Grant Eagar's Blog, page 2

Bleakest Towers Anthology Release - Grant Eagar

 I'm excited to announce the release of the Anthology Bleakest Towers published by Rogue Planet press. My short story  The Tainted Angel and the Crows is part of this collection of stories about towers. 

Here is the awesome over of the Book

Here is the first page of  The Tainted Angel and the CrowsBy Grant Eagar

Michael looked up and removed his spectacles. He fixed her with a stern look. “Ariel, are you cognizant of what you’ve done? I regret to inform you there will be severe consequences. Please arise.” She rose and he removed the bejeweled tiara from her golden hair. “You've once again sullied the angelic order, bringing shame to all of us. It’s not like this was the first time you caused us dishonor. There was the time you were supposed to protect the duke and you ended up providing the poison his wife used to kill him. Then there was the time you were assigned to help Senator Smith’s election and you ended up helping Senator Jones, a crook, instead, highly displeasing the powers that be. These are just a few of your offenses, and is this not the sixth time you have fallen in love with the human you were supposed to be helping?”

She lowered her head and said, “Jones-Smith—six of one, half a dozen of the other. I couldn’t tell which one was the bigger crook. I am, however, sorry about not protecting the duke. It’s just that his wife needed some poison to kill the rat; how was I to know she was referring to her husband? I thought I was being helpful. Again, my deepest apologies for the trouble I’ve caused. And regarding those I’ve fallen in love with; I’m naturally an affectionate person, so what can I say?”

To order the book Click 

HERE

Book Review - Spiritual Resilience - Sharla Goettl

I appreciate the opportunity to be part of the Blog Tour to celebrate Sharla Goettl's new book - Spiritual Resilience.  

My Book Review:

 I felt there was much in this book to help a parent cope with the challenges of raising youth and keep them spiritually grounded.  I wish I had read this when my kids were younger. 

   I love how she used Nephi as an example, there were certain things he needed to do to be successful and these same elements apply to all our children. I feel there is magic in finding patterns in the lives of the prophets. 

I like the quote, "Our life lessons are taught most effectively when they are based on honest, personal experiences." I felt this book excelled in answering the question, how can we be a light to our children even though we are imperfect creatures? 

I give this book Five stars. 

Blog Tour for Spiritual Resilience - Sharla Goettl

 

May 1st - WWW.THE-EXPONENT.COM

May 2nd - WWW.MARYANNJOHNSONCOACH.COM

May 3rd - WWW.MYBOOKADAY.COM

May 4th - HTTPS://GRANTEAGAR.BLOGSPOT.COM

May 5th - BEWARETHEBOOKWYRM.WORDPRESS.COM

May 6th - HTTPS://SINGINGLIBRARIANBOOKS.COM

May 7th - HTTP://LISAISABOOKWORM.BLOGSPOT.COM

May 8th - BONNIEHARRIS.BLOGSPOT.COM

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Author Bio

Name: Sharla Goettl

Book: Spiritual Resilience: Leading Our Youth to Go and Do

Genre: Christian Nonfiction, Parenting

Formats: hardback, paperback, ebook & audiobook

Description: Parents need support to fulfill their roles as the foremost teachers of Christ's gospel and make a deeper impact in the spiritual education of their children. The youth of today are meant to be the heroes of tomorrow. To gain a testimony like Nephi's, they need to learn what Nephi knew and be willing to serve Christ the way Nephi was willing to. Spiritual Resilience highlights for parents the framework of Nephi's testimony and shows how parents can apply these same principles to teach their modern teenagers.

Themes and Issues addressed:

· A new way to consider what it means to be a "goodly parent"

· How our covenants create the conditions for fearless spiritual resilience

· Developing greater motivation by recognizing Christ can fulfill our deepest needs

· Learning the building blocks of Nephi's testimony

Positive messages:

· You can be exactly what your family needs you to be.

· Our children are under the continual stewardship of the Holy Ghost and Jesus Christ

· We can tap into the miracles of the spirit through honesty and humility.

· It is our effort, not our perfection, that will create a lasting impact for our children.

· We can improve through small, manageable, but continual changes

Page Count: 182 pages

Price: Hardback $18.99 (full-color edition), $14.99 paperback, $3.99 eBook, $9.99 audiobook Affiliate link: https://amzn.to/2NVeZy9 Author's website: www.sharlagoettl.com Facebook link: https://www.facebook.com/authorsharla...

Instagram: @authorsharlagoettl Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/sharlagoettl

Author Bio: Sharla Goettl has served as a youth leader in Th e Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints almost every year of her adult life. Doing so has taught her the faithful capacity of the youth and a respect for the parents who teach them. She currently serves as a stake Young Women president in Oregon. Sharla is a wife, mother, sister, confidant, instigator, and believer. She listens to the voices in her head, sings loudly out of tune, and dreams of faraway mountains. She feels pleasantly surprised when her kids beat her in board games, enthusiastic toward unexpected adventures, and overwhelmed by the generosity of God.

Free gift available: The Goal Maker is a guided questionnaire that will help parents determine what their next best step can be in developing spiritual resilience. This effort will help set a more powerful example through action, not just words. Makes a great companion to the book.

Fun facts: The book includes still shots from the Book of Mormon videos and a new painting of young Nephi entitled Nephi Unfinished. In the book and on my website, I tell poignant stories about my grandfather who did the work to change from bootlegger to spiritually resilient father. It is only through real-world actions that these principles can be taught.

Why did you want to write this book? I did not want to. I had no intention to write a book, but the Spirit told me there was helpful information that needed to be shared. As a stake Young Women president, I very much want to help the good families I know, and love feel successful as they teach their children the gospel of Jesus Christ. I very much want the youth I work with to get the answers they need to their repetitive questions so they can grow up fearlessly relying on a Savior that will never let them down.

What inspires you when you were writing? The parents I was working with were feeling overwhelmed about all they needed to do and all the counter influences affecting their children. We all have felt anxiety over a teenager who is losing their way. Yet I also know the younger generation will usher in the miracles of the future because of their faithful acts and greater commitment. I knew Christ must have a solution to these interconnected problems. So I went looking for the solution in the most likely place I would find it: the very beginning of the Book of Mormon. Where else would Christ put the solution to our most personal struggles?

What other authors have influenced your writing? In this instance, Nephi has been my most influential author. Afterall, the solutions I offer are not mine, but his. I just happen to be pointing them out. I love authors who back up their words with action. Rudyard Kipling, Mark Twain, Sheri Dew and Nephi are some of my favorites.

What books are you reading right now? Hold Back the Dawn. It is an unpublished manuscript my grandmother wrote several decades ago. I've known it existed for a long time, but am just now reading it. It has been wonderful to experience a side of her I never knew through her perspective, word choice and storytelling.

My favorite book of all time? Runaway Bunny. The book only has two characters and I have played them both. As a child, I liked to push the limits and as a mother I am learning to support my children unconditionally no matter where their adventures may lead them.

How did you come up with your book s premise? I follow the sequence of Nephi's learning process. In fact, I use his famous verse of 1 Nephi 3:7 to reverse engineer his testimony to better understand what he knew that made him willing to say, "I will go and go."

What was the most difficult thing about writing the book? First was remembering to pray before I began to write. If I did not, I would inevitably get stuck and have to start over. Second was developing the cover. I went down so many rabbit holes trying to find an image to relay spiritual resilience. Finally, I went with what was real: my own family. I had to write based on my own real questions. I had to share my own real interactions with my daughters and the

Spirit, so it feels fitting. Besides, my family has their fingers all over this book. A book about family would mean nothing without them.

What advice would you give someone who thinks they might want to write a book? Be prepared for a long process. Be willing to humbly share parts of yourself. Every time you hit delete to start over it marks a mini-step of progress, not defeat. It means you are learning and changing and getting better.

What is the next book you will begin writing? I am already working on an illustrated children's book based on the same ideas discussed in Spiritual Resilience but for a much younger crowd. The book is based on how Nephi developed his testimony and is called "I Will Go and Do."

What do your fans mean to you? I wrote the book for the many youth I have worked with over the years. They have shared parts of themselves with me which is sacred. But I believe our Heavenly Father would tell me there is nothing there is nothing more sacred than a relationship between a parent and a child. I truly just want to be helpful in strengthening that bond to be even more reliable, loving, and strong.

What inspires you to get out of bed each day? Covid has wrecked my daily schedule. I stay up way too late and wake up too late in the morning, so that is a question that hits home. The answer is easy of course. It is my kids. I want to be with them more than I want to be on my pillow.

When you are not writing, how do you spend your time? Like so many others, I wear many hats these days and not a single day Is the same. I help my kids on their heavy schoolwork, all are online and two are enrolled early in college. My church calling is time consuming in a wonderful way. My husband and I own a construction business. We are also currently renovating a personal property in Bend, Oregon. It is a place that has all my favorite things: mountains, rivers, hiking, biking, skiing, kayaking and food.

Short Story - The Hanging Day - Grant Eagar

 

The Hanging Day

In a sleepy town in western Kansas, Sarah stood alongside two men. In front of them was gallows built of scraps of old barn wood and whatever else they could cobble together, quick.

The black-haired beauty with ice-blue eyes moved her hands to try and get some circulation back since the zealous deputy had tied her wrists with gusto.  She scowled, seeing a fine upstanding lady go to the gallows was a rare and wondrous occurrence. A large redheaded deputy whose belly protruded from his shirt had even hinted he could let her go for the right offer, but she was not tempted, but that had given her an idea and she had suggested the same to the well-boned handsome sheriff that had been declined. She regretted killing her husband, but; well, no buts she did the deed and must now endure the penalty.

stood in front of the group. He gestured to the crowd of several hundred onlookers wearing their finest clothes with festive hats and parasols. Kids ran through the crowd with streamers and pinwheels being chased by dogs. The deputy said, “Ladies and gentlemen let us begin the proceedings, back away from the miscreants. We’ll not tolerate anyone who interferes with a lawful hanging.”

The crowd ignored him, jostling for a prime viewing spot. The sheriff raised his hands and yelled, “Quiet while I read the charges!” He explored his pockets and pulled out several crumpled-up sheets of parchment. He straightened the paper then climbed onto the stand. He felt in his shirt pocket and retrieved a pair of spectacles.  He glanced at the prisoners, “when I call your name step forward while I read the judge’s sentence. Akondo Silver-Chief, please step forward.” When a tall boy with braids in his early twenties did not move the deputy shoved him forward. He sprawled onto the ground and the deputy brusquely pulled him to his feet.

Sarah said, “Show him some respect, no need to treat someone so.”

The deputy snorted. “Why does it matter, he’ll be dangling from a rope soon enough.”

The sheriff cleared his throat. “That will be enough, it wouldn’t hurt to show the unfortunate devils some compassion before we put them in the noose.  Now, Akondo, you’ve been found guilty of horse thieving, swearing, drunkenness, spitting in public, resisting arrest, and assaulting my deputy. The judge sentences you to die by hanging. Now step back. Jacob Jacoby step forward, your mum must have been a poet when she named you. I wonder if she knew you would end up like this?  You’ve been charged with cheating at cards, stealing the tithing from the poor box, lying, adultery, bigamy, slander, public intoxication, and kicking a dog.”

The deputy gave her a shove and said, “Madam it’s your turn.”

She stepped forward and looked at the sheriff. He cleared his throat and read,” Sarah Anne Sanchez, you’ve been convicted of poisoning your husband, a Mister John Angus Sanchez, as well as soliciting prostitution, lying, spitting in public, and causing a public disturbance.”

  She said, “I hadn’t meant to kill John, the rat poison bottle said a tablespoon would kill a man so I thought a teaspoon should just make him ill, well it sounded right when I planned it. Is it my fault he had such a weak constitution? Since he had been unfaithful . . . again, I figured this would be my way of showing my displeasure. He was a lecherous swine; God rest his soul.”

The Sheriff said, “That will be enough.”  

She stepped back and glanced at the crowd who were yelling, “Get on with the hanging!”

She scowled and spoke up. “I felt the charge of prostitution was a bit harsh. I just asked the sheriff if he would look the other way concerning the poisoning thing, I’d be willing to offer him some of my time, how is that prostitution? I could make him some bread or mend his socks. Now everyone thinks I’m a tramp. And right here in front of all my neighbors. Bloody Hell!”

“I said that is enough,” repeated the sheriff.  

The crowd laughed and jeered at her. Even though the community was highly religious it had never been tolerant. She regarding the throng, should they be tolerant of her poisoning her husband? The pious folk sure did enjoy a good hanging.

After the reading of the verdicts, the sheriff asked, “Do any of you have any final words or confessions? I’m sure clearing the air will be good for the soul.”

Akondo, the Chippewa boy, raised his hands, he stepped forward and sang a song of mourning gesturing with his bound hands with his head held high; he then bowed his head.

Jacob, a short redheaded man in his thirties said, “I have a few things I would like to get off my chest. I’ll have you know I had intimate relations with Molly, the minister’s wife, five different times, Jenny, the mayor’s wife, four times, and Anne, the sheriff’s wife, twice!” There were screams of protest from the women mentioned and the minister’s middle-aged wife fainted dead away.

Sarah said, “Jacob, you’re despicable.”

He sneered then gestured at Sarah. “One of these is true, I’ll leave it to you to figure out which one. Now I had relations with this fine lady twelve times, she couldn’t get enough of me.” At this Sarah kicked him in the groin and he bent over. She kneed him in the face busting his nose and he collapsed onto the ground. After a minute the deputy helped him back to his feet. “The miserable witch wounded me, Sheriff, you can’t hang me like this, please give me time to heal.”

The sheriff pulled a pencil out of his pocket and wrote on the paper. “Jacob, I’ll add defaming the character of honorable women to your offenses.”

Sarah asked, “And me?”

“Okay, I’ll add assaulting a gentleman to your list. And I’ll remove the prostitution bit.”

She gave him the thumbs up the best she was able.

The minister came forward bible in hand. “Let me read a scripture in Mathew: ‘And shall cast them into a furnace of fire: there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth.’” He then offered a long and fervent prayer on behalf of the unfortunate hell-bound souls then turned to go.

Sarah yelled, “Reverend Thatcher! Could you put a good word in for me, I was in the church choir, I even sang a solo. I haven’t missed a sermon in three years.”

. “What did your husband say when he learned he had been poisoned?”

“Okay he wasn’t very happy, he cursed me good before he gave up the ghost, but I don’t deserve to hang. At least not first.”

Jacob said, “Hang the witch, I’d love to see her swing before I go.”

The sheriff glanced at his wife and she shook her head. “We all know who is going first.” Jacob was led up to the stand, cursing all the while, a noose was put over his head, a lever pulled and the floor fell from below him. He screamed and thrashed then finally hung still swinging back and forth. This was accompanied by wild cheering and applause from the crowd. Sarah gasped and closed her eyes then opened them and regarded him and felt sick. Did he deserve this for cheating in a card game? She did deserve this fate which was about to happen to her, she had killed someone. Even though he was a degenerate it was painful to see him go, much quicker than her husband who took two hours to die despite the doctor’s best efforts.

After Jacob had been cut down and his body laid into a pine box coffin, Sarah was led up onto the stand and the noose slipped onto her head. She offered a silent prayer, God, I know I deserve a good hanging, but it wasn’t my intention to kill John, just make him as miserable as I felt and of course torment him a bit. I’m sorry.

Before the deputy could synch up the roper the town warning bell rang and off in the distance there could be seen one hundred Chippewa braves on horseback racing towards the town. The sheriff said, “Shit! We should’ve hung Akondo first; it appears his kin are here to intervene. Everyone, run for cover! He didn’t need to say this the town’s folk had already scattered.

The deputy kicked at the drop lever right before running, the floor only partially collapsed. Sarah had one foot on the edge and the other dangling in space. God is this your effort to save my life? Well you’re not doing a very good job of it. Finally, the trap door gave way and Sarah was hanging in space with one toe on the edge of the opening and the other kicking out in space with her arms tied behind her. 

When the Chippewa entered the town there was no one outside, just the two prisoners. The chief came forward and cut the ropes that held his son’s hands and they turned to go. 

Sarah yelled then offered in a strangled voice, “You can’t leave me like this! Take me with you.  I would make a fine squaw. I love the Chippewa. At the very least cut me loose.”

Akondo spoke to the chief in his native tongue for several minutes and she interrupted them, “Could you please cut me down first, then catch up on old times?”

Akondo turned to her. “Be patient, I’m speaking with my father about your situation.” They continued to speak with one another.

After several tries, she caught the edge of the opening with her other foot and stood up she lifted a leg and pulled a slipknot and the rope was released. Finally!  Akondo turned to Sarah and gestured at his father. “He said he already has a wife, and he doesn’t need another one.”

She shook her head. “Some help you are. I have no intention of being his wife.” 

Akondo tossed a knife onto the ground. He gestured at an old pinto pony. “For your boots.”

She scowled and quickly kicked the boots off.  “you’re robbing me, that creature is barely alive.”

He picked up the boots and mounted his horse and turned to her. “We need help cleaning the buffalo hides, you can stay until the hunting season is over.” The Chippewa galloped away.

She leaped from the stand, cut the ropes with the knife then struggled to mount the pony which bucked a few times. She glanced at the departing men. Should I follow them or just leave town? Where will I go? She heard a gunshot; she turned and noticed the deputy with a rifle. They’re shooting at me. I guess I know what I need to do. She kicked the horse into a gallop. 

Poem - The House of Hobbit - Grant Eagar

 

My hobbit house, my COVID-19 retreat, my Magnum opus,

a twelve-foot diameter shed I’m building in my back yard.

The limerick green door is six feet in diameter welcoming quests

 into The House of Hobbit. The sign ‘Burglars in search of Treasure’

 will be inscribed on the door along with Gandalf’s signature.

 

The round windows are portals on a sailing ship to another world.

The foundation is also round; oh, the effort to make something round,

the demon possessed wood fights me to avoid being bent.

I wet it, steam it, and clamp it, yet the wood still refuses

to bend, it finally yields with a loud crack and splinters.

 

The roof is more than I’m capable of, though I figure and fret.

I build a bit then step back and give it a look, and shake my head,

I’ll soon have the project completed, though I’m in no hurry,

I don’t want this marvelous journey to end.

Poem - Memories of 2020 - Grant Eagar

 

 I’m an optimist, but twenty-twenty?

Twas a year full of sorrow.

I remember plagues, and more plagues,

Masks and more masks.

 

Everyone hating everyone.

Can we ever just be civil?

Does everyone have to think like we do?

 

Why are our memories like pernicious

Fairies, that only recall the bitter?

Why is the happy memory fairy

So hard to find and difficult to capture?

 

Memories of refocus, that black lives do matter.

Memories of a cry for help and how people responded.

Memories that 155 million people cared enough to vote. 

. 

Poem - Autism Fairy - Grant Eagar

 

 

My little boy has been stolen and no matter where I look,

I can’t find him, nor bring him back.

When Isaac was born, it was as if someone

had given us a million dollars.

Isaac with sparkling eyes like emeralds,

grinning like an alligator, and giggling like a cheetah.

I miss that sparkle and his energy and passion for life.

He liked to climb onto our bed and bounce a few times,

then lay down and put his head on my shoulder like a pillow.

 

Before I went to work out of town for three months,

he was a firefly flying around our home filling it with joy.

While I was gone the autism, fairy visited and captured his sparkle.

Far away, I could hear him call my name, “Daddy, daddy.”

When I returned, my boy’s light had gone out.

He is fifteen now, I still feel like someone has given me a

million dollars, a million dollars’ worth of challenges and

sorrow, and a million dollars’ worth of joy.

Moat Monster - Heather Eagar and Grant Eagar

The Ill-fated Prank by Heather Eagar  Prompt: Moat Monster

    It had started as a harmless prank. Darlene would attach some moss and maybe some mud and leaves onto her dress, as well as a cap she had made herself, and swim around in the moat a bit. Nothing crazy, but something that might freak the princess out a bit. Princess Clara never left the castle, except at eleven sharp, for her early lunch. She’d eat it on the grass by the water and dip her toes in. No one was allowed to walk past the castle at that time. The princess claimed she needed complete solitude, though that didn’t stop the local villagers from spying from their homes and shops. At exactly noon, the princess would retreat inside the castle grounds, and not be seen again until the next day.

    Darlene’s plan was just to startle the princess, something that would add some excitement to her otherwise drab existence. And it all worked according to plan. A little too well. Darlene slipped into the moat, unnoticed at ten forty-five. When the princess arrived at eleven, she sat on the blanket that had been laid out for her. After eating her fill, she slipped off her shoes and dangled her feet over the edge of the moat.

    Darlene slowly swam past. Princess Clara didn’t notice her. So Darlene swam past again. And then another. Until she finally got fed up with the princess’s inattention to anything other than herself, and Darlene pinched Clara’s toe. The princess screeched and leapt to her feet, then noticed the moving figure in the moat.

    “Guards,” she yelled. “There’s a creature in the moat.” When the guards hurried over to see what the commotion was about, they too did not recognize the figure as a young girl, but rather saw her as something they needed to vanquish.

    Darlene immediately saw the error in her logic and cursed her lack of impulse control. The guards didn’t want to get into the water with the creature, but they couldn’t let it swim about as it pleased. So they went to fetch their crossbows. At which point, Darlene swam as quickly as she could to the opposite side of the castle. But just as she was pulling herself from the moat, the guards caught sight of her, and their first thought was that the creature was on its way to terrorize the town.

              If only there were a way to escape unseen into the forest where she could strip herself of the cap and dress. If Darlene gave herself up now, she would be thrown into the dungeon for sure. 

    Darlene spotted the princess watching from the shore a little way down, looking panicked, but there was also a brightness in her eyes that said she hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. 

There was only one way out of the situation. 

    Darlene ran toward Princess Clara and pushed her straight into the moat. The guards were so busy rescuing the spluttering princess, they didn’t see the creature disappear behind the row of shops.

    The guards are still looking for the moat monster to this day. In the meantime, they are profiting by selling t-shirts, mugs, and other souvenirs to the villagers who travel from hundreds of miles away, in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the elusive monster.

The Princess takes a Bath in the Moat - Grant EagarPrompt: Moat Monster

The fair maiden walked across the moat bridge; well she wasn’t that fair, she had olive skin with coal-colored hair.  Halfway across the bridge she stopped and glanced over the railing at the water below. She could see Lilly pads with an occasional frog hopping from pad to pad. The princess leaned over the railing and reached down to pick a cattail growing in the water. It was just out of her reach so she scooted a little farther out and reached down again. Her foot slipped and she fell into the moat.

She floundered about in the thick gown with a whalebone corset. She screamed for help but the castle guards were napping. Finally, she went under and sank to the bottom and stared up at the surface of the water twelve feet above her. Girl, she thought, you’re too stupid to live. She quickly undid her dress and corset and flipped off her shoes and kicked towards the surface. It felt like her lungs would burst and when she finally broke the surface she gasped for air.

With some kicking and thrashing, she was able to stay afloat after a fashion. She had never swum before. Her panic subsided when she realized she was making progress towards the castle side of the moat. Her heart sank when she heard a guard yell out. “Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot you with my bow.

She yelled, “Now you wake up! I’m the princess, you nimrod, now help me!”

“I don’t believe you. don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He leaned over the bridge to shoot her with his crossbow. Just then Harold, the moat monster, burst from the water and grabbed him and dragged him under. Harold resurfaced and swam over to the princess with a happy, contented look on his face.  The princess climbed onto his broad back and gasped for breath.

“Thank you Harold, that was really nice of you, he had that coming to him.” They watched the guard floundering about in the water. Harold offered a contented grunt, while the princess scratched his back. 

Short Story - A Single Red Rose - Grant Eagar

Picture


Prompt: A Single Red Rose
In the brightly colored hospital room lay Sheila, a teenage medium, with Katie, a 117-year-old ghost, inside her. You seem too eager to see Jeffrey, thought Sheila.
Aren’t you? He and I had quite the adventure together, I miss my time with him, If I hadn’t been in the process of nearly dying, it would have been quite lovely to go on a road trip from New York to Ohio, thought Katie.
 Jeffrey walked into the hospital room and his eyes lit up upon seeing Sheila. He carried a single red rose. He smiled and handed it to her. She took the flower, smelled it, then raised her eyebrows. “Thank you, that was sweet of you. Now, who is this for?”
 His eyes widened.  “Uh, bo-both of you.”
Sheila offered a mischievous smile and twisted the rose in her hand. “So, a red rose which speaks of romance would not work for you and me, but will it now work for you and Katie? Now tell me the truth, what did you guys do when you were alone?”
He grinned. “You enjoy tormenting me, don’t you? Why can’t you both enjoy it? You know whomever I say the other one will be mad at me.”
Katie thought, Sheila, you’re a stinker. You know the rose was for you.
I do not know any such thing; it could be for you. What did you guys do when you had my body all to yourself that would get Jeffrey to bring you a red rose?
 “Jeffrey, I think your gift to Katie was considerate and thoughtful. I’m sure she’ll enjoy it. Isn’t this what you bring after you’ve kissed someone?”
He blushed. “W-what happens when you’re out of your body stays outside your ...
ah, body. Anyway, don’t put words in my mouth, I get in enough trouble on my own I don’t need your help. If I had kissed her and not saying I did, I shouldn’t be blabbing it.”
Katie took over the body for a moment. “Sheila is just being difficult, I think the rose was a nice gesture, though I thought the kisses were even better.” She then extended the rose to him. “Could you please break off the end of the stem and put the rose in the decanter.”
Sheila thought, so, you did kiss him. You lose all self-control once you’re in my body. Now spill it.
Ok, it was just one kiss . . . no need to get upset.
Stop telling half-truths, you know there is no room for liars in heaven.
Was it five kisses or was it fifty?  I don’t quite remember.
Liar! Liar! You know how much you kissed him. You’re never going to have my body all to yourself again.
Why is it your concern? Since you just want to have an amicable relationship with Jeffrey why do you care what kind of relationship I have with him? You don’t want him and you don’t want anyone else to have him either.
I think asking someone what they did while using my body is not too much to ask.
Ah, Sheila . . . I can understand your feelings, considering what you had to go through. Thank you for letting me use your body.
After he had put the rose in the decanter, his face took on a more serious look. “Sheila, I was so worried about you. I thought we wouldn’t get your body here before it died. It’s good to see you’re doing better.” He leaned over and gave her a long hug then brushed back her hair and kissed her on the forehead. His eyes took on a mischievous glint. “Now this is for Katie. Sheila don’t freak out.” Katie took control and he kissed her full on the mouth, gently pressing his lips against hers then pushing harder.
After a minute Katie thought, Sheila, do you want to take over, I think this is something you have wanted to do for a long time.
Only if I can do it without Jeffrey knowing, I’d die if he found out. Sheila took control and took over the kissing, she started exploring his mouth with her tongue.
What are you doing with your tongue?
Sheila continued to kiss him. It’s called French kissing, you never did it when you were alive?
I died one hundred years ago when I was seventeen, the kids I hung out with didn’t do that sort of thing.
Katie, this is fantastic, please whatever you do, don’t tell Jeffrey this was me. Why don’t you try it?
Katie took over and after half a minute they broke the kiss and they both gasped for air.
Sheila thought, thank you, Katie, that was quite nice.
It makes me happy to see you do something you have wanted to do.
Katie said, “Jeffrey that was fantastic, though I think I better leave for a few minutes and give you guys some time to yourselves before you have to go.”
Sheila thought, don’t go too far.     
After Katie left the room Sheila thought, how to proceed? If he knew I kissed him it would ruin our friendship. She wrinkled her nose and looked up at Jeffrey. “I’m glad that’s over, somethings I can’t forget, being a medium so you can have a relationship with Katie is awkward. Are you sure you want to do this?”
“You didn’t enjoy the kiss at all?”
She scowled. “That’s the problem, I thoroughly enjoyed it. I feel awful for liking it so much. Since we’re buds. I don’t want to ruin that.”
He said, “I noticed the kissing changed in the middle. It felt like I was kissing two different people. Katie does not French kiss, you are busted.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, you have to ask Katie, she was the one kissing you.” Darn! Now I’m lying to him, will we ever go back to the way we were?
He grinned and shook his head. “You’ve always been a terrible liar, I’m not buying this.”
“Ok, ok, I thought Katie needed a few pointers and I demonstrated some techniques which she was grateful for. Don’t read too much into it.”
He laughed and stood up. “How kind of you, I best go now before this gets any more awkward.”

Short Story - The Flying Witch - Grant Eagar

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Prompt: She floated on the air
Angelica thought since she had the afternoon all to herself this would be a good time to experiment with her magic. She walked to a secluded meadow surrounded by oak trees. She closed her eyes and extended her hands.
When she was around Granny, she felt so inhibited, constantly told to control her magic and plan out beforehand how she was going to use the magic and what the counterspells were. So many wonderful spells were off-limits simply because there were no counterspells for them. Did it hurt to have a love spell when there was no good remedy other than lots and lots and lots of time? Ugh.
Today with no one around she was going to play with one of those forbidden spells, what harm could come from a simple breeze? She concentrated and lifted her hands high in the air and began dancing about the clearing and offering incantations. Soon the leaves on the ground were being blown about her. She spun and the wind spun around her and she felt a lifting sensation then opened her eyes and she was fifty feet in the air. She shrieked and tried to slow the wind-down but it continued to build until it was a small tornado and she was several hundred feet in the air, going around and around and around. Mayhap the wind thing was not a good idea. She tried to steady herself so she could stop spinning and finally stopped with the wind spinning around her. She now could see for miles around. This would be a grand adventure if I wasn’t about to die.
So, what is the opposite of wind?... Calm, she had remembered how she had calmed an angry goat, it had taken a bit of magic, but he was as calm as a lamb. As if lambs were calm, more like frolicking which is what the wind was. She extended her hands and could feel the spirit of the wind and offered a calming incarnation, relaxed, and let a calmness spell go into the wind. This was difficult since she did not feel at all calm, more like scared to death. The wind did not change right away but after a couple of minutes she could sense it slowing and she started dropping. She glanced down at the ground rushing toward her, am I going to be planted like a tree. She frantically tried to whip up a little wind and there was a woosh just before she hit the ground.
Angelica looked up from the ground and removed the mud and leaves from her face. It took a minute for her to catch her breath. Granny was standing in the clearing with her arms folded and a scowl on her face. “And what do you think you were doing young lady?”
Angelica offered a sheepish smile. “I was just making a little breeze and it got out of hand.” Angelica stood and limped up to her grandmother.
It appears you have sprained your ankle, what am I going to do with you? Have a seat on this stump and I’ll bind your foot up.” Granny pulled some cloth out of her pocket and began dressing the young witch’s ankle.
“How did you find me?”
“I have a sense for how long it takes you to get in trouble once left alone. You are lucky to be alive.”
“The wind was both extraordinary seeing for miles around and a bit scary. I don’t think I’ll do it again. I’ve always wanted to make a breeze and I even discovered a counterspell.”
“Yes, it is fortunate you did the counterspell, that tornado could have gotten out of hand. Now promise me, or not, no use making your make promises you have no intention of keeping.”
Angelica winced. “Mayhap I’ll keep this one.”