Steve Shilstone's Blog, page 20
November 4, 2013
FROM GRETEL’S JOURNAL
What if Gretel of Hansel and Gretel fame kept a diary? Let’s pretend she did, and then let’s pretend she wrote the entry below.
Well, diary, that was a near disaster. The witch caught me writing in you! She asked what mischief I was making. So I quick thought and told her I was writing down recipe ideas for baked boy. I know, stupid. But not as stupid as the witch. She BELIEVED me and tottered off cackling. I don’t know how much longer we can keep fooling her with the chicken bone substitute for Hansel’s finger, even if she is really stupid. She grows impatient. My charcoal stub is wearing down to nothing, diary. I’ll have to sneak a new piece from the oven. The oven. Hmm, I wonder.
October 29, 2013
LEAVES OR IS IT LEAFS ON SNOW
Leaves (or is it leafs?), there on the snow,
Where are you going? Does anyone know?
Oh, leafs! (or leaves) What am I to do?
Please, won’t you tell me what’s false and what’s true?
The leaves (leafs?) did answer in chorus quite merry,
‘We’d as lief see you leave and no longer tarry.’
October 21, 2013
THE ADVENTURE BEGINS
Now the picture below could very well be the start of a ‘once upon a time’ story, couldn’t it? Can’t you imagine an adventurous elf or gremlin or an eager young bigfoot looking to follow that trail to new and wondrous places? Like maybe:
‘Once upon a time and early in the morning, Selvo, young bigfoot maiden, bid her family farewell and set off alone, as was bigfoot custom, to seek her fortune.’
October 14, 2013
TAMMY, THE TREE
Tammy’s neighbors gossiped,
kept up a constant whine.
Tammy’s neighbors wondered
why she never toed the line.
The orders weren’t muddled.
In fact, they were quite clear.
Gold was the chosen color
for all the leaves this year.
October 9, 2013
MAZ OF THE EAST
Maz of the East has a wispy beard.
She’s a greenwing of Rumin. That’s why it’s not weird.
She’s in a great hurry
to end a great worry.
For to see the lost Urprince is a fate to be feared.
October 4, 2013
MUNRO LEAF’S BIRTHDAY
He dreamed up:
a ferocious looking bull that whiled away the hours
refusing fights to spend his time admiring the flowers
The Story of Ferdinand
September 23, 2013
Blog Train Tour
Do you have a favorite fall memory linked to a train? What do you imagine you would see if you were riding a train in the fall? Join the authors of Wild CHild publishing and Freyas Bower as we Take an Autumn Train Ride through our blogs.
Prizes will include
Four $50 gift certificates (two for Wild Child and two Freya’s Bower)
An awesome swag package that includes:
Bookmarks
Books
Wild Child T-shirt and mug
Wild Child and Freya’s Bower bags
Four handmade, crochet coasters by Kit Wylde
An autographed copy of Rosemary and Rue by Seanan McGuire
A rare DVD copy of the Matheson/Furst classic “Up The Creek” (lovingly used)
One ebook copy of Nita Wick’s short story, The Dream (previously published as part of a Freya’s Bower anthology.)
Book trading cards
Signed Dangerous Waters poster
of “Battle for Blood: The Blood Feud”
winner’s name as a character in Kissa Starling’s next sweet romance story.
A Yankee Candle
more…
The Little Engine That Could
The Little Engine That Could swung from the roof of the carriage house up and on to the roof of the East Wing.
“I thought I could,” she murmured to herself.
In the midnight stillness, she rolled inch by inch until she looked directly down on Lady Beverington’s balcony.
“I think I can,” she steam hiss whispered.
Very carefully, she hung by her cowcatcher, and dropped to the balcony with a muffled clank. She froze, waiting to see if the muffled clank had disturbed Lady Beverington’s sleep. Minutes passed. Silence. The Little Engine That Could tenderly pushed wide the half open door to the bedroom and entered. Scarcely breathing, she made her way to the wall safe, quietly steamed it open and stole the jewels. She retraced her wheel ruts to the balcony, where she nimbly swung herself once more to the roof. A short roll later, she dropped first to the carriage roof, then to the ground. Stealthily she made for the tracks beyond the southern border of the estate.
“Piece of cake,” she said, gaining the tracks and fleeing east to a rendezvous with her fence, the pasture fence at Miller’s farm.
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Steve Shilstone
And now for something completely different:
Nimble Missst, shapeshifting Cloud Castle City Princess, rages against her betrothal to the ridiculous Blossom Prince, Zootch. Reluctantly bound to duty, she agrees to go through with the marriage, but always in her snapjaw mind she devises plans of escape. On the day the vows are to be exchanged, her startling violet eyes flash in disbelief when she learns that Zootch has fled Blossom in terror, saying he’s always been afraid of Nimble Missst. Newly enraged, she sets off in hot pursuit of the Prince. It becomes a game of hide and seek, pitting the snapjaw mind of Nimble Missst against the surprising cleverness of Zootch.
Excerpt
Pofftikkle! thought Nimble Missst. Ridiculous. I suppose they’ll all be gathered around Gramma’s throne. They’ll gape at me when I fly through the skylight opening. I should seep in the back way and creep up the stairs. They’ll be expecting me through the skylight. Why should I do what they expect? Aren’t I doing enough as it is? Queen of the Boad, All Fidd and Leee Combined. Ridiculous. And wed to Zootch, Prince of Blossom! Utterly ridiculous! Fabulously! Pofftikkle! Why is Kinng Forr retiring? I’ll tell ye why, Nim. One word. Zilp. She’s the one who’s sick of it. Sick of being Queeeeeeeeeeeeeeen. Ridiculous. Queen with fifteen ‘e’s. Seven or eight weren’t enough for her. No, her Blossom snobbery demanded fifteen. And I must wed her nephew Zootch! What a name! Ridiculous! It sounds like slipping on ice. And what a timid lackwit he is. He’s not completely ugly, but I don’t believe I’ve ever heard him speak a word. Well, hard to blame him, stuck as he always is in the company of his arrogant haughty clutch of a mother, the Quing. Always spouting about rudeness, she is. She INVENTED rudeness! The Quang’s not so bad when you get him away from the Quing, but he folds up timid just like his son when she appears. They say she never allows Zootch to be pried from her side. Hmmmmm. Well, I have a snapjaw mind. When he’s wed to me, he’ll be pried from her side and from mine, too! I have my little plan. Ho, what there, my favorite tricklestream!
The sparkling green cloud of Nimble Missst sank low to a mountainside meadow divided by a tumbling tricklestream. She settled on the stream and rode it down the grassy hillside to where it joined a slow-moving brook. In wisps she fluttered back to the top of the meadow and rode the stream again. Dozens of times she did so such. Finally, seemingly exhausted, she jelled to red vest, red pantaloon, silver cape Nimble Missst and sat resting in the long cool grass.
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Please visit these sites for more chances to win, the more you visit the more chances you have to win. We have 46 participating authors. You can stop at as many or as little blogs as you wish. At each stop, you will find either two chances to enter per blog to win some awesome prizes. If you visit all, that’s 92 chances to win! There will be five, lucky winners.
Take the Blog Train and Visit These Blogs for more chances to win
Judith Leger, Fantasy and Comtemporary Romance Author
The Fictional World of Jaime Samms
Follow Where the Path will Take You
The Wandering Mind of Lizzy P. Bellows
Cassie Exline — Mystery and Romance
September 19, 2013
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ARTHUR RACKHAM
Arthur Rackham illustrated lots and lots of fairy tales.
Happy birthday, Arthur Rackham.
Drawing skills? You didn’t lack ‘em.
September 5, 2013
BETWEEN PORTALS LIMERICK
From planet Boad to planet Earth is a journey quite amazing.
You jump down a Well made of shell, and I’m not paraphrasing.
Blackness flings storms
of fantastical forms.
Your blazed out brain, this I vow, soon it will be crazing.
August 27, 2013
HELEN McDOWELL, A NONSENSE POEM
I remain on good terms with Helen McDowell.
I performed at the gala saluting her owl.
I arrived on the back of a robotic dragon.
Helen rolled by in her little red wagon.
When the concert concluded we all shared a snack
of mincemeat and tar paste dipped in shellac.
