Tonya R. Moore's Blog: Tonya R. Moore, page 41
December 21, 2015
Chapter Six
It was near evening when Cassandra ventured back downstairs.
Past the winding stone staircase was her favorite room in the castle. The armory was well organized, the back walls lined with racks that kept mostly antique rifles. To the right of the doorway, were a collection of swords, spears and even what Cassandra swore up and down was a pair of Klingon bat’leths.
To the left by the entrance though, was your more modern and practical fare in the form of handguns, side-arms, tazers and the like.
She picked up a pair of what seemed to be tonfa-pistol combos, frowning.
“Who the hell would even…?” She wondered aloud.
She turned around as her father crossed the threshold and was puzzled by the grave look in his eyes.
“Time we had a talk,” Jonathan Baron declared.
“About?”
“The powers that be,” his head tilted slightly. “Well, I guess I should start by answering your question about the Rath.”
Cassandra perked up. Now this was more like it. Finally. Some answers.
“I’ve never personally had any involvement with their kind,” Jonathan started. “I can tell you this much. They’re one of the oldest races on the planet, predating the Denisovans by several hundred millennia.”
“The who?”
“Never mind that bit,” he said. “All you need to know is that the Rath are old, powerful and not to be trifled with.”
“Who says I–”
Her father held up a placating hand. “I’m not saying you’ve done anything… yet.”
“O’ ye of little faith,” Cassandra muttered. “So, avoid pissing off the Rath. Got it. Anything else?”
“Yes.” Her sarcasm wasn’t lost on him but he let it slide. “There’s a hierarchy when it comes to the powers that be. At the bottom, we have older races like the Rath, Nightwalkers and the Beautiful Ones. At the top is an even more powerful a group we call the Molokai. They enforce the Sacred Laws.”
Cassandra twirled one of the tonfas-pistols around. Molokai? Sacred Laws? For all her research, this was the first time she was hearing about anything of the sort.
“Sounds made up.” She decided, placing them back onto the counter.
“You’re a fine one to talk,” Jonathan returned. “Any sane person would say the same thing about a being engineered by ancient aliens seeking to recreate their gods of old.”
“Well, when you put it that way…” Cassandra’s mouth twisted and she scowled. “It does sound pretty unbelievable.”
Why’d he have to bring up the Vorsha anyway? Those bastards already occupied enough real estate in her nightmares to begin with. She really didn’t want to think, much less talk about them in her waking hours too.
“Seriously speaking though,” Jonathan sobered. “The Molokai and the Sacred Laws are no joke.”
“I hear you.” Cassandra folded her arms and leaned against the counter. “Molokai: scary. Sacred Laws: important. Right? That’s all well and good, except I don’t even know–”
He didn’t let her finish. “They basically boil down to these three rules. One: remain secret from human society.”
“That’s a no brainer,” Cassandra commented.
“You’d think so.” Her father nodded. “Two: don’t piss off the Molokai.”
“Uh huh. And the third rule?”
“Do not piss off the Molokai.”
“Right…” She followed her father out of the armory. “So, who should I be more scared of? The Vorsha or the Molokai?”
Jonathan Baron stopped at the foot of the stairs. “At the very least, if the Vorsha should try to yank you out of this world again, you’ll be wanting the Molokai on your side.”
Mood suddenly soured, Cassandra silently contemplated her father’s words. What would she need the Molokai on her side for? If the Vorsha returned to this world, she would simply do what she did before. She would make them burn. Every last one of them. She’d be too damned terrified of them not to.
She took the stolen vial out of her pocket and held it up to the light.
Making contact with the Rath could be key to finding a cure for Anna. There was also the murder of Susumu Takano to consider. She would tread carefully, but tread she would and whatever else it would take to learn what she wanted to know. For the time being though, it seemed it would be in her best interest to make nice with the Rath.
With making amends on her mind, Cassandra ‘ported back to her St. Augustine hotel room that night. Her uninvited guest was gone but dammit, so was the book she’d gone to so much trouble to acquire. In its place was a hastily scribbled note with a phone number and his message.
How about a trade? Let’s talk.
“Tch.” Talk about irritating.
She whipped out her phone, a brand new one she had yet to find some creative way to accidentally destroy.
“Where are you?” She demanded when David Kilpatrick answered. “The address, dude. Give me the address.”
She used her phone to access satellite and street views of the address that he’d provided—oddly without hesitation.
In the next instant, she was standing before a pair of massive iron gates. Beyond was a long, winding driveway that vanished into a thick cluster of trees. She could see the top of a building poking out of the tops of the trees. There was something ominous about the peaceful scenery. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was but that weird, prickly feeling that she’d had while at Susumu Takano’s shop was back.
She dialed David’s number again.
“I’m outside the gates,” she announced. “How do I get in?”
“You don’t strike me as someone who’d have trouble with that.” Came the teasing response.
“I figured a little courtesy might go a long way,” Cassandra grumbled. “Was I wrong?”
“Not in the least.” The gates swung open.
“Come on in,” David said. “My boss is dying to meet you.”
The post Chapter Six appeared first on TONYA R MOORE.
Chapter Five
An ocean of blue-green grass punctuated by narrow miles of asphalt graced the edge of the boisterous Irish Sea. Tucked between two steep hills, a modernized gothic castle’s gray stone gargoyles stared fatuously toward the cobalt horizon. A patch of coral and red lipped flowers surrounded the half-wild garden. Tea rose and ivy crept up the castle walls.
The deep, soft scent of flowers wafted from the heart of the garden and through French doors. Sunlight filtered in through the top of the grand solarium within. A few chaise lounges and oversized sofas were scattered on the opalescent floor. A grand piano claimed the center of the room. A concertina, an oboe, and a flute lay carelessly beneath its clawed feet.
A man with a prickly beard, wearing faded jeans and an unbuttoned white shirt leaned indolently against one wall idly strumming on a sitar. He had long lashes. They were black and curled like a girl’s. His feet were bare, his fingers long and quick. He had the blackest hair and the bluest eyes.
Jonathan Baron built his song the way an architect would build a beautiful house of sweet and sorrow, a house that bled and wept. He raised a brow at the sleepy woman who lay on the lounge chair across from him, the dark chocolate elf with thick long braids snaking about her torso. Her legs were drawn up to her chin and encircled by her arms.
“So what do you think about this song, Anel?”
She seemed so tiny in his sweater. It swallowed her up. God, she seemed so very hollow and thin. For a second he thought his heart would cease beating or burst.
After a long moment she shook her head slowly. “I don’t think I like it,” she whispered. “I think it sounds like death.”
Jonathan bowed his head to the ornate instrument. He re-positioned his fingers on the strings. “Yeah,” he sighed and with a shrug, he started playing the same melody again. “It’s a song for Eloise.”
Mad, beautiful Eloise. Anel had heard about her before. She had lived in the Fogg Island House, this other woman Jonathan might have loved once, the one who liked dead things.
She smiled slightly, drifting off to sleep. “Then I think it’s very fitting. I almost wish…”
Flames and flowers. The image speared its way into Jonathan’s mind. His fingers froze on the sitar’s strings. His eyes shot to Anel, who slept deeply. Too deeply, too quickly.
He flinched slightly at the sound of the great oak front doors flying open.
“The prodigal daughter returns,” he drawled, still lightly twanging on the sitar.
Cassandra stood in the doorway. “Hey Dad.”
“Hey yourself.” He set the instrument down and stood. Pointing to Anel’s sleeping form, he crossed the distance between them.
He tapped one cheek lightly. She’d changed again. She looked older since he saw her weeks earlier. She looked like adult now. The first time Jonathan Baron laid eyes on his daughter she had the appearance of a six year old. That was ten years ago. Would she keep changing? He wondered. One of these days, she’d be unrecognizable.
“I’m not doing this on purpose, you know.” She murmured.
“I know,” he said and deftly changed the subject. “Where and what have you been up to lately?”
“Here and there.” She grinned, following him into the kitchen. “This and that.”
He opened the door to the fridge and grabbed a Heineken. “Don’t be a smartass.”
“I need to ask about your work, Dad.”
He took a sip from his bear and scratched his head. “Aside from the concert in Berlin next month, there’s really nothing–”
“I mean your other work.” Cassandra qualified.
He shot her a shuttered look. “Why are you asking about that?”
“Just curious,” she said. “Do you know anything about the Rath?”
Jonathan set the beer bottle down on the counter. “What business do you have with them?”
“It’s no big deal.” She grabbed an apple from a nearby basket. She bit in, wincing slightly at the tartness. “Just curious,” she mumbled, mouth full.
“Curious.” Her father echoed, unconvinced.
“Uh huh.” She wandered off in the general direction of the stairs.
As soon as Cassandra was out of earshot, Jonathan whipped out his cellphone and dialed a number from memory.
“Solomon,” he uttered as soon as the other party answered. “We have a problem. She’s asking about the Rath.”
“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “My head hurts just thinking about it.”
“Well,” he hung up and stuck the phone back into his pocket. “So much for flying under the radar.” He muttered.
The post Chapter Five appeared first on TONYA R MOORE.
Chapter Four
Rain had come and gone. The road was still wet as twilight descended. A lanky man stood across the street from Lost Articles. He was dressed like an ordinary tourist in faded jeans and a rumpled t-shirt, completely at odds with his serious demeanor. Hands in his pockets, he silently contemplated the seemingly deserted shop.
The man crossed the street. The sign on the door still said “Closed” but when he tried the knob, the door opened. Inside, he groped about for the light switch. Fluorescent lights flickered on.
The store was a mess. Books had been ripped from shelves. Some of Mr. Takano’s precious bonsai had been flipped onto their sides, soil spilling out. The old man himself lay sprawled amidst this mess by the counter, empty eyed and broken.
The newcomer cursed under breath. He bent over Mr. Takano’s body and checked for a pulse. His took his cellphone out and hit the speed-dial.
After a moment, he spoke quietly. “Sorry, Dominic. I can’t give you good news. Looks like the inquest already started.”
He listened to the voice on the other end for a few seconds. “No, I don’t think they found it.” There was a brief pause. “Yeah, but I still think we need to find Judah before they do.”
He disconnected and stuck the phone back in his pocket. With a heavy sigh, he leaned forward. Rigor hadn’t set in yet, so he was able to close the dead man’s eyes.
“Give me something, you tricky old bastard.” He muttered. “No way did you just let them get the better of you, like this.”
He cast his eyes about the room. There had to be something. Knowing Susumu Takano, something cryptic, left in plain sight. Something his killer either hadn’t counted on or had found but quickly dismissed.
On the ground beside the counter was a small notepad. It was upside down. Not expecting much, the man flipped it over and read the words that had been hastily scribbled on the top page.
Oceana. Room 255.
“Probably a long shot,” he murmured. He turned back to the corpse. “But I’ll take what I get.”
He used the store’s phone to dial 911, gave the address.
“I think there’s been murder,” he said and disconnected.
With one last, regretful look at Susumu Takano’s body, the man departed.
Dripping wet from the sea, Cassandra trekked back up to her hotel room. She’d taken a ground floor suite with French doors leading to the path down to the beach. She was about to open the door to slip inside when she realized there was someone inside.
The man’s back was to her. He was closely examining the bonsai that she’d set on the table in the middle of the suite. He stood about a head taller than her. His build was about average but from the way his t-shirt and jeans fit, she figured he could handle himself in a fight. Well, a fair one maybe.
She watched as he poked one finger into the dirt and removed a vial, much to her surprise.
“That was a gift.” She materialized inside, right in front of him. “You can’t have–whatever that is.”
Gray eyes zeroed in on her. Though visibly perturbed by her sudden appearance, he only scowled. “Who’re you?
“This is my room.” Cassandra countered, irked. “Who the hell are you?”
“David Kilpatrick.”
“That doesn’t mean anything to me,” she scoffed.
“I don’t imagine it does.” A rueful smile flitted across his face.
In that instant, something fundamental changed.
This David Kilpatrick wasn’t the best looking man that Cassandra had ever set eyes on but there was an intensity to his presence that made him seem to take up more than his tiny bit of space. He exuded raw vitality. It made something primal and hungry twist deep inside her.
Their gazes locked. She recklessly gave in to the urge to eclipse his entire being.
His thoughts and feelings rushed into her head. Shock. Confusion. She saw herself the way he saw her. Dark skin. Flame hair. Beautiful and monstrous at the same time, her eyes, they were dark and full of stars.
He trembled. He wanted to look away but couldn’t. His legs buckled. He sank to his knees.
“Dead?” Cassandra demanded hoarsely. “Mr. Takano is dead?” Then in a softer, deadlier voice, she asked. “Who are the Rath?”
Blood trickled from his nose.
She dropped down onto her haunches. “Who are the Rath, David?” She asked again. “Did they kill that nice man?”
He wasn’t a weak-minded one. The deeper she dug, the more he resisted. He shut out the part of him that knew the answers to her questions. Instead, in flooded images from his childhood. A church. A hearse. A grave. Little boy tears. Sadness. So much sadness.
Cassandra drew in a sharp breath. She tore her gaze away, trying to dispel that awful feeling although she knew it would linger inside of her for quite a while.
She’d managed to take the vial without him noticing. Switching gears, she held it up to the light. There was some kind of silvery fluid inside.
“Why were you trying to steal this?”
He sobered instantly. “When did you–”
“Answer my question.” She said, softening. “I am asking nicely now, aren’t I?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know what you are, but this isn’t something you want to get mixed up in.”
“Fine,” Cassandra scowled. She stood. “I’ll be keeping this, then.”
Without waiting for him to respond, she vanished.
The post Chapter Four appeared first on TONYA R MOORE.
Chapter Three
Lost Articles was an old bookshop located along one of historic St. Augustine’s less travelled streets. The old building had green lattice windows, a cement chimney and a paneled wood exterior. Robust hibiscus bushes crowded each side. A tiny bell chimed overhead as Cassandra opened the door to enter the shop.
The interior was crowded with books, as one would expect. Old books. The musty scent of aged paper battered at her nostrils. Unexpectedly, an array of potted bonsai were also scattered around the shop. They were everywhere, on the counter beside the old school cash register, on shelves and even atop stacks of hardcover books. The plants seemed to be thriving in their odd environment.
That was neither here nor there at the moment. Although Cassandra had never set foot inside this shop before, she was beset by a strong feeling that something wasn’t quite right. It was a weird sort of feeling, like something cold and sharp prickling at the back of her neck. She’d never felt anything quite like this before.
She took a step back outside. Nothing in particular seemed out of the ordinary. A few cars drove by. An old man riding a bicycle grinned and waved at her as he passed by. She stepped back inside. She heard a muffled thud from somewhere behind the door in the back of the shop.
“Mr. Takano, are you here?”
No one answered.
“Mr. Takano,” she ventured again. “My name is Cassandra Baron. Your message said you found the book I’ve been looking for?”
The door at the rear of the shop opened. A shadow lurched out. A man of slight build with hair cut close to the scalp emerged. He blinked owlishly at her from behind his thin rimmed glasses as he wiped his hands in his dirt spotted smock.
He gave her a rueful smile. “Miss Baron, is it? You’re early.”
“I was just so excited when I got your email,” Cassandra admitted. “Is this a bad time?”
He skipped a beat but then he shook his head slightly. “Not necessarily.”
He walked past her and ducked under the counter to get to the cash register. He fished out a bag from under the counter. “I do have an unexpected guest from out of town. Why don’t you take the book for now, and we can discuss the payment later?”
Cassandra gave him a dubious look. “Are you sure?”
It was a rare book, wasn’t it? Who would just hand over something so expensive, just like that?
Unfazed, Mr. Takano set the bag down beside the register.
“I have a really good sense for people, Miss Baron.” He said. “I’m certain I can trust you. Tell me, where are you staying?”
“The Oceana,” she answered, too preoccupied with her misgivings to wonder why he was asking. “Room 255.”
She would take the book since he insisted, but that prickling feeling hadn’t gone away. Was she just being paranoid?
She heard a low murmur from the next room. A man’s voice. She gave Mr. Takano a searching look but he seemed obliviously at ease. He wrote down the name of her hotel and room number on a scratchpad by the register.
He placed the bag with the book in her hands. “I’ll contact you tomorrow and we can discuss a price then.”
He followed her to the door. Just as she was about to exit, Mr. Takano stopped her.
“Miss Baron,” as if suddenly inspired, he plucked on of the smaller bonsai from shelf. “Here,” he smiled mildly. “A gift.”
Cassandra’s eyes widened. “I couldn’t possibly–”
“They’re very easy to care for,” he insisted.
She hesitated but then she smiled, meeting his eyes. “Thank you.”
“Oh my!” He breathed as their gazes locked. “You have the most remarkable–”
Cassandra broke eye contact abruptly. She hadn’t meant to do that.
“I hope we have more time to talk the next time we meet.”
“Oh yes,” he smiled. “So do I.”
Mr. Takano watched Cassandra walk out into the street. As soon as she was out of sight, he locked the door and changed the “Open for Business” sign to “Closed”. He returned to the room in the back, where his guest–a man with ferocious golden eyes waited.
Despite the peril he knew he was in, Susumu Takano’s serene expression never faltered.
The post Chapter Three appeared first on TONYA R MOORE.
Chapter Two
Cassandra materialized on a busy street, by her reckoning, a few blocks away from where she and Shepard were supposed to meet. People just kept walking by, as if she hadn’t just popped up out of nowhere. She’d seen it happen countless times. Still, she marveled every single time.
Funny thing about the human mind is the way it can reject anything that defies reason. Take teleporting, for example. A body could teleport into the middle of a crowded room and go unnoticed.
To be more precise, most people would notice and freak out for maybe for a split second but then the lizard brain would kick in. Suddenly, the impossible thing they’d just witnessed had never happened at all. The presence they thought simply appeared had really been there all the time, but just hadn’t entered their awareness. That’s all. Just a silly trick of the mind.
It was sort of like playing possum, this neat little defense mechanism. Maybe it was what was keeping humans safe from things that should remain unseen.
It was the height of spring but the heat was sweltering as if it was mid-summer. Dehydrated and daunted by Florida’s oppressive humidity, Cassandra stifled the urge to make a beeline for the waters of Coquina Beach. The nearby ocean was calling. The smell of salt and the rhythmic sound of waves tugging at the shoreline made her blood leap and long for the gravid wet.
The Beach Buggy had a sagging thatch roof and weatherworn wooden walls. A real hole-in-the-wall kind of dive, it was mostly empty inside. In one corner, some drunk huddled close to the wall, head down on the counter. The bartender was a rough looking sort with beer gut, a bushy beard and a comically red nose.
He tossed Cassandra a suspicious look. “You got ID?”
“Don’t need it,” she answered. “I’m not here to drink.”
The guy’s thumb stuck out, pointing to the sign above the counter: Paying Customers Only.
Cassandra shot the irksome man a withering look, but then she acquiesced.
“Shepard, right?” She tilted her head at the third man, the one sitting at the other end of the bar nursing a single shot of something brownish. “Why don’t we just talk outside?”
All business, her contact finished his shot in a single gulp and silently obliged.
In the rank and refuse littered back alley, Shepard stood with his back to the piss stained wall. He was a stocky kind of guy. Dark. Not quite as dark as Cassandra though. He exuded a barely civilized kind of street-wise appeal. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there staring at her expectantly.
“Oh,” she realized after a moment. “Here.”
She handed over a thick roll of twenties bound together by a rubber band. He pocketed her offering. He didn’t bother to count it, she idly noted. He handed her a piece of paper. There was a name and address scrawled there.
“Susumu Takano?” The name rolled awkwardly off her tongue.
“That’s the man you need to see.”
“And he has a copy of the book?” She pressed.
The book in question was what one might call an alternative history of the world. The book was proof that what she sought existed. Things that went bump in the night. Things that might lead to answers she was looking for.
“Dunno. Don’t care,” Shepard shook his head. “You seem to be looking for trouble. Keep going like this, you’re gonna find it.” He warned.
She laughed lightly. “Is that supposed to scare me?”
“It should,” the disagreeable man growled. “That kind of trouble, I can do without.” His voice hardened as he turned to walk away. “Don’t ever come looking for me again.”
Cassandra stuck the paper into her back pocket. She studied Shepard’s retreating back. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was stupid and reckless to keep looking for things that didn’t want to be found but at this point, she didn’t care. She hadn’t been able to retrieve the artifact. This was the only lead left.
It had to be out there somewhere, the key to fixing her broken sister. The way to make Anna whole again.
The post Chapter Two appeared first on TONYA R MOORE.
Chapter One
Heavy winds shouldered their way across the icy Arctic. Lazy glaciers crept seaward, propelled by the same internal mechanism that told the ice when to break, the water to go where the wind pushed and the girl plummeting from the sky to scream.
Cassandra Baron’s panicked screech was cut short by the bone-jarring thump of her body crashing into the ground. She lay there for a second, dazed. There was a thick moan, followed by the jerky flutter of eyelids. Blue eyes widened, arcing skyward.
She yelped and scrambled sideways as something small and dark came tumbling down. The dark object lodged itself into the snow, mere inches from her face. On closer inspection, the small object turned out to be her cellphone.
She scowled at the cracked screen. “Toughest phone in the world, my ass.”
She uttered a shaky breath, struggling into a sitting position. Every motion hurt like hell. A metallic wetness blossomed on her tongue. She grimaced, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. Her brow furrowed when her fingers came away sticky with blood.
The young, so-called deity had just learned three valuable lessons.
The first lesson was that an object of a certain mass colliding with an object of much larger mass–say a frozen tundra, might result in greater damage sustained by the smaller, more human-shaped object.
The second was that teleporting without a clear and specific image of her destination in mind, should probably not be attempted again. Fortunately this time, she’d wound up roughly where she intended but she hadn’t meant to materialize in the blasted air. What would have happened if she’d wound up inside one of those frozen glaciers instead? She shuddered to think.
The third lesson–and this was the real kicker–was that even a being with the ability to defy the constraints of space and time was still firmly bound by something as pedestrian as the Law of Gravity.
The phone that had just failed in its dastardly attempt to skewer Cassandra’s face emitted a pitiful wail. She dislodged it from the snow and held it daintily against her ear.
“Hello?”
“This is Shepard.” The voice of the man on the other end was deep and as smooth as honey.
Cassandra idly wondered if it was that low timbre or the cold that made her suddenly shiver. “When can we meet?” She asked.
“How’s today?” His tone implied that it wasn’t really a suggestion.
“Today’s good,” she replied. “I’ll need some time, say half an hour?” She contemplated the eerily barren horizon. “One hour–tops,” she quickly amended, rubbing the red wetness between her forefinger and thumb. “I’ll need to get cleaned up first.”
There was a grunt. “You bring the money and I’ll have no complaints.”
Cassandra’s voice dripped sugar. “You give me what I want and I give you what you want. Don’t you just love how these things fall into place?” Her face soured at the abrupt click in her ear. “No sense of humor, huh?”
She stood and did a slow three-sixty. She closed her eyes, recalling the murky mental imagery that had piqued her curiosity about this place. Twenty two years earlier, the object she was looking for had been looking for had been abandoned in this general area. Considering time, mass movement and the climate, an artifact the size of an SUV would be… She opened her eyes.
“One o’clock,” Cassandra murmured and began her stiff-jointed trek in that direction.
By now, the cut inside her mouth and the bones that she was sure had cracked when she fell were already healing. Not quickly enough, if you asked her but beggars couldn’t be choosers, now could they?
Cassandra happened upon the gaping hole in the ground so suddenly, it was a miracle she didn’t fall in. It was wide, a hundred meters in circumference at least. It was deeper. She knelt at the edge and tried to get a good look inside. The inky blackness that stared back up at her was ominous and magnetic.
It gave her this weird sense of fullness and substance, like she would land on something thick and squishy if she fell in. Intuition said that the object she’d come looking for lay at the bottom of this hole. Moreover, she was filled with a sickening kind of certainty that this gaping maw had not existed before the artifact had come to rest on the ground there, years earlier.
Cassandra stood and took a few cautious steps backward. There was no reckoning just how deep the hole was. Examining, let alone retrieving the artifact was out of the question.
“Oh, Anna.” She murmured achingly to her absent older sibling. “What am I supposed to do now?”
The post Chapter One appeared first on TONYA R MOORE.
December 3, 2015
Keeping a Journal
I decided to start keeping a journal. Not just a writing journal but a personal one. It’s probably a bit strange that I haven’t done this, not since my Livejournal days over a decade ago. I figured it might be educating, not to mention therapeutic to keep one again.
I decided to go digital and sought out a journal that has an android app, would also work on my pc and sync across all of my devices. I came across Journey by 2appstudio.com. Journey works on all of my mobile devices and there is a Chrome app, which means I can also use it on my pc. With features such as Google Drive sync, exporting to .docx and pdf and posting to WordPress, Journey is versatile and very easy to use.
So far, so good. I’m glad that I decided to pick up the torch again. I’d forgotten how much journaling helps me to gather my thoughts and put things into perspective. I’ve already made several entries and I already find it beneficial.
I’m looking forward to seeing where this takes me.
Do you keep a journal? It is handwritten or digital?
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November 29, 2015
Did You Miss the Radio Show? Listen Here
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November 27, 2015
Genesis Science Fiction Radio: Tune in Tonight!
I will be a guest on The Genesis Science Fiction Radio tonight, starting at 9:00 PM Eastern Time.
“The Genesis Science Fiction Radio features conversations with creators and consumers about relevant topics in science fiction from a black perspective.”
To listen in, click the “LISTEN IN” link or the image to the left.
Genesis Science Fiction Radio is a production of Black Science Fiction Society, an online community with the focus on Black Science Fiction.
In the words of the community’s creator, Jarvis Sheffield:
The dream of blacks making science fiction as a concept has been in the minds of many of us since we were all children watching science fiction movies and television shows such as Buck Rogers, Star Wars, Battle Star Galactic and Star Trek. Most of us have however, found that the characters that are ethnic, as a general rule most often have been relegated to secondary roles, sidekicks, stereotypes, sex objects, dope heads, not in the show at all or my favorite the first to die in the show.
We however, feel it is only right to present science fiction with a different face, one that is not filled with the normal negative representation of ethnic characters. We think that it is essential for characters of all colors and creeds to be represented positively and fairly. Given that, this movement is not exclusive to Black People. It is for all people but with a Black focus. We welcome all races and ethnicities to partake of our wondrous gift Black Science Fiction.
I am honored to be a part of this wonderful community and I’m looking forward to being a guest on tonight’s radio show.
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November 26, 2015
Flashfic: Lily and Snow
“Snow.”
Blade of grass sticking out of his mouth, the dark eyed sylph turned to stare balefully at the girl who’d murmured his name.
She lay on her back beneath the shadowy branch of a gnarly tree squinting idly at the newly appearing stars. Her toes curled into the dewy grass. She smiled sweetly at him, twirling a finger in her wild mass of black curls.
Seemingly frail and bird- boned, she looked like a life-sized porcelain doll. She was pale and perfect in her white and grass stained summer dress.
Lily thought that she was a fairy. She’d adopted that notion as a child and stubbornly clung on to it ever since. From the moment he first saw her, Snow thought her ethereal and ghostly. Butterfly-like in her charm and delicacy. While Lily lived for moments frozen in time, Snow lived for moments spent by her side. Breathing in Lily. Whispering in her ear.
Still lazily chewing, he closed his eyes again.
“Snow.”
Her voice was quietly insistent and vaguely petulant. “Snow, I’m hungry.”
He glanced toward the farmhouse across the field behind them. A family of four had lived there. At this moment, they were all—mother, father and twin girls—slumped ignominiously over their ham and egg breakfast gone cold. Not alive anymore. A cruel reward for their kindness to two beautiful strangers who’d appeared at their doorstep seeking refuge from the rain just before dawn.
“How can you be hungry already?” Vague disbelief coated his words.
“I’m always hungry. Haven’t I told you that before?” She murmured. “Nothing ever fills me up.”
There was wistfulness in her tone, the evidence of things she tried to hide from him.
Nothing fills her up. Not even me?
Snow sat up abruptly. His almond-like eyes narrowed. He wouldn’t ask her that. He couldn’t ask her that. She would lie or be truthful. Either way it would wound.
A vague pain intensified in the heart region of his chest. He ignored it. There was no heart there. There hadn’t been for the longest while. Still that nagging ache remained to torment him.
Lily cast her gaze askance. Snow was so much more beautiful than she. Willowy and lithe, he had dark, thick lashes ad red lips, like a girl’s. Still, he was strong, stronger than anyone else she had ever known. She had seen him laugh and kill and cry all at once. Yet, at rare moments like this, he seemed so vulnerable and child-like in his sullen silence. She suspected he knew the reason she had asked him to take her back to this place.
She wished she could ask him what was troubling him.
Instead, she jumped to her feet and bent to tug on his hand. “Come, take me into town.”
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Tonya R. Moore
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