V.L. Locey's Blog, page 122

A Hopping, Romantic, Snippet, Memory Filled Four Days!

Morning gang! If you celebrate Thanksgiving I hope yours was stuffed with family, friends and love. Mine was that`s for sure. I think I`m still suffering from a carbohydrate hangover.


When I was a kid there was one way – and only one way – that I knew the Christmas season was truly upon us. It wasn`t all the stuff in the stores because when I was younger the Christmas decorations weren`t out in September, shocking as that may seem. The Christmas goodies weren`t brought out until after Thanksgiving back in the old days. Gasp!

Since the stores were being run by sensible managers back then the only way I had to know if the season of giving was here was to watch the Macy`s Thanksgiving Day parade. Yep. When I saw Santa coming down the lane waving and Ho-Ho-Hoing his heart out, I knew I had better be watching my P`s and Q`s or nary a gift would I see.



Speaking of gifts…..Nice segue huh? *winks*

This weekend I`m participating in a mini blog hop with some of my good friends from the Tuesday Tales family. Each author will be having gifts and special little fun things to share with you from Black Friday to Cyber Monday.

For those of you who stop in here and leave a comment your name will be tossed into the goat milk jar and one lucky winner will get a free autographed copy of the print version of ‘Of Gods & Goats’.



I know, right? How cool is that! Signed books make great gifts. Or our lucky winner can keep it all for themselves. If It were me I`d be hard pressed to give Ares away. *sighs dreamily*

So stop in and say howdy daily, the more comments you leave the more chances you`ll get to win that free book! Please check out all the other writers blogs as well as I know they`re giving away some great stuff as well.

JeanJoachim

T.c. Hightower

Jessica Sales

Kathleen Tighe Ball

Sherry Gloag


Tomorrow I`ll be linking up over at Storytime Trysts for the fourth and final part of my fall romance White Moon, Yellow Leaves. Sunday we`ll have a snippet from the second book in the Gods & Goats trilogy to whet your whistle, and Monday we`ll be chatting about my favorite childhood holiday treats and revealing the winner at eight PM eastern.



So drop in often and leave those comments!

From our farm to yours....

Happy Thanksgiving!

Tuesday Tales - Picture Prompt

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

Today we have a picture prompt and the story is written to reflect the image and must be 300 words. As these are original stories written in a week, some errors may be found. I do apologize for those in advance. Try not to let them boggle you down though if possible.

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



*~*~*



“What of the feasting and football?!”

I calmly flipped the page in the magazine. He`d stop blustering soon then I`d get a few words in. Oh look at the lovely picture of a lovely table all set for a lovely Thanksgiving feast! Maybe I wouldn`t be dead after this queenly quest and be able to cook a meal worthy of a magazine picture.

“Libby! Why are you not responding to me?”

I closed my latest copy of Farming Life & Wife and stared at the heaving mount of manly indignation glaring down at me.

“Is it my turn now?” I asked sweetly. Ares glowered. He eyed the back of a kitchen chair. “Don`t even think about it,” I warned then motioned him to sit across from me. His finely crafted ass dropped like a ton of Pennsylvania granite into the seat. The poor chair screamed in agony. The war god grabbed a pink pig pepper shaker and began rolling it in his powerful hands.

“I do not approve of you and my daughter heading off without a man at your side,” he said through clenched teeth.

“We`ll be fine. I can handle myself and Harmonia is a goddess. We`ll zip in, visit with your former consort and-”

“Do not listen to a word of what that shrew tells you, Bunting!” Ares shook his pig at me. A tiny black cloud flittered down to the table.

“I won`t,” I vowed. “We`ll be back in time for turkey and football, don`t worry,” I reached across the table to pat his hairy forearm.

“Whenever you are gone from my side, I worry,” he confessed then sneezed. I placed the napkins back in the holder then smiled.

“I know you do. Can I borrow some ordnance and a war horse?”



*~*~*



Click below to go to Tuesday Tales

Tuesday Tales

See you next Tuesday as ‘The Silver Box’ continues!

A Book and a Cuppa - World War Z

Darn zombies. Seems like every time you turn on a movie or flip channels the danged undead are making trouble for the living. I mean just look at the mess zombies have created for Rick and his gang on The Walking Dead TV series on AMC. (I have to woot for my main man Daryl. WOOT!)


Ahem, okay, so back to zombies and those who write about them. Last week I had the privilege of going to hear Max Brooks speak at a local college. Before the announcement of his appearance I was not familiar with his books. I know….fifty lashes with a rotted zombie arm for my newbieness. I just was never into zombies until two things happened. One was The Walking Dead show and two was my leap into zombie journalism for a short story submission. (See that groovy cover over on the right?-->)

Yep, up until those two things I had stayed away from zombie flicks and books. Well, aside from Zombieland and Shaun of the Dead but those I consider comedies and not horror. Maybe they`re horrific comedies? That doesn`t sound complimentary does it? Well, they are funny, funny movies that play up the comedic aspect of a zombie apocalypse as opposed to playing up the horror aspect. I suspect that`s why I could enjoy them. Most other undead films, books, or comics left me feeling lifeless. See what I did there??

All that has changed since I read World War Z by Max Brooks.



I find myself now oddly compelled to read more about zombies and I`m sure it’s due to how Mr. Brooks (Yeppers, he is the son of Mel Brooks) laid out this novel. It is done in a Studs Terkel interview style. I loved how human that made the telling. We got to know each person the interviewer spoke to and relive their tales from the beginning of the outbreak through the end of the war against the undead. We get a wonderfully dark yet moving account of the plague years. Mr. Brooks gives us a haunting view of the battle told by the men and women who witnessed and fought the undead horde.

I think it was this human aspect that made the book so enjoyable for me. It was more than unkempt dead folks stumbling around. Much like the AMC series the story is more about the drama and heartache and human spirit. That is what makes me read or watch a tale like this. Even as a writer of zombie literature myself now I have to have humor and love to counterbalance the horror and darkness. My own works are Rom/Com zombie tales, so the light is equal to the dark. World War Z handled what I require as a reader perfectly. It is an addictive book that is so much more than your typical zombie gore fest.

World War Z gets a solid four stars out of five. If the movie starring Brad Pitt can tell the tale half as well as Max Brooks did, we`ll have one hell of a film! I encourage you to give the book a try even if you`re not ‘into zombies’ per say. I think you`ll be pleasantly surprised and may even find yourself looking at a new genre to read. I know I`m certainly going back to the zombie section at my local Indie bookstore to see what I can sink my teeth into next.



Okay, I`ll stop I promise. *Winks impishly*

Storytime Trysts

It`s Saturday again, and that means another issue of my story White Moon Yellow Leaves is up! If you`re following the blossoming attraction between Jonah and Dana, head on over to Storytime Trysts for a free contemporary romace read.


Is there anything better than a warm romance on a chilly fall day?


Storytime Trysts

Tuesday Tales - Sexy

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

Libby and Ares are the stars of my ‘Of Gods & Goats’ trilogy. The word prompt this week is ‘Sexy’ 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. Try not to let them boggle you down though if possible.

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


*~*~*


There are times I imagine how nice it would be to have my man`s mother stop by and drop off freshly baked cookies, not bombs about trying to locate a mythical box. I know, the cookies would go right to my ass, but better that than a journey off to some odd place to find a silver box.

“You do know Thanksgiving is next week, right?” I inquired of the Skymother. She blinked at me then raised her sight to her son.

“It is a holiday where there is much feasting and football,” Ares explained. “Why do you wish Libby to do this for you? Would it not be more sensible to ask Athena or Artemis?”

“I wish to have her locate it for me. My reasons are my own,” Hera returned to sipping her goddess juice. “She is free to take one person with her on this quest.”

“Ah,” I leaned forward and placed my arms on the table, “It`s a quest, is it? Don`t you think what Ares and I went through with Hades….”

Hera waved her hand at my words like they were buzzing blowflies. I snapped my jaw closed.

“I only wish to ensure my son has chosen a woman worthy of sharing his bed.”

Ares detonated behind me. He and Hera exchanged several rounds of explosive Greek before the god of battle threw his considerable bulk out the back door.

“So, yeah,” I mumbled, “He`s kind of upset about this.”

“He shall move past his anger,” Hera said, placing her lovely fan across her lap. “You are free to take one person along; I suggest you take Harmonia as the silver box was last seen in the lands of Sarmatia.”

I nodded. Taking Ares` daughter Harmonia along was no problem. She was easy enough to find since she lived here on earth with us.

“Why not take Ares, or one of the twins?” I began tapping nervously on the tabletop.







“Sarmatia is the land of the Amazon`s. I would not recommend taking Phobos or Deimos into their lands. As for Ares, I did not think you would wish to have him so close to a woman he once called consort. He sired a child upon Otrere, queen of the Amazons and daughter of Eurus, the east wind. That daughter was….”

“Hippolyta, one of the queens of the Amazon who lost her girdle to your favorite hero, Heracles, as one of his twelve labors. Yeah, I read that. I do that a lot. Read that is. Ares does as well as shocking as you may find that!”

Hera`s mouth drew into a slash. I might have been a tad acidic, I admit it, but it fires me up when the gods think all I do is lay on my back and spread my legs for Ares! Ever since he came into my life and heart I have studied like a daemon to try to learn all I can about him, his family, and the stories that surround them. I am much more than a bed partner for Ares, although I`m sure none of the exalted ones would ever care to see that. If they thought Ares loved me then they would have to admit that he was more than a barbaric blood-thirsty animal. Gods forbid they ever changed their opinions! The Heracles jab was pretty low I will confess. I know that Hera hates Heracles passionately.

“Your tongue is indeed sharp. I strongly suggest you soften its edge, Mortal.”

I pushed to my feet and began pacing around the table. “I`m sorry,” I said as I passed the coffeemaker on the counter, “I`m rather defensive when it comes to your son.”

“As I have seen,” Hera stood up slowly. I stopped walking and leaned my rump to the counter. “Find my silver box and I shall bestow upon you a gift. Do not seek to deny this gift,” she added when my mouth opened, “It is a gift that shall bring you much joy.”

She disappeared in a flash of pure white light that sent my synapses into a whirl. I spun around to face the coffeepot. After several minutes passed I opened one eye and then the other. There were still dots in front of my face.

“I hate that teleporting crap,” I muttered while pawing around for the handle of the coffeepot. Once located, I filled a mug that I pulled from the dish drainer and waited for the black spots to fade away. “I hope she took her stupid peacocks with her,” I mumbled just because I wanted to mumble.

Sipping at the steaming brew I stared out the tiny window over the sink. Ares would return shortly. He always did. I had more pressing matters to dwell upon. The sound of a teenager thundering down from the second floor tugged me from the rather envious images of Ares and some sexy Amazon woman making the bed springs squeak.

Harmonia, the goddess of harmony, daughter of Ares and Aphrodite, fairly floated into the room. I smiled at her over my mug. She was a glorious creature with long dark hair and emerald cat-like eyes. Her presence filled the kitchen with serenity, something that I sorely needed at the moment.

“I saw a great light upon the yard from my bedroom window. Was father called to Olympus?” she inquired, opening the fridge to pull out the pitcher of goat milk.

“No, that was your grandmother,” I told the goddess in jeans and a pink sweatshirt. The girl paused in pouring milk into glass. Her expression said it all.

“What did grandmother wish?” Harmonia asked with trepidation.

“She wants us to find her silver box.” Harmonia`s slim eyebrows knitted in confusion, “The silver box that the gods filled with terrible things and then gave to Pandora.”

“The box that she carried when she went to Epimetheus?”

“The very same,” I huffed, arms folded over my chest. I blew a ginger curl away from my nose. “It`s been how many centuries and Hera decides she needs this box back now?”

“Perhaps grandmother seeks a way for you to prove your worth?” Harmonia tucked a long strand of chestnut behind her ear. “It is not unlike grandmother to do such a thing. Set a seemingly impossible task before a human knowing that they will fail.”

“Yeah well, Hera needs to be shown that not all of us mortal women are simpering dipshits. Sorry,” I added when her cheeks grew pink. “She suggested you accompany me on this quest to prove myself worthy of your father. Want to be my wing-woman?”

Her lovely face glowed. She hurried to put her glass on the counter then dashed at me to throw her arms around my neck. I inhaled her flowery scent and my soul was filled with accord.

“I would be thrilled to be your winged woman on this great quest!” Harmonia gushed and kissed my cheek. I was so full of tranquility from her touch I was expecting a unicorn and some fuzzy pink bunnies to come hopping into my house.

What came hopping in was no pink bunny. It was a god of war and he had a definite burr under his cuirass.



*~*~*


Click below to go to Tuesday Tales

Tuesday Tales

See you next Tuesday as ‘The Silver Box’ continues!































































*~*~*



Click below to go to Tuesday Tales



Tuesday Tales



See you next Tuesday with more of The Silver Box!

To Honor a Veteran - Frank F. George Jr.

Tomorrow is Veteran`s Day here in the US. I thought I`d take just a minute to honor a vet in my life and pass along a small talk we had last weekend.


This is my step-father Frank F. George Jr. who served in World War Two as a Seabee in the United States Navy.





Most of you know my pop from me chatting about him and relaying stories about him. Last weekend he came out and wanted a picture taken of him and his dog Tinker sitting in his El Camino.

“My last dog in my last car,” he informed me as we went outside to snap the photo above. I surely hope not but since my dad was born on April 10, 1925 it might well be his last car and dog. We`ll keep thinking good thoughts though!

Pop was quite impressed by the ease of my digital camera. He had brought his camera, a 35 mm that he had found at the thrift shop for three dollars. My dad is quite proud of that camera and the price tag he got it for. Pop is always ready to save a penny or two. I think that goes back to living through the depression and not having those two pennies to rub together.

I told him that I could take his picture on my digital camera, download it, and print out copies for his Christmas cards in about two minutes. I don`t think he really believed me until I placed the copies into his hands.

“Well,” he said, looking intently at the images, “This is rather nice.”

“Yep,” I said, sitting down beside him on the couch, “No more waiting for a week to have pictures developed. No more fuzzy or blurry shots. I don`t think I`d ever go back to old cameras.”

“Huh,” he said, with his images an inch from his nose (his driving glasses were in the El Camino) “I guess my old 35 mm is obsolete now, just like the old dodder that uses it.”

“Nah,” I smiled and patted his shoulder gently, “You`ll never be obsolete pop.”

“I`m just a classic, is that it?” he chuckled.

“Yep, that`s it,” I smiled.

Y`all know the definition of a classic, right? Serving as a standard or model, of the highest class or rank according to Webster`s.

Here`s to you pop, and all those who have served to keep our country free. You truly are models of the highest quality.

Storytime Trysts

Hey gang!

For those of you who may have moseyed over to Storytime Trysts last week, I thank you. Part two of my contemporary fall romance White Moon Yellow Leaves is now posted if you`re wondering how things are going with Dana and Jonah.



Is there anything better than a warm romance on a chilly fall day?? *sighs dreamily*


http://storytimetrysts.blogspot.com/?zx=9589e6357f5edf02

Tuesday Tales - Election

Today in our tale we begin a serialized original story with Libby and Ares, the stars of my ‘Of Gods & Goats’ trilogy.

The word prompt this week is ‘Election’. As these are original stories written in a week, some errors may be found. I do apologize for those in advance. Try not to let them boggle you down though if possible.

Due to Hurricane Sandy and other obligations, many of our Tuesday Tales writers couldn`t participate this week. They`ll be back next week, no worries! For todays post we won`t be linking back to the main Tuesday Tales blog. Thank you for stopping in. May the gods smile upon you!



The Silver Box


*~*~*


Most married women have a mother-in-law to deal with. If they`re lucky, like I was in my marriage to Matt, they get a second mother. I wouldn`t have traded in my mother-in-law for neither love nor money. To this day I miss her as dearly as I do my own parent`s. Sometimes these mothers are sweethearts and sometimes not, but overall if you tweak their nose they won`t turn you into a turnip.

I have Hera, the queen of the gods and Skymother to try to placate. Thankfully she does not venture down from Olympus often. If I could only get Athena to stay at home like Hera does I would be one happy goatherder.

Every so often Hera decides to come down to Earth and bestow her favors upon someone though. Oh joyous day for those who receive the blessings of Hera! When you`re living with one of Hera`s sons, the arrival of the queen of gods is not such a whoop-de-do event because what you may end up with is a coffee klatch of disaster.

I found myself in this rather awkward predicament just the other day. It was colder than Hades` heart as November blew across the Laurel Highlands. Snow was whipping through the white pines. Nothing heavy, just enough to let us know the shovels would be needed soon. I was over at the cow barn helping Ares take care of our two bovines: Paddy - my red and white Hereford snuggle bug and George, our resident gay Minotaur. We are a very open-minded farmstead and embrace all love equally.

“Libby make good food,” George smiled as he wadded in handfuls of raw ground venison. Thank the gods for Henry Swanson and his five boys. They`ve kept us well stocked in deer meat and never ask where it all goes so quickly. No-one seems to question my lame ‘Oh that`s a Greek Bison!’ fabrication.

“Thanks,” I smiled as I scratched behind his ear. Oh I know, most folks would be terrified of a Minotaur, and rightly so. They are known to eat virgins and give heroes a bad time. Just ask Theseus. But George is different. He came here with bad intentions, sure, but he has turned the other horn. I couldn`t imagine this farm without him, and neither could his boy-toy, Paddy.

Ares stopped forking hay into the manger and left in hurry wearing a very constricted look. I continued making a fool of the Minotaur. The god of war exited the cow barn leaving the hay fork lying atop the mounds of fresh hay.

“Guess he had to go potty,” I told the bovine boys.

“Go potty! Go potty!” George mumbled. Paddy grabbed a mouthful of hay and chewed. I was just about to finish the evening chores when the door to the barn flew open. Ares filled the doorframe. His cheeks were ruddy from the cold winds. Stray snowflakes lingered in his hair, beard, and the shoulders of his Goodwill wool coat.

“Hey,” I said, shoving more hay into the manger. “What`s up?”

“My mother is here,” Ares said. All forking stopped immediately. I looked at the man. He looked at me.

“She wishes to speak to you,” he added tersely. To say Ares and his mother have a strained relationship would be putting it mildly. Actually, Ares has a strained relationship with his entire family. The god of war is not favored by the other members of the pantheon. To them he is nothing but a blood-thirsty barbarian, not worthy of staying upon Olympus. Ares was forced to live in Thrace back in the Grecian hey-day, a fact that he has never forgotten. Fortunately, I see much more in Ares than most do, and yes, that includes his mother.

“Is she alone?” I asked placing the fork back where it hangs on the wall. If Zeus was with her I wanted to aleast pick the chaff out of my bra and wash the Minotaur stink from my hands.

“Aye, she is alone. She awaits you in the house. Libby, do not speak as freely to her as you do Athena,” he warned as I slid past him and the cowboys.

“I`ll watch my tongue,” I promised and jogged across my driveway to my little stone cottage, ignoring the flock of peacocks picking grit and looking rather put out by the snow falling onto their glorious backs and tail feathers. Yep. Hera was in the house.





Hermione was at my heels as usual. I entered the house and stamped the snow from my Muck boots. My beagle ran into the kitchen at full ‘Free Head Scratches!’ mode. My boots went into the boot rack beside the door. I pulled off my old barn coat, hung it on the pegs above the boot rack and then walked the short distance to my kitchen.

Hera was seated at the small round table. Such a sight at one time would have sent me running to the hills behind my house blowing spit bubbles. Now, it was commonplace. Like talking to owls, singing kindergarten songs with a Minotaur, and curling up with an immortal every night.

She looked just as I recalled. Her dark hair was swept up upon her head. Glittering sapphires decorated the mass of thick chestnut locks. The gemstones were a perfect accompaniment to the dark blue chiton the queen had on. The Skymother was shooing my beagle away with a large fan made of peacock feathers.

“Hermione, stop pestering,” I snapped. The dog slunk under the table, working the poor pitiful hound look for all it was worth. Hera raised blue eyes identical to Ares to me. I sketched a fast curtsy then went to the sink to wash up. “She`s not a bad dog, just enthusiastic,” I said over my shoulder.

“The beast needs to learn manners,” Hera replied. I lathered briskly. I dried my hands on a dishtowel hanging from the handle of my stove. I fiddled with the coffeepot, trying to decide if I should make a pot or not. Did someone offer the goddess of marriage de-caf or regular?

“Would you like some coffee?” I asked, turning to look at my lover`s mother. She was studying my salt and pepper shakers.

“Have you not any ambrosia?” she asked, placing the little pink pigs back beside the napkin holder.

“They were all out at the Shop & Save,” rolled out unbidden. I bit down on my tongue. Hera arched a finely plucked eyebrow then waved her hand. A golden goblet encrusted with rubies and emeralds appeared on my gingham covered table.

“`Twould seem you would have the food and drink of the gods at the ready,” she sniffed and raised the goblet to her perfect rosy lips. “But then again,” she said between sips, “Ares has always been uncouth and ill-bred.”

I nearly bit my tongue in two. Instead of spouting off, and risking being turned into a three-headed eggplant or something along those lines, I spun around, slapped the coffeepot on, and counted to twenty.

“Come sit across from me. I have a matter to discuss with you.”

I did as commanded. When I was seated Hera placed her goblet to the table and pinned me down with a royal look. Perhaps I should have lowered my eyes.

“You are just as Athena tells me you are,” Hera commented, running her sight over my clothes and hair, “Bold, sharp of tongue, and lacking in obvious feminine assets.”

See, all I wanted to do was sit back tonight and watch the election results, not trade barbs with ‘She of the Heights’. I forced a smile. Hera glanced around me when Ares entered the house. Her demeanor shifted subtly, the firmness of her jaw lessening ever so slightly. When her son stepped into the kitchen I caught a brief flash of maternal affection.

“Mother,” Ares grunted stepping behind me and placing his hands to my shoulders. I reached up to pat the massive mitts gently. “I hope you have been kind to my consort?”

“She`s been very nice,” I said peeking up and winking at him. He got the message. Hera was as kind as Hera was going to be.

“You seem well, my son,” Hera said stiffly. Ares grunted. Time ticked slowly by. Guess the mother-son bonding was over. I stepped in to fill a conversational void the size of the Pennsylvania Grand Canyon.

“So what brings you from Olympus, my queen?” I inquired. Hera nodded at the proper tone and began to fan herself.

“I wish to have something returned to me.”

When I simply stared at the queen of gods she glanced up at Ares still at my back.

“Once I had a chest of silver. Within it I kept my finest raiment’s and broidered veil`s. I wish you to return my box to me,” Hera announced then lifted her chalice to her lips.

Ares` fingers tightened on my collarbone. I had a very bad feeling starting to bubble in my belly.

“Where was the box last seen?” I asked while prying my lover`s fingers out of my flesh.

“When last it was seen it was in the possession of ‘the gift of all’,” Hera said, her eyes locked onto me.

That bad feeling I mentioned a minute ago? It was now a rumbling mass of ‘Holy Hell’ inside my gullet.

“You want me to go find Pandora`s box?” I squeaked.



*~*~*

See you next Tuesday as ‘The Silver Box’ continues!

Storytime Trysts

Howdy gang! I`m thrilled to be a guest author/blogger over at the sexy, spicy, and all things romantic blog Storytime Trysts this month. Every Saturday in November you`ll find a free chapter of a contemporary romance, White Moon Yellow Leaves, written by me just for Storytime Trysts. While you`re there please check out the other stories and poems by the other skilled writers.

I hope you enjoy meeting Dana and Jonah today and come back every week to see how their romance progresses. Thank you for stopping in and enjoy!


http://storytimetrysts.blogspot.com/