Loni Townsend's Blog, page 34

Murder Most Fowl – Part U #atozchallenge

For the A to Z challenge, I present Murder Most Fowl, an unedited serial story from the unpublished Cera Chronicles. Please excuse the grammar mistakes. This hasn’t been critiqued yet. If you’re just diving into this story, you may want to start with part A.

Undertaker Coleman ushered us from the office, toward the building across the street. “Business is booming. Massacre Molly’s reignin’ terror down on our town, and the good people need some reassurance that everythin’s well in hand.”

I raised my eyebrows and glanced sidelong at Molly. She shrugged and waggled her fingers. “I got some mystical powers too.”

She did? Despite my amazing abilities, I still couldn’t be in two places at once. Unless he meant literally raining—I could do that.

“Quickly now.” Coleman pulled open a door. Noise spilled out, nearly drowning his words. “Inside. The people are waitin’.”

I shook my head. “You know, we aren’t actually—”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Coleman shouted, shoving us ahead of him out onto a platform. “Please calm down. The marshalls are here.”

The crowded hall quieted and turned to face us as one writhing mass.

These poor frightened people. “Don’t worry,” I said to the crowd. “Whoever it is terrorizing your town is just an imposter. The real Massacre Molly is standing right here. See?” I waved to her.

The people stared at me. Then someone screamed. Cattle started to stampede. Humans ran to escape.

Bartholomew lifted his shotgun and fired. The hall seized into sudden stillness and silence, making the creaks and crash of falling ceiling plaster thunderous in comparison. Sunlight poured through the fresh hole.

I leaned close to him and cupped my hand to my mouth. “You’re probably going to have to pay for that…”

The doors at the far end of the hall banged open. A figure filled the entrance–hat shadowing the top half of his face and stubble dressing his chiseled jaw. Light glinted off the sword hanging at his hips. Men stumbled backwards, distancing themselves from the newcomer. Women swooned.

Bartholomew redirected his aim. Coleman drew a compact ray-gun that cranked and expanded to a full-size cannon…which he held in one hand.

Molly fanned herself, a blush rising to her cheeks. “Now that is one mighty fine lookin’ fella.”

I couldn’t argue.

Seth had that visceral charm about him.

His gaze locked on me, and he started stalking the distance. People scrambled to flee his path. Metal rang as he drew his weapon. “Who do I need to kill?”

The entire room tensed. Well. Almost.

I glanced down at hole in my corset. “Oh. That was Fues.”

Seth glared at the pygmy and growled. Fues grinned and ducked behind Michael.

Molly sighed. “Does that mean he’s a weirdo too?”

My second to last companion scanned our group, settling on the bird. “This is one of those worlds?”

Huh? One of what—

An explosion shook the building. Through the open doorway, I saw a long leather duster hanging on a feminine bovine figure.

Perry.

Read V here.

Thanks for reading! If you want to start at the beginning, find it here. Don’t forget to visit other bloggers participating in the A to Z Challenge.

Do you have any criticism? Suggestions? Wild, off-the-wall ideas of “you know what would be funny…?” Let me know in the comments. I’d love to hear them.

The post Murder Most Fowl – Part U #atozchallenge appeared first on Squirrel Talk.

Murder Most Fowl – Part T #atozchallenge

For the A to Z challenge, I present Murder Most Fowl, an unedited serial story from the unpublished Cera Chronicles. Please excuse the grammar mistakes. This hasn’t been critiqued yet. If you’re just diving into this story, you may want to start with part A.

The musty funk of mummified flesh wafted from behind the bars segregating the empty Sheriff’s Office. A skeleton grinned at us, its arms dangling through the cell door slots. The floral pattern of the exotic rug was quite pretty, if not a little…oh, never mind. Those were bloodstains. I plopped down into the only cushioned chair, and kicked my legs over the arm. “Twenty percent. It’s really quite a bargain. I save your son’s life, and you give us a cut of Molly’s reward.” I wanted the money to rent a cart and go look for my other two companions.

Bartholomew bit down on his toothpick and glowered at Joe. “Not sure he’s worth that much.”

Michael yanked a dirty wanted poster from the bulletin board. “On the contrary, it would seem he is worth 37.28%. At least, that is what the bounty on his head equals out to.”

Joe leaned forward and squinted at the depiction of his upper half. “Hey Pa, look. I’m famous!” Even in the drawing, he didn’t have a shirt.

Bartholomew slapped a hand over his face and groaned. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be a happily married man right now.” He parted his fingers and peered at me. “His mother left when he was born. Took one look at the babe, dumped him in my arms, and walked out. He’s been the bane of my existence since.”

Fues poked his head in through the window from outside. “Your problem. My meal.” He jabbed Joe with his spear.

I frowned at the pygmy. “We can’t collect the reward if you eat him.”

Michael studied the paper. “It says here he shot and killed the sheriff of…” He looked up. “Graverock? We are in Graverock.”

That explained the Help Wanted sign in the window.

Molly gazed up at her own poster on the wall. “If there ain’t a sheriff, then I’m free to go, right?” She cast a sidelong glance at Joe. “Since, unlike you, I haven’t killed anyone.”

Joe scratched his chest. “I’d done wondered why they stuck me in that cell. Funny thing is, I don’t remember shootin’ no one.”

The door swung open and a loose-jowell man strode inside before stumbling to a halt. “Are you the marshalls?”

I looked him over. “Are you the new sheriff?”

“No,” he said. “I’m the undertaker. Coleman’s the name, and we’ve got ourselves a situation.”

Thanks for reading! If you want to start at the beginning, find it here. Don’t forget to visit other bloggers participating in the A to Z Challenge.

Do you have any criticism? Suggestions? Wild, off-the-wall ideas of “you know what would be funny…?” Let me know in the comments. I’d love to hear them.

The post Murder Most Fowl – Part T #atozchallenge appeared first on Squirrel Talk.

Murder Most Fowl – Part S #atozchallenge

For the A to Z challenge, I present Murder Most Fowl, an unedited serial story from the unpublished Cera Chronicles. Please excuse the grammar mistakes. This hasn’t been critiqued yet. If you’re just diving into this story, you may want to start with part A.

Someone was saying my name. The loud clatter of train wheels swept past my head. I squinted into the silhouette blocking the sun. “Michael?”

His face neared and came into focus. It had gone white, with red splotches dotting his cheeks and ringing his eyes. “Mistress Cera!” Even with his shouting, I barely heard him over the train.

He pulled me into a sitting position. Train cars roared past us, the backdraft threatening to suck us in and drag us along. Pebbles bounced and sand shifted, vibrating away from the mass of mayhem on wheels.

The last car passed, leaving us with the dank scent of burnt coal. I glanced across the tracks. Who had I expended all that energy to save?

A semi-familiar face stared back at me. Huh. Who was this guy?

He grinned, still lying as a rope burrito on the ground. “Woohoo! That was a close one.”

Bartholomew spat on the ground. “Joe?”

Joe’s eyes rounded. “Pa?”

Bartholomew growled and cocked his shotgun, training it on the bound man. “Did Perry do this? Have you been cheatin’ on her again?”

“Aw, Pa. You know how cowgirls–”

Bartholomew fired. Shot pelted the ground inches from Joe’s head. “Don’t talk about your mother like that.”

“I wasn’t referrin’ to Ma!” Joe squirmed. “It’s Perry. She’s gone crazy. Won’t stop talkin’ about some stolen somethin’ or ‘nother.”

A long silence passed before Bartholomew lowered his gun. He looked at me. “Thank you for savin’ my idiot son.”

“Sure…” I fingered the fresh tear in my corset–laced with my blood–then scanned my companions with a raised eyebrow.

Fues grinned and hefted his spear. “I catch. You no fall.”

“Gee, thanks.” Glad I hadn’t been conscious for the Cera-kebab.

“Better than you run over by train,” he offered.

True.

My stalker sat perched on the top of Fues’s wooden mask, staring down at me without expression. Maybe I’d hit my head, because Michael was right. That bird was starting to look familiar.

I met Molly’s troubled gaze. “What?”

“I’ve never seen anyone worry for another as much as you people do.” She folded her arms around her middle and averted her eyes. “I wish someone cared for me like that.”

Joe wiggled closer with a leer. “I’ll care for you.”

She wrinkled her nose. “As I told you before, ew.”

Bartholomew swatted Joe across the back of the head before looking at me. “A’ight. Let’s git this ordeal over with.”

Thanks for reading! If you want to start at the beginning, find it here. Don’t forget to visit other bloggers participating in the A to Z Challenge.

Do you have any criticism? Suggestions? Wild, off-the-wall ideas of “you know what would be funny…?” Let me know in the comments. I’d love to hear them.

The post Murder Most Fowl – Part S #atozchallenge appeared first on Squirrel Talk.

Murder Most Fowl – Part R #atozchallenge

For the A to Z challenge, I present Murder Most Fowl, an unedited serial story from the unpublished Cera Chronicles. Please excuse the grammar mistakes. This hasn’t been critiqued yet. If you’re just diving into this story, you may want to start with part A.

Railroad tracks ran alongside the road. A black metal beast barreled down the iron path toward a screaming figure wrapped in ropes down the line. A column of steam rose from its stumpy stack. Bartholomew flicked the reins and the ostriches bolted into a run, throwing us to the back of the cage. I reached out to steady Michael and Molly. Could we reach whoever it was before the train did? I couldn’t transport while not in contact with the ground.

I pinned my two charges against the bars and shouted to my pygmy. “Fues!”

He hooted and jabbed a carved bone into the keyhole. Click. The door swung open. Fues clung to it, hanging out over open air, cackling as we bounded to the rescue.

Michael patted my shoulder. “I have her. Go on.”

I nodded and released my grip.

The ground rushed past in a blur. My head spun and I sucked in a breath. The ostriches careened into a turn, nearly throwing me and rolling the cart. Someone shouted. Michael! My heart lodged in my throat. If he’d been hurt—

Michael and Molly held each other and the bars with matching death grips. I flicked my gaze back to the bound figure on the tracks. No good. Wouldn’t get there in time. The train bore down.

We were close enough that I could…

I focused my elemental power and called forth a blast of water. My muscles shook and the world tilted around me, but I clung to the bars. Water pressure knocked the person clear. Sweat beaded on my brow. Exhaustion clouded my vision.

My grip slipped. Train tracks rushed to meet me. Aw crap. This was gonna hurt.

Thanks for reading! If you want to start at the beginning, find it here. Don’t forget to visit other bloggers participating in the A to Z Challenge.

Do you have any criticism? Suggestions? Wild, off-the-wall ideas of “you know what would be funny…?” Let me know in the comments. I’d love to hear them.

The post Murder Most Fowl – Part R #atozchallenge appeared first on Squirrel Talk.

Murder Most Fowl – Part Q #atozchallenge

For the A to Z challenge, I present Murder Most Fowl, an unedited serial story from the unpublished Cera Chronicles. Please excuse the grammar mistakes. This hasn’t been critiqued yet. If you’re just diving into this story, you may want to start with part A.

“Quit complaining.” I slung an arm around Molly’s shoulders. “At least I didn’t let them kill you.”

“Yeah?” Molly leaned her head back and stared up through the cell bars enclosing the cart. “Well, I ain’t keen on rottin’ in a jail cell either.”

Bartholomew snorted from the cart’s driver’s seat. I’d made a deal with him; if he took us to the next town, I’d let him collect the reward on Molly’s head to pay for damages. It’d been his idea to use the jailer’s cart.

A dark, bird-shaped shadow passed overhead. Mr. Stalker landed on the cage—short a few feathers and looking the worse for wear, but undeniably alive. Drats.

Molly shifted on the cart bench and pulled a folded strip of leather from under her corset. She unfolded it and stared at the designs on the other side.

Michael’s eyebrows rose and he leaned closer. His hand slid over her thigh. “What is that? Is that a map?”

She grabbed his wrist and shoved it back into his lap. “I don’t know. My husband gave it to me before he died. Said something about it bein’ big.”

“Big enough to get killed over,” I muttered. I sighed and tried to ignore the twisting in my stomach. I wanted off this world. Where were my other companions? How was I going to find them?

Michael lifted a hand, his fingers twitching. “It looks like a map. May I see it? I may be able to decipher it.”

She pursed her lips and held tighter. “You three ain’t normal.”

“Normalcy is relative,” he replied.

“See? Normal people don’t talk like that.” She shook her head. “You’re a child who sank a pirate zeppelin—” She pointed at Fues. “—he’s a funny little creature who eats people—” She looked at me. “—and she don’t have pupils, not to mention she throws fire. Where did y’all come from, and how am I so unfortunate as to make your acquaintance?”

She already considered us abnormal, so what harm was there?

“We’re from another world,” I said. “We came looking for a cure for my dad’s coma. So far, your world has nothing to offer. Now, I just want to find my last two companions and leave for the next world—one that might be able to help my father.”

My stalker squawked.

Michael glanced at the bird. “Does he look familiar?”

I studied the golden features and expressive eyebrows. Beyond the fact that it’d been following me? “Nope.”

The bird grumbled in a series of caws.

Michael licked his lips and shrugged. “Now about that map…”

A distant horn reached out little cage. With it came a scream.

Thanks for reading! If you want to start at the beginning, find it here. Don’t forget to visit other bloggers participating in the A to Z Challenge.

Do you have any criticism? Suggestions? Wild, off-the-wall ideas of “you know what would be funny…?” Let me know in the comments. I’d love to hear them.

The post Murder Most Fowl – Part Q #atozchallenge appeared first on Squirrel Talk.

Golden Dawn & MMF Part P #atozchallenge

Happy Friday everyone! I’m skipping Featured Photo Friday in order to bring you something special. Today, Golden Dawn by the fantastic Aldrea Alien is available for purchase!

It is a Paranormal (see, it’s P related), and you’ve seen some flash fiction for it on Michael Di Gesu’s blog. Now, you can read the actual story.

Blurb:

Family and blood.

After 1100 years, these simple words mean everything to Herald. His life has been ruled by keeping his siblings safe, keeping them from becoming prey whilst feeding on the weaker. His failures have been many and measured by those he has lost. People like his twin brother.

There has always been an enemy to push back or defeat.

Just who the enemy is comes into question when Herald meets the dangerous, angelic creature he is to guard. Wondering where his true loyalties lie is a dangerous thought. No matter whether he chooses family over the heart, it will mean death.

Only the right choice will ensure the life taken is not his.

Buy Links:

Amazon | Amazon UK | iTunes | Barnes & Noble | Smashwords | MuseitUp Publishing | BookStrand.com | OmniLit/All Romance | Coffeetime Romance

Born and raised in New Zealand, Aldrea Alien lives on a small farm with her family, including a menagerie of animals. Since discovering a love of writing at the age of twelve, she hasn’t found an ounce of peace from the characters plaguing her mind.

Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Don’t forget to enter the giveaway!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

And now…

For the A to Z challenge, I present Murder Most Fowl, an unedited serial story from the unpublished Cera Chronicles. Please excuse the grammar mistakes. This hasn’t been critiqued yet. If you’re just diving into this story, you may want to start with part A.

Perry opened fire. The sky shuddered with a resounding boom. A cannonball crashed to land, crushing a cowboy and cratering the main road. The ground shook and Molly grabbed a hold of me. Dirt clogged the air.

Michael ran back to me, handkerchief clutched in his hand. “Quick, pour the aluminum dust in here.”

I dislodged Molly and dumped the small pile of ground metal on top of the gathered rust already inside.

A man wearing a red and white striped top dove at us with a knife. I caught his face with my palm and flung him aside. Pfft! Amateurs. I elbowed a second attacker and kicked a third. Persistent little buggers, I’d give them that.

Fues hooted and whipped his staff up over his head…just below the waistline of the charging pirate. The man stopped cold, his face contorting. He grabbed himself between the legs and tipped over, whimpering.

Michael raced to the photographer and ripped the flash-lamp from the man’s hand. He tapped the powder into his handkerchief and tied the bundle into a tight, compact ball.

Bartholomew fired his shotgun, reloaded, and fired again. “Nobody puts a hole in my establishment and gets away with it!” He slammed the butt of his gun into one pirate’s jaw. “I expect full payment for the damages!”

Molly screamed and struggled against a goggle-wearing female who had her by the neck.

I grimaced. Really? “I would expect someone named Massacre Molly to know how to fight!”

“I didn’t choose that nickname!” She clawed at her captor’s arm.

Michael shoved a straw stick into his metallic bundle. “I need a light!”

I flicked a finger and the dry grass caught fire. He tossed it to Fues. “Shoot this at the zeppelin!”

The pygmy chittered something, speared a loose corner of the cloth with an arrow, and fired it at the balloon. The arrow struck the vessel, and the straw burned down to the metal contents of the handkerchief. Blue-white light ignited, too bright to watch.

The zeppelin shuddered. A plume of fire bloomed from the point of impact. A moment later, a second plume shot out the bottom of the giant balloon. Flames spread. The air heated. A smaller vessel detached from the main body and sped away in rapid escape. There went Perry. The remaining pirates jumped ship as it crashed into the saloon. The zeppelin exploded, taking the rest of the saloon with it.

Bartholomew looked from it to us. “You’re gonna have to pay for that.”

Thanks for reading! If you want to start at the beginning, find it here. Don’t forget to visit other bloggers participating in the A to Z Challenge.

Are you as excited for Aldrea’s book as I am?

The post Golden Dawn & MMF Part P #atozchallenge appeared first on Squirrel Talk.

Murder Most Fowl – Part O #atozchallenge

For the A to Z challenge, I present Murder Most Fowl, an unedited serial story from the unpublished Cera Chronicles. Please excuse the grammar mistakes. This hasn’t been critiqued yet. If you’re just diving into this story, you may want to start with part A.

Ostriches fled in all directions, squawking and scrabbling as they tried to evade falling debris—including us. The blast from the building flung us forward. I landed on something small and a little squishy. Nice break. I dropped my grip on Michael and Molly. They emitted ‘oofs’ and ‘acks’ of varying pitches. I straightened my corset and dusted my hands.

I heard muffled screams and looked around with a frown. Where was that coming from? Michael and Molly rolled away and a pair of dark, painted hands waved frantically to either side of me. Oh! I stood up. Fues crawled out from beneath me, muttering curses in his native tongue. He glared at me. I hid my grin. I couldn’t really take him seriously with that dirt-print of my rear plastered to his mask.

A blackened bundle of feathers fell from the sky and landed at my feet. My stalker was dead. Again. Maybe.

I turned toward the saloon. Apparently, only the hotel portion had been damaged, particularly our room. People spewed from the lower batwing doors like chunky, multicolored vomit. Women in vibrant dresses, men in fancy coats, cowboys in twill and leather.

Bartholomew the bartender stalked out with his shotgun. “Damn pirate zeppelin.” He waved a fist at the air. “You’ll be paying for that.”

A bulky shadow plunged the crowded street into darkness. “Molly Fischer,” boomed a female voice from overhead. Was that Perry? “You have until the count of three to surrender. One…” She certainly did like counting.

I glared up at the giant metal balloon looming over us. “Is all this really necessary? Why make such a fuss over one dead man?”

“One?” Bartholomew—toothpick still in his mouth—stared at me as if I was stupid. “Massacre Molly’s killed dozens of men.”

Molly folded her arms. “That’s a dirty lie!”

Rope ladders cascaded from the giant balloon. “Two!”

Michael stroked his chin. His eyes narrowed, studying the floating vessel. His gaze flicked around. He grabbed Molly’s gun from its holster.

“Hey!” She reached to take it back, but he turned away.

He ripped one of the pipes free and tossed it to me. “Mistress Cera, will you grind that into dust please?” He hurried to the closest ostrich tie and started scraping at the bolts with a small knife and collecting the fall-off in a handkerchief.

“What’s he doin’?” Molly asked.

I shrugged and started crushing the metal pipe with my elemental-given super strength. Out of our five-man team, Michael was one-third of the brains and Fues was the other half. I wasn’t about to argue.

Pirates descended. “Three!”

Thanks for reading! If you want to start at the beginning, find it here. Don’t forget to visit other bloggers participating in the A to Z Challenge.

Do you have any criticism? Suggestions? Wild, off-the-wall ideas of “you know what would be funny…?” Let me know in the comments. I’d love to hear them.

The post Murder Most Fowl – Part O #atozchallenge appeared first on Squirrel Talk.

Murder Most Fowl – Part N #atozchallenge

For the A to Z challenge, I present Murder Most Fowl, an unedited serial story from the unpublished Cera Chronicles. Please excuse the grammar mistakes. This hasn’t been critiqued yet. If you’re just diving into this story, you may want to start with part A.

Not to brag, but I looked pretty spectacular. I spun in front of the hotel room mirror, watching the skirts fly out and twirl about me. The corset complemented my metallic bronze skin and did wonders for my posture. I tucked a loose crimson ringlet beneath the top hat brim and held out my arms. “What do you think?”

“I think this bullet stems from the same source blocking your power.” Michael squinted at the extracted projectile, completely ignoring me. “It seems to react to your blood.”

At least it wasn’t chaffing my internal organs anymore.

I dropped my arms and rolled my eyes. At least he’d fronted the bill for the replacement outfit with his winnings.

My stalker squawked appreciatively from the window. Did he just leer at me?

Molly offered me a smile. “I think you look purdy.”

“Thank you, Molly.” I curtsied, then nodded toward the bullet. “Think that metal might help my dad?” That was the reason why we were hopping from world to world anyways—to find a cure for my dad’s coma.

Michael tucked the bullet into his vest. “Initial analysis says no, but I can verify once we find the others.”

The bird squawked again. Noisy thing.

Michael crossed to the desk and logged notes in a pad. “The mortality rate on this world is extremely high. From what research I have performed, medical facilities are non-existent. Technology advancements encompass weaponry and little more.”

Fues sat on the dresser, legs folded beneath him. He pulled a freshly-carved bone toothpick from his mouth and pointed it at me. “Use power make bleed again?”

I shrugged. “Nothing happened when I heated the bath. I doubt I’ll have problems now that the bullet’s out.”

Molly shuddered. “I can’t get over how you just stabbed yourself wit’ a knife.”

Michael’s face scrunched and he flung up a flippant hand. “Why is she still here?”

“It’s called layin’ low. I got a price on my head, remember?”

“Could you not lie low somewhere else?”

I huffed. “Enough quarrelling. We have more important topics to discuss.” I turned and examined my profile in the mirror. “Do you think I should accessorize with the goggles?”

Something struck and clattered on the rooftop. The ceiling vibrated and bits of dust fell from above. I looked up. There was that ticking noise again—the one I’d heard with the gun.

I grabbed Michael and Molly and dove for the window. Fues beat me there and was already through. I leapt from the sill out into open air. Michael and Molly screamed, and the hotel exploded behind us.

Read O here.

Thanks for reading! If you want to start at the beginning, find it here. Don’t forget to visit other bloggers participating in the A to Z Challenge.

Do you think today’s installment is too cliché? I do try to play on tropes, but usually genre specific ones. But since my visuals are running on the lean side, I decided to pad Cera’s description with a bit of color. Should I find a different way to work the information in? Should I do it in an earlier letter when I rewrite? Do you need more information on any of the other characters or the world? I already plan to add more about the overarching plot when I rewrite. (Thanks Liz!)

Do you have any criticism? Suggestions? Wild, off-the-wall ideas of “you know what would be funny…?” Let me know in the comments. I’d love to hear them.

The post Murder Most Fowl – Part N #atozchallenge appeared first on Squirrel Talk.

Murder Most Fowl – Part M #atozchallenge

For the A to Z challenge, I present Murder Most Fowl, an unedited serial story from the unpublished Cera Chronicles. Please excuse the grammar mistakes. This hasn’t been critiqued yet. If you’re just diving into this story, you may want to start with part A.

Michael rolled his eyes at the angry accusation. “There was no need to cheat. Your nostrils flare every time you bluff, and you scratch your chin whenever you have a potentially profitable hand. It was impossible not to bid in a fashion to clean you out.” He flicked a hand to the pile of gold bits and coins scattered across the floor. “Winning is not cheating.”

Molly edged out and frowned at Michael. “I didn’t think they let children—”

“Don’t!” I shouted.

Michael spun and glowered, lips pulled back from his teeth. “I am not a child and if you so much as… Mistress Cera?” His face morphed. A smile spread across his lips, and his cheeks dimpled. He raced to me, flung his arms around me, and buried his face in my chest. He jerked his head back just as quickly and his nose wrinkled. “You…uh…when is the last time you bathed?” He released me and stepped back, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his hands. His eyebrows knit together beneath his mess of brown hair as he scanned me. “What happened to your shoes? Have you been shot? And electrocuted? Is that an ostrich footprint on your forehead?”

Molly frowned. “He don’t talk like a child either.”

Michael glared, mouth screwed to one side. The corner of his eye twitched.

She folded her arms. “What’re you lookin’ at?”

He shrugged and pretended to examine his fingernails. “Your shoelaces are untied.”

She eyed him suspiciously, then she leaned forward, exposing what little she had of her modest cleavage. “No, they ain’t…”

His lips curved into a smile, and he took his time ogling. “My mistake.” He may be eternally trapped in a 9-year-old body, but he was a lecherous old man on the inside. He looked around. “Are the others here?”

I shook my head. “Fues stepped out for lunch.”

The angry man fired another round of lightning from his gun. The chair to my right exploded. “Hey cheat! I’m gonna—”

I lifted a hand, pointed a finger, and cocked my thumb. “Kapow.” A fireball shot from my finger, struck him in the chest, and flung him out the batwing doors. I blew smoke from my fingertip. “Sore loser.”

Thanks for reading! If you want to start at the beginning, find it here. Don’t forget to visit other bloggers participating in the A to Z Challenge.

Do you have any criticism? Suggestions? Wild, off-the-wall ideas of “you know what would be funny…?” Let me know in the comments. I’d love to hear them.

The post Murder Most Fowl – Part M #atozchallenge appeared first on Squirrel Talk.

Murder Most Fowl – Part L #atozchallenge

For the A to Z challenge, I present Murder Most Fowl, an unedited serial story from the unpublished Cera Chronicles. Please excuse the grammar mistakes. This hasn’t been critiqued yet. If you’re just diving into this story, you may want to start with part A.

“Law dictates that a man’s wife belongs to his family.” The masked man narrowed his eyes. “I’m the eldest unmarried man, therefore, she is my wife.”

I glanced to Molly. “Are you okay with that?”

She tugged on the x-shaped medallion hanging around her neck and rolled her eyes. “Do you think I was kickin’ and screamin’ for my health?”

Well that settled it. I put two fingers to my lips and let loose a piercing whistle. The masked man’s brow twitched quizzically. Fues’s cackle floated up from the bar below. The masked man’s nostrils flared and he tensed.

I smiled and batted my eyelashes. “If you start running now, you might escape with your life.”

Footsteps thudded up the stairs. The masked man spun toward the window. He shoved Mr. Stalking Bird out of his way and leapt out onto the wooden overhang covering the entrance below. The bird squawked indignantly.

Fues threw open the door. A wide grin filled with razor-sharp teeth flashed across the pygmy’s face. He clicked his tongue in a raspy cadence, howled with manic laughter, and chased his prey out the open window.

Molly stared after them. “Will your friend really eat him?”

“Depends on how fast he runs. But don’t worry, I don’t eat people. Fues is the only cannibal of the bunch.” I sat on the bed and sprawled backwards, reaching my hands over my head and waggling my fingers. Mmmm. The stretch felt good. I yawned.

“Who else are you looking for?”

“Huh?” I blinked. “Oh. My companions? Well, there’s a boring naked guy with gold hair down to his knees, a big guy with a sword and nasty death-stare—he has all of my spare clothes with him too—and then there’s—”

Something crashed and clattered downstairs. Was Fues back already? That was quick, even for him. I pulled myself into a sitting position and climbed to my feet. Molly scurried after me as I stalked downstairs.

Dancing women huddled in the corner. The piano player hid behind his piano. The photographer’s flash puffed into smoke.

I focused on an overturned table.

A man stood next to the table, face red, chest heaving, ray-gun shaking in his grip. “You cheat!” He fired the ray-gun and table exploded into dust and splinters.

The bartender pulled a shotgun from behind the counter and aimed it at the angry fellow. “You’ll be payin’ for a new table.”

The angry man pointed a trembling finger toward the dust cloud. “Don’t side with him, Bartholomew! He’s a dirty, rotten scoundrel. He musta rigged the cards.”

The cloud settled around the figure in the center. A 9-year-old boy brushed the dust from his sleeves, straightened his vest, and lifted his chin. “I did not cheat.”

A smile spread across my lips. I nudged Molly. “And then there’s Michael.”

Thanks for reading! If you want to start at the beginning, find it here. Don’t forget to visit other bloggers participating in the A to Z Challenge.

Do you have any criticism? Suggestions? Wild, off-the-wall ideas of “you know what would be funny…?” Let me know in the comments. I’d love to hear them.

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