Dave Skinner's Blog, page 6
July 15, 2015
Honourable mention in writing contest
I am happy, happy, happy. This morning I received an email telling me I was awarded an honourable mention in a writing contest. It blew me away.
May 10, 2015
They're back
They’re BackWell they’re here. The weather has been nice up till now, but with the warmth comes the dreaded blackfly. Where we live above the Gull River, I have been encountering a few more, on each of the past three days, Sitting on the porch yesterday morning enjoying a morning beverage, I was buzzed by a few — looking for blood no doubt, but they were only as bothersome as our other swatables, during the warmer months. Not as bad as they will be. Then I saw the man.
He was walking up a dry spit of land in the middle of the river, down where the ducks congregate. Normally those areas are waist deep below water, but the river is low, the worst I have seen in the eight years we have lived here. Granted, a few years are not a long period in the weather story, although it has been long enough to experience two record breaking flood levels. This is the spring flow draught.
I saw the man through the window. When I first observed him, he was walking down by the water and had stopped at the edge of the swimming hole. Within a heartbeat the action started with a single swipe of an arm, followed by a sweep of the other arm, backed up with alternating arm swats.His dog swam into view and dripped its way out of the water. The man threw something into the river, the dogged jumped to retrieve. The man was making coordinated swats by then, both arms fluttering like windshield wipers in front of his face. He made a swift bend to swipe around his legs, exposed naked below his shorts.
The dog returned, the man threw the stick once more before he hurried back down the stream bed, arms flapping, followed moments later by his dog.
They’re back.
He was walking up a dry spit of land in the middle of the river, down where the ducks congregate. Normally those areas are waist deep below water, but the river is low, the worst I have seen in the eight years we have lived here. Granted, a few years are not a long period in the weather story, although it has been long enough to experience two record breaking flood levels. This is the spring flow draught.
I saw the man through the window. When I first observed him, he was walking down by the water and had stopped at the edge of the swimming hole. Within a heartbeat the action started with a single swipe of an arm, followed by a sweep of the other arm, backed up with alternating arm swats.His dog swam into view and dripped its way out of the water. The man threw something into the river, the dogged jumped to retrieve. The man was making coordinated swats by then, both arms fluttering like windshield wipers in front of his face. He made a swift bend to swipe around his legs, exposed naked below his shorts.
The dog returned, the man threw the stick once more before he hurried back down the stream bed, arms flapping, followed moments later by his dog.
They’re back.
April 26, 2015
Artificial Intelligence; Hope or Horror
I watched an Innerspace episode on Artificial Intelligence (AI) a few days ago. Basic concept was that AI is going to happen in the next few years and many experts — like Stephen Hawking — are tell us to proceed with caution. I agree wholeheartedly because we are talking about systems.
Back in 1975, John Gall wrote an insightful little book called Systemantics. It tells about how systems work and more importantly about how they fail. Unfortunately, it has not received the recognition it deserved.
Gall presented a Fundamental Theorem of Systemantics containing many axioms, theorems, and corollaries. Items like; systems in general work poorly or not at all, complicated systems produce unexpected outcomes, the total behavior of large systems cannot be predicted, and the function performed by a system is not operationally identical to the function of the same name performed by a man. There were numerous examples to support the work, but the one that stayed with me was the story of the aircraft maintenance hangar for super large planes. It was the largest hanger ever erected. It was necessary because maintenance should not be done outside in inclement weather. Unfortunately, the building (read that as system) developed a weather system of its own. It rained inside the building.
I suppose the point I am trying to make is that even complicated systems that are built perfectly can have problems. Why should we believe that complicated software systems intended to think are going to work as intended? I worked in IT for thirty years, and I rarely saw software without bugs. I think it is even worse these days if what is being released for public consumption is any indication. We are doomed.
Back in 1975, John Gall wrote an insightful little book called Systemantics. It tells about how systems work and more importantly about how they fail. Unfortunately, it has not received the recognition it deserved.
Gall presented a Fundamental Theorem of Systemantics containing many axioms, theorems, and corollaries. Items like; systems in general work poorly or not at all, complicated systems produce unexpected outcomes, the total behavior of large systems cannot be predicted, and the function performed by a system is not operationally identical to the function of the same name performed by a man. There were numerous examples to support the work, but the one that stayed with me was the story of the aircraft maintenance hangar for super large planes. It was the largest hanger ever erected. It was necessary because maintenance should not be done outside in inclement weather. Unfortunately, the building (read that as system) developed a weather system of its own. It rained inside the building.
I suppose the point I am trying to make is that even complicated systems that are built perfectly can have problems. Why should we believe that complicated software systems intended to think are going to work as intended? I worked in IT for thirty years, and I rarely saw software without bugs. I think it is even worse these days if what is being released for public consumption is any indication. We are doomed.
April 23, 2015
Update Netherworld
Update NetherworldI believe I have entered a computer update hell. Every time I turn on a device I have to deal with update issues.
My Windows 8.1 PC has taken to sitting on the Updating Windows screen on start-up, stalled on either 8% or 30%. It has been trying to install KB2881553 since April 14th. On the first install attempt it stalled at 30%. It attempted a new version of the same update today and died at 30% again. I went in to try to deselect it after having to power down the PC from the, Don’t turn off your PC, screen, but it has been classified as successful so I cannot get to it, yet.
Being classified as successful doesn't seem to mean anything significant with these updates. Another problem update, KB3000850, started its attempts on the 15th. It failed on the 15th, succeeded on the 16th, tried again on the 17th, failed and tried again today. It stalled at 8% again today, but that one I did manage to put a hold on.
I also have an ASUS EeePC netbook. It runs on an Intel Atom 1.60 GHZ CPU. I knew this would be slow when I bought it, but I figured because it would only be used as a writing PC I could cope. Big mistake, but at least the Windows 7 Home Premium SP1 operating system performs updates properly which is good because it seem like every time I turn it on there are updates to do. Today I took a look at the Windows Update History and concluded it is inaccurate. The history shows that over the last 38 days updates were performed on ten of those days. March 17, 20, 24, 28, April 01, 03, 14, 15, 18 and 23 (today). It does not show the update it did yesterday, so I hold that it has done updates almost every time I have turned it on over the last two weeks. I am tempted to keep my own log of when updates are done, but what would be the point. At least the windows updates are not causing problems, these days.
I upgraded my Nexus 7 tablet to Android version 5 when it became available. Yes, I now, it was a stupid thing to do, but in my defense, I did the same thing with version 4 and experienced no problems — absolutely none. Not so with version 5. I am now running version 5.1, have recently performed a complete RESET of the tablet — and reloaded all my apps, but I still get lockups and black screens. The experience has soured me completely on Google, and that is significant for me. I loved my Nexus 7 for the first two years I used it Now, I kick myself for not buying an iPad.
I spent the first two hours of my day dealing with these problems on all three devices. It appears I have managed to drag myself across the river Styx and out of the update netherworld for today. Dare I hope for something different tomorrow?
My Windows 8.1 PC has taken to sitting on the Updating Windows screen on start-up, stalled on either 8% or 30%. It has been trying to install KB2881553 since April 14th. On the first install attempt it stalled at 30%. It attempted a new version of the same update today and died at 30% again. I went in to try to deselect it after having to power down the PC from the, Don’t turn off your PC, screen, but it has been classified as successful so I cannot get to it, yet.
Being classified as successful doesn't seem to mean anything significant with these updates. Another problem update, KB3000850, started its attempts on the 15th. It failed on the 15th, succeeded on the 16th, tried again on the 17th, failed and tried again today. It stalled at 8% again today, but that one I did manage to put a hold on.
I also have an ASUS EeePC netbook. It runs on an Intel Atom 1.60 GHZ CPU. I knew this would be slow when I bought it, but I figured because it would only be used as a writing PC I could cope. Big mistake, but at least the Windows 7 Home Premium SP1 operating system performs updates properly which is good because it seem like every time I turn it on there are updates to do. Today I took a look at the Windows Update History and concluded it is inaccurate. The history shows that over the last 38 days updates were performed on ten of those days. March 17, 20, 24, 28, April 01, 03, 14, 15, 18 and 23 (today). It does not show the update it did yesterday, so I hold that it has done updates almost every time I have turned it on over the last two weeks. I am tempted to keep my own log of when updates are done, but what would be the point. At least the windows updates are not causing problems, these days.
I upgraded my Nexus 7 tablet to Android version 5 when it became available. Yes, I now, it was a stupid thing to do, but in my defense, I did the same thing with version 4 and experienced no problems — absolutely none. Not so with version 5. I am now running version 5.1, have recently performed a complete RESET of the tablet — and reloaded all my apps, but I still get lockups and black screens. The experience has soured me completely on Google, and that is significant for me. I loved my Nexus 7 for the first two years I used it Now, I kick myself for not buying an iPad.
I spent the first two hours of my day dealing with these problems on all three devices. It appears I have managed to drag myself across the river Styx and out of the update netherworld for today. Dare I hope for something different tomorrow?
March 31, 2015
Show vs Tell in Love Scenes
Show vs Tell in Love Scenes
I admit that as a novice writer there are many techniques and rules that I am not aware of or have questions about. Some finer points about Show vs Tell come to mind. I understand the concept; show your readers something about the scene or character through dialogue and/or action as opposed to telling them about it. But are there specific rules that apply?For example, let’s consider a love scene. It is probably not advisable to attempt to write a love scene in the show mode between two people who never speak during it. Although how many of us actually do a lot of talking during sex? Not many I would hope, because it is a turn off. Reality tells us that the most we should expect to hear during love making are exclamations, maybe a few single syllable words, or perhaps a short sentence. Something like, “Give it to me big boy,” although if someone said that to me my response would probably be “What?” which would lead to a discussion, and most likely would break the mood. A writer would want to do better than that.At the very least, if the response was going to be, “What?” a writer would have to use it multiple times. Something that would suggest a rhythm like, What, What, What, What. Technically you are using the short sentence technique combined with the single syllable word technique. Of course, “what” is not the best single syllable word to us in a love making scene because it begs for an answer, and could lead to a discussion, also, you will have noticed, that if “what” is classified as begging then you now have two begging sentences together. Probably not a recommended technique either. A better single syllable response would be “Yes”. The alternative response is the exclamation, something like, aw, aw, aw, or wa, wa, wa. (I just want to clarify something before I proceed. The term, exclamation, can be exchanged with the term, ejaculation, but due to the subject being referenced, the love scene, I didn’t want to cause any misunderstandings.)A word of caution about the use of exclamations and single syllable words, here as in all other fiction writing, the writer should attempt to stay away from commonplace terms — clichés, bromides, and platitudes. You have to be particularly vigilant of this in love making scenes because the use of terms like “Go” or “Raw”, although they meet the requirements of single syllable and exclamation, are commonly associated with cheering, as in Raw, Raw, Raw, and Go, Go, Go. Cheering aloud during sex is not advisable, and although many may cheer silently during love making, it is not something a writer should consider writing unless their character is particularly shallow.So, let’s say I am going to use the word “Yes” multiple times in a love making scene to show that emotions have risen. How many yeses are appropriate? Someone told me once that you should limit repetitions to three when writing, but is that appropriate in this circumstance? Limiting the yeses to three is going to suggest a rather brief scene, so how many repetitions should be used to suggest a longer time frame, but still retain readability? I tried to google this as “appropriate number of words to repeat in sex scene to signify time passage”, but all I found was a blog by Steve Almond, from Small Spiral Notebook dated March-April 2005. He discusses some of the issues mentioned here like: Step 3: Then again, sometimes sex is funny, and Step 4: Real people do not talk in porn clichés, in which he mentions my short sentence example above. The blog entry is here: http://www.utne.com/arts/how-to-write-a-sex-scene.aspxIf you are reading this you may want to have a look at his also.But no one has answered the question I posed, so writers, we are on our own. Choose whatever repetition is right from your own experience then subtract at least seven to account for your ego, but before you try this there is another part to the question.We are trying to show or at lease suggest a rhythm from what we write, so what punctuation do we use in our list of yeses (or whatever word(s) you have chosen). Do we try to start out slow with periods between the words, then change to em dashes to speed things up, move on to commas, and then climax by rushing all the yeses together without the benefit of any punctuation?
I am afraid I don’t have any answers, only questions. The best advice I can give is to experiment and observe, but remember always to sprinkle some fun into your writing.
I admit that as a novice writer there are many techniques and rules that I am not aware of or have questions about. Some finer points about Show vs Tell come to mind. I understand the concept; show your readers something about the scene or character through dialogue and/or action as opposed to telling them about it. But are there specific rules that apply?For example, let’s consider a love scene. It is probably not advisable to attempt to write a love scene in the show mode between two people who never speak during it. Although how many of us actually do a lot of talking during sex? Not many I would hope, because it is a turn off. Reality tells us that the most we should expect to hear during love making are exclamations, maybe a few single syllable words, or perhaps a short sentence. Something like, “Give it to me big boy,” although if someone said that to me my response would probably be “What?” which would lead to a discussion, and most likely would break the mood. A writer would want to do better than that.At the very least, if the response was going to be, “What?” a writer would have to use it multiple times. Something that would suggest a rhythm like, What, What, What, What. Technically you are using the short sentence technique combined with the single syllable word technique. Of course, “what” is not the best single syllable word to us in a love making scene because it begs for an answer, and could lead to a discussion, also, you will have noticed, that if “what” is classified as begging then you now have two begging sentences together. Probably not a recommended technique either. A better single syllable response would be “Yes”. The alternative response is the exclamation, something like, aw, aw, aw, or wa, wa, wa. (I just want to clarify something before I proceed. The term, exclamation, can be exchanged with the term, ejaculation, but due to the subject being referenced, the love scene, I didn’t want to cause any misunderstandings.)A word of caution about the use of exclamations and single syllable words, here as in all other fiction writing, the writer should attempt to stay away from commonplace terms — clichés, bromides, and platitudes. You have to be particularly vigilant of this in love making scenes because the use of terms like “Go” or “Raw”, although they meet the requirements of single syllable and exclamation, are commonly associated with cheering, as in Raw, Raw, Raw, and Go, Go, Go. Cheering aloud during sex is not advisable, and although many may cheer silently during love making, it is not something a writer should consider writing unless their character is particularly shallow.So, let’s say I am going to use the word “Yes” multiple times in a love making scene to show that emotions have risen. How many yeses are appropriate? Someone told me once that you should limit repetitions to three when writing, but is that appropriate in this circumstance? Limiting the yeses to three is going to suggest a rather brief scene, so how many repetitions should be used to suggest a longer time frame, but still retain readability? I tried to google this as “appropriate number of words to repeat in sex scene to signify time passage”, but all I found was a blog by Steve Almond, from Small Spiral Notebook dated March-April 2005. He discusses some of the issues mentioned here like: Step 3: Then again, sometimes sex is funny, and Step 4: Real people do not talk in porn clichés, in which he mentions my short sentence example above. The blog entry is here: http://www.utne.com/arts/how-to-write-a-sex-scene.aspxIf you are reading this you may want to have a look at his also.But no one has answered the question I posed, so writers, we are on our own. Choose whatever repetition is right from your own experience then subtract at least seven to account for your ego, but before you try this there is another part to the question.We are trying to show or at lease suggest a rhythm from what we write, so what punctuation do we use in our list of yeses (or whatever word(s) you have chosen). Do we try to start out slow with periods between the words, then change to em dashes to speed things up, move on to commas, and then climax by rushing all the yeses together without the benefit of any punctuation?
I am afraid I don’t have any answers, only questions. The best advice I can give is to experiment and observe, but remember always to sprinkle some fun into your writing.
March 28, 2015
The Slide
This picture was the prompt for a writing contest at Brilliant Flash Fiction. I submitted the following entry. The judging has just occurred. I didn't win. I didn't even make the short list let alone the long list, but I like my entry. See what you think. 516 words.
I believe credit for the image goes to Laurie Scaro, but I cpouldn't manage to verify that on the site.
The Slide“Your children are loud. I could hear them screaming all the way out here.”“They are excited to be here. They love to visit their grandfather, and you are delighted to see them here.”“No, that was your mother, not me.”“Dad, you are incorrigible, and a liar. How are you occupying your time? Are you keeping busy?”“The environmental people made me do pointless work on the cliff face.”She stood and looked over the edge of the guard wall. “It looks like a giant concrete slide. Are you taking up skateboarding?”“Not likely, they were afraid the pool would leak and destroy the embankment. I told them it was impossible, even showed them the engineering specs, but they insisted. I had to empty the whole pool to put in the drain hatch and the electronic controls. Twenty-three and a half thousand gallons of water pumped out and back. A complete waste of time, energy, and my money, so I added a few features of my own while the water was out.”“Perhaps you shouldn’t have built your house on a cliff,” she adding a little laugh to reduce the sting. “What is that thing on the beach? It looks like a net.”“It is a safety net for a tightrope. Still needs two poles and a line.”The boys came crashing out to pool side, screaming and laughing. The first time I’ve appreciated their interrupting.“Keep it down, you two.”“Yes mother.”“Did you use the washroom?”“Yes grandpa.”“Are you sure, I don’t want you peeing in my pool, you absolutely must not pee in the water. Do you understand? Get out if you have to go. You can’t hide it. I had special pee detectors installed.”“Dad, they said they wouldn’t. Let it go.”“Do you promise boys?”“Yes grandpa.”“Then enjoy.”With a whoop they bolted and cannon-balled into the deep end. I looked at my tablet. As I suspected the pee indicator lit up at once. The sluicegate snapped open. It took a few moments for the whirlpool to build, but not long. The boys didn’t have a chance of escaping.In less than a minute they were swirling around caught in the pull of the whirling water. I wished they would stop screaming. They did, as they disappeared below the surface. I jumped up to the guard-wall. They were into the sluice before I made it. My calculations were correct, no time at all under water. As soon as they cleared the sluicegate it snapped closed. Five-thousand gallons of water rushed down the sluice. As it hit the barrier at the end of the trough a standing wave surged into existence. The boy’s bodies flashing into the wave, shot up, and floated through the air landing on the safety net. They bounced a little. The rush of water subsided.
Silence followed until I laughed. “Perfect engineering, an expensive toy, but I bet it keeps them coming back for years.” The sound of the boys whooping and laughing as they bounced on the net drifted up to us.
I believe credit for the image goes to Laurie Scaro, but I cpouldn't manage to verify that on the site.The Slide“Your children are loud. I could hear them screaming all the way out here.”“They are excited to be here. They love to visit their grandfather, and you are delighted to see them here.”“No, that was your mother, not me.”“Dad, you are incorrigible, and a liar. How are you occupying your time? Are you keeping busy?”“The environmental people made me do pointless work on the cliff face.”She stood and looked over the edge of the guard wall. “It looks like a giant concrete slide. Are you taking up skateboarding?”“Not likely, they were afraid the pool would leak and destroy the embankment. I told them it was impossible, even showed them the engineering specs, but they insisted. I had to empty the whole pool to put in the drain hatch and the electronic controls. Twenty-three and a half thousand gallons of water pumped out and back. A complete waste of time, energy, and my money, so I added a few features of my own while the water was out.”“Perhaps you shouldn’t have built your house on a cliff,” she adding a little laugh to reduce the sting. “What is that thing on the beach? It looks like a net.”“It is a safety net for a tightrope. Still needs two poles and a line.”The boys came crashing out to pool side, screaming and laughing. The first time I’ve appreciated their interrupting.“Keep it down, you two.”“Yes mother.”“Did you use the washroom?”“Yes grandpa.”“Are you sure, I don’t want you peeing in my pool, you absolutely must not pee in the water. Do you understand? Get out if you have to go. You can’t hide it. I had special pee detectors installed.”“Dad, they said they wouldn’t. Let it go.”“Do you promise boys?”“Yes grandpa.”“Then enjoy.”With a whoop they bolted and cannon-balled into the deep end. I looked at my tablet. As I suspected the pee indicator lit up at once. The sluicegate snapped open. It took a few moments for the whirlpool to build, but not long. The boys didn’t have a chance of escaping.In less than a minute they were swirling around caught in the pull of the whirling water. I wished they would stop screaming. They did, as they disappeared below the surface. I jumped up to the guard-wall. They were into the sluice before I made it. My calculations were correct, no time at all under water. As soon as they cleared the sluicegate it snapped closed. Five-thousand gallons of water rushed down the sluice. As it hit the barrier at the end of the trough a standing wave surged into existence. The boy’s bodies flashing into the wave, shot up, and floated through the air landing on the safety net. They bounced a little. The rush of water subsided.
Silence followed until I laughed. “Perfect engineering, an expensive toy, but I bet it keeps them coming back for years.” The sound of the boys whooping and laughing as they bounced on the net drifted up to us.
March 2, 2015
Selkie Revenge - Part 4
Tales of the TawsheSelkie Revenge - Part 4
Adel saw Bray appear out of the darkness and kneel by the body. She joined him as Clamcraver appeared also. “He is alive,” Bray announced quietly. “I will leave you two to do what you can for him while I make sure we remain undisturbed. You can build the fire up. He was alone.”“Adel and I may be able to heal his injuries if we work together,” Clamcraver announced.“See what you can do. Expect my return before dawn,” Bray assured Adel with a quick squeeze of her hand. Then he disappeared again into the night.They dragged the body over closer to the fire and Adel used their morning stock of driftwood to build the fire while Clamcraver examined the wounded man. She put water on to boil before returning to the Selkie.“The wound is not as bad as I first assumed. The arrow is imbedded in his shoulder blade. It is not deep. Once it is removed our combined magic should be able to heal it. I am surprised he passed out, but then again he looks to be a weak specimen.Adel had to agree. The man was thin and underdeveloped. His body had felt soft when they had moved him. He was not a local fisherman. His fancy clothing supported that opinion.When the water had boiled she held the body down while Clamcraver pulled the arrow out. They washed and cleaned the wound then the selkie had her place both hands over the injury while he placed his on top.“Feel with your magic like this,” he instructed and she sensed something extend out from her hands. A picture built in her mind. “See the bone. It has been cracked by the bolt. Let your energy flow into the crack and heal it thus.” She felt what he meant. The picture in her mind changed as the cracks disappeared. “Now, do the same thing to the injured flesh.”When their administrations were finished, Adel made a pillow from her cloak. They turned the man over and left his still unconscious body lying by the fire. They took turns watching him through the night.The grey of dawn was creeping into the sky when Bray returned. He crawled into the blankets beside Adel and went to sleep. The full light of morning woke him some time later. Adel handed him some tea when he joined her and Clamcraver at the remains of the fire.“Did he say anything?” he asked indicating the man.“No,” Clamcraver answered. “He came from the house of our friend the fisherman. I saw two men standing guard. There may be others.”“There are four in total, my Prince. They are assassins and they are here to kill you,” the man said from his bedding by the fire.***The fisherman’s cottage looked deserted as the woman in the red coat walked up from the beach and approached the door. The fisherman answered her knock. The watchers around the clearing saw her dragged abruptly into the building. There were sounds of a commotion from inside before silence was restored. The ones who watched from the trees smiled.Inside the cottage the fisherman stared in horror at the two bodies on the floor. He had never seen anything like what had just happened. The girl had been grabbed by one of the assassins, pulled into the house, and flung violently to the ground, but then everything went wrong. Instead of sprawling on the floor, the girl had rolled gracefully and arose as a man carrying two long knives.Bray’s roll carried him to within striking distance of one assassin. He finished the man with a quick thrust. His other knife flew back across the room and imbedded itself in the other assassin’s throat. Now he was standing in front of the fisherman with a bloody knife held to the man’s throat.“Have you returned the skin to its rightful owner?” Bray asked.The man, his eyes wide with terror shook his head to indicate no.“Where is she,” Bray demanded.The fisherman’s eyes looked towards what Bray assumed was a bedroom door. It was secured with a rough latch on this side, similar to the one on the inside of the main door. When the fisherman looked towards it, Bray’s fist smashed into the side of his head driving the man to the floor. Bray moved quickly to the main door and latched it. Retrieving his knife from the assassin’s throat he returned to the other assassin and cleaned both knives on the dead man’s shirt while making sure he was dead. Only then did he unlatch the bedroom door.A beautiful woman was tied to the bed with a gag in her mouth. She had lovely, long brown hair, green eyes, and a stunning body. Even tied to the bed as she was, Bray could appreciate her charms. Her eyes were wide with fright as Bray approached the bed until he showed her the carved shell Clamcraver had said would identify Bray as a friend. A smile spread across her face. Indicating the need for silence Bray quickly removed her bindings.“Your brother is outside. Stay close to me.”They exited the bedroom. The fisherman was starting to stir on the floor. Bray ignored him and searched the room with his eyes.“Did he keep you tied all the time?” he asked the woman.“No, I had to be free to clean and cook.”“So you looked for it.”“Yes, until he gave it to you.”Bray considered the room again, She would have searched everywhere she could reach he reasoned. Grabbing a chair he checked the top of a high cupboard located against the back kitchen wall. His hand encountered a soft object almost out of his reach. The woman cried when he brought forth her Selkie skin.Clamcraver had told him there was a bedroom window at the back of the house and his information had been correct. When both of them crouched outside the back wall of the cottage, Bray instructed her. “Keep low and walk slowly straight back to the trees. Only run if I say so. Do you understand?” The Selkie nodded. “Okay, here we go.”Bray’s back itched as he walked away from the back wall staying a few steps behind the woman. He had trusted Clamcraver’s magic to disguise him on the way into the cottage, but this part of the plan counted on stealth not magic. If Clamcraver had not been able to make his way around to the back woods without being discovered, they could be walking a deadly path. He held his breath and listened for the buzz of an arrow.Nothing happened. As he entered the trees he was met by Clamcraver holding his sister tightly in his arms. “Have they moved?” Bray whispered.“No. Should I come with you?”“No, get your sister away to the water. We will meet back at the boat.”Bray slipped off into the trees. He had scouted the location of the other two assassins before going to the house. Supposedly they remained in the same places, but he still went carefully and silently. His bow was where he had stashed it, close to the position of the first assassin he came to. He retrieved it. The assassin was lying comfortably on the ground behind a fallen log watching the approach to the front of the cottage. He died without a sound.As he was starting to work his way towards the fourth assassin’s position the man stepped out of the trees. He had Adel by the hair and a knife at her throat. “Killer, I have your woman. Come out where I can see you or she dies, he bellowed.Bray moved slowly, to not draw the man’s attention. He lifted his bow and shot an arrow upwards before he stepped into the open and walked quickly towards the man. He knew he only had a moment before the arrow dropped. He hoped Adel saw the Tawshe battle-talk he was signalling to her with his hand.“Not so —,” the assassin started to say as the arrow plummeted out of the sky and into his shoulder. At the same instant Adel dropped to the ground, breaking his hold on her. In one smooth movement, Bray snatched an arrow from his quiver and shot, just as the cottage door burst open and the fisherman charged forth screaming and wielding a cleaver. Bray’s arrow struck in the same shoulder his first one had, spinning the assassin slightly and exposed the small crossbow he was raising in his other hand. The assassin was good. Instead of shooting right away he held his shot until the fisherman was closer. Evading the bolt and the fisherman’s weapon at the same time was impossible. Suddenly the screaming figure of Aramas charged out from behind the assassin, a knife flashing in his hand. The assassin spun and fired. Adels surged up from the ground plunging her own knife up under the man’s ribs. Bray shifted to face the fisherman’s charge, but attacking an armed warrior was not what the fisherman meant to do. He swerved away from Bray, dropped his cleaver, and sprinted for the lake.Bray quickly checked around. The assassin was struggling to rise to his feet, so Bray finished him with an arrow. Adel had reached Aramas and was kneeling beside him. The fisherman reached the lake, ran a few steps into the water and dove forward striking out with strong smooth strokes towards a fishing boat anchored away from shore. Suddenly two sleek shapes shot up from below and crashed into his side. The man’s stunned body was forced beneath the surface. The Selkies had their revenge.
The End
Adel saw Bray appear out of the darkness and kneel by the body. She joined him as Clamcraver appeared also. “He is alive,” Bray announced quietly. “I will leave you two to do what you can for him while I make sure we remain undisturbed. You can build the fire up. He was alone.”“Adel and I may be able to heal his injuries if we work together,” Clamcraver announced.“See what you can do. Expect my return before dawn,” Bray assured Adel with a quick squeeze of her hand. Then he disappeared again into the night.They dragged the body over closer to the fire and Adel used their morning stock of driftwood to build the fire while Clamcraver examined the wounded man. She put water on to boil before returning to the Selkie.“The wound is not as bad as I first assumed. The arrow is imbedded in his shoulder blade. It is not deep. Once it is removed our combined magic should be able to heal it. I am surprised he passed out, but then again he looks to be a weak specimen.Adel had to agree. The man was thin and underdeveloped. His body had felt soft when they had moved him. He was not a local fisherman. His fancy clothing supported that opinion.When the water had boiled she held the body down while Clamcraver pulled the arrow out. They washed and cleaned the wound then the selkie had her place both hands over the injury while he placed his on top.“Feel with your magic like this,” he instructed and she sensed something extend out from her hands. A picture built in her mind. “See the bone. It has been cracked by the bolt. Let your energy flow into the crack and heal it thus.” She felt what he meant. The picture in her mind changed as the cracks disappeared. “Now, do the same thing to the injured flesh.”When their administrations were finished, Adel made a pillow from her cloak. They turned the man over and left his still unconscious body lying by the fire. They took turns watching him through the night.The grey of dawn was creeping into the sky when Bray returned. He crawled into the blankets beside Adel and went to sleep. The full light of morning woke him some time later. Adel handed him some tea when he joined her and Clamcraver at the remains of the fire.“Did he say anything?” he asked indicating the man.“No,” Clamcraver answered. “He came from the house of our friend the fisherman. I saw two men standing guard. There may be others.”“There are four in total, my Prince. They are assassins and they are here to kill you,” the man said from his bedding by the fire.***The fisherman’s cottage looked deserted as the woman in the red coat walked up from the beach and approached the door. The fisherman answered her knock. The watchers around the clearing saw her dragged abruptly into the building. There were sounds of a commotion from inside before silence was restored. The ones who watched from the trees smiled.Inside the cottage the fisherman stared in horror at the two bodies on the floor. He had never seen anything like what had just happened. The girl had been grabbed by one of the assassins, pulled into the house, and flung violently to the ground, but then everything went wrong. Instead of sprawling on the floor, the girl had rolled gracefully and arose as a man carrying two long knives.Bray’s roll carried him to within striking distance of one assassin. He finished the man with a quick thrust. His other knife flew back across the room and imbedded itself in the other assassin’s throat. Now he was standing in front of the fisherman with a bloody knife held to the man’s throat.“Have you returned the skin to its rightful owner?” Bray asked.The man, his eyes wide with terror shook his head to indicate no.“Where is she,” Bray demanded.The fisherman’s eyes looked towards what Bray assumed was a bedroom door. It was secured with a rough latch on this side, similar to the one on the inside of the main door. When the fisherman looked towards it, Bray’s fist smashed into the side of his head driving the man to the floor. Bray moved quickly to the main door and latched it. Retrieving his knife from the assassin’s throat he returned to the other assassin and cleaned both knives on the dead man’s shirt while making sure he was dead. Only then did he unlatch the bedroom door.A beautiful woman was tied to the bed with a gag in her mouth. She had lovely, long brown hair, green eyes, and a stunning body. Even tied to the bed as she was, Bray could appreciate her charms. Her eyes were wide with fright as Bray approached the bed until he showed her the carved shell Clamcraver had said would identify Bray as a friend. A smile spread across her face. Indicating the need for silence Bray quickly removed her bindings.“Your brother is outside. Stay close to me.”They exited the bedroom. The fisherman was starting to stir on the floor. Bray ignored him and searched the room with his eyes.“Did he keep you tied all the time?” he asked the woman.“No, I had to be free to clean and cook.”“So you looked for it.”“Yes, until he gave it to you.”Bray considered the room again, She would have searched everywhere she could reach he reasoned. Grabbing a chair he checked the top of a high cupboard located against the back kitchen wall. His hand encountered a soft object almost out of his reach. The woman cried when he brought forth her Selkie skin.Clamcraver had told him there was a bedroom window at the back of the house and his information had been correct. When both of them crouched outside the back wall of the cottage, Bray instructed her. “Keep low and walk slowly straight back to the trees. Only run if I say so. Do you understand?” The Selkie nodded. “Okay, here we go.”Bray’s back itched as he walked away from the back wall staying a few steps behind the woman. He had trusted Clamcraver’s magic to disguise him on the way into the cottage, but this part of the plan counted on stealth not magic. If Clamcraver had not been able to make his way around to the back woods without being discovered, they could be walking a deadly path. He held his breath and listened for the buzz of an arrow.Nothing happened. As he entered the trees he was met by Clamcraver holding his sister tightly in his arms. “Have they moved?” Bray whispered.“No. Should I come with you?”“No, get your sister away to the water. We will meet back at the boat.”Bray slipped off into the trees. He had scouted the location of the other two assassins before going to the house. Supposedly they remained in the same places, but he still went carefully and silently. His bow was where he had stashed it, close to the position of the first assassin he came to. He retrieved it. The assassin was lying comfortably on the ground behind a fallen log watching the approach to the front of the cottage. He died without a sound.As he was starting to work his way towards the fourth assassin’s position the man stepped out of the trees. He had Adel by the hair and a knife at her throat. “Killer, I have your woman. Come out where I can see you or she dies, he bellowed.Bray moved slowly, to not draw the man’s attention. He lifted his bow and shot an arrow upwards before he stepped into the open and walked quickly towards the man. He knew he only had a moment before the arrow dropped. He hoped Adel saw the Tawshe battle-talk he was signalling to her with his hand.“Not so —,” the assassin started to say as the arrow plummeted out of the sky and into his shoulder. At the same instant Adel dropped to the ground, breaking his hold on her. In one smooth movement, Bray snatched an arrow from his quiver and shot, just as the cottage door burst open and the fisherman charged forth screaming and wielding a cleaver. Bray’s arrow struck in the same shoulder his first one had, spinning the assassin slightly and exposed the small crossbow he was raising in his other hand. The assassin was good. Instead of shooting right away he held his shot until the fisherman was closer. Evading the bolt and the fisherman’s weapon at the same time was impossible. Suddenly the screaming figure of Aramas charged out from behind the assassin, a knife flashing in his hand. The assassin spun and fired. Adels surged up from the ground plunging her own knife up under the man’s ribs. Bray shifted to face the fisherman’s charge, but attacking an armed warrior was not what the fisherman meant to do. He swerved away from Bray, dropped his cleaver, and sprinted for the lake.Bray quickly checked around. The assassin was struggling to rise to his feet, so Bray finished him with an arrow. Adel had reached Aramas and was kneeling beside him. The fisherman reached the lake, ran a few steps into the water and dove forward striking out with strong smooth strokes towards a fishing boat anchored away from shore. Suddenly two sleek shapes shot up from below and crashed into his side. The man’s stunned body was forced beneath the surface. The Selkies had their revenge.
The End
February 22, 2015
Selkie Revenge Part 3
Tales of the TawsheSelkie Revenge - Part 3
“I am returning your gift,” Bray announced.“That is unnecessary. It was a gift. You keep it,” the fisherman insisted.“I am afraid I cannot do that. I did not understand what it was when I accepted it.”The fisherman’s face turned mean and his eyes grew cold. “What do you mean? It is a seal skin, nothing more.”“You know that is not true,” Adel injected. “It is a Selkie skin and you should be ashamed of what you are doing. Now, take the skin back and put an end to the poor woman’s suffering.” She grabbed the skin from Bray’s hand and tried to pass it to the man, but he pulled away as the skin touched him, slamming the door on them.“Go away!” he screamed from behind the door.“Your gift is returned,” Adel shouted back. “We are leaving it on the chair, but we will return tomorrow morning to make sure you have given it to its rightful owner.”***Aramas found the fisherman sitting on a chair outside his hovel of a house. He was holding a seal skin in his hands and displayed anger in the hunched nature of his posture, until he saw Aramas’ four companions.“We would ask a question of you, good man,” Aramas said as they came close. The man did not answer, so Aramas continued. “We are looking for a young man who we believe you had commerce with. It has been suggested that you traded him a boat for labour some time ago. Do you recall him?”This time the fisherman showed interest. He looked knowingly at the assassins. It was not difficult to guess their purpose from their appearance and the weapons they carried. “I remember him, in fact he returned here tonight. You just missed him.”Aramas’ bowels almost let go as he realized what was being said. Before he could utter another word, one of the assassins spoke. His voice was cruel. “Where did he go?”“I do not know where he went, but I might know where he will be tomorrow morning. You mean to kill him, do you not?”“Do you have a problem with that?” the assassin growled as he rested his hand on the handle of his sword.“Not at all, I yearn to see him dead, but I need this skin returned to him before he is killed. If you will force him take it back, I will tell you where he will be.”The assassins looked one to the other. “It means we will not be able to use a bow.”“We are four. He is only one.”“But he did kill the prince. He must be a master swordsman.”“He had Nadian swords when he did that. He does not have them anymore.”“Are we agreed?” The four assassins nodded their accord.***A short distance along the coast Bray, Adel, and Clamcraver sat around a small cooking fire. Their boat was pulled up on the sand of the beach. Their meal was finished. They were relaxing.“I have never seen you use your magic,” Clamcraver said to Adel.“That is because I do not possess any magic,” Adel replied with a laugh. I can sense it that is all.”“I can sense your magic. You do not have to try to hide it from me,” Clamcraver replied with a questioning look.“You are most likely sensing the magic in my coat or in the blankets we use. They are both of Far Darrig origin.”“I can see that you are being truthful with me, but you are mistaken. You possess magic. I will prove it if you wish.”Bray moved forward slightly. He knew that Adel was uncomfortable with her ability to sense magic. He was interested to see what she would do in this situation. He felt that she had matured quite a bit over the time they had been together, but would she or could she accept what the Selkie was saying. Bray believed the Selkie. It was an accepted fact that all the fair-folk could see magic. It was often said that they could she a person’s essence.“I think you are wrong,” Adel told Clamcraver, “but go ahead and try to prove it.”A clam shell appeared in the Selkie’s hand. “Catch,” he said as he tossed it towards her.Adel snatched the shell from the air and held it in her open palm. “It is only a clam shell. What does that prove?”“Only a clam shell? It looks like fire to me,” Clamcraver announced, and sure enough Adel now held a flame in her palm.She held her hand out farther. “There is no heat, it does not burn. It is an illusion.”“Of course it is an illusion. That is the simplest magic to perform, but it is your illusion.”“No. You created it. I am only holding it.”“I created the clam shell illusion. When I suggested it was fire, you changed its form, and you can change it again whenever you want. Think of something you want it to be, but do not tell me what it is. Concentrate on changing the fire to the new item.”They watched Adels palm. Nothing happened for a few moments until suddenly the fire was replaced by a clay mug. Adel flinched when the change occurred. Her movement caused the item to tumble from her hand, but instead of stopping on the ground it passed into the sand.Before Adel could say anything else Bray hissed, “Someone comes.” He rolled away from the fire into the shadow of the boat. The others followed his example; in a heartbeat the camp fire was deserted.Bray could hear faltering footsteps in the sand. Whoever was approaching was not trying to surprise them. There was too much noise for that. Bray waited but even before the figure lurched into the dying light of the fire he smelled the blood.“Help me,” the person moaned just before collapsing to the sand, a crossbow bolt protruding from his back.
Bray’s low whistle told Adel to stay hidden as he slipped around the boat into the darkness behind. He prowled the beach in both directions before returning to their camp. Whoever this person was, he was alone.
“I am returning your gift,” Bray announced.“That is unnecessary. It was a gift. You keep it,” the fisherman insisted.“I am afraid I cannot do that. I did not understand what it was when I accepted it.”The fisherman’s face turned mean and his eyes grew cold. “What do you mean? It is a seal skin, nothing more.”“You know that is not true,” Adel injected. “It is a Selkie skin and you should be ashamed of what you are doing. Now, take the skin back and put an end to the poor woman’s suffering.” She grabbed the skin from Bray’s hand and tried to pass it to the man, but he pulled away as the skin touched him, slamming the door on them.“Go away!” he screamed from behind the door.“Your gift is returned,” Adel shouted back. “We are leaving it on the chair, but we will return tomorrow morning to make sure you have given it to its rightful owner.”***Aramas found the fisherman sitting on a chair outside his hovel of a house. He was holding a seal skin in his hands and displayed anger in the hunched nature of his posture, until he saw Aramas’ four companions.“We would ask a question of you, good man,” Aramas said as they came close. The man did not answer, so Aramas continued. “We are looking for a young man who we believe you had commerce with. It has been suggested that you traded him a boat for labour some time ago. Do you recall him?”This time the fisherman showed interest. He looked knowingly at the assassins. It was not difficult to guess their purpose from their appearance and the weapons they carried. “I remember him, in fact he returned here tonight. You just missed him.”Aramas’ bowels almost let go as he realized what was being said. Before he could utter another word, one of the assassins spoke. His voice was cruel. “Where did he go?”“I do not know where he went, but I might know where he will be tomorrow morning. You mean to kill him, do you not?”“Do you have a problem with that?” the assassin growled as he rested his hand on the handle of his sword.“Not at all, I yearn to see him dead, but I need this skin returned to him before he is killed. If you will force him take it back, I will tell you where he will be.”The assassins looked one to the other. “It means we will not be able to use a bow.”“We are four. He is only one.”“But he did kill the prince. He must be a master swordsman.”“He had Nadian swords when he did that. He does not have them anymore.”“Are we agreed?” The four assassins nodded their accord.***A short distance along the coast Bray, Adel, and Clamcraver sat around a small cooking fire. Their boat was pulled up on the sand of the beach. Their meal was finished. They were relaxing.“I have never seen you use your magic,” Clamcraver said to Adel.“That is because I do not possess any magic,” Adel replied with a laugh. I can sense it that is all.”“I can sense your magic. You do not have to try to hide it from me,” Clamcraver replied with a questioning look.“You are most likely sensing the magic in my coat or in the blankets we use. They are both of Far Darrig origin.”“I can see that you are being truthful with me, but you are mistaken. You possess magic. I will prove it if you wish.”Bray moved forward slightly. He knew that Adel was uncomfortable with her ability to sense magic. He was interested to see what she would do in this situation. He felt that she had matured quite a bit over the time they had been together, but would she or could she accept what the Selkie was saying. Bray believed the Selkie. It was an accepted fact that all the fair-folk could see magic. It was often said that they could she a person’s essence.“I think you are wrong,” Adel told Clamcraver, “but go ahead and try to prove it.”A clam shell appeared in the Selkie’s hand. “Catch,” he said as he tossed it towards her.Adel snatched the shell from the air and held it in her open palm. “It is only a clam shell. What does that prove?”“Only a clam shell? It looks like fire to me,” Clamcraver announced, and sure enough Adel now held a flame in her palm.She held her hand out farther. “There is no heat, it does not burn. It is an illusion.”“Of course it is an illusion. That is the simplest magic to perform, but it is your illusion.”“No. You created it. I am only holding it.”“I created the clam shell illusion. When I suggested it was fire, you changed its form, and you can change it again whenever you want. Think of something you want it to be, but do not tell me what it is. Concentrate on changing the fire to the new item.”They watched Adels palm. Nothing happened for a few moments until suddenly the fire was replaced by a clay mug. Adel flinched when the change occurred. Her movement caused the item to tumble from her hand, but instead of stopping on the ground it passed into the sand.Before Adel could say anything else Bray hissed, “Someone comes.” He rolled away from the fire into the shadow of the boat. The others followed his example; in a heartbeat the camp fire was deserted.Bray could hear faltering footsteps in the sand. Whoever was approaching was not trying to surprise them. There was too much noise for that. Bray waited but even before the figure lurched into the dying light of the fire he smelled the blood.“Help me,” the person moaned just before collapsing to the sand, a crossbow bolt protruding from his back.
Bray’s low whistle told Adel to stay hidden as he slipped around the boat into the darkness behind. He prowled the beach in both directions before returning to their camp. Whoever this person was, he was alone.
February 14, 2015
Selkie Revenge - Part 2
Tales of the TawsheSelkie Revenge - Part 2
Adel enjoyed the next few days. Clamcraver spent most of his time in the water. He would sometimes return to his human form and sprawl on the bow of their little boat where he answered Bray’s questions. Usually while they ate a meal of sea food he supplied.Bray love of learning was obvious in their conversations. He had Clamcraver explain the laws and customs that governed his kind, their stories, and their beliefs.“I have heard that female Selkie will often return to the shore and take human form. Why is that? Would the Selkie prefer to live on land?”“No! Never, but you are correct, more females are attracted to land than are males. I do not understand the appeal.”“What do they do when they are out of the water?” Adel asked.“They repose in the moon light and comb their hair.”“Is that all?”“Unless they have imprisoned, then they are forced to work as humans do. Cooking, cleaning, and copulating are their main duties.”“When they are in their water form, do they spend a great amount of time on their hair?” Adel continued.“No, we do not have that type of hair when in our seal forms.”“But you primp quite a bit. I have witnessed you stroking your face hairs while you float.”“Yes, that is how we clean ourselves.”“Do you do it for any other reason besides cleaning?” Bray asked.“We all love to preen It is enjoyable. It makes us feel delight.”“Then I would submit that you have your answer. Some human women like to brush their hair. It offers them the same joy you get from preening, and they will pursue pleasure even when it involves some danger.”“I will think on what you have said,” Clamcraver answered. “More clams?”Bray and Adel shook their heads to indicate no.“Well I will,” he admitted as he dropped into the water.“He surely lives up to his name,” Adel observed.Bray smiled at her. Do you like to have your hair brushed?” he asked.“Yes I do, are you offering?” she responded playfully.“I certainly am.”***Aramas of Nadia hated the men he was travelling with, even hated that he was travelling. He was a courtier; he belonged in the palace not hiking along dirt roads in the middle of the Destroyer’s own forest. Unfortunately, he had witnessed the death of the Nadian crown prince a cycle past. His world changed for the worst that day.His life had promise before that. He had been a courtier in the crown prince’s retinue, had a room in the palace and respect from the servants. But most importantly he had lovely clothing — silk pantaloons, delicate slippers, and lovely tailored blouses. Now, his slippers were worn through, his feet hurt, and his adorable clothes were covered in the dust of the road, as was his body and his hair. He was travelling with four assassins who treated him as badly as the prince had at times.Truthfully, he was not sorry that the prince was dead. The man had been cruel and arrogant, but serving him had allowed Aramas a status and wealth he enjoyed. Until the other one had killed him. Aramas had never shown a hint about how he actually felt regarding the prince’s death. He was too good a courtier to allow his true emotions to show, but in private, to himself, he acknowledged that the death put a smile on his face. The look of surprise and fear on the prince’s arrogant face gave him pleasure, and that fact bothered Aramas in ways he did not understand. Was he secretly a sadist who enjoyed seeing other people hurt, or did it have something to do with the man who had beaten the prince?Aramas referred to him as the other because he was certain he knew who the youth was, but he had never admitted it to anyone. He was named the killer or the assassin by others. The king, for some unexplained reason, called him a pirate, but Aramas knew the truth. He was the other crown prince, Bray, son of dead Prince Aragon, nephew to the current King, grandson to the old one. Aramas believed whole heartedly, although he had only seen him that one time, that Bray was someone he could pledge his life to if given the chance. He had impressed Aramas that much in the few moments they had spoken. Unfortunately, he was travelling with four murderers whose task it was to kill the killer. And it was Aromas’ job to identify him — point him out to the assassins — so they could do their deed. He had no wish to do it, but he knew that his life was forfeit if he failed. The king had made that abundantly clear to him.
But, he did not have to worry about it today. They had learned that their quarry had travelled this way. A fisherman in the last village had relayed to them how a stranger meeting the description had traded manual labour for a small boat. The trade had happened in the village they were now approaching, but it had occurred sometime previous. They were on the trail but still far behind, and for that Aramas was grateful.
Adel enjoyed the next few days. Clamcraver spent most of his time in the water. He would sometimes return to his human form and sprawl on the bow of their little boat where he answered Bray’s questions. Usually while they ate a meal of sea food he supplied.Bray love of learning was obvious in their conversations. He had Clamcraver explain the laws and customs that governed his kind, their stories, and their beliefs.“I have heard that female Selkie will often return to the shore and take human form. Why is that? Would the Selkie prefer to live on land?”“No! Never, but you are correct, more females are attracted to land than are males. I do not understand the appeal.”“What do they do when they are out of the water?” Adel asked.“They repose in the moon light and comb their hair.”“Is that all?”“Unless they have imprisoned, then they are forced to work as humans do. Cooking, cleaning, and copulating are their main duties.”“When they are in their water form, do they spend a great amount of time on their hair?” Adel continued.“No, we do not have that type of hair when in our seal forms.”“But you primp quite a bit. I have witnessed you stroking your face hairs while you float.”“Yes, that is how we clean ourselves.”“Do you do it for any other reason besides cleaning?” Bray asked.“We all love to preen It is enjoyable. It makes us feel delight.”“Then I would submit that you have your answer. Some human women like to brush their hair. It offers them the same joy you get from preening, and they will pursue pleasure even when it involves some danger.”“I will think on what you have said,” Clamcraver answered. “More clams?”Bray and Adel shook their heads to indicate no.“Well I will,” he admitted as he dropped into the water.“He surely lives up to his name,” Adel observed.Bray smiled at her. Do you like to have your hair brushed?” he asked.“Yes I do, are you offering?” she responded playfully.“I certainly am.”***Aramas of Nadia hated the men he was travelling with, even hated that he was travelling. He was a courtier; he belonged in the palace not hiking along dirt roads in the middle of the Destroyer’s own forest. Unfortunately, he had witnessed the death of the Nadian crown prince a cycle past. His world changed for the worst that day.His life had promise before that. He had been a courtier in the crown prince’s retinue, had a room in the palace and respect from the servants. But most importantly he had lovely clothing — silk pantaloons, delicate slippers, and lovely tailored blouses. Now, his slippers were worn through, his feet hurt, and his adorable clothes were covered in the dust of the road, as was his body and his hair. He was travelling with four assassins who treated him as badly as the prince had at times.Truthfully, he was not sorry that the prince was dead. The man had been cruel and arrogant, but serving him had allowed Aramas a status and wealth he enjoyed. Until the other one had killed him. Aramas had never shown a hint about how he actually felt regarding the prince’s death. He was too good a courtier to allow his true emotions to show, but in private, to himself, he acknowledged that the death put a smile on his face. The look of surprise and fear on the prince’s arrogant face gave him pleasure, and that fact bothered Aramas in ways he did not understand. Was he secretly a sadist who enjoyed seeing other people hurt, or did it have something to do with the man who had beaten the prince?Aramas referred to him as the other because he was certain he knew who the youth was, but he had never admitted it to anyone. He was named the killer or the assassin by others. The king, for some unexplained reason, called him a pirate, but Aramas knew the truth. He was the other crown prince, Bray, son of dead Prince Aragon, nephew to the current King, grandson to the old one. Aramas believed whole heartedly, although he had only seen him that one time, that Bray was someone he could pledge his life to if given the chance. He had impressed Aramas that much in the few moments they had spoken. Unfortunately, he was travelling with four murderers whose task it was to kill the killer. And it was Aromas’ job to identify him — point him out to the assassins — so they could do their deed. He had no wish to do it, but he knew that his life was forfeit if he failed. The king had made that abundantly clear to him.
But, he did not have to worry about it today. They had learned that their quarry had travelled this way. A fisherman in the last village had relayed to them how a stranger meeting the description had traded manual labour for a small boat. The trade had happened in the village they were now approaching, but it had occurred sometime previous. They were on the trail but still far behind, and for that Aramas was grateful.
Are men dropping their end of the valentine?
I was commenting on a post by +Evelyn Chartres on Google+ today and I got into something I have been wondering about for some time now, are men not carrying their end of the valentine?
I see many, many, many love stories these days that are intended for a female audience, written by women, and marketed with covers showing shirtless, hairless, broad chested men depicted as cowboys, pirates, Scotsmen, etc. (take your pick). I was wondering why there is such an abundance of these novels. Are men not giving women what they need in the romance department and I'm not talking about male author as here either. I mean are we men failing in this area?
I don't mean sex either. I mean romance. I have to assume that this is what these books offer over reality. Actually I hope that is what these books offer over reality, otherwise ... I don't want to consider the otherwise. I am simply asking if men are failing in the romance department.
In my first novel, Hosting (available for free on Kobo, $0.99 on Kindle any Google Books ... couldn't resist the plug) there is a love scene where the protagonist is interrupted by the alien who is sharing his consciousness when she tell him he is not doing it properly. She proceeds to instruct him on what to do to obtain the result he and his girlfriend want. The actual instructions are not as important as one of the underlying ideas, which is that anticipation is paramount. Is anticipation missing from your romance?
The idea of anticipation is not new. It is a well-used device. We see it in film, literature, and marketing all the time. The anticipation of that first touch, that first kiss, that first ... whatever. It has sold many books and has kept fans coming back for more even when plots and writing have failed, but are we not using it, men, in real life? Do women have to turn to fantasy to get what they need?
It might be a question we men want to ask ourselves, especially on this, Valentine’s Day.
I see many, many, many love stories these days that are intended for a female audience, written by women, and marketed with covers showing shirtless, hairless, broad chested men depicted as cowboys, pirates, Scotsmen, etc. (take your pick). I was wondering why there is such an abundance of these novels. Are men not giving women what they need in the romance department and I'm not talking about male author as here either. I mean are we men failing in this area?
I don't mean sex either. I mean romance. I have to assume that this is what these books offer over reality. Actually I hope that is what these books offer over reality, otherwise ... I don't want to consider the otherwise. I am simply asking if men are failing in the romance department.
In my first novel, Hosting (available for free on Kobo, $0.99 on Kindle any Google Books ... couldn't resist the plug) there is a love scene where the protagonist is interrupted by the alien who is sharing his consciousness when she tell him he is not doing it properly. She proceeds to instruct him on what to do to obtain the result he and his girlfriend want. The actual instructions are not as important as one of the underlying ideas, which is that anticipation is paramount. Is anticipation missing from your romance?
The idea of anticipation is not new. It is a well-used device. We see it in film, literature, and marketing all the time. The anticipation of that first touch, that first kiss, that first ... whatever. It has sold many books and has kept fans coming back for more even when plots and writing have failed, but are we not using it, men, in real life? Do women have to turn to fantasy to get what they need?
It might be a question we men want to ask ourselves, especially on this, Valentine’s Day.
