you.



Storytime Trysts

Let`s Talk About Sex

*Shakes money-maker to Salt-N-Pepa song*



Phew! That worked up a sweat. Just like a good romp in bed only not quite as enjoyable. I thought we could chat about sex, what makes it work in a book, and what doesn`t as far as I`m concerned. First off I`m well aware that this is a delicate subject for many, so here comes the obligatory warning.



Ahem. If you are easily offended by discussions about sex between a man and a woman or a man and a man, now is the time to leave. I swear I won`t hold it against you.

Okay, now that those who may take offense have clicked on a different and less titillating blog, we`ll get down to brass tacks, or perhaps handcuffs?? Oh yes, we are getting naughty here! I am a woman that enjoys sexy stuff in her books. I don`t always require it. If I`m reading YA then I`m fine with the lack of spicy stuff, but my YA reads are limited. When I leave the teens and their worries behind then I want something erotic but not pornographic.



I guess I`ll take a moment here and explain what I feel is the difference between erotica and pornography. A fine gentleman friend of mine asked me just the other day what difference there was between erotica and porn. My thoughts on this is that erotica empowers a woman. It makes her an equal participant in a sensual scene. Pornography belittles women. It makes the woman nothing more than a thing for a man to slake his desire in or on.

I`m one of them types that must have a good plot to support the sex in a book, and please, this is no slam against anyone who reads a book that is all sex with a so-so plot woven through the grunting and groaning. If that is what you like, and both the characters are over eighteen and willing participants, go for it! For me, I must have a story that is viable and strong. Then the sex can be sprinkled on like a nice hot Cajun seasoning.



So when I sit down to write a bedroom (or haymow or shower or fireside) sex scene, first and foremost the woman is a sexual equal to the man. She may hand over her equality at times, and he may too, but she will always be the one in control of the situation. This is my rule number one. If she says stop they stop. If she says go faster, he may go faster, or he may go slower to make her writhe a bit. Even if the man involved is a god, he takes his cues from his leading lady in all manners of carnal pleasure.



I also write my sex scenes for M/F and M/M alike. I do not make my male/male love scenes more raw or crude. My guys are in a long-term committed relationship. They are not starring in a gay porn movie. They are making love. When Paul and Gordon come together it is an expression of their devotion for each other. Just like when Libby and Ares share themselves, or Maggie and Gerard or Dana and Jonah. A couple in love is a couple in love, no matter the genders involved.





My books tend to have one highly detailed sex scene per novel. I`ll spritzle random hot moments, long passionate kisses, heated embraces, and hot and spicy grope sessions throughout my books, but I only do that one ‘Holy Hannah!’ scene once. For me as the writer, it just works better this way. I can devote more time to humor, romance, action, and adventure if I`m not trying to cram a sex scene into every chapter. I also feel that sometimes less is better.



Just as we talked about with action, too much sex takes away the tenderness and special feel of our couple making love. That is how I feel about my own books. That is not to say that I don`t enjoy more than one adult scene in other books. The WARDen puts several sex scenes in her books amid very strong plots, subplots, humor and action. For her tales more sex works and I enjoy it greatly! For mine, I don`t feel it would. You can see that we`re two different authors with different approaches to how we write our books in varying genres.

I`m also no fan of closed door sex or stringing the reader along to the very end for the connubial bliss to occur, no I am not. Please fellow scribes, don`t rely on making the reader slog through a slow book for the sex at the end. If your plot isn`t strong enough to carry the story, then don`t use the much-coveted bedroom fun as the lure. Your readers will be sick and tired of the weak plot and won`t give two tingles about the love scene when they get to it. If you`re using sex to entice folks to the end of your book, you need to rework your manuscript and add some drama, humor, action, and/or adventure to propel the storyline along.



There isn`t much for me to say about behind closed doors. I`m well aware some readers like their romance this way. It`s just not for me. I want to hear every sigh, see every caress, smell every spicy candle, and taste the passion that is thick in the air. Oh my, I`m feeling flushed of a sudden…..




So that`s how I feel about sex in books that I read and write. What are your thoughts about sex? How do you handle things when the heat between your romantic leads begins to climb?

Tuesday Tales - Silver

Welcome back! This week we`ll conclude the story of The Silver Box.


Libby, Ares, and the gang are the stars of my Gods & Goats trilogy. The word prompt this week is ‘Silver’ so the story will reflect the prompt. As these are original stories written in a week, some errors may be found. I do apologize for those in advance.

Please do check out the other wonderful writers after you`re done reading by clicking on the Tuesday Tales link at the bottom. Thank you for stopping in. May the gods smile upon you!






The Silver Box



*~*~*





Just for the record I personally have nothing against marine life of any kind. Please don`t be sending me nasty grams about the senseless slaying of a shark/monster/child eater. I do not need folks from the Cousteau family calling me bad names in the press. This shark had to go down. Did anyone get mad at Chief Brody? Damn tootin` they didn`t!

The three of us had Lamia surrounded. Harmonia was lunging in and back, poking the creature with her lance. Fear was up on his rear legs throwing those massive hooves at Lamia`s gill slits. And I had the joy of slipping around in a puddle of water and fish slime, trying to drive my short sword into the shark`s giant belly. And it was a big belly. Lamia had not skipped too many meals. Knowing what her preferred food is made me furious.

When Harmonia rammed her lance under a flipper, I opened up the shark`s ribs, cursing at the last minute twist the daughter of Poseidon had managed. She was darn fast for a fish out of water. I was faster though. I asked Ares to guide my hand for the killing blow. Lamia`s mouth was dark and forbidding. Rows and rows of teeth snapped at us. Harmonia jumped over the lashing tail, driving her lance downward into the great sharks back, severing her spine.

I ran in and with the rush of what I hoped was godly intervention slammed my celestial bronze sword down into Lamia`s skull. The shark writhed and screamed. I was knocked ass over tin cups into a statue of a seahorse. Sitting where I landed I observed the death of a monster. She slowly desiccated, flaking apart into dust before being carried away by a cool ocean wind.

“I hope that her father doesn`t hold that against us,” I said, dusting myself off as I hustled into the sanctuary. Inside was dark and reverent, the inner chamber containing a fountain with three fish spurting water from between pursed fishy lips and a wide area in front of the fountain for gifts for the sea god. Even with nothing but flickering torchlight Hera`s silver box was easy to locate. It sat off to the left of the fountain, nearly covered with bolts of fine silk and a staggering mound of gold and silver treasure.

Harmonia and I began digging in the wealth to free the chest. Sure, I had a moment or two where I thought about pocketing a few bangles. I mean, with just a couple I could pay my property taxes until I died. But one didn`t steal from a god, especially one of the big three as Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon are called. It took some time but we eventually freed the box and were able to drag it to the center of the floor.

“It is most lovely,” Harmonia knelt down to trace the intricate carvings in the silver with her fingertips.

“It really is quite fitting for a queen`s raiment’s.” I also took the time to touch and admire the chest crafted by the forge god. “Do you think we should open it?”

“Nay,” Harmonia replied, her finely arched eyebrows knitting together, “The last time a woman opened this chest all the horrors of the world were let loose.”

“True, but they`re all out now, and according to what I heard the only thing remaining is hope,” I ran my palm over the box, amazed at how much I suddenly wanted to see what was inside.

“Aye, I have always wondered what hope looked like. I think she is most beautiful and kind, do you not, Libby?” Harmonia asked dreamily, her long fingers picking at the hasp.

I began rubbing the lid as if it were Ares` wide back. I couldn`t get enough of this box. I had to touch it, caress it, open it and gaze at the wonders within. Harmonia was in the same condition. We would have lifted the lid if not for Fear. The horse had come inside in search of us for lunch no doubt. He had whinnied and nickered and pawed to no avail. So, being the nasty brute that he is, he then peed and pooped on the floor right beside us. Getting sprinkled with stallion pee is not appealing. It does tend to break whatever mysterious spell one is under though.

“You are just plain nasty!” I hissed as he lifted his tail and made pootie patties on the floor. I glanced at Harmonia as we stood up. “Did you feel that?”

“Aye, `twas the evil of the box itself….such a compelling spell. Pandora had no choice but to open it and condemn humanity,” she whispered, her face awash with grief for the woman made by the gods to spread hatred, pestilence, intolerance, violence, death, greed, grief, and a score of other terrible things we humans deal with on a daily basis.

We both flew in reverse when a violent wind blew into the temple. I had thrown my arms over my head expecting Poseidon to appear in a pique. Gods in piques are not a good thing. When the wrath of a god didn`t fall down on my ginger curls, I peeked. There, in a glowing ball of godly luminescence stood my lover`s mother. See, at least you ladies get a phone call before the MIL shows up. Me? Zip and Bang, here she is! Harmonia and I both dipped a fast curtsy, our eyes on the floor.

“Mind where you walk, my queen,” I said.

“Ah, yes,” Hera stepped over the horse dung, her pink chiton folded artfully over her arm so as not to drag on the floor. “I see you have found my chest. Very well done, my dear,” Hera smiled and cupped Harmonia`s adorable chin.

“Ahem,” I coughed. Hera`s blue eyes moved to me.

“Yes, and well done to you as well. It seems my son has chosen a spirited consort,” Hera reached out and patted my wet curls like one would a dog that had just run through the slurry to give you a bone he had found. “I shall now give you the gift I promised.”

“That`s not necessary,” I waved a hand. Sparks flew from her eyes. “But if you insist,” I hurried to add. Hera held out her right hand. I threw a look at Harmonia who shrugged. Was I supposed to kneel and kiss the gold band on her ring finger or what? I took her hand and prepared to drop to one knee.

“Do you know what the band on my finger is, Libby?” Hera asked. Fear snorted fire in boredom behind the Skymother. I shook my head. “`Tis my wedding ring,” she allowed me the luxury of staring at the band given to her by her brother. Yeah, I know, don`t dwell on that aspect of the Greek pantheon. I try not to. “The right hand is the hand a wedding band is placed on.”

I gaped at her. She smiled, pulled a huge peacock fan out of the air or perhaps her ass, I don`t know, I was still wrapping my mind around the wedding band on the right hand. With a gentle swish of a thousand peacock tail feathers we were sent back home.

We arrived in grand and glorious style. Harmonia, me and Fear dropped with a crash into my living room amid Thanksgiving football. Ares, Deimos, and Phobos leapt to their feet in shock. The horse took one look around, lost the few marbles he had, and charged off with the gods of fear, panic, and harmony on his long flowing tail. I turned to Ares as the kids - and steed - climbed the stairs to the second floor. His smile was wide.

“I see you have returned in time to roast that large fowl in the sink! Did you find my mother`s box?” he asked. I ran at him, jumped into his arms and planted a kiss on him that had us both hyperventilating in no time. “Mm, that is nice. I have missed you, my wee bunting.”

“I missed you too,” I whispered over his lips. “Now let me explain something about merry-go-round rings to you.”



The End



*~*~*



Thank you for reading along! For the next few months I`ll be stepping back from writing original stories for my Tuesday Tales posts. Instead, I`ll be using excerpts from my WIPs (Works in Progress) to hopefully entertain you. A new self-published book coming out in April, a new contract with Torquere Press for three novels, and the many other submissions I have planned to send to my publisher just does not allow me enough time. Hopefully, after the crush of debuting Of Heroes & Hay Bales lessens and I get the second Two Guys novel written, I can come back to doing original works every Tuesday. Until then, I do hope you enjoy the snippets from my novels and novellas as I work on them.



For more great free reads by talented writers just click the link below-

Tuesday Tales

See you next week!

Storytime Trysts - Wind in White Birch # 5

Another Saturday has arrived, and so has another issue of Wind in White Birch. To enjoy this free contemporary romance, just click on the link below. Thanks for stopping in and I hope you`re enjoying Dana and Jonah`s budding romance!


Storytime Trysts

Undead Thursdays - Guest Blogger - Georg Veramme

Hello! And welcome back to another edition of Undead Thursdays, a special blog event I`m having every Thursday in January to celebrate the release of the anthology He Loves Me For My Brainssss from Torquere Press that includes my novella Two Guys Walk Into An Apocalypse.


Every Thursday we`ll have guest bloggers that have written zombie tales or articles. We`ll also have a new book review of a zombie book that I really enjoyed amid all the undead love from my fellow scribes! All in all it should be a great time getting to meet new authors and zombie aficionados.

Today our journey into the realm of the undead will take us into space. My good friend, and fellow Marvel geek, Georg Veramme, has penned a gripping and unique story that he has agreed to share with us. Georg is a Belgian fellow who studied in England for his bachelors, then returned home for his masters. He also studied history and literature and is a huge zombie fan. You can find some of Georg`s work here-

 Mass Effect FanFic

Enjoy!

*~*~*






The Eye in the Sky on a Dead Earth




A story by Georg Veramme



***



Author notes: This story has taken some liberties with the workings of the ISS and the Tiangong station which is at this moment of writing not even build yet. Keep that in mind while reading the story, other than that, have fun.

***



30 November 2012

My name is unimportant, my occupation is unimportant. Why I got here will be unimportant to. If you really want to know, I am a rich business man who had a fascination to go to space. Not because I want to, but because I can. A status symbol of sorts to my peers. I have a fiancée, Rachel. We were expecting a child when I left for the ISS a few days ago. I promised her I would come back before the baby would be born. But that was before the outbreak happened, before the dead started walking again. We followed the news feeds from all over the world. It began in Asia as most other diseases do, then it swept over to Europe, Africa…the US. Thousands died and came back in hours. It was panic and chaos, the end of the world came 22 days to early. NASA promised they would send a shuttle to pick us up, but in the final transmission I heard Houston screaming, I heard Rachel screaming….then nothing. Silence. All we could do was watch the newsfeeds, and hope…

***

1 December 2012



I still had hope of us being rescued during the first few days. I actually felt safe up here between 330 and 410 kilometers above ground near the vast nothingness of space, trapped in a manmade construct where no man had a chance to survive on his own outside let alone have a right to be there and spit in the eye of god. Is that why it’s happening, is this retribution? It’s been three days since Houston contacted us before they shut off communications. I remember the shouts and screams in the background. They came and took over Cape Canaveral, and we are stranded here.

***

2 December 2012

It was a disease when we left Earth a week ago: some wanna-be bird flu virus some DJ on the radio said, trying to be funny. She’s probably one of them now, or dead if she’s lucky. I’m not even an astronaut; I just wanted to see our planet once, brag about it. Something to tell my baby boy when Rachel is due. She has to be alive, right? My friends said three hundred million was thrown away to be a mere tourist. My companions are working still, doing their best to keep this station in altitude. My God, Rachel, please be safe.

***

3 December 2012

We kept watching the TV broadcasts until they fell silent. We kept listening to any radio waves or anything resembling human activity until it stopped. We kept in touch with the men at the Tiangong station and ask them if they heard anything from China on their instruments. They have one broadcast still running on all official channels. “Keep heart in the party and the proud people of our Republic. Like Lenin before us, we will return stronger, harder and faster in the face of the dark night caused by the American West.” They asked us if we were indeed responsible for this, we asked them the same question. They haven’t responded for three hours now, I don’t think any of us know, or will ever know.

I saw many satellites swinging by; most of them weren’t even operated anymore. We used them to provide us with information on how to get somewhere, to see what our enemy was doing, to watch some athlete kick a ball in a goal and earn millions doing it while thousands starved.

Is this our legacy? If another species becomes the next dominant race on the Earth, what will they inherit? A planet full of empty buildings and empty metal eyes in orbit? Out here, in the cold dark of space you finally realize how fragile life is, how arrogant we were of our culture and our ignorance. We are animals, smart enough to use tools and dumb enough to believe in things that may or may not exist. I cannot believe in any loving god who allows this, even if mankind was responsible. I glance down on this dead earth and wonder how many people are still left down there. Are they moving from town to town looking for food? Did they run for the oceans in the hopes the dead do not swim and fish can sustain them? Is my Rachel one of these survivors? So many people are fighting for their lives down below and all I can do is watch….

***

4 December 2012

We calculated our food supplies and found out we have around one more month worth of food. Two if we ration it more along the six of us. They stare at me now, one useless mouth to feed. I’m no astronaut, just a filthy tourist stuck with them until the food runs out, or the oxygen…or both.

It’s been six days since Houston ceased all contact. We pick up the same repeating recorded message from China the Tiangong station told us about yesterday. One of us keeps hoping NASA will send a shuttle to pick us up, or even Russia. I know they won’t. The Earth belongs to the dead, where my beautiful Rachel is one of them now. Humanity is gone, and we are all what’s left.

***

5 December 2012

Karl killed himself last night, knife to the throat. At eleven pm we picked up a radio transmission from what is left of the EU which authorized the US for nuclear arms to be used on the cities of Berlin, Antwerp and Calais. We saw the three missiles, mere bright specks to our eyes, fly past us and went down toward the European continent. For five minutes three dots on the planet shined so brightly I almost thought they were stars. We believe Karl’s family must’ve been in Berlin, or he just gave up hope. We send his body out of the airlock and stared as it floated off into the cold, dark of space. For a moment I swore I saw him move….

***

6 December 2012

I don’t know if I have gone insane. Shortly after Karl’s funeral we received a message from the Russian Federal Space Agency that they will attempt to send out two shuttles to pick us up and the Chinese of Tiangong. They claim Russia has had an easier time repelling the living dead then other nations due to it’s colder climate and they have the resources to mount one attempt to get us out. Everyone was ecstatic; I even caught Chalmers and Richards having sex in the Leonardo Cargo bay. They both hated each other before the launch, before this started. But why am I not feeling anything? I don’t feel hope I might see Rachel again, no fear that the attempt might fail, and no suspicion why the RFSA would help us. Am I still human?

***

7 December 2012



Its official, they will pick us up in a week. The Russians secured a launch site and fortified it against the undead. It’s in the middle of nowhere so no horde of them would come running when the shuttle lifts off.

We found a couple of bags of champagne which we drank as a celebration. Chalmers contacted the Chinese who also seemed to be celebrating on their end. Tomorrow we'll prepare the final calculations. O'Neil and the Chinese commander, Hu Zhin I think his name was, are both suspicious though. I found O'Neil spending a lot of time in the Kibō lab despite the fact all experiments are put on hold....

***

8 December 2012

The Russians are sending us what Intel they can. The US has nearly gone completely dark save for some major cities on the West Coast and the North where the government is hiding in Alaska. My hope is that Rachel left Canaveral and went north though the chances are she and our unborn child are wandering those corridors along with the other dead now. Canada is in contact with us now and then and like Russia they seem to have used the cold against the hordes. Europe is a warzone still; nobody knows what's going on there except for flashes of radio messages in English, French and German. What is left of the English people has fled to the seas or the smaller islands around the larger island as predicted but only the future can tell how long they will last.

The Northern European nations are fighting off the horde still, but Iceland offered Keflavík International Airport as our landing strip back home. My suspicion grows every day. Russia, Europe and what’s left of the US are spending all their energy to get twel…no eleven people home, five of them Chinese. Why? I believe the Kibō lab is the answer…

***

9 December 2012

There is no god holy enough to grant us mercy for what we have done to ourselves. I snuck into the lab after O'Neil left for the bathroom; I had at least a 30 minute window because of the way the lack of gravity would make his visit longer. I looked all over, but it looked like any other lab except for one folder and a series of green tubes. They were labeled XR-5, a new sort of military drug. Guessing of the notes I found with them...the thing that created the dead down below. They couldn’t destroy it down on Earth. It was to contagious, airborne, clothing...it had to be kept here in space. But it got out. Jesus Christ, we opened Pandora's box.

***

10 December 2012

I'm being held at gunpoint by O'Neil. He says I wasn’t supposed to find the XR-5. It was a routine. Go to the ISS and keep the virus there so it can’t fall into enemy hands. Take the tourist with you so the media doesn’t draw attention to the secret package. He knew out of all of 'em if the virus wasn’t contained soon...it would be a one way ticket. It’s all the same he says, starving here in the cold vacuum of space or gnawed on by the dead below. I see Chalmers come in, O'Neil panics and fires....and all hell breaks loose.

***

11 December 2012

It's all gone to hell. Chalmers was hit in the neck and died choking in blood. Richard's shot a shocked O'Neil in turn before he went to hold a dying Chalmers in his arms...who then proceeded to bite him in the neck. O'Neil came back as well and tried to go for me. If it wasn’t for Lee who pulled me and locked the door to the lab, I would’ve been one of them. Lee asks me what happened in there and I replied. He is on the phone with Moscow right now....

***

12 December 2012

The cat is out of the bag. The Russians told us why they are sending a shuttle up to us. The virus needs to be brought back to Earth in the hopes an antidote might be found. Several American scientists are on site right now and made some progress…but they need the XR-5. This thing, this horrible….thing we made, spread all over the world. When somebody dies, they come back as one of them. Our only chance is to make the antidote airborne and wait until the last of those monsters are dead. We got two days to get that virus. Lee is sharpening whatever he can find to put O’Neil, Chalmers and Richard to rest. I’m looking forward to it. Down below millions are dying, hiding or surviving. It’s time I joined in their horrors and nightmares, it’s time I go home and see Rachel...one way or another.

***

13 December 2012

We drank the last bag of Dutch courage we had in our supplies before the final attack. It was us two against the three of them. Last night Lee told me he had two kids and an ex-wife at home. It was his fault he claimed, he spend too much time up here then down there where it mattered the most. I told him he would see them again and he appreciated my words, but deep down he knew i was lying. Even IF we made it of this station, who knew if they were still alive? Who knew how long WE would last? As he put his hand on the door he told a joke he used to tell his mates. A Customer in a restaurant goes Waiter, waiter! There is a frog in my soup!!! The Waiter replies Sorry, sir. The fly is on vacation. I gave a small smile as he snickered, I forgot how to laugh. We looked at each other one last time before we opened the door and leaped into the jaws of death.

***

14 December 2012

These are my last thoughts. First things first, I got the virus and I made sure when the Russians arrive, they will have it with them. I strapped myself to the chair, so when I come back I won’t go after them. The bite-mark on my arm is getting worse; it feels like it's on fire. We managed to kill Richards, but Chalmers and O'Neil got Lee. He did the honorable thing and threw himself with the two others in an escape pod and shot themself into Earth's orbit, burning as bright as star. I hope Lee was dead by then. Still, he didn’t know Chalmers bite me. I make no illusions; I’m on the way out.

The sun is rising and I see the Russian shuttle in the distance going for the Chinese first. I'll be dead by the time they get here. But its okay, I’m going to see Rachel now, and our baby boy. But for now, for these last few moments I am the eye in the sky on a dead Earth.

***

15 December 2012

The Chinese astronauts are secured and are on their way home now. HQ wanted us to save them and make sure the Chinese send their men to aid ours into driving the walking dead back from our cities. I don’t see why, our people fought off the French, the German and endured the harsh winters. I am not a man of politics, but I love my country and its people.

The Virus is now being worked on by every scientist humanity has left. Time will tell if they succeed.

We found only one American in the station where we found the XR-5. He turned but he strapped himself so we could end his suffering. He knew he was going to die and left a note in English. I could not read it but Dmitri claims it was addressed to us to tell what happened here. Mission said he was a rich man from Florida, paid big money for this trip so he could take a picture for his wife and son. We took the body with us and buried it in a place of honor in case the Canadians manage to find his wife in the refugees from America, he earned at least that much. Who knew one hundred years ago that the survival of humanity was to thank to the very embodiment of Capitalism? Lenin and Stalin must be spinning in their graves, poor choice of words. As I looked down from that window to our planet, I could not help but marvel at her beauty and think however foolishly...that there is hope for us.



Always.

*~*~*

Thank you so very much for sharing your work with us, Georg. It was a hell of a story!

I`d like to thank all of my guest bloggers for joining in on the fun of Undead Thursdays. Next week we`ll be returning to my regular rambling Thursday posts, so I hope to see you then!

Tuesday Tales - Light

Welcome back! This week we`ll continue the story of The Silver Box.


Libby, Ares, and the gang are the stars of my Gods & Goats trilogy. The word prompt this week is ‘Light’ so the story will reflect the prompt. As these are original stories written in a week, some errors may be found. I do apologize for those in advance.

Please do check out the other wonderful writers after you`re done reading by clicking on the Tuesday Tales link at the bottom. Thank you for stopping in. May the gods smile upon you!



The Silver Box



*~*~*



“Let loose the Kraken!”

Fear rolled his horsey eyes at me. I stood on the shores of Attica, Poseidon’s majestic temple awaiting us, with my sword in the air and my fist on my hip. Shafts of light peeked through the clouds overhead. Harmonia was pacing at the water`s edge as if expecting something to rise up from the sea. I stared at Fear standing next to me.

“Okay, yes, I know the Kraken isn`t a Greek monster, it`s Norse,” I told the horse. He flicked an ear, which is an equine way of giving a person the bird I think. “No, I don`t know why filmmakers use it in Greek movies, maybe they figure it`s easier for the actors to yell ‘Let loose the Kraken!’ then it is for them to shout ‘Let loose Skylla and Akheilos!’”

Harmonia cleared her throat. I lowered my sword and met her confused gaze. “Why are you speaking to the horse?”

“He wanted to know about Harry Hamlin,” I said while walking over to join her nervous back-and-forth walk. “Is there a reason we`re wasting time here?”

“Aye, I am awaiting the arrival of Lamia.”

“Ah,” I said, mentally flipping through the vast books of Greek lore I had ingested since Ares tumbled bare-assed into my life. “Wait, I thought Lamia is a child-eating daemon,” I stopped pacing. My partner did as well. “Why would she come out of the ocean?”

“`Tis true, she is a monster that feeds on wee babes, but she is the daughter of Poseidon. Do you not recall her story? How she once dallied with my grandfather and was punished by a jealous Hera who stole away all of Lamia`s children.”

“Yeah, she then blinded herself in grief. Zeus then turned her into a monster so she could exact her revenge by hunting and eating the children of others. You know, I really think your grandfather needs to be neutered. I mean the man just cannot keep his pecker hidden in his chiton, you know?”

Harmonia`s green eyes widened at the dig against Zeus, but really, the truth is the truth.

“You are brazen,” she whispered in shock. I shrugged. I wasn`t scared of Zeus. I did glance skyward and secretly say I was kidding though. “Lamia is a giant shark that patrols her father`s temple.”

“When`s she`s not off eating kids that are playing in the surf,” I tacked on.

“Aye,” she replied, folding her arms over her silver chest plate. “So I thought `twould behoove us to wait for her to arrive and we would slay her.”

I coughed lightly. Harmonia looked from the white caps to me. “Wouldn`t it make more sense to just go to the temple and get the silver box? I mean, if she`s a shark she can`t come on the land, right? Maybe this is the easy part at the end of the quest?”

“Is there an easy part at the end of a quest?”

I shook my head. “Not usually, but let`s just pretend there is!” I smiled widely then sprinted off to find the temple of Poseidon. Fear whinnied then arrived beside me, sliding in front of me so quickly I bounced off his white side like a pinball.

“What the—Oh, do you think I should be riding? Is that it?”

He tossed his huge head then blew fiery horse snot all over my armor.

“Nice, thank you very much.” I patted the flaming boogers out then tried to mount. I did passably well and was sitting on Fear`s back looking around rather smugly. Harmonia ran at us, leapt into the air, planted her hands on the horse`s rump and nailed her landing.

“Show off,” I mumbled as she giggled like an imp.

With a touch of my heels to his sides, Fear cantered off, climbing the salty white cliffs. When we crested the top we all sat quietly and marveled at the sight. The sanctuary was a testament to a mighty sea god. Rows and rows of white marble columns sat behind statues of Poseidon that were forty feet high. Water surrounded the temple in deeply cut trenches lined with glistening white marble. Carved images of sea horses twenty feet tall reared up from the trenches that worshippers tossed drachma into.

“Holy Hannah,” I marveled, sliding off Fear`s sturdy back. People moved about us, curiously looking at two women in armor. I smiled at the onlookers then paraded straight to the temple, Harmonia at my side. Children ran past, dogs barked. The atmosphere was like a grand picnic. I removed my helm and sighed at the cooling sea breeze running through and around the Doric columns. The wind rippling up under my leather skirt didn`t feel half bad either. We had just about climbed the umpteen stairs leading to the heavy gilded doors when someone behind us screamed.

I huffed and screwed up my face. I knew it. Just for once could we simply walk inside, find the treasure and leave? Nope. That would have broken some stupid Indiana Jones rule about the worst battle coming before the hero saves the day, preferably with a whip in hand. Wanting to ignore the threat for just another moment, I pondered on why Indy had left Marion for that vapid blonde in the second movie. I much preferred Marion and was so glad when he married her at the end of the fourth film.

People were now running hither and yon, shrieking and grabbing up their children. Harmonia bellowed something in Greek. I tugged my sword from its scabbard and threw all thoughts of Dr. Jones aside. Whipping around ready for the fight I was in no way prepared for the monster coming at us.

It was a massive shark, easily as big as the one in Jaws but not as rubbery. It was undulating up the steps. When its black, soulless eyes found us it reared up, standing on its thickly muscled tail just like Jabberjaw used to. Dear Zeus, do not let that cartoon theme song—Damn it!

Lamia opened her mouth. What came out wasn`t exactly speech. It was this ear-splitting noise that in no way sounded like Chevy Chase`s Land Shark routine from SNL of old. Harmonia and Fear were charging at the shark. Knowing there was nothing for it, I too ran at the beast, that annoying cartoon theme stuck soundly in my frontal lobe.



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For more great free reads by talented writers just click the link below-

Tuesday Tales

See you next week for the conclusion of The Silver Box!

A Book and a Cuppa - Somebody`s Baby

Have you ever come across a book that you find in a school/library sale, sitting innocently amid many others of its genre, whispering to you to purchase it? You grab the novel up, read the back, ponder for a moment, and then slide it into the huge stack you`re trying to balance. It is truly amazing what that fifty cent book can be when you finally open its pages. Do not ever judge a book by the price being asked for it. The book we`re chatting about today has been a double blessing for me. I`ll explain as we go, so let`s jump into my review!


Somebody`s Baby by Elaine Kagan is a riveting book that has me on the lookout for more of Ms. Kagan`s works. I love her style. Her characters speak the way people speak. They come alive from the very first page and keep you reading steadily until you reach the last page.



In Somebody`s Baby we meet Jenny Jaffe, a wealthy Jewish girl living in a rather affluent area of Kansas City in 1959. Gentile boys are a no-no. Gentile boys with tattoos, who had served time in jail, had drifted in from California, and are working at a gas station are so far off-limits they may as well be Martian`s. Jenny knows all those rules, but she first sets her sights on Will McDonald, everything she knows about right and wrong dissipates.

Jenny and Will become an inseparable, passionate, amazingly well written teen couple. By the end of her senior year, Jenny is pregnant. The two lovers make plans to run away and get married. She waits at the spot where Will is supposed to pick her up. He never shows.

What happens next is this incredible story about love, adoption, family, children, blood, and getting to know who and what you are. I won`t spoil anything because I want you to read this. I want you to get bound up in the heartbreak and the joy. I want you to shout and cry. I want you to read this book. I am positive you`ll come out of it with a glow of appreciation for your parents, and the love they gave you, be they biological or not.

I know I certainly was moved greatly by the novel, and, as an added bonus, I discovered a boarding pass in the book that someone must have used as a bookmark. That boarding pass is now hanging on my fridge and will be the basis for a future novel for me.

So thank you, Ms. Kagan, for the powerful book. And thank you, mysterious stranger, who shared this story with me so many years ago. I hope I can do your boarding pass justice.

Storytime Trysts - Wind in White Birch - Issue # 4

It`s time for another issue of my free contemporary romance read, Wind in White Birch. Head on over to Storytime Trysts to see how things are going for Dana and Jonah this week.

Thank you for reading along!


Storytime Trysts

Undead Thursdays -Guest Blogger - Elizabeth Brooks

Hello! And welcome back to another edition of Undead Thursdays, a special blog event I`m having every Thursday in January to celebrate the release of the anthology He Loves Me For My Brainssss from Torquere Press that includes my novella Two Guys Walk Into An Apocalypse.


Every Thursday we`ll have guest bloggers that have written or worked on zombie tales or articles. We`ll also have a new book review of a zombie book that I really enjoyed amid all the undead love from my fellow scribes! All in all it should be a great time getting to meet new authors and zombie aficionados.

Today I`m very happy to have the lovely lady who edited the He Loves Me For My Brainsss anthology, Elizabeth Brooks. Liz will be talking about something nearly as frightening as zombies, trying to pick a title for your work or writing a blurb! *Shudders at the mention of a blurb*

Take it away, Liz!

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I'm not going to talk about zombies, actually. If I could write coherently about zombies -- if I could be as eerie and elegant as Lynn was in last week's guest post, or as funny as V.L. is, in her story in He Loves Me For My Brainsss -- I'd have written a story about zombies, instead of deciding to edit an anthology about them. (I've written an erotica/horror story, but it's about succubi, not zombies. And "Dead On Her Feet" sounds like it should be a zombie story, but it's really just about a very tired soldier.)

I'm going to talk about blurbs and titles.

I've only been in the writing and editing business for a few years, so I don't claim to be an expert. And every author is different. Some like writing in the wee hours of morning; some stay up late. Some write in offices on computers; others scribble their ideas on notepads in coffee shops. Some stick to a rigid outline; others prefer to fly by the seat of their pants. They love men or they love women or both or neither. They are men or women. Or both. Or neither.

But in my (admittedly limited) experience, one thing is nearly universal: they hate writing blurbs. You know, those 1-2 paragraph descriptions that (on a physical book) go on the back to give you a hint of what the story is about and entice you to buy it?

Almost every author I've ever met hates writing them. Admittedly, they're tricky -- I've seen otherwise perfectly good stories panned in review simply because it wasn't the story the reviewer expected from reading the blurb. You have to capture the essence of the tale without giving too much away; you have to introduce at least one main character, offer up a thread of the plot, suggest the story's overall tone, and hook the reader's interest... and you have to do it in, usually, about 75 words.

I'm a bit of a novelty, in this respect; I quite enjoy writing my blurbs. Usually. Probably, I suspect, for the same reason that I like writing to prompts or doing flash-fiction -- the challenge of it appeals to me. In fact, one of my latest writing techniques when I'm stuck is to start with a blurb, and build outward from there.

No, the bit of writing administrivia that gives me the worst headache is the one that seems like it should be the easiest: the title.

I hate coming up with titles. Come to think of it, I hate coming up with names, too. Naming things seems to define them, to squash them into a box that I wasn't yet sure they were meant to fit into. I'll waffle longer over my protagonist's name than I will over the entire first chapter. And most of my publications were drafted entirely without titles. I referred to them with temporary names that couldn't possibly carry onward to publication: "That one about the telepaths." Or, "the re-write of that gaming story I wrote ten years ago." Or, "the one about that adorable twink I met that one time."

Sometimes, the title will make itself known to me while I'm still writing. That was the case for Of One Mind and "The Sinner's Star" and "Succubus, Inc". More often, I'll get to the end, go through a revision or two, and still not know the title, in which case I'll grumble and mutter and re-read until a phrase or a thought from the story pokes out and lets me know that it's significant enough to be worthy of the cover. Sometimes I feel pretty good about the title once I've found it, as I did for Safe Harbor (which had "Rising Dawn" as a working title), and sometimes I still hate it months after publication, when it's far too late to change (I'm looking at you, Assumption of Desire).

(Sometimes I long for the days when I was writing merely for my own amusement, and that of a few friends, and could get away with unhelpful titles like "[Protagonist]'s Story" or using resonant song lyrics.)

But every once in a very long while... a title will come to me out of the blue. The title spawns the story, so to speak. It's why He Loves Me For My Brainsss came to exist. I was thinking about the rise of zombies in popular culture, and I thought, "I don't really see that becoming a trend in the erotic romance genre. I mean... ew." And then I thought, "What would you call it, anyway? Heartsss? No, no one would get it. I Love You, But I Love Brainsss? Blah."

And then, like a bolt of out of the clear blue sky: He Loves Me... For My Brainsss.
Having achieved such a wonderful title, I obviously had to make it happen. That title could not exist merely in my head. I had to make it a real thing that people could actually own. And so it came to pass.

Privileged as I was to be working with such fantastic authors on the anthology, I only saw a little grumbling when it came time to do the blurbs. But I smiled right through it, knowing that my hardest task -- the title -- had been settled long since.



--Elizabeth L. Brooks



http://EveryWorldNeedsLove.blogspot.com

http://www.facebook.com/EveryWorldNeedsLove


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Thanks so much for guest blogging, Liz. I hope to be able to work with you again someday over at Torquere Press, you`re a great editor. Next Thursday Georg Veramme will wrap up our Undead Thursdays with a gripping story he wrote about watching a zombie outbreak overtake the planet from the confines of space. I know, it`s an awesome premise for an awesome work and I`m thrilled that he`s sharing it with us here next week!